Claimed By A Charmer (The Pith Trilogy) (7 page)

Douglas recalled his conversation
with Brendan about keeping her, too. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the
fiery lass, and as he rode through the Gordon gates, he kept looking back at
her, swearing that one day, he would have a wife as beautiful, and one as sweet
and enchanting. Aye, he remembered saying to himself, he wanted a wife who
would be faithful and loving, a wife who would give him find sons and daughters,
a wife who wasn’t afraid to challenge him.

He had dismissed his thoughts of
her for such a long time and now the memories flooded him. Sleep continued to elude
him, as the night wore on, even though he was beyond tired. He recalled their
last encounter and smiled. Isabel Calvert would probably carp at him the whole
ride to the Highlands. He recollected her lack of fear of him and Brendan. His
cousin was fearsome, and most ladies ran the other way at the sight of him, but
not Isabel. She stood up to them at supper that night.

He remembered how Isabel’s hair
swung by her derriere and the way her green cat-like eyes looked at him. He
swallowed at the vision. For the love of God, the woman invaded his sanity. He
scoffed, trying to dismiss the vision. She haunted his dreams from time to
time, and he hadn’t been able to forsake her. Now with her is such close proximity,
he was certain to have more difficulty dismissing the woman.

Unsettled, he tossed again, staring
into the darkness of his chamber. Her sweet freckles and soft lips waved before
his eyes. Candace had his promise to bring her back, and that’s exactly what he
intended to do. However now he wasn’t sure if he was bringing her back for
Candace or for himself. He finally fell asleep and dreamt of her.

*****

Laughter erupted as soon as Douglas
left the hall. Brendan knew that Douglas had to feel petulant about the
journey, and it appeared that his reaction hadn’t changed at all. Brendan
watched Candace leave the hall on Douglas’ heels.

“I’ve never seen Douglas’ mood turn
so foul. What’s amiss, Brendan?” Colin asked.

“He’s in for it. I was with him
when he had a run-in with her. She gave him hell.”

“So Douglas doesn’t want to have
another run-in with her? Why did she give him hell?” Gil asked, grinning like a
lad.

“I think deep down that he does
want another encounter with her. She stood up to him. I never saw him react to
a woman like that. He regretted leaving her behind,” Brendan said.

“He wasn’t charming? I cannot
believe that.” Gil’s laughter boomed forth. “Finally, a woman who didn’t fall
for that cosh.”

Brendan chuckled. “Nay, he wasn’t
charming. He was upset about his da dying, and went to bring Candace home for
the burial. Isabel didn’t take kindly the way he imparted the news to Candace. She
reproached him. You should have seen the way he watched her.”

“I wish that I were there to see
that. Mayhap I should come along,” Cedric said.

“Nay, you must to see to the keep’s
protection while we’re away. He’ll not let you come.”

“I’ll come along then. I never
figured Douglas would fall for a hellion,” Colin said. “He always claimed that
he’d have a sweet lass who would obey his every command.”

“Londontown. Did ye forget your
promise to Julianna? You’re visiting your English relatives, Colin. I’m sure
you don’t want her going without you,” Brendan reminded him.

“I have to go to England, I
forgot.” Colin frowned. “You’ll tell me about it when I return?”

“Aye, give King Henry my regards,”
Brendan said sarcastically, and the men laughed at his barb.

Brendan hated England and the king.
But King Henry was Colin’s relative through marriage, and he put up with the
fact that his brother was related to him. Colin’s wife, Julianna, was King
Henry’s cousin and held great feeling for him. Colin had been forced to accept
their relationship, and wasn’t too happy about it either.

Brendan thought it odd that Douglas
had retired early. At first, he’d thought Douglas was escaping their jests, but
his cousin had yawned most of the day, and seemed overly tired. He thought
Douglas might be ill, and wanted to ask, but he wouldn’t be so receptive of his
concern. Nay, his cousin would harp at him for even asking. Still, it did seem
odd and he suspected something afoul. Douglas was never tired or sleepy, and
could go days without taking much of a rest. Many a time, they had ridden
through the night on sentry duty.

