Page 7 of A Laird and a Fugitive

Chapter 3

They were taken to a sparsely decorated room. A thin rug lay upon the floor, while a single bed was against the wall. There was a dresser with a single candle atop it, but no way to light it. They were shoved roughly into the room. The dim light made everything barely perceptible, and Caroline had to struggle to make anything out. The bindings were cut away from her wrists, offering relief from the pain.

She turned, begging for mercy, but the door was already being slammed shut. A key twisted in the lock—a damnable sound.

Tara and Nessa were at least free of their bonds as well. Tara slumped onto the bed, her arm falling over her face. She let out a pitiful moan. Nessa rushed to the window and flung it open. She looked out and cursed.

Caroline peered over her shoulder. It was a sheer drop to the ground, far too far for anyone to survive. Caroline closed the window, shutting out the cold.

“Well, this is a fine mess ye hae gotten us intae,” Nessa spat, rubbing her wrists as she perched on the edge of the bed.

“Me?” Caroline asked, shocked.

“Aye, ye said we weren’t gaeing anywhere near Knox territory.”

“Ye are the one who insisted on stealing the food before anyone could talk sense intae ye! We could hae sneaked past those guards.”

“I was just trying tae feed us!”

“Stop it!” Tara cried out. She pushed herself into a sitting position. Her voice trembled with emotion. “I dinnae want ye tae fight. What good is fighting gaeing tae dae us?”

Caroline took a breath. “I thought if he believed our story, he might take pity on us.”

“It was a good story,” Nessa conceded. They were often quick to argue, but the nature of their relationship was one where hostilities could be calmed almost immediately. “Right now, I would love tae be a merchant’s daughter, rather than what we are.”

“There’s naething wrong with what we are,” Caroline said tersely. “We should still be proud of our family name. I dinnae understand why the Laird bears such resentment taewards our family. It’s probably some territorial dispute.”

“It always comes down to land,” Nessa replied sagely.

“But as long as we are alive, we hae a chance tae change his mind and show him that we deserve his mercy. I am nae willing tae accept my fate, and I am nae gaeing tae end up like other trespassers.”

“I think he might hae other plans for ye,” Nessa confessed.

Caroline ignored her words, and the unscratchable itch at the base of her neck.

“We should get some rest at least. Gae tae bed. Things may seem better in the morning.”

Nessa and Tara shared the bed, while Caroline curled up on the floor. The rug offered scant comfort. She placed a hand beneath her head and closed her eyes, but sleep did not come easily. All she could see in her mind’s eye was the fearsome visage of Laird Knox, and the terror of what fate he had in store for them.

She awoke the following day to pale strands of light caressing her face. Her heart was enlivened when the key turned in the lock and the door was opened, but it was swiftly shut again. They were left with a simple breakfast of bread, cheese, and water to share among them.

The rest of the day was spent in isolation. Occasionally, Caroline heard footsteps outside the room and muffled voices, but she could not make out anything distinct. Her heart often spiked with fear, though, presuming that Laird Knox was going to make himself known and terrify them once again.

Tara tried to pass the time by playing simple games, but neither Nessa nor Caroline were in the mood. Nessa tested every inch of the room for an escape route, while Caroline preferred to reserve her energy.

In the later part of the day, the door opened again. Caroline’s stomach growled, but dinner was not being served. Instead, three maids came in, each of them holding a dress. They stretched out their arms, offering the dresses to each sister.

“What is this for? What’s gaeing on?” Caroline inquired, but the maids did not reply. “Please, ye must help us. Is there any way tae escape? We dinnae belong here, surely ye can see that? We dinnae mean any threat tae the Laird, and we hae nae hurt anyone.”

Caroline’s imploring words were again met with silence. However, this time she sensed regret in the eyes of the maids as they averted their gaze. Caroline was resigned to taking the dress. Nessa and Tara followed suit. As soon as they did this, the maids shuffled out of the room and once again the door was knocked.

With no further instructions, Caroline felt forced to play the Laird’s game. They changed into the dresses he had provided for them. Caroline’s dress was cornflour blue, Nessa’s was a bright green, and Tara’s was the color of a daffodil.

“What are we supposed tae dae now? Is this sae we look good when hanged?” Nessa asked.

Tara whimpered. Caroline moved to place a comforting arm around her youngest sister’s shoulder, while glaring at Nessa, trying to warn her to not say such things. Nessa’s eyes bugged wide, and she emphatically shrugged, indicating that she believed she had done nothing wrong.

Then, the key was turned again, and a guard stood there.