Chapter 2
“Let go of me, you barbarians!” Joan screamed as she kicked and fought, trying her best to free herself from the men who had escorted her into the castle by force.
She’d tried her best to call for Avery and Darragh, yet no one had come to her aid.
She didn’t even know what had happened to the coachman, whether he had escaped or been taken captive as well.
The guards were dragging her through a section of the castle she’d never seen before, but then again, there would have been little to no reason for her to visit the dungeons in the past, she realized as they pulled her over the damp and filthy floor.
“The laird will hear of this!” she threatened as one of the guards gripped her braid when she tried to escape. A searing pain shot through her scalp as he yanked her back onto her feet.
“Aye, that he will,” the burly red-headed man who had taken her into captivity replied. His face was rugged and in desperate need of a shave as his double chin wobbled beneath his jaw.
It wasn’t long before they stopped in front of a cell that seemed to be separate from the rest, hidden in a small alcove at the end of the long stone corridor.
Joan was suddenly thrown into the dungeon as a second guard shut the door with a deafening clank of iron.
Using her hands, she broke her fall on the pile of hay in the corner.
“Wait!” she yelled when she realized that the guards had begun to retreat.
“This is no way to treat a lady! I don’t belong in here! ”
The large man suddenly stopped in his tracks as the rest of the men took their leave. Turning around, he looked at her with a wolfish grin that made her stomach churn; she far preferred it when he didn’t smile at all.
Joan noticed for the first time that the guard was an overly chubby man with a round belly that wobbled when he moved.
He seemed much less threatening than the rest of the guards.
His eyes were a piercing blue, and his thick mop of curly, red hair was very unkempt.
“Let me guess, ye’re a lady that was on her way to visit a friend in Scotland?
” he said in a sarcastic tone that baffled her.
Why he would find her story amusing or worthy of ridicule was beyond her.
“That… that is exactly what happened,” she said in confusion as she picked herself up and dusted off the hem of her skirt.
The dungeon they had thrown her in was less than accommodating for a woman of her class.
A thick layer of grime and dust seemed to coat everything in there, including the floor and pile of hay she assumed would be used as a bed.
“Aye,” The man nodded in agreement as he drew nearer. “An’ this is all just a big misunderstanding. The laird ye were looking for has a castle that looks a lot like this one?”
“Yes,” she breathed hopefully as she gripped the bars.
“I’m so glad you understand what I mean.
Now if you will just go and tell the laird that I am here, we can all clear up this little misunderstanding and get on with our lives.
” She stopped when she suddenly realized that the man was alluding to the castle belonging to someone other than Darragh. “Whose castle is this then?”
The man tilted his head back and let out a laugh that echoed down the long hall.
“Thank ye, lass, I needed a laugh. Yer story isnae original, but it did make me laugh,” he glossed over her question and plucked at a tear in his eye.
“It’s nae often that our prisoners stick to their stories as hard as ye are sticking to yers. ”
“My story?” she asked taken aback. “It’s not a story; it’s the truth. Listen,” she tried again as she cleared her throat and composed herself. She was certain that everything was just a big misunderstanding that would soon be resolved if she could just talk to Avery or Darragh.
“Aye?” the guard said with one bushy eyebrow raised.
“I am a lady from London; I’m not sure what kind of misunderstanding has taken place here, but if you can just go and get the laird or his wife, I am certain they will clear things up.
” She cocked her head to the side and glared at the man.
“You don’t want to get on the bad side of the laird when he hears how deplorably you have been treating me,” she said defiantly.
Shaking his head, the man came closer and beckoned her toward the bars with a chubby finger when she took a step back.
“I’ll give ye a piece of advice lass, I may find yer behavior amusing, but ye better behave when the laird gets here.
He willnae take kindly to yer little outbursts.
So, keep yer mouth shut if ye want to keep yer pretty little head on yer shoulders. ”
“Barbarians,” Joan said in shock as she glared at the man. “I can assure you that I am in no kind of danger. The laird would never lay a hand on me.”
“Suit yerself then!” the man called to her over his shoulder as he turned on his heel and walked away, his giant belly wobbling out on the sides as he went.
“Or am I?” she whispered to herself as he left her alone. Her situation was only getting stranger the longer the night dragged on.
Joan looked at the bars of her cell as a single torch flickered in its sconce from across the hall.
She was beginning to think that Darragh and Avery were away.
There weren’t any reasonable explanations as to why they would leave her in the dungeons unless everything had been part of an elaborate joke.
It was entirely possible that she had been mistaken for someone else, and nobody even knew that she was there.
Sighing heavily, she sat up straight on the pile of hay and hugged her legs to her chest. She’d gotten so bored in the past few hours that she’d taken to cleaning her cell, using a bushel of hay she’d tied together with ribbon from her cloak in an attempt to sweep the floor.
She was hungry, thirsty, cold, and just about fed up with everything that had happened to her. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now.
Pushing herself up, she removed a few strands of hay from her hair and walked over to the bars. “Excuse me! Mr. Guard?” she called out to the empty hall.
