Chapter 16
16
Alyth was surrounded so closely by the Robertson men on the way back to her family’s castle that there was no chance of escape. They made swift time on the short trip, keeping their horses at a swift canter, and soon they were within sight of the massive building.
She had always felt immense pride when she looked at Cairnloch Castle. If she had been an enemy, she would have turned away from it at first sight. It had not been built for beauty; it looked like what it was—a towering fortress meant to intimidate, threaten, and finally crush any enemy that dared approach it. Its outside curtain walls were twenty feet high, with crenellations and loopholes for archers to aim and fire at invaders, and inside it had a massive keep, the most fortified part of the castle.
This was a circular tower with no windows, which was surrounded by overlapping layers of turrets that climbed to a height of a few hundred feet and gave a panoramic view over the countryside. The castle had no moat, merely a deep ditch with upward-pointing sharpened stakes in the earth that would impale any man or horse who trod on them. Alyth had seen the castle many times, of course; she had lived in it for years, but it never ceased to amaze her.
She wondered hopefully if there was any possibility that Lachlan had changed his mind. If he had, would he even be able to reach her? Her heart sank; she knew who she was going to meet now. Laird Robertson was the last person on earth she wanted to see or speak to. She decided to try to put on as calm and cool a facade as she could muster.
The party of guards, with Alyth in the centre, rode over the drawbridge and into the courtyard, and Alyth was surprised to see a few men in Robertson livery mixed amongst the MacAdams. However, the two families were allies, and she realised that there were a lot of other things they would be sharing too.
Including me, she thought, with a pang of dread. As she had expected, she was marched towards the Laird’s study, his most private place where they would not be overheard by anyone. There were two guards standing outside the door, one on either side, but they were Robertson men.
What on earth is going on? she thought. Had Laird Robertson taken over the castle and moved his men inside it? Alyth screwed up her face in horror. She despised Robertson with every fibre of her being.
The door opened, but when Alyth was led inside she almost fainted with shock because the first person she saw was her father, sitting on a chair beside Laird Robertson and looking pale, dispirited, and sick.
As she met his eyes, he dropped his gaze to his hands, which he was twisting in his lap; they were so bony that they looked almost like claws. He looked almost as thin as Robertson, since he had lost pounds of weight. Although it was only a short while since she had seen him, his whole face was sagging, and looked deeply lined and wrinkled, as if he had grown years older instead of months.
Despite her resolution to stay calm, Alyth gave a gasp of shock as anger surged through her like a hot jet of flame.
“Da!” she cried. “What is he doing here? You must order this man away, now.” She flung her hand out to point to Laird Robertson, who had risen to his feet and was smiling at her, a smug, triumphant expression which disgusted and repulsed her.
For a split second, Alyth felt like spitting on him, but knew that it would do her no good; she was surrounded by his men, trapped and helpless. She could expect nothing from her father, since he looked thoroughly cowed.
Laird MacAdams looked up and nodded. “We are allies, Alyth. Ye know that.” Then, he dropped his gaze to the floor.
Alyth was speechless, and stood looking dumbly at her father as he continued to avoid her eyes. She wanted to shake him, but Laird Robertson’s guards were outside, and they were much stronger than she was. She stood motionless, trying to compose herself, until Laird Robertson came strolling over to her.
“It is so good to see you, Alyth,” he drawled, with a leering smile. He looked her up and down several times, letting his gaze linger on every part of her until Alyth felt filthy. “I must say, I have never seen a woman wearing breeches before. They look very fetching, they outline your curves beautifully.”
He smiled again, letting his eyes linger on her breasts. Alyth wanted to cross her arms over them, but did not want to give the loathsome creature the satisfaction of knowing he had upset her.
He walked around her, and Alyth felt his gaze on her, stinging as if someone was burning her with a flame.
Any more of this and I am going to be sick, she thought disgustedly.
At that moment, Robertson came to stand in front of her, his thin, skeletal face wearing a smile of deep satisfaction which turned Alyth’s stomach. She wished she had nails like sharp claws with which to rake his face and make him bleed and scream with pain, but she could do nothing.
She looked at her father again. He was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his face resting on the heels of his hands, dejectedly looking at the floor. Alyth had never been so ashamed of him. If her mother had been here, she thought, she would be creating hell, not sitting in cowardly resignation.
Alyth was unaware that her face was betraying her thoughts until Laird Robertson said, “Your father and I have been doing a great deal of talking while you were away, Alyth.”
While he was speaking, he was pouring three glasses of wine, one of which he gave to Laird MacAdams. Alyth’s father took the wine but stared into the glass instead of drinking it, as if he were trying to see the future or cast a spell. He could do neither, of course. He was just a man, and not much of a man either. Alyth thought.
When Laird Robertson offered a glass to Alyth she shook her head and said disgustedly, “No, thank you.”
