Chapter Nine

"They should be married immediately."

Prudence awoke with a start. The sight of the storeroom was rather comforting considering what she'd been dreaming about—Dugan.

So…wed him!

Prudence scoffed at her own folly. If she had any doubt as to how well life would go for her in a Scottish stronghold, the fact that she was locked in a storage room should drive reality home.

She needed to get away, and quickly.

The storage room wasn't pitch black. Around the edges of the arrow slits, she could see a faint glow of light, proving that it wasn't night any longer.

Yet it was still very early.

But she heard steps on the other side of the door. The staff was heading toward the kitchen, no doubt.

On impulse, she went to the door and knocked. Just a light tapping with her knuckles.

Time crawled by while she waited.

A few moments later, she heard another set of footsteps. Prudence knocked louder this time.

The steps stopped.

Elation flashed inside of her. Prudence rapped on the door again and was rewarded with the sound of the bar rubbing against the wood.

"Do nae nap in the storeroom, Una. Ye know it is always locked at night. Serves ye right really, getting locked in."

The woman who opened the door didn't linger, or even look over her shoulder to realize that she wasn't talking to a lazy maid, but just continued on to the kitchens.

Prudence peered into the passageway, looking both ways before leaving the storeroom.

Her footsteps were loud, echoing between the stone walls, but there was nothing she could do about it. She headed away from the kitchens, looking for a way into the yard.

Laird Hay didn't want her wed to Dugan.

That meant Prudence might escape without fear that her family would be harmed. All she needed to do was be well away before anyone noticed she was missing. Given the laird's disapproval, she doubted Oran and his men would be sent after her.

She'd still have to face her father, of course, but she'd deal with that once she managed to escape the Hay stronghold.

Unfortunately, that escape was taking too long, and her steps were too loud. Was the sun rising impossibly fast? Prudence hurried down the next passageway, coming at last to a door. There was a row of hooks here with lengths of fabric hanging on them.

Nora had called them ‘arisaids'.

Prudence took one, wrapping it around her head and shoulders. It would keep her warm and help her blend in better on her way across the yard.

Outside, the wind was brisk.

Prudence didn't let the temperature deter her. She went down the steps and across the inner yard where there was an opening in the wall with more steps leading down. Like all strongholds, the Hay castle was built on high ground.

There was ice on the steps. The morning light made it glitter. She started down them slowly.

"Ye are up early, Braylin."

Prudence jumped. The steps were narrow, which meant she hit the back of the one she was on and ended up losing her balance, falling down hard on the one above. Her eyes widened as humiliation heated her cheeks. Dugan stepped in front of her.

"Take my hand lass," Dugan insisted.

His tone was low and soft, but he was impossibly large. He stared at her, clearly intent on stopping her.

"Your father does not want me here," Prudence said.

Dugan stepped closer to her. "It's cold lass. Let's go back inside. I will deal with me father."

Prudence stared at him, soaking up the details of his features which the night had hidden. He had dark hair and bright hazel eyes. He stood a full head taller than herself and was thick through the shoulders.

She shook off her fascination with him. "I should be going now."

His jaw appeared to tighten.

"Aye, ye should be going back inside, Braylin," Dugan informed her firmly.

Braylin. She'd been Braylin at the bonfire. Free. Unbridled.

"You shouldn't call me Braylin."

He raised an eyebrow. "Ye told me it was yer name."

"It was," she answered. "Yet not anymore. Such is my father's decree. We must both respect our fathers' decrees."

It was so hard to push her feelings down. They wanted to bubble up and be free, but there was also a stiffness in her neck from sleeping in the storeroom. She was not welcome in the Hay stronghold.

Prudence stood but Dugan blocked her path. His jaw was set, which only made her own determination flare up. She whirled around and went back up the steps. There was another way out of the inner yard on the other side.

Only she never made it there. Dugan scooped her off her feet, lifting her up as though she weighed no more than a child.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Carrying ye back inside before ye catch yer death," Dugan responded.

Once back inside the passageway, he lowered her to the ground.

"Are you going to lock me back in the storeroom?" Prudence demanded.

Maybe it would have been wiser not to give him any ideas, but her temper was hot and disappointment was fanning the flames.

"Who locked ye in a storeroom?"

If Dugan's jaw had been set before, now his expression was hard.

"I assure you, she did not introduce herself," Prudence replied tartly.

Dugan suddenly looked past her, and Prudence turned to discover a handful of women from the kitchen were in the doorway, watching.

"Braylin," Dugan announced, stressing her name, "is to be my bride."

"I am—"

Dugan returned his attention to her. "We can discuss the matter further in private."

In private? Prudence shook her head. "That is a terrible idea."

She wasn't afraid of him—not at all—but she was wary of the way she responded to him. If they were alone, she didn't trust herself to control her impulses.

There was a snort and some snickers from the women behind her. Dugan's lips twitched in response.

"Agreed, lass," he muttered softly. "Best to get a wedding blessing first, heh?"

Dugan shot a look past her at the women, giving them a dark look before he walked past her and disappeared.

*

Alice watched from her solar window as Dugan carried Braylin back into the kitchen.

She hadn't expected Cormac to champion Dugan. Perhaps she should have considered the possibility.

Alice felt her determination burning hotter. It was not temper, for the matter was not personal. She needed to make certain that Dugan would never be in a position to become laird. Such was the duty of a mother.

Alice smiled as she made another circuit around the solar. So many women looked at her and saw only the comforts which surrounded her. They never noticed the duty she labored to see done. Other women could be kind and overlook slights to their authority.

Not her.

Oh no, if she failed to demand her rightful due, she might find herself shipped off to a crumbling convent while her husband's mistress danced merrily in the great hall. She'd seen it happen to others. Even if Alice was willing to content herself with such a fate, she would never stand by while her children lost their positions. Her own mother had done the same for her.

Her husband's current mistress slept beside him. Alice felt her ire stirring in response to that fact, but she managed to tame it before her temper flared.

Fate had decreed that she'd been born the daughter of a laird. She knew, early on, that love wasn't something she'd ever be afforded in marriage.

At least, not love for her husband. It was dreadfully unfair the way men were allowed to enjoy the carnal comforts of affairs while their wives had to console themselves with scripture and the knowledge of judgements that would fall on them if they took comfort in a lover's embrace.

Alice loved her children deeply enough to fight for their futures. And she intended to give every last bit of strength she had to the effort.

Dugan was drawn to the English girl—that was a start. Alice made another circle around the solarium as she plotted. Now, all she needed to do was find a way for the two to be brought together under the right circumstances. Just then, an idea blossomed inside her head. She strode across the chamber to one of her wardrobes.

She had just the thing to get Dugan to the church quickly!