Dismissing his unusual thoughts,
Brendan finished his ale, and listened to the soldier’s conversations. He
returned his thoughts to Douglas’ task and knew there were sparks between
Douglas and Isabel when they met, and he found it amusing that his cousin was
done for. Aye, the journey would be fun-filled and he’d be sure to tease
Douglas every chance he got.

Dawn didn’t give off enough light
to see by, and the dimness fueled her dismay. Isabel wouldn’t escape her
situation. This day, she’d be taken to the asylum. She closed the satchel which
held her most prized possessions: a few exquisite garments given to her by
Candace, two books from Uncle Stan, and her most valued: numerous daggers and a
shortened sword. She readjusted the clothing to cover the shiny objects. Isabel
was well-versed in the craft of weapons, and missed her daily exercise. She’d
grown restless at the inactivity, but she wasn’t about to leave without some
protection and refused to consider leaving them behind.

When at last she opened the door,
her father waited. “Hurry up, girl.”

She snatched the satchel from the
floor before he pulled her from the chamber. He dragged her along to the doors
of his keep. She held onto the stairway wall, but he yanked her arm. Isabel
tried to resist, but he was determined to remove her. Once outside, he released
her, and she watched him saunter to the stables. Closing her eyes, she
swallowed her panic. Fairview Asylum was known to be a place of terror. She was
able to delay her father’s decision by a fortnight, but no longer.

Isabel looked into her opened
satchel when a gleaming flicker crossed her eye. Her garments shifted position,
and she studied the dagger. She would rather die than be sent to the asylum,
and she considered her options. Did she have the courage? Sighing, she decided
she would do what was needed. But before she could reach for a dagger, her
father grasped her arm, pulling her to the horses. Seated atop, her bag was
plucked from her, and her chance to end it wafted away—surely as she was now on
her way to the asylum.

The entire journey to the asylum,
she was made to ride behind her father and his men. He wouldn’t allow her to
speak and whenever she tried to plead with him, he held up his hand as if to
strike her. Her bottom hurt after riding for long hours, and Isabel grew
alarmed when the asylum came into view. Her sore bottom forgotten, she stared
ahead at the gloomy building.

It was a frightening place, and one
perchance that would be described in the tale of a horror story. She was yanked
from her horse, handed her satchel, and forced to the doors by a hard shove
betwixt her shoulders. Would she swoon before she reached the inside? Her
stomach flipped and she thought she’d be ill. She swallowed her fear, hoping it
would help settle her stomach. Holding her chin high, she walked forward. She
would enter with courage and dignity, and not show signs that this affected
her. Her pride regained, she held herself as straight as a lance and marched
inside with all the haughtiness of a queen.

The Friar greeted her father with
gaiety. His yellowed teeth glowed, and he seemed delighted to be of service. Of
course, he was amply rewarded and his pockets were lined nice and heavy. Her
father had complained about the cost during their trek, as if she should be
sorry to have caused him such a hardship.

“My lord, ye can be assured the
girl won’t return.”

“Aye, I’ll hand her over to ye,
Friar Whickham.” Her father turned and walked away. He didn’t look back, nor
say a word of farewell. She hadn’t mattered to him in the least.

“You will burn in hell, Father, I
promise ye,” she screamed so loudly that it burned her throat.

Isabel wanted to stick her dagger
in his cold heart. Tears formed in her eyes when she realized just what a
loathsome man he was. She knew that he didn’t love her, but it hurt to be
rejected by her only parent.

Friar Whickham held her still, not
allowing her to run after him.

“Now, you’ll be no trouble, girl. Fortunately,
you’ll be given comforts that the other girls will not. Nigel gave his orders
and you’re to be well taken care of. Ye should be comfortable.”

