Chapter 11
Darina continued to struggle and protest the entire way down to the dungeons, her shoes kicking and scraping against the stone floors.
“How dare ye treat me this way?!” she demanded. “I am a noblewoman and the daughter of Laird Cawley Wallace! Unhand me this instant!”
“Aye, we ken full well who ye are,” one of the guardsmen chuckled, “and ye should feel fortunate indeed that we have been ordered nae tae treat ye all the more roughly fer it!”
“Why should we fear the ire of some silly girl who was spawned by our clan’s greatest enemy?
” the other challenged. As he said this, he wrenched her arm painfully, as if underscoring his point.
“Yer accursed father would already see us all dead if he had his way, so what could ye possibly threaten us with, eh?”
“That is nae true!” she retorted. “My father does nae wish death upon yer entire clan any more than I do. He seeks peace between us. He would gladly negotiate a treaty without all of this!”
“Perhaps he would have before,” the first guard said with a small shrug, “but I doubt he will, now that we’ve stolen ye away.
Nay, the only way out of this fer all of us is precisely what Laird Oliver said: Ye and Master Fergus must marry, and in doin’ so, create a true and lastin’ alliance that none shall ever be able tae sunder.
So if I were ye, I would tell him that ye consent tae it, and quickly. ”
“Indeed,” the other sniggered, “fer I do nae believe ye will enjoy yer stay in the dungeons one bit!”
No, Darina did not imagine she would either.
They reached the heavy iron door to the dungeons, and the first guard unlocked and opened it.
A yawning black chasm awaited beyond it, and a musty and evil stench seemed to breathe out of it, causing Darina to recoil.
It was a smell of urine and waste, of blood and dirty bodies, but most of all, the stink of madness and desperation.
She’d caught a distinct whiff of those last two smells clinging to Laird Oliver when he’d spoken to her. He belonged down here, not her.
However, this did not stop the guardsmen from shoving her into the chamber.
There were three or four stone steps leading down, but her eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness, and she stumbled down them, falling to one knee and skinning it badly.
She cried out in pain, and the guards behind her laughed cruelly.
“Yw’re lucky we were instructed tae leave ye unharmed, lass,” the first one taunted, “or else we might be inclined tae come in there ourselves and keep ye company fer a bit!”
“Bet she’ll be begging fer it,” the second one chortled, “just tae keep herself warm when night falls and the chill sinks into the stones!”
A moment later, the heavy metal door slammed shut again, its echo reverberating through the chamber.
Darina scrambled to her feet. She tried to get a sense of the space surrounding her, but in the gloom, it was difficult. “Hello?” she called out timidly. “Is anyone else in here, please?”
At first, there was no answer.
Then her eyes began to grow accustomed to the darkness, and she saw dozens of tiny, beady eyes gleaming in the shadows all around her. There was a faint squeaking, and she realized that she was surrounded by rats.
She tried to back away from them, but her foot caught something spherical on the ground behind her, almost causing her to lose her balance again.
She peered down at it and saw that it was a human skull.
Darina’s breath caught in her throat, and tears of shock and horror stung her eyes.
The skull no doubt belonged to one of her clansmen, probably one who had been captured during the battle and left down here to rot without food or water until he’d been too weak to fight the rats off, and they’d gnawed the flesh from his bones.
Would that same ghastly fate befall her as well?
She wanted to believe Laird Oliver would never allow such a thing, not when she was far more valuable to him alive.
He was a madman, perhaps, but one with a clear and specific agenda all the same.
He would see her tormented and horrified, no doubt, because he was a sadist and monster who wished to terrorize her into doing as he demanded.
But death? No, he would stop short of that.
Which left the prospect of being left in this dungeon indefinitely with a pack of hungry rats for company.
As she regarded the rodents warily and pondered the best way to hold them at bay, the tears spilled down her cheeks freely.
She thought about her family and how worried they would be when they discovered that she was missing.
Would they assume that the McDougals had had something to do with her disappearance?
What sort of retaliatory measures might they contemplate?
And how effective might they be?
Her prospects, as she saw them, looked bleak indeed.
Putting aside the risks of starvation and illness from being kept here, if they rode to her rescue, there was every chance that Oliver would order her killed rather than see her freed.
He might even do it directly in front of her father or brothers in order to drive them into an unthinking frenzy and exploit their anger, as he had mentioned before in the courtyard.
Laird Oliver seemed to have taken leave of his senses entirely. It was futile to predict what he might do if provoked and horrifying to contemplate how far he might go to win this conflict.
Then the strangest thought of all occurred to her: Should she simply go through with the bizarre marriage that had been proposed?
Upon initial consideration, it seemed roughly akin to wedding herself to a pack of ghouls and monsters—a harbinger of a dark and unhappy future for her, trapped with a husband and father-in-law who were capable of all manner of villainy.
Her own safety in such a situation hardly seemed as though it would be assured; her sanity, even less so.
How could she contemplate, even for the barest instant, willingly going along with such a dreadful thing?
These people had kidnapped her, after all, and now they clearly intended to make her captivity a misery.
But what if the only way to swiftly and efficiently end the war was to marry Fergus and have his children?
It would end the bloodshed on both sides. It would make the two clans allies. Reluctant ones, certainly, but not inclined to take up arms against each other. In fact, it would guarantee that the two clans would come to each other’s aid against future threats to safeguard their now-shared bloodline.
