Rhona stood in a line with her cousins and stared at the King of England as he spoke with Leon. Jacques and Theo stood either side of the girls, making sure they remained exactly where they were.

William the second or William Rufus, as he was commonly known, was shorter than she had expected. Her own King Malcolm was a massive man, as was her father. William, however, although shorter, was quite muscular with a shock of golden hair and an extremely ruddy complexion.

She couldn't hear what was being said, but every now and then, the king would nod and then look over at them, his gaze sweeping over them assessingly, one by one. Rhona felt like a prize pig at one of the country fayres.

Finally, he approached them. Folding his arms across his broad chest, he looked from one to the other. Leon stood just behind him, his eyes fixed on Rhona.

She, however, was staring at the king's eyes in fascination—they were both different colours—something she had never encountered before.

Warily, the girls waited for him to speak.

"My ladies, I bid you welcome to my court." He smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I expect you are wondering wherefore you are here?" He paused and looked at each of them in turn. "Well, let me tell you. I intend to use you as hostages against your uncle. Leverage, if you like, to bring him under control."

"Control, sire?" Alana asked nervously.

"Aye, he has stolen land that belongs to the crown and I intend to get it back. You, my sweet girls, will be his downfall."

"What if our uncle fails to give in to your demands?" Rhona asked daringly.

The king's face darkened slightly and he replied curtly, "He must." He clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace in front of them, his look grim. "Your uncle is a thorn in my side and I will stand for it no longer. He either comes to heel or he will take the consequences and lose the land he has stolen, by force."

"You intend to invade Scotland?" gasped Alana.

The king stopped pacing and, his look fierce, answered, "Aye, if need be. But mayhap your uncle will see sense, once he realises what precious goods I now have. He must capitulate and all will be well."

Alana went to speak further and he held up his hand, stopping her. "Enough. There is nothing further to discuss, except for me to say that you will be well treated whilst in my care."

"Care? Do you mean imprisonment, sire?" Heather asked, her voice sweet and lilting but her meaning clear.

He quirked an eyebrow. "Nay, I will allow you freedom within these walls, but you will be watched at all times. This freedom can be taken away as quickly as granted, so I warn you, do not venture where you are not permitted."

"How long do you intend to keep us here?" Rhona asked.

"As long as I think necessary." He turned to Leon. "Please escort the girls to the left wing. It has already been prepared for their arrival."

Leon looked at Jacques and Theo. "Follow me."

The three girls were reluctantly escorted from the large hall, along several corridors and up a narrow, winding stone staircase. When they were almost at the top, Leon mounted two stone steps to the side and knocked loudly on a thick wooden door.

Rhona felt a small hand slip into hers and she looked around to find Alana staring at her tearfully. She smiled reassuringly and gripped her hand tightly, mouthing, "Courage."

The door opened and they were met by a buxom middle-aged woman. Her face was set, and after briefly flicking over them all, she stepped back to allow them entrance.

"Come in. I have been expecting you." Her tone was curt and unfriendly.

Leon ushered the girls in and told Jacques and Theo to wait outside the door. The room was quite large and there was a big four-poster bed to one side, a huge stone fireplace with a fire blazing in the hearth, several tapestries and a wooden table and chairs.

Leon turned back to the woman. "Mistress Blackmore, these are King Malcolm's relations."

"I know very well who they are, my lord." She pulled in her chin indignantly. "You can leave them in my care now."

Rhona raised an eyebrow. Judging by the hostile tone to Mistress Blackmore's voice, she didn't think 'care' was perhaps the right word. She looked back at Leon to see how he would react.

His expression was brooding. "Very well. I will return anon to see how they fare."

Mistress Blackmore folded her arms beneath her ample bosom and said brusquely, "There is no need, I assure you."

"I think there is." There was a steely note to his voice and Rhona watched Mistress Blackmore's face flush red with anger but she seemed to realise that to argue further would be futile. So she simply said, "If you must."

Leon turned to the three girls. "As the king wishes, you are allowed the freedom of the castle but there are guards on every exit. Please do not attempt to escape. It will do you no good."

He smiled briefly before leaving them alone with Mistress Blackmore. As soon as he was gone, she slammed the wooden door shut and walked back to the girls.

"You may be allowed the freedom of the castle but you will receive no welcome from its occupants, I can tell you. You Scottish heathens have been trouble for far too long, and if you think you can come here and do as you please, then you are wrong," she sneered.

Heather gasped. "How dare you talk to us like that! We have not chosen to come here—we have been captured. As for being heathens, I think you should look at yourself before accusing us of such a thing."

Rhona interjected. "Exactly. Heather is right—you are extremely rude."

"Silence!" Mistress Blackmore snapped. "I will hear no more. You will take supper in here tonight and then straight to bed." Before they could say any more, she bustled out of the room and, again, slammed the door loudly.

"That is getting to be a trait of hers," Alana remarked. "What a nasty woman!"