The Friar laughed wickedly,
underlining his mockery. His tone indicated that he knew Nigel’s intent. He
pulled her to the stairs of the second level, and they reached a blackened door
with a large beam across the center for a security measure. It creaked when it
opened. She walked hesitantly inside, and reached the far end of the chamber
when she heard the door bang, and the beam replaced.

There would be no escaping the
place. The barred door and the window wouldn’t allow her to hope. Cobwebs waved
in the corners of the ceiling. If flames could be seen, she’d consider it hell.
Had she committed many sins to be placed here? The good Lord wouldn’t punish
her so cruelly, would he?

A small barred window covered with
a sparse hide muted light from outside. It smelled putrid—like death. She saw a
movement on the floor. A squeak penetrated the silence. A large rat ran across
the stone floor. At first she thought it might be a cat, but it squeaked. Isabel
sat on the only chair in the darkened room, lifting her feet. She wasn’t
cowardly, but she admitted the vile creature made her skin crawl. She spent the
next hour throwing daggers at the moving target, and finally the horrid
creature lay dead.

“God, please send Douglas. I need
him.” Isabel cried silent tears of misery. If he didn’t show up in time, she’d
have to do the worst thing imaginable and condemn herself.

Douglass veered around a large
tree, scanning the distance. Raven Hill Castle sat at the top of a hill, and
appeared to be well protected beyond the wooden walls. Getting inside would
take a bit of cunning on his part, and he studied the fortress, looking for a
way in. Once inside, he would find the lass and get the hell out of there. Being
in England was bad enough, but now he was about to trespass and kidnap one of
its women. Even though Candace had told him Isabel would want to come, he was
certain she wouldn’t be allowed to leave. Night had finally fallen and he’d be
able to scale the wall, find her, and secret her away before anyone became
aware.

He looked ahead and saw a soldier
strolling toward the trees where he stood. Douglas waited for the soldier to
reach him, he wasn’t about to have the man call out to the sentry and would
give he lad a wee tap to silence him. The darkness hid his form allowing his
surprise attack. Once the soldier was within arms reach, Douglas grabbed his
tunic, and pressed his dagger against his neck.

Before he could strike him, the man’s
eyes widened.

“A-Are you here for Isabel?”

He released the soldier and nodded.
“Aye, I was sent to fetch her. Get her and be quick about it. I’ll await in the
wood.” He started to turn, but the brave lad pulled his arm. “What is it?”

The soldier backed up when Douglas returned.
“S-Sir, sh-she’s gone. You’re too late.”

“The hell you say. Too late? Where
has the lass gone?” His voice grew harsh, scaring the young soldier, and he
backed farther away.

“Her f-father sent her to an as-sylum.
She’ll not fare well. Her fate is s-set.”

Douglas noticed the soldier’s
grimness. He looked as though he might cry.

“Aye, her fate is set, and not by
her father. An asylum, you say? Why would he send her to such a place? Where is
this asylum located?” He took a rigid stance, peering angrily at the man in
disbelief of what he’d heard.

“Her father is cruel, sir. I don’t
know why he sent her there, but it’s a long ride, perhaps a day to the
northwest. She’ll probably be d-dead by then. I couldn’t stop them from taking
her.”

“Worry not, lad, I’ll get to her in
time.” Douglas leaned against the tree as if he had plenty of time. “Tell me,
what kind of place it is? Is it for the insane or a sanctuary? Who runs it?”

“From what I understand, it’s where
unwed mothers are sent—a sanctuary. ‘Tis called Fairview Asylum. Lord Nigel,
Isabel’s brother, goes there oftentimes. I followed him once. He pays the
keeper there for use of the girls. The caretaker is Friar Whickham and he will
let her brother do what he wants.” The soldier’s rambling trailed off when
Douglas pulled from the tree.

“Good God, that’s preposterous.” Douglas
whistled to his men, and jumped on his horse. “Brendan, Gil, we ride out.” He
kicked his horse into action, and felt the soldier watching him as he rode
away. He hoped that he’d be able to reach her in time. His lady was in dire
trouble. His lady? He dismissed his uncontrolled thought.