And what if she could ensure, by being mother to the next laird of the McDougals, that he would be an improvement on previous generations?
It was not difficult to see the cruel parentage which had spawned Fergus.
His father was monstrous, not just in general but to Fergus in particular.
It was no wonder that Fergus had grown up to be a kidnapper and a liar.
She was almost inclined to forgive him, having now met his father—to sympathize with him, even, and wonder anew whether he might be a better man than his recent actions indicated.
Surely, the raising of their children would largely be left to her while he prepared to take over lairdship from Oliver? Mightn’t she instruct and encourage their offspring to grow into kinder, wiser, more forthright and honorable men than their father and grandfather had been?
These things were possible, she supposed.
But were they likely? Or was she simply desperate and clutching at straws, trying to find some way to mentally process the horrid state she currently found herself in?
Unable to find any means of escape or rescue, was she deluding herself into thinking that she might not end up requiring either one?
Before she could answer her own questions, she heard the key turn in the lock and nearly jumped out of her skin, thinking that the guards had returned to make further sport of her. Or maybe some grotesque brigand was being tossed in to keep her company.
When the door opened, however, she saw the face of Fergus peering in.
“I am relieved tae see that the rats have left ye unharmed,” he remarked.
“Fer the moment,” she countered, “though I have nay doubt that they will find me appealin’ enough in due time.”
“As anyone would,” he murmured. “But I believe it would be far wiser tae deprive them of the opportunity. Come, follow me.”
“If ye intend tae escort me tae the chapel and marry me tae ease my current discomfort,” she informed him defiantly, “ye may as well shut and lock the door again and leave the rats tae their feast. I have nay intention of givin’ in tae yer father’s demands.”
She was far from making that choice yet, and she certainly had no intention of giving Fergus the satisfaction of knowing how scared her desperation was making her.
“Ye needn’t make yer decision tonight,” he said, “and as far as I am concerned, you needn’t make it under duress, nay matter what my father says. We have plenty of rooms upstairs which lock from the outside tae assuage any concerns he might have aboot yer escape.”
She was entirely taken aback by his offer, and she went to the door on trembling legs. “Very well, I shall accompany ye. As long as this is nae some cruel prank ye mean tae play upon me, liberatin’ me from this place tae take me someplace worse and more hopeless.”
Fergus looked around, grimacing. “Can ye genuinely imagine someplace that would fit that description? Fer I confess, I cannae.”
Darina wrinkled her nose at her surroundings. “Nay, I suppose nae. Lead the way, then.”
Fergus escorted her up a winding flight of stone steps to a chamber in one of the keep’s highest towers. It was a plain but clean room with a simple bed and a small table.
“Ye shall have a fine view up here, which is why I selected this room,” he told her.
“Oh?” She arched an eyebrow. “I should think ye’re puttin’ me up here tae deter any idea I might have aboot tryin’ tae escape through the window.”
“That thought had also occurred tae me,” he admitted. “Ye are clever tae deduce it.”
“But nae clever enough, it seems, tae think up a way out of all this. Other than marryin’ ye, which I have nae wish tae do.”
A pained expression crossed his face. “I certainly cannae blame ye fer that, given how the proposition was put forth tae you. I suppose it would nae matter tae ye if I apologized fer my father’s wrongheaded notions and assure ye that I do nae share them?”
“That would depend,” she replied, “upon whether those were mere words or if ye actually intended fer yer actions tae support them.”
He frowned. “What would ye have me do, Darina? Defy him? He is my father and my laird. He is only doin’ what he feels is best fer our people.”
She put her hands on her hips indignantly. “Do ye truly mean tae defend his actions when he has demanded that ye bring me here and marry me against my will? He is a brute, and if ye agree with him, then so are ye!”
“I do nae,” Fergus insisted, “and I am nae brute. The man ye were inclined to kiss in that corridor—”
“I was nae inclined tae kiss ye,” she interjected.
“We both ken ye were,” he responded impatiently. “There has been a, well, a kind of connection between us since we first met. Surely ye acknowledge that.”
“I acknowledge nay such thing! We had two encounters, Sir, and on the occasion of the second, ye drugged and abducted me. I did nae have any real knowledge of yer character then. And if I was attracted tae you—which, I might add, is by nay means an admission—then it was largely predicated upon yer good looks, which obviously belied a black and vile heart.”
His shoulders slumped in defeat. “Yer grief and anger are still new, and as I said, I cannae blame ye at all. However, I ask that ye use these more pleasant accommodations tae reconsider yer position. Think about what would be best fer all concerned, and if ye do concede tae marry me, I will do all that I can tae make it easy fer ye.”
“Unless Oliver tells ye tae do otherwise,” she replied coldly, “fer he is yer father and yer laird, and he is only doing what he feels is best fer yer people.”
Fergus seemed to have no fit response to that, for how could he? How could he genuinely expect her to believe his character contained anything of value after he had treated her so shamefully and shown himself incapable of going against his father’s wishes in any real way?
So he withdrew, and when he shut the door, Darina heard it lock from the outside just as he’d assured her it would.
She sat down on the bed, wondering at the strange and sudden change in her fortunes over the course of the previous day…and considering what she might be forced to endure next.