Chapter 7

7

A daira, dressed in her male finery, was trembling with nerves. It was just after dark on a Sunday evening, which in late spring meant that it was very late indeed since the last daylight did not fade from the sky until the tenth hour after noon. Adaira knew this since the laird had just acquired a timekeeping device called a clock.

When she had asked for one, he had acquiesced, much to her surprise. It now hung on the wall beside her bed, and she had ascertained that McTavish always summoned her at around the same hour every night, which was between the ninth and tenth hours. Now she knew exactly when she would be free, which was an extremely useful piece of information.

She had just done her marital duty and had washed the laird's seed from herself, a task she found utterly disgusting, and now she was creeping along to Keira's room via the secret passage that ran behind the passage wall. The laird knew of it too, of course, but the servants did not, and this made it very convenient for lovers or friends. An old building like the castle was riddled with such hidden corridors.

She emerged from the passage from a door just opposite Keira's chamber and knocked on the door softly in the rhythm of their prearranged signal. The door opened quickly, and Keira stood aside to admit her.

"Let me look at you," she said, running her eyes over Adaira from her threadbare cloth cap, patched clothes to her toeless shoes. "Very convincing!" Her voice was admiring. "Now, all you have to do is follow me and keep quiet. Don't be scared. I have done this a hundred times before, and I will look after you."

She hugged her friend, whose eyes were wide with fear. "We are sharing my horse, and Moira is waiting at the bottom of the stairs to keep the way clear. One of the stableboys is part of our little band, and he has readied for us."

She took Adaira's hand and led her downstairs, where Moira gave them the signal to pass.

"Good luck, milady," she whispered to Adaira.

Adaira could not speak. When they reached the stables, Diamond, Keira's grey mare, was already waiting for them. She was a docile, pleasant animal and made no fuss when first Keira, then Adaira, mounted and rode out.

"How did you get the guards to leave us alone?" Adaira asked, puzzled.

They were moving at a walking pace since the darkness was almost complete, and they had to pick their way with care.

"That is my secret." Keira chuckled and tapped her nose. "Let us just say that one of them is not quite what he seems."

Presently, the lights of the village began to twinkle through the trees, and in a moment they were outside the tavern. Keira quickly installed Diamond in the stable, and the two women stole downstairs to the cellar, through the secret door, and into the hidden room where the rebels were seated. They looked up, surprised and a little wary when Adaira came in.

Keira grinned at their startled faces. "Gentlemen," she said theatrically, standing aside to let them have a look at Adaira. "This is my stepmother, Lady Adaira."

"Very funny, Keira," Ralph McNab said, laughing heartily. He looked at Adaira. "Who are ye really, hen?"

"I am Lady Adaira McTavish," Adaira replied with a glance at Keira.

"She really is my stepmother," Keira confirmed, "although she was born a month before I was."

There was a moment of astonished silence before Robbie Anderson spoke up. "You poor wee lassie." His husky voice was full of sympathy. "Married tae that randy old swine. What right has he got tae wed a lovely young lass like yerself?" He stood up and handed them both a goblet of whiskey. "I take it you want the same thing as we do, hen?"

"I would like to run him through with Keira's sword," Adaira answered. "Is that what you want too?" She sipped her whiskey and looked around at all the men.

Keira had told everyone in the rebel band to attend that night, so there was a bigger crowd and a louder gale of laughter when Adaira stated her wishes.

"Welcome, lass. I see that we are a' singin' fae the same hymn sheet!" Robbie's voice was warm as he rose from the crate where he had been sitting and moved to the floor to allow her to sit down. "There will be nay ‘milady' here, though. We are plain an' simple folk."

Adaira shook her head, smiling. "I do not wish to be ‘milady' anyway, so be at ease. My friends call me Addie. I hope you will all become my friends and do the same."

A great cheer went up, and the food Keira had brought in her saddlebags was distributed. Adaira was bombarded with questions, and just as it seemed that her whole life story was about to be told in great detail, Keira called the meeting to order.

"We can examine Addie's life story after I tell you what I have to say," she stated. "Now, I have discovered through my spyhole in my father's office that there is to be an ambush."

A collective gasp went up, and at once, Keira had to calm everyone down. "I will tell you what I know," she began.

After the meeting had ended, the two women rode slowly back to the castle. Both of them were exhausted, and Adaira, who was merry and giggling, had definitely imbibed one too many whiskies. They dismounted and crept inside, then made their way to their respective chambers, but not before Keira had warned Adaira to keep quiet for her own sake as well as everyone else's.

"Not a word to anyone except Moira and me," she ordered, gripping Adaira's shoulders tightly. "Understand, Addie? Otherwise we will all be in grave danger. My father will not hesitate to do away with us all if he finds out about our plan."

Adaira looked up into Keira's blue eyes, now shadowed by her fierce, frowning brows.

"Yes, Keira," she said meekly, before turning and fleeing to her bedroom. Sometimes her stepdaughter could be quite frightening.

