Highland Abduction Page 2

  Yes, he might look more beautiful and more human than any other member of Clan Stuart she had seen so far. But she could tell right away that on the inside, he was the ugliest and most monstrous of them all.

  "Do you know why you are here?" Eadan asked, his voice slow and taunting.

  "Do you know who I am?" she asked right back, glaring at him.

  He smirked. "Ah, good, so you do know why you are here."

  "Ye cannae take the sister of the Laird from her own lands!" Silena exclaimed, puffing out her chest and holding her head high. "You must return me."

  "Why would I do that after going through all the trouble of seizing you?" he replied, his voice still mocking her.

  "You cannae do this!" she insisted.

  "I do as I please. And, it pleased me to take you. Your fate depends on how appropriately you treat a man of my stature," Eadan said with a wicked grin. "After all, you may be the sister of a Laird, but I am a Laird, and Laird of the very grounds you are standing on."

  Silena spat on the floor before her. "That is what I think of these lands, and your Lairdship. That is all it means. You shall fall, and your Lairdship shall fall."

  He laughed loudly. "Tough words from such a small, weak, outnumbered, surrounded little girl," he finally said. "You are my captive, on my lands, and you shall do as I ask, no more, no less."

  "I would rather die than give in to your demands," she said, her voice beginning to tremble as she realized how true his words were.

  "Very well, if you must know, let us simply say that you shall serve me however I request, and that if you become defiant, my requests shall become... exotic," he replied.

  Silena hesitated, wondering what he meant. But of course, she knew. She simply did not want to know. She did not want to believe any man would make such a suggestion of her.

  "Are you not going to ask me what sort of request I may make of you?" he asked, standing up and walking down from the throne, towards her. "I am sure you would love to know, would you not?"

  "I know," she whispered back, shaking her head.

  "Oh, but perhaps you need to be told," he said, finally face to face with her.

  Silena felt a chill run down her spine and tears stinging her eyes. He was so tall, at least a foot taller than her, if not more so. And his vast shoulders and chest were even larger up close. His face was even colder even crueller, and, although she was scared, she also knew there was not preventing him from touching her.

  He reached out and his guards stepped aside, releasing her arms so she stood on her own. His hands clasped her waist. "You will be mine," he said softly. Too softly.

  His hands began to caress her waist, travelling up until they cupped her soft breasts. As he stroked her, one of his hands seized her chin, tilting her head up forcefully, making her look into his eyes as he laid claim to her body.

  No man had ever touched her like that before. No man had had the audacity to do so. And yet this man... he owned her now. She was his prisoner now, his slave. A tear escaped the corner of her eye and ran down her face. As he saw this, he grinned, his pupils dilated, his nostrils flaring slightly. He liked that.

  "You will suffer eventually," he remarked casually. "That is your fate, Silena. But you do not need to suffer the whole time you are here. Do as I ask of you, and I shall ensure you are cared for." He began to lean in, his lips approaching hers, his breath warm on her mouth.

  She couldn't help herself. It was an explosion of rage, brought forth by the realization that one of her beloved protectors was dead. She flew at the Laird. She slapped his face and dug her nails into his hand, shoving it away from her breast as he recoiled slightly, more in surprise than pain.

  He glared at her. "You little wench," he growled. "Very well. If you shall act like an animal, I shall have you treated as an animal."

  Silena did not care; she stepped in closer, reaching her hand up to slap him again. A hand seized her arm, holding her in place. His hand lifted, palm open, as he brought it down against her face.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Silena shivered as she awoke, feeling the damp in the air penetrating her lungs and sinuses, leaving her feeling stuffy. The floor beneath her was cold and damp. She could feel it soaking through her skirts, her feet and knees were especially cold, and felt as though they were having the blood drained from them, they hurt so much.

  Looking around, she realized she was in a cell. Of course. It was cold and uncomfortable. She breathed in deeply again, trying to counteract the cold and dampness of the air. All she managed to do was make herself cough at the sheer amount of mold and mildew spores in the air.

  How did she even get there?

  She must have passed out. Or, been knocked out. She was not like the other noble ladies, prone to fits of fainting. But she had been out cold, nonetheless. Yes, she began to remember. He had struck her. No man had ever struck her before.

  Although she had been raised to fight, all of her battles had been with other women, or when she was a child, other children. Even as she continued trying to maintain her training, she had never fought with men in earnest. No man had ever hit her.

  And now she knew why. A simple slap from a strong man such as Laird Eadan, and she was out cold. How much of a brute did a man have to be to strike a woman like that?

  As she attempted to sit up, she realized she was sitting up. The chains about her wrists rattled a little, holding her on her knees, back to the wall. She felt suddenly dizzy at the realization that she was not standing, as if the world around her had begun to spin until it finally set itself up right. It felt weird and wrong.

  She wasn't sure whether to be grateful they had chained her up, so that her entire body was not resting on the cold, wet ground, or to be irate that these monsters were treating a lady, a Princess in her own Lairdship, with so little dignity and care.

