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Château Le Blanc, Kingdom of France, December 1356

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“Vous êtes très jolie, Mademoiselle,” said the lady’s maid appointed to Louise. She referred to her new mistress’ beauty.

“Merci – vous êtes gentille,” answered Louise, thanking her and saying that the lady’s maid was kind.

The two women were in Louise’s chamber at Château Le Blanc, just as she almost always was since her abduction that was already a few weeks ago. Apart from the occasional turn in the castle’s grounds, she was not allowed out of her room. She lived in a gilded cage, and her jailor was a monster.

She had not seen Jean Philippe since he molested her physically with the help of Gaston – Louise could still feel his hands exploring her naked body as if the man was still probing and pinching. It had been the most degrading experience in her life. And just before she thought that he would lose all restraint and rape her, he suddenly stopped and stormed out of the room.

He had left her alone since that ill-fated night. Louise had heard rumors that he had departed the castle to harass the peasants in the villages nearby. Jean Philippe certainly copied his peers by doing his utmost to steal from the poor. It was a disease that plagued the whole of France since the defeat at Poitiers.

The Dauphin was in no position to uphold law and order, which the lords who had not succumbed at Poitiers had taken into their own hands for personal enrichment. Louise was certain that if the Black Prince wanted to, he could bring the entire Kingdom of France to its knees.

But worse still, unrest among the peasants or the Jacquerie grew on a daily basis. The average person got this name from the aristocracy because of their unsightly and simply padded surplices called jacques. If the harassment by the nobles were to continue, France would explode like a tinderbox into a full-blown revolution.

“Tell me about him, Chantal?” asked Louise.

The lady’s maid stopped combing her hair. “Mademoiselle, I have already told you a hundred times.” She chuckled.

Louise turned around to face the woman in her early thirties. She had an oval face that exuded kindness. Her hair was dark blonde and her eyes brown. She was a matronly woman and taller than Louise. But she was a Godsend for two reasons. For one, she kept Louise company in an otherwise dire situation. She did not know whether she would have survived had it not been for Chantal.

And the second reason was about to be voiced.

“I cannot hear it enough. Please tell me again what he looked like and what he said,” pleaded Louise.

Chantal put the comb on the table and sighed. “As you know, I was not there…”

“Yes, yes, I know. It was your husband who saw him.”

“Oui. But he spoke to your man, and he promises to save you,” said Chantal, starting the tale all over again about how Doogle planned to save Louise. It was all so farfetched and near impossible, but Louise believed that he would succeed nonetheless.

Louise’s heart warmed when she imagined Doogle and his brother along with the two other clansmen in the tavern in the village of Le Blanc. It had been Chantal’s husband they had encountered two weeks ago, who to their good fortune, despised Jean Philippe as much as they did. The man-at-arms had jumped at the chance to help bring him down.

After that, Doogle had gotten messages to Louise on a daily basis – it was what gave her hope – but then they abruptly stopped a few days ago. Chantal had explained that Doogle and his brother had to go away for a few days and that they would be back. Where had they gone? Louise feared that Doogle had abandoned her and returned home to the Highlands.

Yet, Chantal promised her that this was not the case. Her husband, Antoine, said that they would come back, and when they did, they would enable Louise’s escape from Château Le Blanc. However, Louise was none the wiser as to how they would achieve this. Chantal did not know of the plan. In essence, all that was promised to Louise were empty platitudes that did not bear much credence.

“But you do not know where they have gone,” complained Louise.

“Non, but I know that they will return,” insisted Chantal.

The air escaped Louise’s mouth. She was frustrated beyond belief. Her marriage date to Jean Philippe had been confirmed. If Doogle did not come through with his promise, she would be the vile man’s wife. And soon – the nuptials would take place on the morrow.

“There’s no time. Tomorrow I will be his wife,” complained Louise.

Chantal stroked her head. She had become very fond of the young and brave young woman. She almost saw her as the daughter she could never have. Although she and Antoine had tried, God had not blessed them with a child. Her man’s seed would not quicken – her womb was barren.

“You must have faith, Louise. You must place your trust in God, and you must accept whatever is woven into the tapestry of your destiny,” said Chantal.

“But what if it is my destiny to marry Jean Philippe?”

Chantal scrunched her brow. “I do not believe that is your fate.”

“What makes you so certain, Chantal?”

“Because God would never birth such sweet love and take it away again.” Chantal appeared confident in her belief.

Louise sighed. “I hope you are right,” she said in almost a whisper.

She did believe that her love for Doogle was strong and true, but fate was inexorable. It was constantly working, and it seemed that everything was transpiring so quickly and against her wishes.

“I am right. You must believe that Doogle will come for you,” said Chantal.

“But how will they gain access to the château? There are so many men guarding it.”

“Leave that up to your man,” replied Chantal, frowning.

Louise huffed. “I can’t just sit around idly. I have to do something.”

