Falling for Her Captor
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Aline finished her bread and stood up. She stretched, arching her back and rolling her head. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the young guard had paused in his task and was watching her. She put her hands to her head, as if dizzier than she truly felt, then with a weak cry staggered slightly, allowing her knees to buckle. If she seemed anything other than weak and helpless her plan would not work. The boy dropped his bird and moved forwards anxiously to catch her before she fell. He helped her to sit down again.
She cast her eyes downwards modestly and with a shy smile whispered to him, ‘Please sir...’ a nice touch, she thought ‘...I need to...umm...I have to...the woods...’
The lad’s forehead wrinkled in confusion and then, as he understood what Aline meant, he blushed deeply. He glanced over to where the older guard was filling the bucket in the stream. The man in black was standing by the horses, poring over a parchment, and had his back to them both. The young guard nodded in the direction of the undergrowth. Aline walked to where he had indicated but to her dismay the boy followed close behind.
With her best attempt at an innocent smile she turned to the lad. ‘Oh, thank you, but you don’t have to come with me. I will not faint again. I don’t want you to get into trouble for not finishing your task in time.’
He looked back to where the half-plucked chicken lay and relief crossed his face. ‘Be quick,’ he said.
Aline walked into the bushes, swaying slightly for effect, then lowered herself onto her hands and knees and crawled slowly away. She moved as quietly as possible in what she hoped was the direction they had come from, keeping the track in sight. Every moment now meant the difference between freedom and recapture. If only she could reach a village she might be safe.
Aline crawled to the edge of the woods and then ran along the track. When she reached a bend in the road an idea occurred to her. With fumbling fingers she unclasped her necklace. For a moment she hesitated, clutching her mother’s keepsake tightly, but her necklace was so distinctive that someone searching for her might spot it and know she had come this way. She carefully looped the necklace over a low branch. The silver glinted in the sunlight and surely could not be missed.
She walked back towards the undergrowth into the trees, then hesitated. It might be better to stay on the road; there would be less cover but it would be faster to travel and with luck her captors would not suspect her of leaving the forest.
‘I wouldn’t advise heading into the woods, my lady. Who knows what wild animals or bandits you might find there?’
Aline turned at the voice, a yelp of surprise bursting from her. The man in black was leaning against a tree, arms folded. He cocked his head to one side and smiled. ‘A creditable effort, my lady. I’m impressed, truly,’ he said. ‘However, I have orders to obey and I can’t let your escape attempts stand in the way.’
Aline ran.
She hurled herself into the woods without caring which direction, only knowing she had to get away. Branches and thorns tore at her dress and hands. With a stomach too empty and a throat too raw, every breath was becoming harder to take. Her strength was fading, but still she pushed on. Her pursuer stalked after her, moving at an almost leisurely pace and yet gaining ground with every step.
The trees started to thin out and she found herself in a clearing. Frantically she looked around for anything that might serve as a weapon. Her eye fell on a fallen branch and she picked it up, her other hand grasping at a handful of dirt and leaves. As the man came between the trees she held the branch out as though it were a sword.
‘Stay back!’ she shouted.
The man threw his head back and laughed, deep-throated and with genuine amusement.
‘What will you do if I don’t, my lady? Give me a splinter?’
‘I mean it,’ Aline spat, using all her will to keep her voice firm. ‘I’ll scream.’
‘Scream all you like, Lady Aline. The only people who can hear you are my men, and that would hardly be to your advantage.’
He moved towards her and Aline thrust the branch forwards sharply. Her opponent took a step backwards, then abruptly lunged and knocked the branch sideways. Aline threw the handful of dirt in his face, and when he instinctively covered his eyes she ran again.
She had barely reached the other side of the clearing before the man recovered. Picking up the branch, he hurled it hard at Aline. It caught her behind the knees and she jerked forward. Her legs tangled in her skirts and she landed heavily, palms outstretched. Before she could stand the man was on her. He rolled her over and pushed her back, one knee across her stomach, pinning her to the ground. She struggled to push him off, blindly clawing at his face with her nails. Her fingers pulled at the dark mane that flopped over his face, and she screamed all the obscenities she could recall.