However, Robertson was not taking no for an answer, and he tried to force the glass into Alyth’s right hand, but she swept it sideways in a cutting gesture. The glass flew through the air and landed on the floor, where it shattered with a resounding crash, dissolving into a thousand smithereens and showering wine everywhere.
Robertson threw back his head and laughed, then his expression changed to one of pure rage as he stepped forward and grasped Alyth’s chin so tightly that she winced with pain. Robertson, seeing her reaction, gave her an evil smile and leaned so close to her that their noses were almost touching.
“That was a very stupid thing to do,” he said in a voice that was almost a hiss. “That was one of the best crystal glasses you have, and a very good vintage Spanish wine. Nevertheless, I forgive you, since I am a soft-hearted man and I understand that this has all been rather a shock for you.
However, I will not tolerate this behaviour from now on. The day after tomorrow, you will be my wife, and under my command.” He paused to watch her reaction, satisfied when he saw the fear in her eyes.
Alyth’s knees went weak as a bolt of sheer horror shot through her, and she could simply not hold back the fear and revulsion on her face. Laird Robertson’s eyes glinted with dark, evil glee, and he leaned forward to place a cold kiss on Alyth’s lips, which made her recoil in disgust. If anything, this made Robertson even happier, since he thrived on the fear of others.
“After we are married,” he went on, “our combined armies—the Robertsons and MacAdams—will take on the Carricks. They have had everything their own way for long enough, and it’s time they were put in their place.”
His face was even uglier than usual, since it was red with fury, and for a moment Alyth found it impossible to speak, then she cried furiously, “I will not marry you, you monster, and I will not take your side against the Carricks or anyone else!”
She turned to her father, who was seated in the same chair as before. He still had his head in his hands, and had not moved since she had last spoken to him.
“Da!” she cried desperately. “The Carricks do not want to fight. They want peace, the same as we do. Tell this man we will not do battle with them.”
Laird MacAdams looked up at his daughter and shook his head slowly. “Alyth, I cannot,” he replied. “If I do, he will unleash his army on us, and if the Carricks do the same, we are doomed.”
“You talk like a coward, Da,” Alyth yelled back. “And I know you are not like that!” She glared at him fiercely, but he turned away, too disappointed at himself.
“Where have you been hiding then, dear?”
One of the men who had captured Alyth came into the room, summoned by Laird Robertson. The guard whispered in the Laird’s ear for a moment, and Robertson’s eyes widened in surprise. He turned back to address Alyth, and this time the look on his face was the most disgusting she had seen yet—an evil, suggestive leer. Alyth almost felt sick with revulsion.
“So you were found on Laird Carrick’s land?” he asked. “What happened to you after that?”
“When they found me, I was cold, hungry, and desperate,” Alyth told him. “They were kind to me, and I was grateful. I was sick for a while, but the servants nursed me back to health. I might have died of exposure if it had not been for them and Laird Carrick. They treated me very well.”
“I see,” Robertson said thoughtfully. “When you say ‘kind,’ what exactly do you mean?” He raised his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. “In what way was he kind?”
“If you mean what I think you mean,” Alyth answered disgustedly, “then you are wrong. Laird Carrick is a man of honour, unlike some I could mention!”
She raked her glance down from Robertson’s head to his feet and back again, telling him in no uncertain terms exactly what she thought of him.
“He has never taken advantage of me. I was sorry to leave, but it was time, and I knew I had to come back to my father.”
However, her voice was scathing as she said, “But if I had known he was throwing in his lot with you, I would have stayed where I was. I would rather be a maid servant or even a stable hand than your wife!”
Robertson’s reaction was to sit down in his chair again and address Laird MacAdams. “Well, that gives me a wonderful idea,” he said as he grinned and rubbed his hands together.
“What idea?” Laird MacAdams spoke up, looking even more fearful than before.
“Look at your daughter,” Robertson said, using the excuse to once more devour Alyth with his eyes. “She is a lovely woman, is she not?” He narrowed his eyes and steepled his fingers. “I will spread the word that Carrick kidnapped her, and that will give me a reason to take up arms against him.”
“No!” Alyth’s scream tore through the air like a jet of flame. Now she was so desperately afraid, she was reduced to pleading with Robertson. “Please, no! He is a peaceful man. You must not do this. So many men on both sides will die for nothing!”
“The Carrick land and wealth is not nothing,” Robertson replied scathingly. “We will say that Lachlan Carrick took advantage of you, and you are ruined for every other man. Any man worth his salt wants a virgin to take to bed on his wedding night, as I do. I will be hailed as a hero for marrying you and saving you from a life of wretched spinsterhood.”
Alyth almost laughed out loud. If Laird Robertson expected a virgin on his wedding night, he was going to be sorely disappointed! She said nothing, however, merely gazed at him with eyes that were full of hatred.
