Page 8 of A Laird and a Fugitive

“Come,” he urged them.

Caroline glanced at her sisters. Was this the beginning of the last few moments of their lives?

“Now,” the guard hissed as they hesitated. His hand moved to the hilt of his sword, which was enough to make the girls move. They filtered out of the room in a single line. Caroline went first, followed by Nessa, and then Tara.

“Where are we gaeing? Where are ye taking us?” Caroline asked.

“Ye will find out soon enough,” the guard replied tersely, and from his tone it was clear that any further questions would not be welcomed.

Tara looked beside herself. Her lower lip trembled and tears welled in her eyes. Caroline understood well how she felt, although she was trying to put on a brave face.

They were led through the Keep, along corridors and down stone stairs, until they were standing before two double doors, an entrance to the same chamber as they had been in the previous night. Nessa and Tara flanked Caroline.

“I dinnae want tae die,” Tara whispered.

“Whatever happens, we gae taegther,” Caroline said softly, and took Tara’s trembling hand. Then, she took Nessa’s. She gave them each a firm nod.

She straightened her shoulders and arched her neck back. If these were to be the last moments of her life and if death was waiting for them beyond these doors, then she was not going to cower in the face of doom. She was going to hold her head high and die with dignity, just as a Gilmour should. She would maintain the qualities of her family to the bitter end, knowing that she had made her parents proud.

The doors opened. Caroline’s throat tightened. She expected to see a grisly scene waiting for them, but instead it was something most unexpected. A modest feast had been laid out. One of the tables had been moved into the middle of the room, and it was filled with pies, sliced meat, roasted vegetables, bowls of nuts, and steaming soup. Caroline blinked with uncertainty. The aroma drifted towards her and made her stomach clutch, but she wondered if this was too good to be true. Why would Laird Knox show them this kindness? Was this to be their last meal?

Laird Knox was standing at the far end of the table, his hands resting against the high back of his chair. He beckoned them forward. The guard cleared his throat, once again reminded them that they did not have much of a choice. They were shown to the top of the table. Caroline sat on the Laird’s right-hand side, while Nessa and Tara were opposite her. Tara reached out for some food, but Nessa grabbed her wrist and pulled it down, shaking her head.

Laird Knox pulled his chair out and took a seat.

“Ye may sit,” he made a gesture with his hands, as though he was a puppet master holding on to their strings.

Caroline smoothed her dress down beneath her. Servants came up behind them, the suddenness of the moment making Caroline jump. They poured wine into glasses.

“I hope ye appreciate the new clothes. Ye could hardly come tae dinner wearing the tattered rags ye arrived in. I see things must be grim in the Gilmour Clan if that’s the state of the ye,” he smirked as he said this, clearly taking delight in the perceived ruin of the clan.

The truth was that he wasn’t far from the mark. With her uncle in power, things in the clan would deteriorate swiftly, but Caroline saw no need to share this with Laird Knox.

He took a drink and then pulled some meat onto his plate, chewing loudly. The fat dripped down onto his plate. Tara gave Caroline a searching look, but she shook her head. Tension ran through her body. She held herself stiffly, fearing that one wrong move might incur the Laird’s wrath. This was likely a test of their resolve, and she was not going to show themselves as being desperate.

The Laird polished off some meat and then rubbed his hands together. He leaned forward, placing both forearms on the table. His gaze shifted from side to side, encompassing each of the sisters, although Caroline felt that most of his attention was on her.

“Ye seem awfully quiet, all of ye. Surely, Gilmour lasses hae more fire in them than this? Or does it take a real challenge tae provoke it in ye? Are ye nae gaeing tae put up a fight?” he leveled his gaze towards Caroline.

She felt the weight of it press upon her. Lips quivered, but she kept them closed. She was not about to be goaded into insulting him or making a slip of the tongue that might rouse his anger. Her gaze darted to the far wall where her emblem had fallen to the ground, but it was nowhere to be seen. It was likely lost forever. If Laird Knox hated their clan that fiercely, then he would likely feel offended at its mere presence.

“Are ye nae gaeing tae eat? I went tae the trouble of preparing this feast for ye. It would be rude of ye nae tae enjoy it,” he said, gesturing to the food.

“If this is tae be our last night, then we would rather bring things tae a swift conclusion. A last meal would only taste bitter,” Caroline explained.

Tara looked alarmed at this, while Nessa smirked, impressed by Caroline’s defiant attitude. Laird Knox seemed to be amused as well.

“This is nae yer last night, lass. I hae decided that yer name makes ye far tae valuable tae fritter away like a common trespasser. Oh nae, I hae much more important plans for ye. But ye should keep in mind that this land can be either a prison or a fortress, depending on what choices ye make. I wonder which way ye will lean by the end of the night?”

He sat back in his chair and picked out some nuts from a bowl. He crunched on them loudly, not bothering to close his mouth as he chewed, which would have been polite.

“I was nae aware we hae a choice,” Caroline replied.

“Ye always hae a choice. Such as now. Ye can gae hungry if ye are determined, but ye will only be harming yerself. What good is it gaeing tae dae ye tae starve yerself? And after all the hard work that hae gone intae this meal… It is a momentous occasion in a way. I cannae recall a time when members of the Gilmour Clan were entertained here.”

A thoughtful look came into his eyes for a moment, and then it passed like a wistful cloud. Caroline’s stomach clenched again, as though there was some beast inside her growling away. This feeling would have been as bad for Tara and Nessa as well. It didn’t feel quite right to deny them the opportunity to eat.

She cast a surreptitious glance their way and gave them a slight nod. Tara began grabbing things recklessly, piling them upon her plate. Nessa was more reserved, but she too gathered many things. Caroline was more methodical. She took things one at a time, not wishing to seem gluttonous, even though her instincts were pleading with her to stuff her face.