Astonishment showed in her assailant’s face at the fierceness with which she fought him. With one fluid movement he twisted to kneel astride her, his legs gripped tightly at either side of Aline’s waist, pinning her firmly. At a leisurely pace he reached a hand beneath his leather coat and removed a knife from the scabbard at his belt.
A sob burst from Aline’s lips at the sight of it. She did not want to die—not here, not like this! But instead of slitting her throat, as she’d expected, the man reached for Aline’s skirt. With one swift movement he cut it open down the side. Aline’s stomach almost revolted as the memory of Dickon’s assault flashed through her mind. She redoubled her efforts to escape, beating against his chest with both fists and flailing wildly with her legs.
‘Don’t touch me!’ Aline screamed, grasping at his knife. ‘I will kill myself before I let you have me!’
Her attacker sat back, genuine surprise flickering momentarily across his blue eyes. His mouth turned down with distaste at the implication of Aline’s words.
‘You rate your charms very highly, my lady! Don’t fear—I prefer my partners to be willing.’
An unbidden sob of relief burst from Aline’s throat and her body sagged.
The man’s smile faded, replaced by a softer expression. ‘I promise you, your honour is safe,’ he said solemnly.
Without waiting for a reply he cut a strip of cloth from Aline’s dress and, lifting the pressure of his body, rolled Aline onto her front. He pulled her hands behind her back and bound them tightly. Though she dug her feet into the ground, Aline was unable to resist as the man put his arms about her waist and pulled her to her feet.
‘Walk,’ he instructed curtly. He gave her a gentle prod in the centre of her back.
Hoping to surprise him, Aline launched her body backwards, knocking him off balance. She lashed out wildly, kicking the heel of her riding boot into his kneecap for good measure, and ran screaming as he doubled over with a satisfying grunt of pain.
She had not run more than six paces before he caught her from behind by the neck of her dress. He knelt down and pulled her backwards against his body, his arm across her chest and throat. She felt the scratch of his beard against her neck. With the blood pounding in her throat, she writhed and twisted against the controlled strength in his arms. She had fought her hardest and he had barely raised a sweat!
The man cut another strip from Aline’s skirt and bound her ankles together. Aline let fly another volley of curses, bucking wildly. In response the man laughed, unwound the cloth from about his neck and gagged her. He sat back against a tree, cross-legged, and folded his arms as Aline lay writhing angrily on the forest floor. She glared at him, hoping hate was clear in her face.
The man did nothing, indifferent to her anger and clearly prepared to wait as long as necessary for Aline to surrender. She lay still as misery crept over her.
‘Good. You are beginning to see sense.’ He unwound himself and heaved Aline over his shoulder as if she weighed no more than a bundle of straw. Whistling to himself, he carried her through the woods to the track, seemingly oblivious to the double-footed kicks she aimed at his chest.
After an undignified journey for Aline they reached the cart. Relief flooded the faces of the two guards as the man in black strode towards them. Aline saw that the young guard sported a livid red mark across his cheek.
‘Duncan, explain,’ Aline’s captor said questioningly. The older guard saluted smartly.
‘He was stupid. He won’t be again,’ he answered gruffly.
‘Then it’s done with,’ the man in black said curtly to the youth. ‘But if anything like that happens again you answer to me.’
The boy cast a reproachful look at Aline, then mumbled an apology. The man in black climbed into the cart and put Aline face-down on the mattress, turning her head towards his.
‘May I suggest you use this time to realise the foolishness of trying to escape, my lady?’ he said. He climbed down from the cart. ‘Move off,’ he shouted, and after a few moments they lurched forwards.
Waves of nausea washed over Aline. She strangled a sob, shut her eyes and concentrated on not vomiting again. She silently cursed Dickon for his betrayal, cursed herself for falling for it and for her clumsy escape attempt, and finally cursed the dark-haired man whose face swam before her eyes.
She did not know how, but she swore that one day the man would pay for his treatment of her, and she consoled herself by picturing myriad deaths and humiliations for the arrogant swine.