“You need to be patient and have faith. Antoine explained the measure of the men that are going to help you, and he said that they looked like men who would get the job done.”

Louise thought for a moment. The lady’s maid was right. She knew Doogle. She knew that he was a fighter. And from what she had seen from his brother and the other Highlanders in his party, a voice whispered to her that they would fight to the death to help the middle son of the laird get his woman back – no matter what.

“It has to be tomorrow. If that man puts his hands on me again, I think I will die,” said Louise. She felt as if the walls of the large and opulent chamber were collapsing in on her.

“Your man will never let that happen.”

“But do they know that the wedding is tomorrow?”

Chantal nodded. “Antoine told them before they left. Also, the news has spread through the village because the lord has promised food and drink to the inhabitants in honor of the occasion.”

This news surprised Louise. Charity and generosity were not traits associated with Jean Philippe. However, she did not ponder over her captor’s motivation and character for a moment longer. All she could think about was the man she loved and whether he would arrive in time to save her.

“What if Doogle is late?”

“He won’t be late,” insisted Chantal.

Louise got to her feet and began to pace from wall to wall. She felt like a caged animal. She had to do her utmost not to scream.

“I cannot spend another night in this room, this château – I must break out.”

“Non!”

Louise stopped in her tracks at her lady’s maid’s vehement outburst.

“You expect me to sit idly by and pray that everything goes well?”

“That is exactly what you are going to do. If you do anything rash, you will make the rescue all the more difficult. Jean Philippe will triple the guard, and then your man will not be able to gain access to the château.”

Louise knew that Chantal was right. She had to behave as if she accepted her fate. It needed to look like she was ready to marry Jean Philippe. Only then would the Highlanders manage to break into the castle.

“You must stop worrying—” Chantal’s hand flew to her mouth in shock.

“There is no need to worry, my love. Tomorrow we will be together. Nothing can change that. It is your destiny,” said Jean Philippe, entering the chamber.

Louise swallowed deeply. She hated the mere sight of her jailor. “I will never marry you!”

Jean Philippe grimaced. “Have you not learned your lesson? I left you in peace in the hope that you would come to see reason. It appears that you are still resisting the inevitable.”

“I will resist you for as long as I live.” Louise hissed.

She did not notice Chantal tense at her words. The older woman knew of her master’s wrath when he was crossed. More than once had she been subjected to the lash because of taking food from the kitchen.

“And I will have all the more pleasure watching you squirm beneath me. There’s nothing quite as enjoyable as a bit of fight in a woman to increase a man’s ardor. I look forward to when we are alone tomorrow night.” Jean Philippe sneered.

The mere notion of having this man on top of her almost made Louise sick. Already, his wandering hands had been sickening enough, but sleeping with him... that would be a fate worse than death.

When Louise looked at his face, she could see the lust etched onto his features. He had the expression of a man who knew that he had won. Like a spider, he had been patient. He had waited until he got his woman. It did not matter to him that she despised him. The narcissist only cared about getting the prize – the cost or hurt he caused to someone else was of no import.

“Leave us,” ordered Jean Philippe to Chantal.

The lady’s maid hesitated for a few heartbeats. She willed Louise with her eyes that she not say anything more to anger the upstart lord. When she saw her master’s unwavering glare, she nodded at Louise apologetically and left the room.

In the meantime, Jean Philippe calmly walked over to where Louise sat. He ran his hand through her hair, emitting small moans of pleasure while he did this.

“Your hair is like silk,” he muttered. Desire laced his words.

Louise froze. It was like having a spider crawl over her skin, but she did nothing to stop him. She knew that if she angered Jean Philippe, he might break his vow and violate her body prior to the nuptials. To her mind, he did not care. She was his anyway if Doogle did not arrive in time.

She had to steel her nerves not to pull away in disgust. She tensed when his hands came to a rest on her shoulders. He squeezed her there. More lustful groans escaped his mouth.

The next moment, she could feel his hot breath on her neck. Jean Philippe inhaled her scent before planting a small kiss on her skin.

“You taste as sweet as a peach, my love,” he said, sounding as if he was in pain.

Louise remained silent. She let her tormentor continue what he was doing. When his fingertips brushed over her left breast, she had balled her hands into fists. All it would take was for her to spin around and punch him in the face. She thought of Doogle. She tried to imagine him riding hard. She prayed that he would make it in time to stop the wedding.

“Now, that is better. It appears that I have tamed the wild filly.” He chuckled. “Not too much I hope because I like to have something beneath me that squirms.”

Louise maintained her silence. She knew that anything she said would anger the man.

“Not very talkative this evening.” Jean Philippe turned away from her and walked to the door. Before he left, he said, “I will have some food sent to your chamber. Make sure you get some rest – you have a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”

With those words, he departed the room.

Louise let out a huge sigh. For the moment, she was safe. But that would all come to an end the next day. If a miracle did not happen, she would be his wife. Doogle would be lost to her forever.