"Aye. One of the worst," Rhona said, wandering over to one of the narrow windows. She kneeled on the padded cushion on the sill and, opening the wooden shutter, peered out. Their room looked out on the courtyard and there were several people milling about. She looked left and right, studying possible escape routes, but the two doors she could see both had a guard either side. She leaned her head against the shutter and closed her eyes.

How on earth were they going to get away from England and back to their beloved family? With a frustrated sigh, she practically slammed the shutter back in place and turned to her cousins.

Heather had picked up a brush from the table and was in the middle of trying to tame her wild hair. Alana was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling despondently.

"Let me do that, Heather," Rhona suggested. "Then, you can do mine." She took the brush out of Heather's hand and began to bring some sort of semblance to her long auburn hair. Heather had straight hair and it didn't take long to bring it back to its usual lustre. Her own hair, on the other hand, had a tendency to be unruly, so it took Heather a little longer.

When she had finished, Alana sat up so Heather could do her hair too. Rhona watched them both and wistfully thought of home, prompting her next words, "I am going to escape, you know. For all our sakes."

"We could not escape our captors before—now we are incarcerated here within thick stone walls; I cannot see you will succeed, cousin," Heather remarked. "Although, all of us will try."

The door opened abruptly, halting any further talk of escape, and Mistress Blackmore returned, accompanied by two maids carrying trays of food and drink.

"Put the trays on the table," she brusquely instructed the maids. "And get back to the kitchen. I want those pots of water on the boil. I will tell the boys when to bring up the wooden bath."

The three girls looked at one another, slightly perplexed. Rhona queried aloud, "We are to bathe?"

Mistress Blackmore looked at her condescendingly. "Aye, I have been instructed that you may need one, after your travels. If it was up to me, you would get nothing."

"That is not a shock," Alana muttered under her breath.

Mistress Blackmore continued, "There is food on the table and wine and mead. If you need to use the garderobe, 'tis on the next level. I will return later."

They waited until she had left before going over to the table and inspecting what she had given them. There was a large plate of venison stew, a round of fresh bread and a crisp apple tart.

"I had not expected such a feast," exclaimed Alana, reaching for the freshly baked bread and breaking off a great hunk.

"I would hardly call it a feast, Alana, although compared to what we have eaten the past few days, then perhaps it is," Rhona remarked.

They settled down to eat and, after a glass of the heady mead, Rhona began to feel a bit better. "Well, I suppose we should be thankful that we are not in a dungeon, at least."

"Aye," agreed Heather. "I just hope we do not have to stay here long. I wonder how your father will react, Rhona."

At the thought of her father, Rhona worried her bottom lip. He would be beside himself by now and had no doubt already spoken with King Malcolm. But how would the king react?

* * *

Leon finished his meal, and feeling replete and satisfied, he leaned back in his chair. He was in the main hall at Winchester, sitting at one of the long trestle tables with Jacques and Theo. Apart from one knight, asleep at the other end of the table, most probably aided by a little too much alcohol, they were alone.

"Do you think the king's plan will work?" asked Theo.

Leon shrugged. "I know not. 'Tis a shame we could not capture Bethoc but, at least, the king has Rhona and her cousins."

"Aye. If King Malcolm knows what is good for him, he will retreat and return north, if he values the lives of these three girls," Jacques commented, reaching for the wine pitcher. "If he does not, then methinks we will be going to battle again." He filled his goblet and took a large gulp, releasing a satisfied breath shortly after. "This wine is good."

"Aye, I agree. The king brought it back with him from Normandy. At the rate you are drinking it, he will have to go back for more!" Theo laughed, slapping him on the back.

Leon finished the rest of his own wine and pushed his chair back. "I am going to see how the girls fare. Mistress Blackmore is a harridan and I would know that she is not mistreating them."

Jacques regarded him shrewdly. "Aye, of course. It has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that you clearly lust after Rhona."

Leon cuffed him around the head as he walked past. "I do not! I am merely concerned for her, I mean, their, safety!"

Theo guffawed at his blatant faux pas and Jacques threw a grape at his retreating back, but he ignored both of them, used to their leg-pulling. With long strides, he exited the hall and mounted the staircase.

Aye, he did find her winsome, but as for lusting after, nay, of course he didn't. He shook his head at his own thoughts, knowing that he was lying to himself. The girl was gorgeous. Any man with half a brain would find her attractive. Reaching the door, he knocked and opened the door, not waiting for a reply to enter.

The sight that met him took him by surprise and he came to a complete standstill, the words of greeting he had been about to say silently escaping from his parted lips.

For there before him, stood Rhona, completely naked with her feet in the wooden bath, water sluicing down her nubile body. She whirled around at the sudden intrusion and her hands flew to cover her modesty.

He gulped and quickly backed away. "Forgive me. I thought you would have finished by now…"

He was interrupted by an angry tirade from Heather, who had covered the floor in seconds and was already pushing him back out of the door. "Shame on you! You cannot simply come in here when we are bathing."