Keira felt a little under the weather the next morning, even though she had not had much to drink. She drank some warm ale and cautiously put her feet out of bed to test the temperature. Despite the late spring weather, it was cold, and she quickly wrapped herself in a woolen blanket before standing up. She looked outside and saw that it was once again raining, and her spirits plummeted at once.

Presently, Moira arrived with her bathtub and two other manservants carrying buckets of warm water. Moments later, she was languishing in lavender-scented water with her eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of warmth and safety a bath always gave her.

"Dinnae be in too long, milady," Moira told her. "Remember ye are bein' fitted for yer new dress today, the one ye are wearin' tae meet the earl."

"I had forgotten," Keira groaned.

Reluctantly, she stood up, and Moira helped her dry off before beginning the tedious process of dressing her.

It had always angered Keira that men could dress in comfortable clothes, whereas women had to be squeezed into dresses that were far too tight for them. She wondered how long a man would be able to last in the tight crimson dress she was being shoehorned into at this moment. When it was at last time to cover her chemise and corset with the dress, Keira could hardly breathe.

"Damn!" she said irritably. "I am going to excuse myself early the night I meet the earl, Moira. I refuse to do myself an injury wearing this thing."

"But ye look lovely, milady," Moira said soothingly, smiling at her in the mirror.

"That is no good if my ribs are broken," Keira grumbled, then her eyes flew open and she jumped backward with a scream as the chamber door crashed inward, shuddering on its hinges.

Her father came barrelling full tilt through the door and rushed toward her, his face flushed crimson with rage. He cannoned into her, almost knocking her off her feet, and her scream was cut off as Archie McTavish's hands closed around her throat and squeezed so hard that her windpipe closed, cutting off her breath.

Keira tried to prise his hands away from her neck, but they were too strong, and she felt as though her eyes were going to pop out of her head as she fought to breathe. It was becoming more difficult with every second that passed. Her knees began to give way, and her hands fell to her side. She saw that Moira was trying to pull her father away, but he tossed her aside with a swipe of his hand and resumed the pressure on her throat with renewed vigor.

Keira looked with complete horror into the laird's furious eyes, sure that he had gone absolutely mad. A dark mist was beginning to descend over her vision, and she felt herself slipping away into blessed unconsciousness.

However, at that moment, her father must have realized that he had gone too far, for he seemed to come to his senses. He let go of Keira's throat and she fell onto the bed, coughing as if she would never stop while she gulped in great lungfuls of sweet, life-giving air.

"Listen to me, my girl," her father hissed. "You will do everything I say when the earl arrives. You will not show me up in front of a man as prominent as he is, or I will make you regret it sorely. Are you listening to me?"

Keira gathered the tattered shreds of her dignity about her and nodded. Tears had begun to leak from her eyes; they were not tears of sadness but tears of pure rage. She felt like spitting in his face, but she knew that that would only antagonize him further. How she wished she had a dagger in her hand at that moment! She tried to sound calm and reasonable.

"I will do whatever you ask of me, Father," she replied, with all the self-control she could muster. "After all, if I embarrass you, I embarrass myself." She stood up again, coughed for a few moments, then, with a heroic effort, pasted a smile on her face. "How does my dress look?"

For a moment, the laird looked surprised at the question, then he, too, smiled, although it seemed to be as false an effort as Keira's own.

"You look very lovely, my dear," he replied.

Then, as he kissed her cheek and turned away, Keira felt as if she wanted to scrub her face to wash the taste of his lips from her skin. When he was standing at the door, he looked back and said ominously, "Remember my words, Keira." Then he slipped out and closed the door behind him a little more gently than he had when he entered.

Keira flopped down on her bed with tears streaming down her face, scrubbing her father's kiss from her cheek with a damp cloth as if it were dirty. Her neck was aching from the pressure of the laird's fingers, and her throat felt as if she had swallowed a mouthful of sawdust.

"Are ye all right, hen?" Moira asked anxiously as she handed her mistress a cup of water.

Keira nodded and accepted the cup, but after she had swallowed a few mouthfuls, she coughed it all back up again. Moira patted her on the back and studied her anxiously.

Keira tried again and this time managed to keep the liquid down. She wiped away her tears and stood up, then went to her armoire and took out a ragged old dress that she only used when she was tending to her horse or practicing archery.

"Mistress, what are ye daein'?" Moira was fearful, and she fluttered around Keira as she carried the dress across the roon and laid it on her bed.

"Take this rag off me, Moira," she ordered, indicating the pretty dress she was wearing. "I have told my father I am going to meet this earl person, so I want to keep it clean. Help me to take it off, please, and I will put on my working dress."

"Ye've had an awful shock, milady," Moira said worriedly. "Maybe ye should rest for a while." She unhooked the dress Keira was wearing and helped her into the old ragged one. Keira sighed with relief as the instrument of torture called a corset fell to the floor. She was tempted to trample on it but refrained. She would need it again, but when she was free from her father, she had sworn to burn every single one she possessed.

"No." Keira's voice was almost a bark. "No, I will not rest. I have too much to do today, and if I stay in this castle a moment longer, I will be tempted to find my father and kill him, preferably slowly."

"Keira!" Moira called as Keira stormed out, but her words were lost to the empty air. Keira was gone.