  She moved, realizing there was some give in the chains, a sort of pulley system. With a little effort, she could approach the door. She slowly tried to stand. It was difficult, but she could just about manage it. Her legs felt numb from kneeling in the cold, damp puddles beneath her wall, and her feet were clumsy, as though they were not yet awake. She shuffled up towards the door, falling over at one point when her chains ran out of give.

  But no, there was a little more in them. Whatever system this was, the chains simply grew heavier and heavier the further away from the wall she walked. With great effort, she drew herself up and pulled hard on the chains, feeling them grow heavier and heavier until, mere inches from the door, she could no longer move.

  Heavy and wooden, even if she were not chained, it would be impossible for her to push it down. This was a real dungeon cell. She knew there were some like this in her own castle, but she had never seen them before. No... She had seen them once, when she was a young child. But she had not seen them since then. She had forgotten just how horribly cold and damp they were, how bare the cells, how pointlessly cruel.

  She listened carefully, expecting to hear sounds of torture. After all, it was a dungeon, and not only that, but the dungeon of one of the most brutal Clans in all of Scotland. And yet, nothing. It was so silent. Then a sound reached her ear.

  She could hear footsteps outside. Not walking, just shuffling, like someone weary of standing all day. She was scared, but she knew she had to cry for help. Sure, the person stood outside was probably an enemy. No, they were certainly an enemy from Clan Stuart. So they would not be amiable to her.

  But, perhaps, they did not know they were guarding the sister of Laird Ronan. Perhaps, they would be cowed by her status and agree to support her. Perhaps, they would take pity on her and help her escape. Such things were possible, at least in the tales she had grown up listening to.

  Before she could cry out, a wooden board was removed at the bottom of the door, letting a flash of light in.

  The plate slid in through the gap under the door. She lifted the bread from it and sniffed. It was somehow stale and damp. But that did not matter right
now.

  "Sir, please help me," Silena said in a hushed voice. "I am Silena, sister of Laird Ronan and Princess of…"

  "I ken who you are. Now eat your lunch," the guard blurted out.

  Silena sniffed. "I am sure that if you ken who I am, you would not give me stale bread."

  "I will give you what I have been given to give you," the guard said. "No special treatments, Princess."

  "Well, I certainly shall not eat that," Silena said.

  "Fine, then starve," the guard said, his hand reaching in the gap, groping around, feeling for the wooden plate.

  For a moment, time felt almost suspended as the fear of the situation flickered before her. Of course, she had to eat what they offered her. There was no other source of food, and she had not eaten for at least a day, if not longer. She had to eat to retain her strength, otherwise she would not be able to fight back, much less escape when the opportunity came knocking. She felt a fool as the guard's hand seized the plate and began dragging it towards the opening, but she was too proud to reach for it by now.

  Silena eyed the piece of bread that had escaped. The moonlight shone down onto it from the tiny window as it was drawn out of the cell and left on the floor. She contemplated grabbing it again, in the brief seconds as the guard replaced the board that had been blocking the door. But she was better than that. She had to be strong.

  Next time they offered her some bread, perhaps she would take it. Perhaps, indeed, it would be a better meal now that she had rejected her first. And if not, she would just have to eat it anyway, and make sure she was strong enough for whatever nightmare was going to come after her next.

  ***

  Awaking to the sound of footsteps outside her door, she wondered if it was already morning, and if breakfast would be much better. She felt her stomach grumble in anticipation and was embarrassed to realize that it was still night, as the moon shone through the window brighter than ever. Perhaps, the footsteps were just patrol?

  But no, they had stopped right outside her door. Maybe someone was taking pity on her after all and bringing her some food? She smiled as the whole door opened, and stood up, ready to move towards it.

  It was not a guard that stood behind the newly opened door. She froze in her tracks. It was Laird Eadan's vast figure that was outlined by the pale flicker of torches in the hallway. He stepped in, pulling the door shut behind himself. She stood there and watched, frozen in fear and bewilderment.

  He looked stunning. He would have been such a handsome man, if his eyes were not so cruel, his face so slack with drink. He grinned. She felt a shiver run down her spine and smiled meekly at him as he began to approach her.

  "Laird Eadan…" she began.

  He laughed quietly. "You can save the formalities, lassie. The time to try and be nice and polite to me is over. Now is the time for your punishment to begin."

  She barely had it in her to fight back as she felt him shove her against the wall, his huge hand wrapping around her wrists, lifting her up. She fell, limp, and simply hoping that he would hit her hard enough to knock her out again, so she would not feel whatever torture he had ready for her.

  And then, it happened.

  He shoved her skirts up, revealing her bare lower body, and seconds later, she could feel something hard and hot pushing painfully into her, pushing past the dryness, ripping her flesh, forcing her open like a knife cutting a wound.

  She was not young or foolish enough to not know what was happening, but it was baffling nonetheless.

  She never expected it to be like this. She thought she would marry her betrothed, a nobleman from up North, and he would take her. She thought it would be sore, but romantic, loving, and meaningful.

