“But who can blame me?”
In mere moments, Jane was on her back and Alistair was following her down, trailing kisses down her neck. They were interrupted by a shout. Ramsay stood before them, completely naked, his clothes in his hands. Jane screamed. Anger flashed in Alistair’s eyes. “What are ye doing, braither? Put some clothes on!” he inquired.
“There is no time,” Ramsay said. “There is a fire burning on the other side,” he said, pulling his shirt over his head. “I saw it when I went tae the river.”
Alistair shot up. “We must ascertain whether it is Pierce or nae,” he said. Jane opened her eyes to come face to face with Ramsay’s manhood. She squeaked and closed her eyes again. “Jane, stop looking at me braither,” Alistair said.
“Then he should stop standing naked in front of me,” Jane said.
Ramsay threw his kilt on. “Ye two are not exactly modest, either,” he said. The other two looked down to see that he was right. A part of Alistair’s kilt had ridden up, and Jane’s breasts were rather visible.
Jane cleared her throat delicately as she set about putting herself to rights. Ramsay was gentlemanly enough to look away. “I apologize,” she said. Ramsay nodded. Alistair righted his kilt. “Jane, you must stay here. Ramsay and I will check the surroundings and find out the source of the fire.”
“Alistair-”
“Nay, Jane, you cannae talk yer way out of this one.” He rubbed her back affectionately. “Ye must stay.”
Jane nodded. Jane and Alistair shared a kiss and the men departed. Jane turned back to the fire. It was dying out. She bent to add bits of wood to it and she was suddenly grabbed from behind and forced into a standing position. A knife was pressed against her neck.
“If you scream.” Commander Edward Pierce said, his voice brimming with malevolence, “I shall slit your throat.
“I will not,” Jane said. “What are you doing?”
“I knew it was only a matter of time before the Scots would come after me for what I said to your defiler. Knowing you, I was rather certain that you would follow. I am almost never wrong.”
Jane strained against him, but he pressed the tip of the blade against her in warning. A drop of blood came out of the tiny wound. “Now I shall take you back to your beloved sister’s wedding and have the bastards follow. Of course, you know what will happen to them on English soil, and with a duke present, no less. I’m afraid your Highlander and his brother are good as dead.”
“No,” Jane said.
“Oh, yes!” the Commander said with a dark laugh. “I shall be promoted by the king of course. Dubbed a valiant soldier for the English cause. And you, Jane? You shall be utterly disgraced. Scorned by your family and everyone that you know. How does it feel to be bait again? I might have made you my wife. But now you are a Scot’s whore. You are probably the whore for the entire clan.”
“You wanted to marry me,” Jane said, a last-ditch attempt. “Why hurt me? Why hurt my family?”
“Do you need to even ask, girl? Why, you are impure so I can obviously not bed you. I might as well use you to advance my position and attain more power. For me, you are only a tool. You would be dead, otherwise. And I do not jest.”
He dragged her into the direction opposite to the path that Alistair and Ramsay had gone. His horse was here. He roughly placed her atop it and then mounted behind her. He set the horse to a punishing pace.
* * *
After searching the remains of the campsite where Ramsay had seen the fire to no avail, the brothers returned to their camp. When Alistair saw that Jane was gone, he bellowed out his anger. Ramsay, who was right behind him, began to search the environs, although it was obvious that she had been captured. There were hoof tracks in the earth to prove it.
“I shouldnae have left her alone,” Alistair growled, his voice bitter. “Twice, the Commander has outsmarted me and like a fool, I fell fer it.”
“Ye had nae way of knowing,” his brother said soothingly. “We must get her back. Dae ye think ye ken where he is headed?”
“England,” Alistair gritted out. “That is where the man will go to rally more troops and return for another war with our clan. He has taken Jane purely out of spite.” He paused. “Or something far worse. We must hurry. Now.” He strode to his horse and mounted it. Ramsay was right behind him. The brothers raced through the night, the moonlight guiding them.
The first chance that Alistair got, he swore he would drive a sword through the Commander’s heart.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
It all seemed like a dream. A nightmare, to be more precise. Eleonor stared ahead at the pristine altar at which she was to be slaughtered, where the Duke awaited her. The stained-glass windows cast light upon the ceremony. The church was full, the guests gaily dressed in the most modern of fashions on account of the duke’s status. She did not know most of the people, and yet they were here to witness her life changing forever. She saw them as hawks, as complicit as her father in this terrible ritual.
It did not feel as though they were her legs that propelled her, inch by inch, closer and closer to the altar. The hand that her father’s arm was locked a little too tightly onto did not feel like her own. She wanted to tear away from him, to scream, to run away. But she knew that it was not an option. This was happening. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she sniffed.
“Those had better be tears of utmost joy,” her father hissed through barely moving lips. “Put a smile on your face if you know what is good for you.”
Eleonor forced a wooden smile onto her face, even as the emotions in her raged on. She searched, in the crowd, for a friendly face to focus on. She found it in the Duke’s daughter, Lily. The young girl was all smiles. In her gay dress and curled, blond tresses, she looked genuinely happy about the marriage. No doubt she had ideas about Eleonor being her new mother. She wished she could be what they all wanted her to be, a dutiful daughter, an obedient wife, a devoted stepmother. But she could not. She knew it within herself that she could not. Not without a piece of her dying with every passing day.