He tried to apologise again but it fell on deaf ears as the door was quickly slammed behind him.

God's bones but she was beautiful. That was all he could think of as he retreated back down the stairs. Her skin was flawless, her legs toned and slender, her breasts pert and full. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something else but he simply couldn't. She was perfection.

He returned to the hall and was relieved to see Theo and Jacques had left. He needed time to compose himself and had no wish to have to explain to the inquisitive pair why he looked so flushed.

* * *

"I cannot believe he just strode in here like that!" exclaimed Heather. "Are all Normans like that?"

"The sooner we are able to leave here, the better," Alana reasoned. "I hate them all! I would have died a thousand deaths, if he had seen me in a state of undress!'

Rhona reached for the linen towel that Heather held out and stepped out of the bath. She shivered a little and walked over to the fire. "I hate them and I hate this place," she spat angrily. "We must formulate a plan of escape. In the morning, we shall explore the castle and find a way out of here, for there will be one. There has to be." She turned and stared into the flames. Her face felt as hot now, as it had been when Leon's eyes had fallen upon her. But it had awakened in her something else. She had felt a connection with him.

She mentally shook herself. He was a Norman—there was no connection. Her embarrassment was just making her thoughts go awry, that was all. The man had no manners.

Pushing him from her mind, she set about drying herself and plaiting her hair. Mistress Blackmore had given them each a long linen nightgown to wear so she slipped it over her head and hugged her hands around her body.

The other two girls had already bathed. Alana had wasted no time in getting into the big bed, declaring it to be quite comfortable. Heather pulled Rhona's arm. "Come and get warm, Rhona. At least tonight, we are not sleeping on the forest floor."

"Thankfully," Rhona agreed.

They slipped under the fur coverlet and huddled together for warmth. Although the fire was still giving off heat, the shorter autumn days combined with the thick stone walls left a distinct chill in the air.

The candles flickered against the walls, illuminating the tapestries. Any other time and perhaps they would have found beauty within this castle but, as captives, they could not. Their main goal foremost on their mind was how and when to escape.

* * *

The next morning, after a disturbed night's sleep, Rhona awoke. She blushed hotly when she remembered how vivid her dreams had been—filled with thoughts of Leon spanking her. Huh! The man was an ogre, why on earth was he invading her dreams, especially about spanking? A surge of desire rushed through her and, alarmed, she did her utmost to push him from her mind.

The other two girls were still asleep, Heather hardly making a sound, Alana softly snoring. The noise was oddly comforting, so used to it was she at home.

She placed her hands behind her head and thought about their predicament. If they were to escape, they would need coin to procure food along the way, perhaps even enough to buy a horse or two. They would also need either cloaks or a blanket, to keep warm at night, a knife for protection, a flacon for water or wine. The list went on.

The door opened abruptly, interrupting her thoughts, and Mistress Blackmore appeared. Rhona scowled. The woman didn't look any more welcoming than she had yesterday, although the tray of food she was carrying looked very welcome.

The noise of the door opening awoke Heather and Alana.

"W-What?" exclaimed a bleary-eyed Alana.

Heather stretched and quickly sat up, remembering where she was.

"You can break your fast in here," Mistress Blackmore declared, her beady eyes looking them over. "The king has declared that you are allowed to leave this room. If it were up to me, I would keep you confined but what do I know? I need not remind you that trying to escape is futile. The guards are all under strict instructions and will not let you pass outside these walls."

With one last condescending look, she sailed back out of the room, leaving the girls in silence. Alana was the first to jump up, pulling the fur coverlet off the other two in her haste.

"Alana, have a care," admonished Heather.

Alana just pulled a face and hopped off the bed.

"Leave some food for us," Rhona said pointedly as she watched Alana approach the tray.

"Of course I will," Alana exclaimed indignantly. "I am not such a pig, you know."

Rhona and Heather exchanged meaningful glances.

Slipping off the bed, Rhona padded over to the table and took a seat next to Alana, who was already tucking into a piece of bread liberally spread with honey.

Rhona poured herself a glass of watered down wine and sipped it slowly. "I have been thinking, if, or should I say when, we escape, we will need coins to see us along the way. So we need to keep our eyes open for any opportunity to steal. Be it a pretty brooch, a bangle, or even someone's pouch of money, we have to be ready to snatch it."

Heather joined them. "Aye, I agree. As much as I dislike the idea of stealing, we truly have no other choice."

"These Norman bastards deserve to have their money stolen! They should never have taken us captive," Alana said between mouthfuls.

They continued their meal in relative silence, all deep in thought until Rhona declared she needed to use the privy chamber.

Dressing quickly into her clothes, her only clothes, she opened the door and looked out into the narrow corridor. There was only one guard on duty. He turned to stare at her, his face impassive but ever watchful. Ignoring him, she grabbed the rope handrail and began the steady climb to the next level.