Chapter 23

23

H e knew he wouldn't sleep. Alasdair had been sleeping fitfully for a week, and tonight wouldn't be any different. The castle felt empty and quiet without Charlotte here. He didn't like to imagine her room closed up, the curtains drawn.

Instead, he walked, circling the hallways of the castle, listening for any sign of trouble. He had taken to doing this when sleep wouldn't come, nodding at each guard he passed on his journey. He knew Hayden had ensured the castle's security, but Alasdair liked to know they were there, and he liked them to know he was watching.

"Good evening," he nodded to the man at Ben's door. "I'd like to check on me son."

The guard stepped away from the door, and Alasdair pushed his way inside. He remembered how long it had taken to get Ben to sleep tonight, and he had no intention of waking him. Still, he felt an urge to check on him. He needed to know he was there and safe.

Alasdair stepped to the bed and saw the covers kicked down at his feet. He stepped closer, gently pulling them up to cover his son. Ben's face looked troubled even in sleep, his eyes scrunched closed and his hands in fists. Was he having a bad dream? Or remembering his final goodbye with Charlotte?

"It's alright," Alasdair whispered as he ran his finger along the boy's face. "She forgives ye, son."

He saw Ben's face relax at the gesture. Alasdair brushed his hair away, careful not to make too much movement. He kept his eyes on Ben's fists and sighed in relief as the little hands unclenched, and his fingers opened across the mattress.

"Sleep well," he whispered. Alasdair stepped away and headed back to the door. He nodded at the guard as he closed the door.

"Daenae leave this spot," Alasdair said, though he knew it was unnecessary. His men were well aware of the attack on Ben, and they were committed to never letting it happen again.

"Of course, Me Laird. Sleep well."

Alasdair grunted a response, but he knew he wouldn't sleep. Instead, he set out down the hallway, wondering if he was forever doomed to stalk these halls, looking for the woman he knew would never appear.

"Perhaps a picnic tomorrow?" Orlaith asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over the dinner table.

She looked between a sad Ben and a scowling Alasdair, likely wondering if either of them would answer her. Alasdair knew what Orlaith was trying to do. Ben had been sullen and upset ever since Charlotte left, and she was trying to find an activity that would make the boy smile. Unfortunately, Alasdair knew all of Ben's memories of picnics would have Charlotte in them.

"I daenae think that is wise," he answered, exchanging a glance with Orlaith. "But perhaps we can think of something else that is fun. What do ye think, Ben?"

His son stared at his plate, pushing food around.

"I daenae deserve fun."

"Oh, Ben! How can ye say that?" Orlaith burst out. She reached over to take Ben's hand, but he pulled it away from her.

"He's a bit upset," Alasdair explained when he saw Ben's lips curl in between his teeth, showing them he wouldn't say any more, "about how he left things with Charlotte."

"She kens ye dinnae mean it," Orlaith comforted. "What if we write her a letter to tell her so?"

"Aye," Alasdair said, pleased with Orlaith's suggestion. "If we hurry, I can send out one of me best riders. Perhaps the note can get to the orphanage at the same time she arrives."

He looked to Ben, hoping to see excitement, but the boy only glowered. Alasdair had a flash of his own face in his son's, and he suddenly realized how brooding he must look to the rest of the world.

"It willnae matter," Ben answered. "She is bound to hate me."

Alasdair and Orlaith both protested, but the boy put his fork down and sat back in his chair. He crossed his arms, determined to shut down the conversation. It had been little more than a day since Charlotte left, and already, he was failing to comfort his son.

"Alasdair." Hayden burst through the door, making everyone look up. His usual cheerful and playful energy was replaced with the serious soldier Alasdair had fought beside in war. It made him instantly stand, recognizing trouble.

"What is it?" he asked. His mind instantly went to Charlotte. Was she all right?

"Come with me."

Alasdair followed the stiff spine of Hayden down the hallway. Neither of them spoke. They simply walked with urgency downstairs and outside where Hayden led Alasdair to the stables and the staff quarters. He pushed inside a room to see the healer there bent over a man as the stable master looked on with concern.

