Page 19 of Highlander’s Devious Ally

She must be desperate now, he thought. She will surrender to me this time.

He called Findlay to him.

“Yes, M'Laird?” the poor creature asked eagerly. He was smiling, as usual, pathetically easy to please. His hair was growing too long and hanging over his eyes, and Jock felt a stab of irritation as he looked at him.

“I need you to get me a bathtub and take it to the place you took the mattress before,” he ordered. “Do you remember where it is?”

“Aye, M'Laird,” Findlay answered. “I dae.”

“Go,” Jock said dismissively. “And cut your hair!”

Ailith had succeeded in digging a hole about eighteen inches wide and six inches deep, but she could feel that she was still nowhere near the lower edge of the stones. The effort was draining her energy, and her food was not enough to compensate, so she was losing weight. It was her fourth day in captivity.

She estimated that it was around time for her food to be brought in, so she covered up her diggings with her cloak and waited.

She jumped when she saw Jock come in, smiling pleasantly.

“How are you, Ailith?” he asked, pointedly keeping his distance from her.

She stood up and crossed her arms over herself as if for protection. “As you see me,” she replied indifferently.

“Can I change your mind about marrying me?” he asked.

“No.” The word hit the air like the crack of a whip. “Nothing you can say will change my mind.”

“What about this?” Jock beckoned to one of his guards, who brought in a tray that was laden with food. It was all cold, but no less delicious for that. There was a carafe of wine, cold chicken, pork pie, hazelnuts, fresh bread and butter, an apple, and a wedge of cheese. It was too much for her, but the message had been sent. Marry me and you will eat.

Ailith’s mouth watered, but she said nothing.

“Come and look,” Jock said, beckoning her to the door. He stood well back as she got closer, holding a handkerchief over his nose.

Outside, Ailith saw a huge iron pot on a roaring fire. Steam was rising from it, and as she watched, two of the guards tipped its contents into a tin bath and added cold water. She felt like diving into it there and then to wash off the crust of grime that had adhered to her skin, but with a great effort she made herself stand rooted to the spot.

Her lip curled as she looked Jock up and down. “You really think you will buy me with a plate of food and a hot bath?” Her voice was dripping with scorn. “Think again, M'Laird. As I said before, I would rather starve!’’

Jock stared at her. She was filthy, her distinctive strawberry-blonde hair was lank and greasy, but somehow she still managed to look beautiful. He knew that for Ailith, dirt was almost as bad as hunger, and he was relying on both to bring her to her senses.

She turned her back on him and walked back into the cottage, then sat down on the mattress. She heard the door close, then picked up her spoon again. Her knuckles had been rubbed raw from the rough earth and were constantly bleeding, but she put it to the back of her mind and kept Lyall’s face in front of her. Every spoonful of soil meant that she was a little step closer to him, and she was fueled not only by her hatred of Jock, but by her love of Lyall.

She heard Jock’s horses ride away and decided to risk the light of a candle to see what progress she had made. She lowered the light into the hole she had dug, and just as she did so, a little clod of earth moved to admit a tiny chink of daylight. She sucked in a joyful breath, and buckled down to her task with renewed vigor.

.

11

The Meeting

Lyall had never imagined it was possible to suffer like this. Even when May was dying, he had been able to somehow get on with the everyday business of life, but now he was paralyzed with grief.

She cannot be dead, he thought over and over again, but he refused to believe that she had run away either, and there seemed to be no other explanation. If Jock was keeping her she could still be alive, but he was such a twisted character that he could have killed her just so that no other man could have her.

Lyall tossed down another glass of whisky then went up to the turrets, and was surprised to see Fenella there. She was standing still and crying quietly, with tears leaking slowly down her cheeks, but when she saw her brother, she ran into his arms.

“Where is she, Lyall?” she sobbed wildly. “Where is Ailie? I need to know!”

“I do too,” Lyall replied, kissing her hair. “I am sure she has not run away from us, darling. Please try to think on the bright side. Think how happy we will be when she comes back!” He was trying to sound encouraging but he knew that he would have to persuade himself first before being able to able to convince Fenella. “Come on. Have Jessie draw a bath for you and go to bed. You have not been sleeping or eating properly.”

Fenella nodded. “And I will pray, Lyall,” she said earnestly. “I will pray that God sees fit to give her back to us.”