Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

S he was laughing as her horse pounded across the plain. Benedict could not catch her, no matter how hard he tried. Pushing her horse on, the distance between them grew until she could barely hear his voice anymore.

But then, the clouds above grew dark and ominous, and Evelyn found that she was no longer on the plain. Instead, she rode through a dense forest, battling through trees with branches that cut her arms and face. But even as she pulled on the reins and called for her horse to stop, the beast continued on relentlessly.

Looking behind her, Benedict was nowhere to be seen. She cried out his name, but he did not answer. She was alone in a dark forest, with eerie sounds, and branches that seemed to grab at her body.

"Halt," she screamed at the horse, but it continued on.

Up ahead, the forest opened out into a clearing, and without a word from Evelyn, the horse came to a sudden stop, throwing her headlong over the front of it. For a second, she was flying; weightless in the air, her arms and legs flailing. And then she hit the ground with a sickening thud, and everything went black.

Her head was thumping when Evelyn started to rouse. The pain was making her feel nauseous and she squeezed her eyes tight to alleviate the sensation. It did little to help. The throbbing continued. She wanted to press her hands against her head, but when she went to move, she realized that she couldn't.

Blinking her eyes open, she gasped at the sight before her. She was no longer on a forest floor, and there was no horse in sight. Instead, she was sat in a small room, clearly no longer inside Gunn Castle. To her left, a small fire crackled. Immediately in front of her sat Laird Alisdair Keith with a smirk dancing on his lips. Apart from their chairs and a dresser, the rest of the room looked bare, as though the placed was not lived in at all.

He regarded her with slight amusement. "Ah, she is eventually awake," he growled. "Perhaps I put a little too much laudanum in that whisky."

Looking down at her predicament, Evelyn noted that her hands were tied to the arms of the chair she sat upon, and trying to move her feet, she realized they too, were tied to the legs.

Struggling to understand how she had managed to get there, a vague memory washed over her. She was sitting at the dressing table in her bedchamber getting ready for her wedding. One of the maids had given her something to drink. And then, two men emerged out of the hidden tunnel.

The maid. I need tae warn them. The maid is working with Laird Keith.

Clearly, however, she was going nowhere. Nor was she warning anyone.

Benedict had promised her that no harm could come to her inside the castle. Evidently, he did not know Laird Keith very well. Nor was he aware of the lengths the man would go to, to get what he wanted. And now, there she was. Trapped. A prisoner, powerless to stop whatever plans he had for her.

She had thought having to marry Audor had made her feel trapped, but that was nothing compared to this. Her father's refusal to agree to an alliance with Clan Keith, even though they had been foes before, had caused nothing but trouble. Laird Keith had killed her mother to get back at her father. Now, the laird was clearly going to kill her too.

Perhaps she had wished this upon herself. Had she not said, just the other day, that being dead would be better than living without Benedict?

Maybe the gods heard me. But just the first part.

As terrified and helpless as Evelyn currently felt, she was determined not to show it. There had to be a way out of this, she just needed to figure out what that way was. She would not let this laird see her fear. She would not give him that satisfaction, and so, jutting her chin out defiantly, she glared right back at him.

He smirked back at her false display, and then said, "I have waited a long time for this." Leaning forward, he tenderly caressed her cheek.

His touch made her skin crawl, and without thinking about it, Evelyn spat in his face. Immediately, he raised his hand and slapped her hard across the same cheek he had only seconds before caressed.

"Argh," she cried, as the searing pain sparked across her skin. Her cheek now throbbed and felt like it was on fire. But even as the burning continued, Evelyn's anger raged with it.

How typical of the man to strike a woman when she had no ability to defend herself. He had done the same to her mother.

Gone was the smirk, and now, the laird scowled at her as he wiped his face with a scarf. "Clearly, I have been given the wrong reports about ye, Lady Sinclair. I was told ye were a delicate angel. Ye are more like a wild animal."

"At least I'm nae a murderer, or," she nodded down at herself, "a kidnapper," she spat. "And what a brave man ye are, striking a defenseless woman. I'll take as many strikes ‘afore yer grubby hands touch me. In fact, I'd sooner die than have ye anywhere near me."

He smiled then, and cocked his head to look at her. "Ye're a feisty one, I see."

A gasp caught in her throat at his words, for it was the same affectionate phrase Benedict had used to describe her on more than one occasion. But when he had said it, she had relished his words. They had been warm and playful. In fact, she relished all the words that left his beautiful lips. She just needed to figure out how she was going to get out of this mess so she could hear his voice again.

"But whether I touch ye or nae, isnae yer decision tae make," the laird continued. "Nor will it ever be. I will touch me bride whenever I so desire."

Evelyn's eyes flew wide and her mouth fell open.

His bride?

So stunned was she, she had no retort. In fact, it felt as though her whole body was frozen in time. It took several seconds of the laird sneering at her expression for Evelyn to be able to even consider his words.

Since awakening, she had been under the impression she would be meeting the same fate as her mother. But the laird actually planned on marrying her? Why? Why did he not want to kill her?

After the shock, came the anger, and snarling at him, Evelyn spat, "Ye can go tae hell. I'll never marry ye."

"Again, me lady, nae yer choice."

The laird pushed himself up and moved across the room to a dresser. After pouring himself a drink, he came back, but stood, looking down at her.

"All this could have been avoided if only yer faither hadnae have been so stubborn. Yer mother didnae have tae die. If he had given me what I asked fer, she would still be alive. So, ye see, yer maither's blood isnae upon me hands. It's upon yer faither's."