Chapter Three
They travelled for what felt like hours. A brief struggle convinced Aline that her limbs were too tightly bound to give her any hope of freeing herself. The repetitive motion of the cart and sounds of hooves made her drowsy, and she kept slipping in and out of consciousness.
She awoke with wet cheeks, realising she had been weeping in her sleep. Now her mind dwelt further on the people she had left behind. When would anyone even know what had befallen her? It could be hours before Dickon returned to the city with his lies.
As much as that, however, she could not stop dwelling on why she had been taken. But for the gag in her mouth the lack of knowledge would have made her scream. Was she a hostage? The notion seemed ridiculous. There had been peace for many years, so why would the Duke of Roxholm risk disrupting it? But it had to be that, she told herself. Any other alternative was far too horrific to contemplate.
The movement of the cart stopped abruptly and Aline became alert once more. It was colder now, and the muted light coming through the curtains told her night was beginning to fall. They had been travelling for hours, so it was little wonder her body ached from lying on the rough mattress. Her throat felt rough and sore and she would have begged willingly for a drink. Her fingers were cold and numb, though wriggling them caused sparks of pain to shoot up her arms from where the ropes bit tightly into her wrists.
From outside the cart came voices and the clattering of equipment as the men set up camp for the night. Aline tried to twist her body round to see what was happening but all she succeeded in doing was covering her face with her hair and catching her skirt on a loose piece of wood. After minutes of fruitless attempts she gave up and lay still. Her throat tightened at the prospect of being left like this all night and she forced herself to breathe slowly. Finally, as her composure began to crumble, she heard somebody climb inside.
The person came closer and Aline gave a muffled cry as hands touched her shoulders. She was lifted briskly by the arms and pulled to a seated position against the side of the cart, with her legs curled underneath her. Loose strands of hair fell in front of her face, tendrils sticking to the saltwater tracks on her cheeks. The itching irritated her. That it was evidence she had been crying infuriated her even more. She wiped her cheek across her shoulder to move the hair from her eyes and saw who had lifted her upright.
The man in black sat back against the opposite side of the cart, too tall to stand upright. Aline studied her captor properly for the first time. He was well built, and she estimated no more than ten years her elder, though lines were starting to show on his brow and round his eyes. He sat silently, elbows on his knees and chin on his hands, returning Aline’s gaze.
Eventually he cleared his throat and spoke. ‘Forgive me for not introducing myself before, Lady Aline. I am Hugh of Eardham, Captain of the Guard of Roxholm.’
He paused, as though he expected a response, though what did he expect her to do, given that she was bound and with a gag in her mouth? Aline thought scornfully.
When no reaction was forthcoming he continued. ‘I think it is important that we reach an understanding that will make the journey easier for everyone, so let me explain your situation. A message was sent back to Leavingham with your horses and the body of your groom. It states very strongly that the High Lord must take no action until he receives further communication or you will forfeit your life.’
He paused to let his words sink in, watching Aline closely.
‘If we have an easy journey it will take us several days before we rendezvous with the rest of my men. Now, I can untie you, and let you travel the rest of the way in comfort, but only if you give your word not to make things difficult for us. Otherwise you will remain as you are. The choice is yours.’
Aline glared at him, any number of sharp responses coming to mind. But her arms and shoulders ached from the unnatural position they had been forced into, and the gag dug into the sides of her mouth. Knowing she had little choice, she nodded. The Captain leaned forwards and removed the cloth from Aline’s mouth. As he came close she caught a mixture of scents: horse, leather, and something musky that made her catch her breath.
Drawing his dagger, the man reached around and cut the bindings on Aline’s hands and feet. Red weals stood out on her skin, stark against the pale flesh. She rubbed her arms to dull the pain as feeling came rushing back into them in sharp bursts.
The Captain stuck his head out of the cart and called for wine. Presently someone passed a wineskin through to him and he held it out to Aline. She tried to take it but her hands were numb and she winced in pain, her fingers unable to grip properly. Seeing her discomfort, the Captain knelt next to her and held the wineskin to her lips. It was an unexpectedly kind gesture and Aline paused, suspecting trickery of some sort.