Her voice echoed down the dark hall, leaving in its wake a deafening silence that wrung in her ears.
“I know you must be there,” she tried again.
“I don’t think you would throw me in a cell and leave me unattended with no one to ensure that I’d not escape.
” She waited a few seconds before taking a deep breath and readying a scream.
The guard’s voice suddenly called to her just as she cocked her head back.
“What in the name of all the Gods are ye yelling about?” The same red-headed man from earlier came around the corner with a tired expression on his face.
“Nobody can get any sleep with yer yelling.” He rubbed his eyes with chubby fists that resembled hams.
“Oh, thank goodness,” she said in relief when he neared the bars. “I thought you would never come.” She never thought she’d ever like anyone that dragged her into a cell, yet even the sight of the ornery guard was a welcome relief after her hours of isolation.
“What is it?” he snapped at her before massaging his forehead with his index finger and thumb.
“Do you remember when you mentioned earlier that the laird would be paying me a visit?” she asked him defiantly, ignoring the grumpy looks he was giving her through her fingers.
“Aye?” he answered with a heavy note of sarcasm in his voice. “I have nae bumped me head. I remember just fine.”
“Great,” she laid her enthusiasm on thick.
“When will that meeting be?” She scrunched her shoulders up with a giddy look on her face as if she were a child waiting to hear what treat she would receive.
Her mother had often told her that her penchant for sarcasm and humor would someday get her into trouble.
Bravery was not a trait that sat with her either.
“I dinnae ken,” he said irritably. “So, why dae ye nae just be quiet an’ wait like a good little lass?” He seemed sincere in his request.
“What do you mean you do not know? I thought you were a guard at this castle. Should you not know details such as that?”
“Obviously I am a guard at this castle.” His tone became even more irritable as he shook the ring of keys on his belt.
“Then how do you not know when my meeting with the laird will be?” She looked him in the eyes as she spoke, trying her best to draw him into a conversation where he’d give her more information.
“Because the laird doesnae schedule meetings according to his prisoner’s whims,” he countered. “Ye will be seen to when the time is right, an’ not a minute earlier.”
“Fine,” she said as her hopes were once again dashed. “Could you at least bring me a mug of water and something to eat? I am practically starving in here.” She licked over her dry lips that were beginning to crack. “I’m parched.”
The guard looked at her with an exasperated sigh. “Fine, I’ll bring ye something to eat an’ drink.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind,” Joan replied earnestly, trying her best to bite back the sarcastic replies that came to mind. She didn’t want the man to change his mind now that he was willing to help her.
“But that better be the end of yer yelling an’ complaining,” he huffed, turning on his heels and glaring at her with one eye shut. “I have been far too lenient with ye since ye got here. That ends now.”
“Whatever you say.” She rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh that matched his.
Pausing with a frown on his face, he gave her a strange look. “Did ye…” His words trailed off as he looked over her shoulder and into the dungeon. “Did ye clean up in there?” He seemed shocked that anyone would take the time to neaten the cell when they were being held captive.
She looked over her shoulder at the neat floor and pile of hay that had been stacked in a perfect rectangle.
Her makeshift broom leaned against the wall in the corner with a heap of dust and grim at the bottom of the bristles.
Even the walls seemed cleaner once she had run the bristles over the stones.
“Well, you left me in here for hours with nothing else to do,” she snapped at him, feeling slightly sheepish at having cleaned a cell. There was just nothing else she could think of to pass the time. “You could have at least given me a book to read or something.”
“Never mind.” He shook his head in disbelief and turned to leave.
“By the way,” she called after him. “Will you be bringing my belongings down here, or are they waiting for me upstairs in my room?”
“What?” he turned around with a completely defeated look on his face. It was clear to her that her behavior was puzzling him in a way that left him at a loss.
Good. She thought it was never a good idea to show anyone that you were scared. You always had the upper hand in situations if people thought that you were not scared, a motto that had served her well in the past.
“My belongings. I had a trunk full of clothes with me on my carriage,” she stated as a matter of fact.
“Dae ye nae grasp the fact that yer a prisoner?” he asked her with his head cocked to the side. “Ye dinnae seem to understand the seriousness of the situation ye are in.” He looked at her for a second. “Ye are having me on, aren’t ye?”
“I am most certainly not,” she said seriously. “A lady needs her things.”
“The coachman drove away with all of yer things when we took ye captive,” he explained. “Ye have nae more things; I dinnae eve ken if the laird will keep ye alive.” He muttered under his breath about annoying English women before turning the corner and leaving her all alone once again.
Heaving a sigh, she leaned her forehead against the cool steel of the bars.
Nothing was making any sense to her at present.
Why would the coachman leave her behind, taking all of her belongings with him?
And where on earth were Avery and Darragh?
Surely, they knew she was coming. She had posted the letter before leaving London.
Feeling her anger grow, she shut her eyes and raised her voice, “Is anyone else there?”
“Aye, I am, sweetheart. I heard that ye were looking for me,” A deep and ominous voice called to her from the shadows, sending a wave of chills down her spine.
Joan’s eyes shot open as she stared at a neat pair of black leather boots.