"He would never have agreed tae an alliance with ye. Ye have always been rivals fer years. Why on earth would he dae such a thing?" Evelyn barked.

"I'm nae talking about the alliance, Lady Sinclair."

"Then, what are ye talking about?" Evelyn cried, feeling completely confused.

"Our marriage." The laird said simply, as though she ought to know to what he was referring.

With her head still throbbing from whatever was in that drink, Evelyn could not piece it together. This man had done nothing but cause their clan pain and grief for over a year. And now, he wanted to marry her.

"Ye're nae making any sense."

He crouched down and looked up at her. "Then let me spell it out fer ye. I asked fer yer hand in marriage two years ago. But yer faither refused. He told me that there was nae way on God's good earth that he would allow his daughter tae marry a man like me." The laird snorted. "Like he ever had a choice. So, yer faither needed tae be punished fer his insolence."

The laird stood to his full height again. "I am a man who gets what I want, Lady Sinclair. I always have and I always will."

Slowly, the pieces began to fall into place, and Evelyn realized that her mother's death had not only been caused by her father's refusal to make an alliance with Laird Keith. Clearly, the horrible man had demanded Evelyn's hand. Her mother had been murdered in revenge for her father's refusal.

"Ye murdered me maither because me faither wouldnae give me hand in marriage?" she gasped.

"Och, now ye're getting it. Nae too bright, are we?" He sneered. "It was the best way tae make yer faither pay. That, and a warning that, until I got what I wanted, I would continue tae make his life a misery. Like I said. I'm a man who gets what he wants."

Me maither was murdered because o' me. This is all me fault.

Her mother had paid the ultimate price for her father's refusal. If she had known, if he had told her, maybe she would have gone along with it just to keep the peace. Had she not done the same with Laird Gunn?

But Audor was never yer faither's rival. Nor is he a cruel and sadistic man. Yer faither was trying tae protect ye from this monster… And he lost me maither in the process.

"Now I have ye," the laird said, "yer faither will never see ye again. Ye are mine, and ye will remain mine."

"Ye cannae dae this," Evelyn cried. "Ye cannae just take me without giving me a chance tae at least say goodbye."

"Had yer faither agreed tae our union in the first place, it wouldnae have had tae happen like this, Lady Sinclair. Yer faither only has himself tae blame. As fer ye, I'm sure ye'll get over it."

As the laird downed the remaining dregs of his glass, Evelyn's mind whirled with ideas of how she could escape. There was no chance she could loosen these ropes. They had been tied so tightly; she was starting to lose feeling in her fingers.

Perhaps there was another way out of this. She eyed the fire. A much harder way out of this. She was so close that if she toppled herself into it, she would be scarred for life.

And be in excruciating agony.

But would it not be worth it? The laird would not want a scarred and hideous looking wife.

Nae. But he might kill ye instead.

But that would be no worse than spending the rest of her days as his wife. Clearly, he had no reservations about raising a hand to her. And then, there were the other things he would do with his hands.

Urgh!

She shivered and felt sick to her stomach at the very thought of it. If she did not take her own life now, she would certainly do so in the not-so-distant future.

"I am here with only a few men," he said. "I couldnae take the chance o' being seen. Laird Gunn has scouts everywhere after me useless men failed in their attempt at grabbing ye the first time. More soldiers will be arriving within the hour. We will leave then."

Evelyn did not reply. She was still contemplating throwing herself into the fire when Laird Keith sat down opposite her again.

I should have taken the chance when I had it.

"Tell me. Does yer betrothed ken ye are lying with his braither?" He smirked, grazing his eyes up and down her body.

The action made her cringe, and a shiver ran up her spine, yet, she could not hide her astonishment at his words.

"Och, aye. I ken far more than ye realize, Lady Sinclair. I will admit, I am a little disappointed tae discover ye're nae the innocent I first thought ye were. But only a little. Does yer faither ken yer a brazen wench?"

"Ye are lying," Evelyn retorted, trying for bravado. "Ye ken naething at all."

"Och, I think ye'll find I ken quite a lot about what goes on in that castle," he drawled, clearly enjoying himself. "The maids there are easily swayed."

Then her abduction made sense. Not that she had had much chance to think about it since she had woken. But the maid who had given her that drink was clearly working for Laird Keith, though, for the life of her, Evelyn could not imagine why. Audor was a good and honest laird. He treated all those who worked at the castle with dignity and respect. Why would someone be so disloyal? Why would she turn her back on her own clan?

For the next half hour, Evelyn was forced to listen to the laird espousing his great power and wealth. If nothing else, he was full of himself, and his arrogance seemed to know no bounds as he recalled how he had plundered villages on his travels, and taken whatever he desired.

Just like he had taken Evelyn. Only, rather than her being an item of great value, like gold, or silver, she was a human being with a mind of her own. It was clear, as she listened to him, however, that he did not see her that way at all. She was just another item he had acquired. It made her worry about what he might do to her once he grew tired of her.

Ye will have ended yer life by then.

Nae. He's nae worth me life. I will fight. I will escape. I dinnae ken how, but I will. Me mother didnae die in vain. Me faither has suffered enough. I willnae let him hear o' me demise as well.

The laird was on yet another story of how wonderful and fierce he was, when sounds outside brought him to a halt.

"That will be me men. And about time," he growled. "The sooner we get out o' this place, the better."