She ran for all she was worth, and Lottie ran with her. They approached the edge of the castle. Jeane could smell the loch, could feel her freedom.
But then she heard coughing and wheezing behind her, and it felt like someone had dumped ice water on her head.
Lottie.
Jeane stumbled as she tried to stop her feet, and when she turned, she saw Lottie doubled over.
Jeane’s heart pounded as she ran back to Lottie, who was only a few hundred feet behind. She pumped her legs, her skirts flying out around her, but she was not fast enough.
She had planned to tug Lottie with her, to drag her if she had to, but now, that plan was dead. The two men caught up with Lottie, flanking her.
Jeane slowly stopped running, exhausted physically and emotionally, downhearted. It was over.
Lottie, despite the wheezing, fought the captors, jerking her arms from side to side. “Daenae ye touch me, ye bloody bampot, or me brother will have yer head!”
The man raised his hand and slapped her across the face. Lottie cried out, and Jeane gasped when she saw blood bloom on Lottie’s poor, flushed face.
Jeane made a decision, then, at that moment. She could not allow them to hurt Lottie any further. The girl was already sick. Despair settled over her as she realized what she had to do.
“Stop! I will go with ye!” Jeane shouted, turning her head slightly to face her captor. His breath smelled of fish and ale, an awful combination that made her wince. “Daenae hurt her.”
“Let’s get ye back where ye belong,” the man said, and tugged her toward a horse and wagon.
He threw Jeane into the front of the wagon, keeping her close after climbing in beside her.
Jeane watched the castle get smaller and smaller in her vision which was growing blurry with tears.
Would she ever see Lottie or Fergus again?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“The pigs are getting thinner and thinner every year,” Aileen complained as Fergus stole bacon off the plate she was about to serve. She huffed out a breath, glaring at him.
Aileen was one of the few people in the castle who could scold Fergus and get away with it. She had been the cook for his family for two generations now, and she was nearing eighty years of age. She had practically raised Fergus and Lottie after their parents had passed away in the fire.
“Ye’ll have to forgive me appetite, but I need me energy if I am to run this place,” Fergus apologized, but the smirk he gave her suggested he was not being genuine.
She sat the plate down between him and Aiden, and the two fought over the plate for a moment before Fergus yanked it away from his man-at-arms.
“I daenae ken if I like Liliana being in the castle,” Aiden mumbled, and Fergus shot a gaze at him.
“Why nae? She’s helpin’ Lottie, isnae she?”
“Aye, and I’m grateful,” Aiden said. “But with her here, ye’re in better spirits and eatin’ all me food.”
Fergus snorted. “It’s never been yer food, Aiden. It’s mine; ye’re just lucky enough to enjoy me spoils.”
“As if I daenae collect the taxes from the clans people,” Aiden argued, but Fergus knew it was well-intentioned and good-natured.
Aiden was a good man, and someday, he would marry his sister, but he certainly had a mouth on him.
And he was not wrong. Fergushadbeen in good spirits, especially after his moment with Jeane in the forge. She was not repulsed by him; she just did not trust him. Which he supposed was a whole other set of problems, but it was easier to deal with than if she thought him a monster.
There was nothing he could do about the scars on his face and body, but Jeane would grow to trust him, to know that he was not a cruel person. She would learn that he loved her and would never do anything to hurt her.
“We have to go and pick up the meat for the festival,” Fergus pointed out. “We’ll have to take the wagon.”
“Aye,” Aiden answered easily, eating his bacon and bread.
