Michelle Willingham - Highlanders

Juliana hugged herself. “Are you taking me captive?”

“Ay, I am taking ye—and yer sister—hostage.”

“Why?” she cried. “Why seek revenge upon me? You attacked us!”

“Yer brother attacked Ardtonrish Castle.”

“I am not my brother!”

He suddenly stood up, towering over her. “Ye should not have gone to the cathedral last week.”

She could not comprehend him. Instead of questioning what he said, she asked, “Do you wish to escalate this war between Clan Donald and Dougall? For that is all you will accomplish!”

“You think to advise me? Yer brother should have thought twice about sending a sheep to spy upon me.” Then, “It hardly matters. We were already at war. We have been at war for a hundred years, even longer. I am taking ye hostage, Lady Juliana, and no begging, no tears, will change my mind.”

“It matters!” Tears filled her eyes. “If you must take a hostage, take me—but please, leave my sister here. She is with child.”

“So ye have told me. I canna leave Lady Comyn here. She is the Earl of Buchan’s daughter by marriage—in the end, she may be a bigger boon than ye.”

With real dismay, Juliana glanced at Mary as she approached them. Before either one could speak, he held up his hand. “Enough. Make sure yer ready to journey at sunrise. And make sure the children are ready.”

Mary paled.

Juliana said, “The children?”

“Lady Comyn has three sons.”

Mary seemed ready to collapse. Juliana seized her arm to keep her standing. “They are not here, Alasdair. They remain at Castle Bain, her husband’s home.”

He folded his muscular arms across his chest. “I heard that there were children here, Lady Juliana.”

How had he heard that? Then she remembered that he had spent the night at Achanduin Castle—most of the island knew that her sister was in residence with her boys.

Neil came downstairs with Elasaid, the dark-haired maid pale with fright.

“Who is that?” Alasdair demanded.

“That is my maid,” Mary whispered.

“She was in a chamber above,” Neil said. “With three children, claiming they are hers.”

“I have three boys,” Elasaid whispered, trembling.

Neil said, “And the blond one saw me and cried, ‘a Comyn.’” He actually chuckled.

Alasdair turned his piercing stare on Mary.

Mary stepped forward before Juliana could stop her. She was breathing hard. “We cannot deceive you, then. The boys are my sons, but I beg you, do not take them hostage.”

Before he could answer, Juliana rushed between them. “You want me—not my sister, not the boys. Please,” she said. She gripped his arm. “Take me, but leave Mary and the boys. Surely, somewhere inside you, there is kindness and compassion.”

His eyes widened. He looked down at her hand. Juliana released him.

His eyes dark, he said, “Ye, yer sister and yer nephews will be well cared for—on Islay. I may kill the enemy in battle, but I do not harm women or children, Lady Juliana.” And with that, he turned his back on her.

CHAPTER FOUR

Dunyveg Castle, Islay, Scotland—the next day

“IF THERE IS anything that you need, you must only ask,” Lady MacDonald said. “I know these are difficult times.”

Juliana had walked to the single window in the tower chamber she would share with her sister and the children. Dunyveg sat upon a cliff that protruded into the ocean, and the seas below were black with the coming night, but frothing with whitecaps, the skies above heavy and turning purple. There would be no stars that night, and no moon. The night would soon be black.

Torches had been lit, both within and outside the castle. There seemed to be lights below them, on the beach.

They had just arrived at Islay an hour ago, at dusk, having left Lismore just after sunrise. She was frozen from the wind, the mist and the snow, and she remained disbelieving. As she stared at the Atlantic Ocean, she thought, this is a godforsaken place, one well deserved by a godforsaken man—one who takes a pregnant woman and her small children hostage.

How could she attain her sister’s freedom?

The sooner he demanded a ransom, the better.

The three boys had all climbed onto one bed, and Mary now sat down with them, still wrapped in her fur. “Thank you,” she said softly to Lady MacDonald.

Juliana turned to look at Alasdair’s mother. She was gray-haired, blue-eyed, of medium height and build, still pretty and very soft-spoken. She seemed kind—she even seemed concerned. How had she given birth to such a cold, ruthless man?

And what had he truly meant that she should not have been at the cathedral when he attacked it?

Did he regret her involvement in his war?

Juliana shook herself free of such fanciful thoughts. Alasdair Og had no regrets, no doubts, just ruthless ambition.

She took a breath. “What we need is to be freed, so we can return home,” Juliana said, a bit sharply.

Lady MacDonald’s smile faltered. “I hope you are soon freed, Lady Juliana. “

Juliana stared, realizing that she was kind, and that she meant it. Would she be an ally, then? “I do not understand why your son captured us. If only he would release my sister and her children—I would gladly stay as his hostage.” As she spoke, she heard a movement in the corridor, and she tensed as Alasdair leaned against the open door. He slowly smiled at her.

Lady MacDonald said softly, “I gave up trying to understand the ways of men—and their need for war—long ago, Lady Juliana. But my son will make certain you are well cared for while here.” She turned to Alasdair. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yer always right.” He came forward, kissed Lady MacDonald’s cheek as she left them, and turned to stare at Juliana. “If ye think to move my mother to plot against me, ye might think again.”

Juliana hugged herself, her heart racing. She was acutely aware of being in this man’s complete control—she was his hostage, imprisoned in his stronghold, surrounded by the enemy. “Your mother seems kind.”

“Unlike me?” He was amused, and somehow very different now that he was at his home. His eyes had changed, for they were no longer cold and hard. Then she realized his very posture had changed. It was as if he was no longer braced for war.

“She is very kind, but she will not cross me,” Alasdair said. “So ye will gladly remain here, as my hostage?”

“Yes, if Mary and her children are freed.”

He laughed. “Ye might come to enjoy my hospitality, Lady Juliana—be forewarned.” He gave her a sidelong look and turned to Mary, his smile fading. “How do ye fare, Lady Comyn?”

Mary started. “It has been a very long day, but other than being very tired, I feel fine.”

He moved closer to the bed and both Roger and Donald gazed up at him wide-eyed. They had been staring at him with open fascination all day while upon his ship.

“Ye boys must be hungry,” Alasdair said, shocking Juliana.

Roger nodded, his eyes as huge as saucers, and Donald said, “Did ye really hang the bishop?”

“Donald!” Mary said, seizing him and pulling him close.

“I did. Treachery is not a good idea—neither is spying,” Alasdair said matter-of-factly.

Juliana marched over to stand between him and the bed, where Mary and the boys sat. She gave him a dark look.

Alasdair ignored her, smiling at Mary. “Shall I have my mother send ye some supper? I ken the day has been long and difficult.”

“That is kind of you,” Mary said. “I think we will all retire early.” Roger was yawning as she spoke. Thomas was already cuddled up next to her and deeply asleep.

Alasdair slowly faced Juliana, his expression wry. “Ye will stay with yer sister?”