They rode swiftly in the direction
of the asylum. After getting direction from a farmer along the way, they had
reached their destination in a much shorter time than Douglas was told. It had
only taken five hours to reach a building. He stopped his horse short of the
tree line, seeing the shadowy light from the building’s lower windows. Assessing
the edifice, Douglas noted the entrance and guards who strolled the outer wall.
He noticed the cross etched on the wood above the entrance and he heard cries
coming from within.

“What’s your plan?” Brendan jumped
from his steed, and approached to stand next to him.

Douglas joined him on the ground. “I’ll
go alone. If I need you, wait for my signal.”

Brendan nodded, slapped his
shoulder, and then led Gil a short distance away. Douglas remounted his steed,
and headed toward the walls, when a shout came at him.

“Halt.” A guard stepped forward,
motioning with his sword to stop. “What do ye here?” The man eyed him then
retreated.

Douglas sensed his fear. “I’ve come
to see the keeper, Friar … ah Whickham. Tell him Nigel Calvert sent me.” He
softened his voice to a respectful level, trying not to cause the guard’s
panic. The asylum must not have received many Highlander visitors. Another
guard backed up.

The guard who had spoken to him,
led him toward the entrance. Douglas controlled his emotions when he realized
what kind of place it was. He let his horse’s reins loose, and followed the
guard.

“Stay here, I’ll see if Friar
Whickham will see you. You men watch him,” the guard directed.

Two guards stood by the doorway
with their swords drawn. The young soldiers were barely men, Douglas noted. Why,
they were half his size, and certainly not skilled enough to take him on. He
watched the man disappear down the hallway, remarking the interior’s
deterioration. The walls appeared blackened, soiled by soot. He assessed the
exits and doors around him, and his mind reeled with his plan.

Douglas heard a door open and he
turned toward it.

“Sir, Friar Whickham will see you.”
The man opened a door, motioning for him to enter.

He walked into the room, and waited
for Friar Whickham to appear. The Friar turned in a high-backed chair. “Welcome,
my lord. What can I do for?”

Douglas took in the man’s form,
looking at his beak-like nose, and unholy mien. Though he was a man of the
cloth, he bore no resemblance to the kindly figures of the clergy revered by
the Highlanders.

“I’m friend to Nigel Calvert. He
told me I could come here for a night of …”

“Aye, do you have the funds?”

“Of course. How much was it again?”

“Seven coins.”

Douglas guessed from his shifty
look that he was being lied to. It wasn’t worth making a fuss over, though. He
nodded, then pulled a pouch from his tunic, and tossed the coins on the table. One
rolled to the edge and was caught by the Friar. Greedy bastard.

“I’ve just the girl for you, my
lord. She’s known to take a big man like you and survive it. Your satisfaction
is the utmost guaranteed.” He laughed.

Douglas’ eyes narrowed at the man’s
gall. “I’m specific in my needs, Friar. I want an unused lass, preferably with
red hair. I like ‘em feisty.”

The Friar hesitated, and Douglas
wondered if his greed for coin would win out over his concern for Nigel. At
last, the Friar spoke.

“A red-haired, my lord? I do have
such a woman in residence though she may not be unused. I’ll have my man show
you to her room. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have the—”

“I abhor a lass without red hair,
it’s a preference I have.” He hoped he’d made it in time.

“She’s only been here a sennight. No
one has been with her yet. She might give you trouble and is most disagreeable.”

“Aye, that’s what I’m expecting—trouble.
I look forward to it.” Douglas grinned.

The Friar laughed then nodded to
the guard. He followed him through the doorway, and was led down the corridor,
and up a flight of rickety stairs. When they arrived at the door, the man
unbarred it and strode away. Douglas stared at the door for a moment, hearing
moans coming from down the hallway. Glancing toward the sounds, he pushed the
door open, hoping to find Isabel inside, safe and sound.

As he entered the swarthy room, he
noticed her form on the bed. She must not have heard him enter. His eyebrows
furrowed, seeing a glint of steel.