Highland Barbarian Part 51

"Think with your head, Brice, not with your heart."

Meredith heard the sound of the heavy timber being sc.r.a.ped back. She sat up, instantly alert. The door was pulled open. Holden Mackay strode into the room. He wore clean, dry clothes. At his shoulder was a fresh dressing covering the wound Meredith had inflicted with her sword.

Mackay was followed by a figure in a dark hooded cloak. Upon closer inspection Meredith realized the figure was a woman. A short, stooped woman.

Her cloak was damp, which indicated that she did not live within the walls of this fortress. She had been brought from somewhere outside Mackay's home.

"Well? Is she not a prize?" Holden Mackay's voice bounced about the small room. The stench of ale clung to him.

"I cannot tell, with all those clothes."

"Soon enough you will see her without them." Mackay grasped Meredith's arm and hauled her toward the open doorway.

"Come. We will retire to my chambers."

Meredith was led down a long hallway and into a cavernous room.

Several servants moved about, stoking the fire in the great stone fireplace, setting out an a.s.sortment of beautiful gowns on a fur-covered bed. At Mackay's command the servants hurried from the room and closed the door behind them.

Meredith stared at the huge basin of water in front of the fireplace, then at the array of gowns spread out on the bed. At her arched look, Mackay gave her an evil leer.

"You are here to amuse me, Meredith MacAlpin. I want you to look like a lady when I take you. Not," he added, pointing at her breeches and tunic, "like some muddy stable boy."

"Rowena," he said to the stooped woman.

"You will bathe the lady and wash her hair in scented water."

"Aye, my lord." The woman tossed aside her cape and walked toward Meredith.

"Do not touch me," Meredith said sharply.

"I am capable of undressing myself."

Instantly the woman paused and glanced at Mackay, awaiting his orders.

"We are not barbarians here." His voice was low with seething anger.

"I can give you everything that Brice Campbell gave you. Especially servants to a.s.sist you. You would not know it to look at her, but Rowena was once an a.s.sistant to royalty."

Meredith studied the woman. Despite her crooked spine there was a look of elegance about her. And the gown she wore beneath the damp cloak was expertly tailored.

What would it hurt to allow her to a.s.sist? Meredith wondered. It would certainly buy some time. She was away from that horrid storage room and into a room with doors and windows that afforded some means of escape. That was a first step. But she needed time to formulate a plan.

While Mackay crossed the room Meredith took a moment to peer about.

There were two windows, which apparently led to balconies. A possible means of escape. Unless the guards were still posted below in the courtyard.

Mackay peered at the gowns spread out on his bed. He lifted a s.h.i.+mmering white satin gown, encrusted with pearls, and ran his hand suggestively across the bodice. "She will wear this one," he said to Rowena.

Then to Meredith he added,

"It will remind me of the bride Brice Campbell abducted from the altar.

The woman who will now be my bride." He threw back his head and roared with laughter at his own joke.

"At least until I tire of her."

"Surely you do not intend to watch while I undress her and bathe her?"

The laughter was gone. His voice was low and dangerous.

"And why not?

I am her captor. I will do whatever pleases me."

He sat in a chair stretching his long legs out in front of him.

"Remove her cloak."

The woman seemed to hesitate, then stepped forward and slipped the heavy cloak from Meredith's shoulders. It dropped to the floor.

Meredith forced herself to show no emotion as the woman reached for the tunic and removed it. Beneath the tunic Meredith was wearing one of Brice's saffron s.h.i.+rts.

""Tis a man's s.h.i.+rt." Rowena's voice was low, cultured, reminding Meredith of the women who surrounded the queen.

"Aye. And not fit to cover a woman's body." Mackay pointed a finger.

"Remove it."

Before Rowena could reach for the b.u.t.tons of the s.h.i.+rt, Meredith stopped her.

"It is a shame--" she spoke directly to the woman, ignoring Holden "--that your lord Mackay cannot be with his men in the great hall, drinking ale and sharing stories of their exciting hunt this day."

Mackay's eyes narrowed.

"What game do you play with me, wench?"

"Game?" Meredith gave him an innocent smile.

"I merely thought you would be more comfortable with your men than here with women, sharing women's talk."

To Rowena she said in a conspiratorial tone,

"Did you know that my lord Mackay hunts humans in the forest? Female humans are his favorite game. Because most of them are helpless.

Most," she said with meaning, "but not all."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Holden Mackay rub a hand over his stiff shoulder.

"How many females have you captured in the past year, my lord?"