“Come now,” Robertson said soothingly. “It will not be as bad as you think. I will be very gentle with you.”
He patted Alyth’s cheek and turned away to summon a maid servant, who rushed by the door awaiting orders.
“Shona!” Alyth cried. She was overcome with relief and pleasure to see her old lady’s maid, who had looked after her since she was a girl.
“Milady!” Shona smiled warmly. “I am so glad tae see ye.”
“Come in, maid,” Robertson said. “Your mistress, Lady MacAdams and I are getting married the day after tomorrow. I would like you to find a dress for her.”
Laird MacAdams spoke up. “You should be able to find something from some of the old ones that were left behind by house guests. There is bound to be one that fits, do you not think?”
Laird Robertson took the chance to look Alyth up and down again with the same lascivious leer on his face, pretending to be interested in her dress.
“Aye, M’Laird,” the old woman agreed. “I think I can find somethin’.”
“Then we will leave the preparation in her capable hands,” Robertson said with an air of satisfaction. Laird MacAdams had fallen silent again, and it seemed as though he was the guest, not the Laird of the castle.
“Would you like to come down a little later for our midday meal?” Robertson asked.
“Are you the Laird now?” she demanded.
Robertson laughed contemptuously. “Of course not. But I will be the Laird’s son-in-law, so I think I have some authority.”
Alyth shook her head and looked at him contemptuously, then she treated Laird MacAdams to a venomous scowl. “I cannot believe you let this happen, Da.”
Alyth followed Shona upstairs, expecting to go to her own bedchamber, but instead she was led to a spacious room on the first floor. However, she was not surprised. Robertson was clearly making himself at home!
“Why am I not in my own bedchamber?” she asked Shona.
“Because your father said so, Milady.” The old lady frowned, but said nothing more. She did not have to; evidently she felt the same about Laird Robertson as Alyth did.
When Alyth walked in, she could see that the room had not yet been prepared for her arrival, since the bed was unmade and the rest of the furniture was covered in dust.
Two maidservants were busy sweeping and dusting, and both of them curtsied as Alyth and Shona entered. Alyth knew their faces because they worked in the castle, but she was ashamed to realise that she had never before asked their names.
Yet, everything was different now; she knew how much these women were worth.
The two women looked hesitantly at Alyth, unsure of what to do next. “Carry on with what you are doing,” Alyth instructed, smiling at both of them. “You were obviously not expecting me.”
“No, Milady,” Shona answered nervously. “We didnae know ye were comin’ till a wee while ago.” She looked distressed, as if expecting a reprimand.
“Then please don’t let me bother you,” Alyth said, soothingly. She felt a pang of sadness as she remembered the camaraderie she had enjoyed with the maids at Leithmuir.
Alyth looked around the room and suddenly realised why she had been moved into it. This was not going to be just her bedchamber, but hers and Laird Robertson’s for their wedding night. She felt a wave of sick rage rise in her belly, and wondered if there was anything she could do to damage it so that it would be useless.
By the time the room was ready for her occupation, the three maids had concluded that their mistress was indeed a very unusual lady indeed, but they liked her immensely.
Alyth had deeply impressed them by climbing a ladder to reach up and dust the decorative cornice on the ceiling, although they were rather astonished that she was wearing breeches.
Alyth wanted to get to know the maids better for two reasons; because she genuinely liked most of them, and if she wanted to find a way out of the castle, she knew it would be better if she became friendly with them.
However, today she knew she would have to stay quiet and cause no more fuss, so she allowed herself to be bathed and changed into a dress that Shona brought her.
Alyth looked around herself as she walked downstairs, searching for an escape route, but there were two guards constantly at her side, and she had to be careful that she was not making herself too obvious. It amazed and saddened her that she was looking at her own home as if it were a prison.
When she arrived in the dining room, her father and Laird Robertson both stood up and bowed to her, but Alyth sat down without giving them a curtsey.
“How do you like your bedroom, Alyth?” Robertson asked.
Alyth said nothing.
“Did you hear me?” The Laird’s voice had a note of irritation in it.
Again, Alyth was silent, but she looked up and met his eyes. If there was one thing at which she excelled, it was staring someone out, since she had absolutely no fear or feeling of awkwardness. Now she put that skill to the test. She and Laird Robertson looked into each other’s eyes for a full minute before he dropped his gaze with a frustrated grunt.
For the rest of the meal, there was complete and utter silence. Alyth looked up at her father once or twice, but he seemed to be concentrating hard on his food and ignored her. She was not hungry in the least, but knew that if she were to escape, she would need all her strength. So she forced her food down with a Herculean effort before standing up, turning away and walking out without a word.
Neither her father nor Laird Robertson tried to stop her.