"What is it?" Alasdair asked the group, and he stepped forward to see the driver of Charlotte's carriage, his eyes tinged with black and blue as he held a rag to his head. Alasdair felt rage boil through him as he noticed the large, bloody gash on the man's head.

"I'm sorry, Me Laird," the man said, but the healer shushed him as she continued to treat the wound.

"Lay down," she told the man. The stable master stepped forward. Alasdair's fury must have been clear on his face because the man flinched as Alasdair turned to him.

"He was attacked on the road," the man said. "They took the lady. Thankfully, they dinnae take the carriage, and as soon as he woke up, he came back."

"Who was it?" Hayden asked since Alasdair was too furious to form words.

"He dinnae see. But they gave him this."

The stable master handed a crumpled, bloody piece of paper to Alasdair before stepping back, clearly wanting to be out of Alasdair's wingspan when he saw what was written on the note. Alasdair's blood ran cold as he opened it.

If ye wish to see the lady again, ye must bring Benjamin to the cliffs of St. Abb's Head. It is the only way to keep yer precious Charlotte alive. Turn over the boy, and she will be returned to ye. We await ye at dawn, two days from when we left this letter.

"When did they leave this?" Alasdair demanded, turning his fury on the driver. The man jumped and darted his eyes around the room, suddenly panicking.

"He's had a head injury," the healer said. She seemed to be the only one in the room not spooked by Alasdair's anger. "He may not remember details."

"It was the day they left," the stable master cut in. "They were planning to stop at the inn in the next town when they were attacked."

Alasdair screamed and crumpled the paper in his hand before storming out of the room. This monster wanted him to turn over his son in exchange for Charlotte? Hayden followed him outside.

"What does it say?" he asked. Alasdair shoved the paper into Hayden's hands, unable to speak the words. He paced back and forth, feeling nearly frozen at the decision he was being forced to make.

"Hand over Ben for Charlotte?" Hayden gasped. "Ye cannae allow it."

"Of course, not," Alasdair agreed, but he couldn't push Charlotte's face from his mind. He felt panicked as he realized how scared she must be, and he was furious that someone had caused her such fear.

"But ye cannae simply leave Charlotte to die," Hayden reasoned. Alasdair wanted to scream all over again as Hayden spoke out loud the thought Alasdair had already wrestled with.

"We'll trick them," Hayden suggested. "We know where they'll be. We bring Ben with us and use him as bait. We can trick them into handing over Charlotte, and we'll keep them both safe, but we need to hurry. If the timeline of the stable master is correct, we need to leave now to make it by dawn."

"I willnae use me son as bait!"

"I'll do it." Alasdair and Hayden looked over as Ben stepped out from behind the bar. He had been listening to their conversation, and he now stood tall, his chin raised in determination. "Use me as bait to save Charlotte."

Charlotte rolled over and stared at the wall, her head pounding. Her wrists were raw and bruised from where they had tied her as was her mouth where they had pulled the gag tight. But what hurt most was her shoulder, which had caught her fall when they threw her down here. Wherever here was.

It looked like a cellar of sorts, some cold and damp spot underground where most people would store their potatoes. They had left her a thin blanket and a bucket of water in the corner, but there were no other luxuries in the bare space.

How long had she been here?

It was hard to say. After the attack at the carriage, they had blindfolded her. She had been too panicked to take note of the direction they walked or the length of the journey. By the time she calmed down enough to try to listen to her surroundings, they were pulling her off of the horse and pushing her roughly forward.

She was grateful they took off her blindfold and ties before tossing her down here. But then they closed the door, plunging her into a terrifying darkness. From the way her screams echoed around her, dying against the dark earth, she knew no one would hear her.

Sunlight streamed in above, and Charlotte squinted. The imposing figure of her attacker stood in the doorway.

"Time to go," he cried. A guard rushed down and roughly pulled Charlotte out of the cellar. "Ye have some familiar faces waiting for ye."