‘It is only wine, I promise you. See?’ the Captain said. He took a deep draught himself, then held it so she could drink. ‘Here...not too fast.’
Aline sipped the cool liquid slowly, conscious of his eyes on her and unsettled at the way his gaze made her heart thump.
‘You knew all along I had gone,’ she said accusingly. ‘Were you just toying with me?’
The Captain shook his head. ‘Not toying,’ he said. ‘I was curious to see what you would do. I meant it when I said I was impressed. It took courage to do what you did. No one is coming for you, however, so while I commend you on your ingenuity in leaving this—’ he drew Aline’s necklace from the pouch at his waist and let the chain dangle between his gloved fingers ‘—it was futile.’
Until that moment Aline had held on to the hope that she might be rescued. Now that hope vanished completely. Everything she had tried to do had been in vain. Her eyes began to prickle and she blinked furiously, determined not to let the tears spill once more.
With his eyes never leaving Aline’s, her captor gathered up the chain and slipped it away. His eyes travelled downwards to take in the state of her clothing. Aline blushed at how dishevelled she must look: her bodice was still unlaced from Dickon’s attack and her shift had slipped to show more of her flesh than was seemly. The telltale heat of a blush coursed over her neck and cheeks. She hoped it was not noticeable in the fading light.
‘Take a few moments to compose yourself, then join us,’ the Captain said. ‘Duncan can find you some salve to ease the pain in your wrists and Jack is cooking dinner. He makes a better cook than he does watchman. If you have any need to attend to that which you did not take care of earlier you can use the bucket round the side of the cart. You will have your privacy, but don’t even think of sneaking off or I’ll truss you like a chicken and leave you in here until we get to the citadel.’
With a curt nod of the head he left her.
Aline quickly relaced her bodice and pushed a stray comb back into her hair, then climbed from the cart to locate the bucket. They had stopped in a clearing close to the river. Aline knelt on the bank, washing her hands and face in the cool water and rubbing salve over her wrists. Standing up, she noticed the Captain watching her and she frowned. Did he think she was about to jump in and swim for freedom?
The men continued to set up camp while Aline watched from the low step at the back of the cart. The older man, Duncan, produced thick blankets from one of the boxes in the wagon. Wordlessly he passed one to Aline as she sat hugging her knees to her chest. The night was cold, and she shivered in spite of the warm blanket. Though she had been asleep or unconscious for most of the afternoon she felt fatigue start to creep over her and she stifled a yawn.
The Captain strode over and Aline eyed him coldly. Before she could protest he had taken hold of her hands. He pushed her sleeves up, running his thumbs lightly over the flesh.
‘Is this less painful now?’ he asked brusquely.
Aline nodded. The salve had eased the sting and the redness had all but disappeared.
‘Good,’ he said.
Abruptly he left her, and walked round to the front of the cart, then returned bearing a set of iron cuffs linked with a long chain. Aline drew an angry breath as she realised their purpose. He passed the chain through the spokes of the cartwheel, then fastened the manacles round her wrists. The chain was long enough to give her freedom to move close to the fire or lie down, but ensured that she could not try another escape attempt.
‘So men of Roxholm break their word quickly!’ she spat at him.
‘I plan to sleep tonight—not sit up making sure my charge doesn’t walk away again. You will have your liberty in the morning,’ he answered.
The condescending tone of his voice made Aline’s blood boil but she bit back a retort, knowing that there was nothing to be gained by provoking him.
‘I want my necklace back,’ she demanded instead.
The Captain shook his head. ‘No. I think I’ll keep that for the time being. Maybe if you behave yourself over the next few days...’
The Captain was still holding on to her wrists, so she pulled her hand away from his sharply. He gave a deep, appreciative laugh, as though he respected her rebellion, and bowed before leaving her. Aline pulled fretfully at the cuffs, eventually succeeding in easing her sleeves under the metal. The material provided some shield from the sharp edges, leaving the only injury to Aline’s pride.
The night wore on slowly.