  This had a different meaning entirely. As though outside her own body, she could hear her voice begging him to stop, telling him he was hurting her, asking him to do anything except that. And she could hear him, replying, telling her to be quiet and accept her torture.

  His body was strong, and as she pleaded, he gripped her thighs, lifting her up to impale her harder. She felt like a limp puppet in his hands, a toy for him to twist and bend to his every need. She tried to move as far away from him as possible, writhing and pushing back, tensing her muscles to try and force him out, but her every movement seemed only to please him, bringing forth deep, animalistic groans.

  It hurt, and yet as he moved, her body betrayed her. She found herself hot and sensitive to his touch, the pain mixing with pleasure until she was no longer sure of herself. She hated him for it. She wanted him to stop. She had never asked him to do this, and she never would.

  But right then and there, as he kept using her sore and weak body, she felt a distinct wetness, a tight pleasure deep in her belly, and she knew what was about to happen. It terrified her. She could not allow herself to be used like this. She could not allow him to play her body like an instrument. She had to avoid it.

  Unsure whether to feel fear, anger, or relief, she realized that he, too, was near to completion. She just had to hold out a few more seconds, and she would not have to embarrass herself in front of her abuser. She made great effort to think of anything except what was happening. His body pressed hard into hers, and he held perfectly still, so she could feel him pulsing and throbbing.

  And then, it was done. It was all over. He pulled away from her, looking down in surprise as he finally noticed the streaks of blood mixed with their fluids. He let out a slightly confused, slightly awkward laugh. "So, you were a virgin after all?" he remarked, reaching down and touching the blood, black in the faint moonlight. "Disgusting. I'll have to have a bath."

  Avoiding eye contact with her, he turned around and made his way to the door, fumbling with it until he managed to drag it open.

  As soon as the door slammed shut and the lock clinked, her legs gave out under her and, collapsing onto her knees, Silena began to weep. All she wanted was to curl up and shut out the world. But she couldn't even do that. She could just kneel, skirts still bunched about her waist, knees in the wet, cold ground beneath her, tears falling and landing in the white and red puddle just in front of her, hoping that at least next time, he would have enough mercy in him to kill her when he was done.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  She had not eaten for three days. He knew that with the fat she had on her hips she could go another thirty without dying, of course, but that was beside the point. He expected her to eat, he provided her with food, and he was, quite frankly, insulted that she would not take it. She was his pet, his toy, his plaything, at least until her brother came to claim her. And, he could not accept any pet of his that would not obey his every command.

  They had tried giving her a few different foods. They had tried leaving the food in with her, in hopes that its presence would tempt her. But it was not working.

  The guards had removed several days of rancid food from her cell, and she had bit one when he tried to feed her bread by hand. At least, that is what the guard said. Eadan knew it was just as likely that the guard had tried to force chunks of bread into her mouth until she choked. And, he didn't blame them for treating her with disdain.

  She was, after all, the enemy. She was a Davidson, someone to be feared and despised, someone to not be trusted. It wasn't even as if she was a normal member of her society. No, she was an important figure, someone who, no doubt ,wanted all of Clan Stuart dead.

  He didn't blame Silena for not eating, either. He understood why. She had gone from a noble lady to a mere slave overnight, and she was not adjusting well. Not to mention, all the food was coming from a Clan she despised, who were torturing and tormenting her. Why should she put so much trust into them as to eat the food they gave her? For all she knew, it would poison or kill her.

  Normally, he would not care about either problem. His guards had to look after his prisoners, whether they wanted to or not. And, his prisoners could starve for all he cared, if that was the pathetic death they chose for themselves, he would allow it. He didn't care either way
.

  And yet, Eadan did care about Silena. He should not. She was lower than a worm, more worthless than dirt, and barely a quarter as useful as either. She was a prisoner, an enemy, and a mere beast to be used as he pleased. After all, Clan Davidson were no better than dogs or sheep, or any other pack animal that could be taught a few good tricks.

  He had told himself that he would use her body to please himself, treat her like filth, not trust her, and then, when her brother came to claim her, give her back. Or, if he did not come for her, kill her, and make a nice big show of it, too.

  But he was having second thoughts.

  He wanted to do better for her. He wanted to make sure she was taken care of. He knew what a lovely life she no doubt had before he kidnapped her, and he knew what a good person she seemed to be. He sighed and rubbed his temples. It was deceit. It had to be.

  Surely, this wicked woman was using her wits to trick him into liking her, so she could convince him to release her, or put himself at risk.

  It was possible that even her kidnapping was planned. They knew that he would eventually order to have her taken, and they planned it so he would eventually fall for her and could then be captured and killed himself.

  But he did not want her to suffer and starve. Standing up, he marched out of the great hall and down towards the dungeons.

  He made his way into her cell. She recoiled, glaring at him with blazingly defiant eyes, already wet with tears. She gritted her teeth. It would not take a genius to see that she was scared and hurt, that she expected him to pin her down and rape her again. He had not even seen her since that night. Of course, she would assume that was all he wanted of her.