Page 18 of Highlander’s Devious Ally

“You are right, M'Laird,” he said, sounding as sincere as he could, “I apologize.”

Jock stared at him with a smug little smile on his face. “I accept your apology, Lyall,” he said at last.

The use of his first name was a sign of disrespect, since they were not friends, but he kept his mouth firmly shut. He knew what he would find—absolutely nothing. Jock was too clever for that, but he had to try. He ordered his men to go with the servants who knew the castle inside out, but he knew in his heart that Ailith was not here, and anyway, there could be hundreds of tiny hiding places they could omit without his knowledge. If Ailith were in the castle she was being very carefully hidden, and the garrison was too strong for his own men to free her.

It took them seven hours to get around the entire castle, from the dungeons and underground storerooms to the topmost turrets where there were small guardrooms and storage for weapons. Lyall tried to get inside his enemy’s mind and think where Jock would hide Ailith, but his mind could not work the same way as his enemy’s; he was simply not devious enough.

At last, exhausted, they finished their search. They were all hungry, although no one complained, but in an unexpected act of kindness Jock sent Lyall’s men to the kitchen for a bite to eat. They went eagerly, and Jock called Lyall into his study.

“Glass of wine, M'Laird?” he suggested, holding up the carafe.

“Thank you, no,” Lyall replied. “I still have more to do today and I want my mind to be clear.”

“Do you not think you are panicking too soon?” Jock suggested. “She may have gone to visit a friend.”

“We had plans for last evening,” Lyall frowned at him. “She would have let me know—unless she was unable to.”

“So, you are having a relationship?” Jock asked smoothly. “How long has this been going on?”

“That is none of your business,” Lyall replied.

“Since before she broke off our betrothal?” he raised his eyebrows curiously.

Once again Lyall stood up and glared at Jock, mesmerizing and intimidating him with his hostile stare.

“Yes,” Lyall answered. “It was the reason she ended things with you, but I have not bedded her, if that is your next question. I kissed her, that is all.”

“I suppose I must believe you, since I cannot prove it,” Jock said, shrugging, and trying to conceal the anger that had flared up inside him at Lyall’s words. “But it is no longer any concern of mine. Goodnight, Laird Stevenson, and good luck in your search.”

The two men scowled at each other in mutual antipathy for a minute, then Lyall turned on his heel and left, with no idea of what to do next.

Jock watched him as he strode away, filled with an evil sense of triumph. Let him go tramping all over the Highlands; he stood no chance of ever finding Ailith. Jock McCauley was going to marry Ailith Galloway, and together they would build an empire. Once they were married he would not be the callous creature he was now—that was only a means to an end. He would be a loving, attentive husband and father to their children, and no curse would ever fall on them. He rubbed his hands in glee at the thought of it. Ailith McCauley...what a beautiful name.

Ailith only knew that it was nighttime because the chatter from the guards outside stopped. They were meant to take shifts, staying awake and keeping watch in turns, but that never happened. After their evening meal they drank themselves insensible, so it was the only time Ailith could try to find an escape route.

Firstly, she tried to loosen the bolts on the shutters with the edge of her spoon, but they were too big and she was not strong enough to either lever or twist them. Eventually she fell into an exhausted sleep.

Sleep was the best thing she could have done, because Lyall came to her in the night.

He came in and lay down beside her as she was lying on a thick feather mattress that was blissfully soft and covered in a warm wool blanket. Her head was resting on two fat silk pillows. She was wearing a white linen nightgown trimmed with lace, and she smelled of lavender oil, fresh and clean as a new morning. Her hands, body, and hair were clean and her mouth felt fresh for the first time in days—she must have been bathed, she realized, but she did not remember it.

She had been asleep, but she opened her eyes to look straight into Lyall’s gray-green ones, which were smiling at her lovingly.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’ve been missing you. Where have you been?”

“Away,” she smiled. “I tried to reach you, but I could not. But now I am back, and I will never go away again.”

“I hope not,” he whispered, and kissed her. It began as a soft and sweet kiss, but as their tongues touched and tangled it became something more passionate and exciting. He smelled of the warm indefinable scent of a man, and she was about to surrender to him—

Suddenly the room was flooded with light as the guards opened the door to bring in what passed for her meal. She no longer felt hungry, though, since her stomach had shrunk after two days with hardly any food.

Once again she asked for water to wash, and once again she was refused. She sat down in the straw and began to cry tears of utter hopelessness.

She thought it might be easier to kill herself than endure this misery any longer, but Jock had left her no means to do so. She thought of Lyall; he must be frantic with worry by now, and it was this thought that stiffened her resolve and gave her the will to attempt another escape.

She could see nothing, and was loth to light a candle, but she groped her way to the wall and felt rough, gritty texture of stone under her fingers. She searched until she found the junction between the earth floor and the rock, then she began to dig. It was a well-built structure and after hours of digging she knew that it would take days to make any real progress. She had not even reached the foundation yet. She took a morsel of bread and a sip of water, then began again. Jock McCauley was not going to beat her.

Jock had decided to give Ailith one more chance to change her mind.