The three men sat close to the fire, playing dice and sharing a jug of ale. They ignored Aline, who sat watching from her position on the step, thinking miserably of home. Later Jack brought her a bowl of surprisingly good stew, thick with barley and sorrel. Her appetite returned with a vengeance and she ate greedily. The boy hovered over her, smiling shyly at how well the meal was received. His eye was beginning to turn a lurid colour from the thump Duncan had given him.
‘You should find some comfrey for your eye...it must hurt,’ Aline told him.
The boy gave her a rueful smile and brushed a hand across his swollen cheek. ‘If you had succeeded in escaping we would all have been dead men—the Captain included. I think I got off lightly really.’
They both looked over to where the Captain sat cross-legged and his meaning was clear. Aline shivered and followed his gaze. The Captain had removed his leather greatcoat and was clad in a light tunic. He wore a look of intense concentration on his face as he sharpened his dagger in slow, methodical strokes. An odd fluttering curled about Aline’s stomach as she noticed the way his muscles moved. A traitorous voice whispered in her mind that if he ever smiled properly this man would be very handsome. She mentally hushed the voice, annoyed that she had noticed at all.
The Captain became aware that he was being watched and turned to stare at Aline. She held his gaze boldly. He put down his whetstone, picked up a rolled blanket and walked over to where she sat.
‘May I join you, my lady?’
Aline shrugged, a twinge of embarrassment causing her heart to miss a beat. He took her empty bowl and gave it back to the young guard with a jerk of his head.
‘Thank you, Jack,’ he said pointedly.
The lad took the hint and went back to his companion. Aline moved to turn her back on the Captain, disinclined to talk, but the question that had gripped her heart since she had awoken got the better of her.
‘What does the Duke want with me?’ she asked, trying to keep the anxiety from her voice.
The Captain folded his arms across his broad chest and shook his head. ‘That I cannot tell you, I am afraid. My lord has not shared such information with me.’
A thought that had been shouting for Aline’s attention resurfaced. ‘You said a message was sent with the body of my groom. What happened to him?’
‘He betrayed you and tried to violate you, but you care how he died?’ The man raised his eyebrows in surprise.
‘I didn’t say I cared. I said I wanted to know what had happened!’ Aline snapped.
Her fury must have hit a target because the Captain’s expression softened, then became serious.
He sat down next to her on the step, his shoulder brushing hers, and set his jaw. ‘As you must have guessed by now, he worked for my lord. He had been a groom in the citadel, then a criminal under sentence of death. He was offered a pardon in exchange for working his way into your household and bringing you to us.’
‘What had he done?’ Aline asked. Her hands curled into fists at the thought of how easily Leavingham’s security had been breached.
‘His crime? I am not sure. I did not play any part in choosing him,’ the Captain explained. ‘My only part in the affair was to meet him and escort you to Roxholm. We were to send him back to Leavingham alive, but battered. He had to keep up his story of heroically defending you against us.’
He paused and a strange look crossed his face that Aline did not fully understand. She wondered briefly if he was holding something back.
The Captain continued his tale. ‘He must have believed he was a dead man once his task was done, or maybe he took exception to my timing, because he produced a knife and attacked me. I had to act in self-defence. I do not regret his death, though, given what he was preparing to do. Neither should you.’
Aline exhaled deeply and her shoulders sagged as she felt the tension leaving her. ‘Thank you for telling me,’ she said. ‘And thank you for...’ Her voice tailed off as her mind played out the memory of Dickon’s mouth and hands roaming across her unwilling body. Her mouth twisted into a grimace.
When the Captain spoke next his voice was unexpectedly gentle. ‘You should get some sleep, my lady. You have had a hard day and we’ll be back on the road early. I give you my word that you will come to no such harm again.’
The memory of the Captain’s body on hers as they had struggled on the ground came back to Aline in a flash, along with the words she had screamed at him and the manner in which he had countered her assumption. He had said she was safe from...that, but could she trust him?
As if he was reading Aline’s thoughts, the Captain unrolled the blanket and wrapped it snugly around her shoulders with a smile. ‘You need have no fear for your safety in any respect whilst you are in my charge. I will keep you safe.’