A/N: Hey everyone, hope you guys are having a good week so far. I managed to upload another chapter and I'll try to upload another this week, I'm not completely sure if I can. I do try and upload at least once a week, but between work and college, it's hard. Again, apologizing for any spelling/grammar errors.

Hope you enjoy : )

Chapter 3: A Prisoner's Gift

Oh no, this cannot be good. What if he found out I snuck food to the prisoners? I thought I was careful…Christine thought as she walked down the hallway. Taking a deep breath, she reached the door of her father's study. Knocking on the door, she opened it after she heard him let her inside. Sitting at the desk, he looked up to see his daughter walking inside and up to the desk.

"You asked to see me…" She tried not sound or look nervous.

"Yes, I did." He leaned back in his chair. "I'm afraid I have to leave for a few days for urgent business."

"Am I to go with you?" She asked.

"I would prefer it. I don't want you here alone with the prisoners." He answered. "It's too dangerous."

"I will have the guards her to protect me though if something happens." He was quiet. "I can assure you that I'll be find here for a couple of days. I've been alright for the last few years."

"You were in London though, well protected and far away from any Scot. It's different here…their cells are just below your feet."

"I don't think they would risk their lives to escape and attack me." He smirked. "Father, I am certain that I will be alright while you're away." He looked at her, thinking of her words.

"Alright, you can stay." He made his decision. Smiling, she walked over and hugged him. "Promise me you will stay away from the cell gate."

"I promise, father." She hated breaking her promise she just made, but she had soldiers that needed food and she wouldn't let them starve. Pulling away, she turned to leave the room. Walking down the hallway, she glanced outside to see the sun in the sky. She decided to spend some time outside today and enjoy the weather.

Settling in the chair on the balcony, Christine set up a table next to her chair where she put spare needles, several colors of string and a tambour frame. Picking of the first color, she prepared her needle and soon began on her work. She had become quite skilled with a needle after a few years of practice already. It was something that she often did during the day to pass the time. Though she was focused on her needlework, her ears picked up the sound of the prisoners down below in the yard. Their voices weren't too loud, but loud enough that Christine could hear. However, they spoke in Gaelic and Christine couldn't understand a word…except one: Boyd. His name popped up several times and she began to wonder what they were saying. Listening more carefully, she heard a few cheers from prisoners. Curiosity getting the better of her, she stood up and moved to the railing of the balcony wall. Setting her needlework on the railing, she leaned forward slightly to see the prisoners gathering around two prisoners. One she knew was Boyd, but she wasn't sure who the other one. They kept cheering and shouting in Gaelic as the two prisoners in the middle began to fight. She knew it was harmless and continued to watch. It wasn't long before Boyd pinned the other prisoner down on the ground and the crowd cheered. Christine couldn't help but smile at his victory. Another match started minutes later but Boyd sat this one out. He walked to stand under the balcony, to get some shade. With him out of sight now, Christine decided to return to her needlework. Turning, her hand accidentally bumped her frame and pushed it off the balcony. Gasping, her hand quickly tried to catch it, but it was too late. The tambour frame hit a prisoner's shoulder on its journey down, landing on the ground a few feet away. Boyd's head turned to see the frame land on the ground after it hit his shoulder. Glancing up, he saw Christine leaning over the balcony. It's her...he remembered seeing her and had wondered who she was. Somebody's daughter…His eyes glanced from her to the frame and then back to her. He figured the tambour frame belonged to her. Then he remembered something…from the previous night. He remembered looking out the small window to see a small figure walking down the hallway, giving bread to the prisoners. Though he'd never see the face or even knew if it was a girl or boy who did it, but somehow he knew it was her. Looking away from her, he walked over to the frame and picked it up. Well…I'll find out tonight if this belongs to her…

Once in his cell, he set the tambour frame on his bed. Glancing around the small cell, he tried to find something to write on. Prisoners weren't really given anything until they asked but he knew they wouldn't give him anything because of who he is. Looking at the tambour frame and noticed the needle and thread still attached. Glancing down at his clothes, he thought of something. Sitting down on the bed, he ripped some of his clothes into long threads. His mind tried to remember what his sister and mother did whenever they did needlework. He had done it a few times before the war, but it was years ago and his skills weren't the best. Using the needle and now plenty of the thread, he worked out his plan. A couple of hours later and he had finished. Looking at his finished work, he sighed.

"Not me best work…" He was a soldier, not a needle artist. Setting it down, he rose from the bed and walked over to the door. Crouching a bit to look out the small window, looking out into the hallway. It was empty, no sign of anyone. The guards had put everyone back in their cells and most likely getting their meals now. It'd be a perfect time now for her to come. Stepping back, he decided not to wait by the window so not to frighten her away. Leaning against the stone wall, he waited. Soon the sound of movement outside caught his attention and he quickly glanced outside the window. A figure in a cloak with a hood over its head stood outside a cell door, sliding a piece of bread through the small window. Though the hood covered her face, his eyes caught the fabric of a dress as she turned to walk to the next door. It is her. Knowing that now, he walked back to the bed and grabbed the tambour frame. Coming to stand just slightly away from the window, he waited until she approached the window. Seeing the bread come through the hole, he made his move. "Wait…" He heard a slight gasp escape her mouth, but she waited. Stepping closer, he slid the tambour frame through the window. It barely fit, but he managed to get it through. He felt her take a hold of it and let go. Saying 'thank you' in Gaelic, he took the bread and moved away from the window.

Christine looked down at the tambour frame in her hands. The words 'Thank you' were sewn in the work. Running her fingers against the fabric, she felt it was different than what she originally used. Stepping closer to a torch, she noticed the color was different as well. She remembered seeing the colors on the clothes the prisoners wore. Did he…? He did…he used threads from his own clothes to make this. A big smile appeared on Christine face. He had done this for her. Keeping a hold of it, she quickly finished her rounds. She kept quiet, not wanting to alert the guards who were still having their meal. Managing to finish just as they finished their meals, she snuck back up to her room. Her father had already left hours early so she didn't have to worry about being caught by him, just the guards and servants. Reaching her room, she quietly shut the door and push the hood off her head. Taking the cloak off, she set it on a chair and walked over to the bed. Still holding the tambour frame in her hands, she looked down at it. She still couldn't believe he made it for her. Setting the prisoner's gift next to her bed, she called it a night.

So we got out first tiny conversation between them and don't worry, there will be more. Remember, he is Scottish so he speaks Gaelic.

Reviews are welcome : )