Page 27 of The Last Debutante
As they joined the wide lane that led to the heart of the castle, someone in the fields shouted. With his gaze straight ahead, Duff lifted his fist high above his head. More men began to appear, dropping their tools, moving toward the castle, shouting and running alongside the little caravan of horses that carried Daria and her captors.
Daria’s heart began to skip. She could imagine being dragged from the horse and... and what?Beaten?Strung up? Daria tried to push down her fear by reminding herself the year was 1811, not 1611. No one was carrying a pitchfork or scythe. They might be uncivilized here, but they weren’t so uncivilized as to harm a defenseless woman, were they?
Be calm,she anxiously told herself.Be rational.She did the only thing she could do in the circumstance—she lifted her chin and employed the aloofness young women were taught when entering the ballroom for the first time.
The road curved up to the open gates of the castle, which were held back by thick iron chains. As they neared the gates, Campbell lifted himself off Daria’s back, as if he’d found a renewed strength. He was sitting taller, his grip around her tightening. More shouting brought more people running. As the group rode through the gates people began to emerge from the buildings, all speaking the language Daria could never hope to understand.
There was quite a lot of commotion as the horses halted in the bailey. Duff shouted, coming off his horse with surprising grace as he pointed to Daria. Two men hurried forward. Before she realized what was happening, one had grabbed her by the waist and pulled her off the horse; the other helped Campbell down. Everyone was talking wildly, their voices rising, crowding in around Campbell until Duff bellowed above them all. In a moment, everyone had quieted.
He spoke again, his voice calmer but firm. And then, as if the Red Sea had parted once more, all heads swiveled in Daria’s direction. The crowd began to step back, clearing a path to the keep. Campbell, whose face bore the deep etchings of his pain, stepped up beside Daria. “Come then,” he said, his voice low.
“Come where?” she whimpered.
He grabbed her wrist in his viselike grip and began to limp toward the keep. When Daria didn’t move right away, Duff gave her a rough nudge that caused her to stumble forward. She glanced uneasily about her at the angry faces, the dark eyes boring through her, and wrapped her robe even more tightly around her. Her hair obscured her vision somewhat, and for that she was thankful. She imagined a sea of angry Scotsmen, all demanding her head.
Daria considered her options, found them wanting, and moved hesitantly alongside the laird. From the corner of her eye, she saw Robbie and another man dip down and pick up her battered trunk. They fell in behind her.
A movement to her right startled Daria badly—she expected to be struck—but she released her pent-up breath of anxiety when she realized it was the dog. He nudged her hand with his snout, his tail wagging, before loping off to greet a larger dog with coarse brown fur. They excitedly sniffed about one another as if they were well-known to each other.
“Walk on,” Duff said.
Daria put one foot before the other and fixed her gaze on the castle’s keep. Sitting high on the top of the keep was a row of blackbirds, their heads cocked to peer down at her, too. She tamped down the alarm building in her and glanced at her captor. His face was a sickly shade of gray, and when she averted her gaze, she noticed a dark red stain on the plaid at his thigh. “You’re bleeding,” she said.
He did not answer.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, waiting for the word “dungeon” to drop from his lips. She could picture it—iron bars, a room devoid of light.Rodents.Alarm began to choke her again; she glanced over her shoulder at the unwelcoming crowd—lest they were following with a length of rope for her neck—and noticed, for the first time, the stain of his blood on her clothing, a dark red patch that spread down her side. His blood, soaked into her nightclothes. Given the amount, Campbell’s stride was surprisingly strong.
As they reached the threshold, Campbell paused to speak to a man with bushy brows that matched the untamed nest of hair on his head. He then forced Daria ahead of him into a narrow passageway. She kept moving until she reached a large entrance hall where a row of windows above the passageway door streamed sunlight in, adding to the light cast by candles in a half dozen wall sconces. On the wall overhead, swords were mounted artistically around elaborate body shields. Interspersed between them were portraits of stately men clad in plaid cloths.
“Suithad,”said the man with the bushy brows, and pointed to a staircase to Daria’s right that marched up alongside more battle armaments mounted on the wall. She glanced around and saw Campbell walking in the opposite direction, his hand pressed to his side as if to stanch the flow of blood, a pair of men flanking him.
“Wait!”
Campbell kept walking. “Campbell,wait,” Daria cried, and pushed past the bushy brows. She heard the laird sigh wearily as he turned, with some effort, back to her.
Her heart was pounding; she felt nauseated with fear—he was leaving her with men she did not know. “Am I to be held prisoner here?”
Campbell muttered under his breath. “We are not heathens, Miss Babcock. You are free to roam anywhere you fancy in the confines of Dundavie, aye? But you may no’ leave the curtain walls.”
Free to roam? This castle was so big, with so many places one might get lost.Or escape...
“And if you think to escape,” he added, startling her, “you willna get far. Do you understand?” He moved toward her, his eyes hard. Daria hadn’t realized she’d stepped back until she bumped into a stone wall. “If you think to escape,” he said, so close now that she could see the hot glint of pain in his eyes, “you’d best hope I find you first.” His gaze drifted down to her mouth. “For if the dogs find you...” He shrugged, then slowly lifted his gaze to hers again, pinning her with it. “Do I make myself clear, then,leannan?”
All eyes turned to her, waiting for her answer. Daria swallowed. “Exceedingly.”
Satisfied, Campbell looked at Duff and said something in their tongue. Then he turned away.
“But I think you should know that I am not afraid of you.”
Why she said it, Daria could not say. The words had fallen from her mouth without thought. Inexplicably, it seemed of the utmost importance to let him know that she’d not given up. He stood quite still for a moment, then turned his head to look at her. His eyes were burning. With fever, with anger, with lust—she was too confused to know. His gaze fell to her mouth once more, and he clenched his jaw—in pain? Or restraint? “Are you certain?” he asked, his voice silky and low, tickling her spine like a feather.
Daria didn’t answer. She couldn’t find her voice to answer. She was suddenly very uncertain about every blessed thing in her life.
A tiny, almost imperceptible hint of a smile turned up the corner of his mouth, and he turned away, his walk halting, his hand pressed to his side.
Daria watched him; her breath was short, her palms strangely damp.
“Suithad,”the man with the bushy brows said to her, capturing Daria’s attention again. She glanced up the stairwell, then back toward Jamie Campbell, but he had already disappeared into the dark corridor.
