Page 74 of Secrets of a Kilted Seduction

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“Itold ye, I’m poorly. I’m nae able tae see anyone,” Alana told Angus through the door for the third time that afternoon, thoroughly tired of the intrusion into her sorrow.

“But he keeps askin’ fer ye, me lady. He says he needs tae speak tae ye urgently,” the steward said again, a note of desperation in his muffled voice.

She lost her temper and snapped, “I dinnae care. Tell him I’m unwell, and he’ll have tae wait until I’m feelin’ better tae speak tae me. Now, go away and leave me be!”

She heard a heavy sigh of defeat. “Very well, I’ll tell him, but he’ll nae be pleased,” Angus said. His footsteps hurried away, and she breathed a sigh of relief. But she knew it was only a temporary respite. Soon, she would have to face Blaine and the council and make good on her rash promise to do anything to help get her father back.

But right now, her sorrow seemed bottomless, and despite all he had done, the pain caused by the thought of never seeing Tadhg again was a raw wound that just kept on bleeding. Whatever he had planned for her, Blaine would have to wait.

Trays of food came, were left outside her chamber door, only to be removed untouched by the maids. The only thing she took from them was tea, and she also drank the wine and whisky already available, to try to ease the hurt inside. They provided a short-lived oblivion by setting her dozing. But the pain would wake her, and the cycle would begin all over again, with no respite for her broken heart.

On the night of the second evening, she decided she needed something to distract herself from missing Tadhg and questioning her own decision to send him away. After thinking about Blaine and all that had happened, her conviction he was up to something nefarious only grew. She eventually decided to continue to try to find out what he was hiding, if only for her own satisfaction and protection.

A plan began to form in her mind.

She waited until the castle was asleep and then crept out of her room and down to the Laird’s study. Lucky for her, she met no one on the way, and when she peeped nervously into the study, she was relieved to find it empty, as she had hoped. Once inside, with the door closed, she lit a lamp, opened the secret door to the passage, pulling it closed behind her, and passed into the opening beyond.

Holding the lamp high, she retraced the downward steps she and Tadhg had taken together, not knowing what exactly she was hoping to find but thinking she would know it when she saw it. Eventually, she passed by the locked door that gave off the horrible stench hinting at the dungeons beyond. And though she walked and walked, she found nothing any different to before. Disappointed, she carried on, and after a while, she emerged into the open, just outside the castle walls.

Not wishing to be seen by the guards on the gate, she turned back the way she had come. She had not gone very far when she heard a loud grating noise ahead of her. Startled, she blew out the lamp and pressed herself against the wall, her heart hammering in her chest. Then, she spotted a large shadow moving against the wall ahead of her. Someone was there!

Thinking it must be Blaine, she cast about for a hiding place. There were a few barrels standing not far away against the walls. She scurried behind them and crouched down, hoping she would not be detected in the dim light. She peered over the top, trying to see who it was and what they were doing. To her amazement, she saw a heavy-set guard coming out of the door to the cellar. The man nudged the door ajar with his elbow before heading straight towards her hiding place.

Terrified of being caught, she shrank back against the wall, afraid to breathe lest he hear her. But he appeared to be engrossed in his own thoughts and lumbered by, mercifully oblivious to her presence as he continued down the passage towards the outside. Letting out the breath she had been holding, Alana looked back at the door he had left open.

This was what ye’ve been waiting for, she told herself. Yet fear made her hesitate to grasp the opportunity to investigate what was behind that door. Tadhg would nae hesitate. Just dae it, while ye have the chance. That guard could come back at any moment, or even Blaine. Dae it!

Without thinking any further, she made herself come out from behind the barrels, picked up her skirts, and ran for the door as fast as she could. The stink that assailed her nostrils before she even she slipped inside was nauseating. Silently fighting down the urge to vomit, she clasped her hand over her mouth and cast about, trying to get her bearings.

She was standing in an open area that was unmistakably the hub of the dungeons, and in front of her she could see doors, doors that clearly led to cells. Knowing she had no time to waste, she approached the first one, grimacing at the vile odor emanating from inside. Strangely, in her excitement, she was already growing used to it. Standing on tiptoes by the door, she peered through the metal grill into the darkness beyond.

“Hello, is anyone there?” she whispered nervously. No answer came, but she thought she heard a shuffling noise from the neighboring cell. Hoping for better luck and despite her fear, she immediately went to that door and looked inside. When he eyes met those of an elderly man, she gasped in shock and started back.

“I’m sorry, lassie, I didnae mean tae startle ye,” came a deep rumbling voice. “I was nae sure I was imagining it when I heard yer voice, so I had tae come and check.”

Alana got her breath back, curiosity getting the better of her fear. She approached the door again and looked upwards through the grill into his eyes. Even in the dim light, she could see they were the same sapphire blue as her own, but the light had all but gone out of them, and they were filled with pain and sadness. Her gaze took in his lined, hollow-cheeked face, which was rimed with filth, his hair and beard were matted, his clothes tattered and streaked with muck. What was left of her heart went out to him in sympathy.

“I’m sorry fer jumpin’ like that,” she apologized. “Ye just took me by surprise, is all.”

The old man did not reply at once, for he was staring unnervingly at her through the grill, his large, dirty fingers gripping the bars. Then he said, “Are ye real, lassie? I’ve been in here fer a while now, and I think I’m startin’ tae loose me mind and see things.”

“Ye’re nae goin’ mad. I’m real,” she assured him, feeling a strong pull towards him despite the smell. There was something very familiar about him she could not put her finger on.

“But what are ye doin’ in this God-forsaken place? How did ye reach it?” He asked, his voice raspy from misuse, she suspected.

How to explain what she was doing there? “I’m, er, lookin’ fer somethin’.”

“Ye shouldnae be here,” he peered down at her through the grille, his eyes searching her face. “I dinnae recognize ye from the castle, lass. Who are ye?”

She wondered for a second if she should say her real name, but she decided there was no point in lying. “Me name’s Alana, Alana MacIver.”

The man’s face broke into a weird expression, as if he couldn’t keep his emotions, and then a huge grin appeared that made him look younger. “I kent it. I kent it as soon as I looked at ye!” he exclaimed with energy she didn’t sense he had earlier. “Why, ye’re the spit of yer maither!”

“How d’ye ken me maither?” Alana asked, confused.

“I’m Laird John MacIver, lass.”