Men loved watching women fight, it turned out, and Sela had an uncanny eye for knowing which women were best suited to the practice. She’d used her heritage from her mother, the Norse beauty, as an intimidation tactic. Her voice and her looks had made her stand out, and it had worked to her advantage. Everyone feared the Ice Queen, though she knew not where the name had started.
She was so successful that Guy and Dee had bought her a new wardrobe in Inverness—a boon she’d neither asked for nor wanted—but she was also given better access to her other boon, the one she valued more than life itself.
She told herself that at least she’d helped the women. Ensured they had shelter and were fed. Arranged for their entertainment. That was all true, and it was much more than any of Guy and Dee’s voluntary workers would have done, but it didn’t take away from her guilt. She’d forced them to fight, turned her head when they were punished, and tolerated other things she preferred not to think about...
Then Connor Grant and his band of Highlanders had arrived in town. Connor unsettled her from the first. Usually she understood men’s desires, their most base instincts.
But Connor was different.
He made the guilt she’d felt for years heavier, as did the mounting evidence that Guy and Dee were doing something much, much worse than collecting wagers and forcing women to whore. The scene she’d witnessed at the end of her time in Inverness—the Highlanders fighting the Channel men, pulling lasses out of crates...
The very thought of what Guy and Dee were doing, of what she was a party to, crushed her.
It was better not to know.
It was better not to ask for confirmation.
Already, she woke up screaming more nights than not, tormented by memories of the lasses abused by the Channel men.
She knew Connor must wonder why she stayed. Years ago, she’d tried to escape, but it was not possible anymore. She was responsible for someone besides herself, and she kept that at the back of her mind at all times.
Finally, after what felt like hours of waiting, Guy came in and closed the door, one guard on either side of him. She stayed in her chair but did her best to stop kneading her hands. These men preyed on weakness. “Sela, I appreciate you following our instructions, but the venture failed.”
“But I did exactly as you asked,” she whimpered. She’d hoped she might get her boon early in exchange for her cooperation.
“You did, but the Grants got the lad back.” He stepped closer to her and pulled her to standing. “Why does Connor Grant follow you? Why would he chase you?” His voice came out in that low, threatening tone she hated.
She squared her shoulders and looked Guy in the eye. “I don’t know. I’d never seen him anywhere before he came to Inverness.”
His arm reached out so fast she had no chance to protect herself. “You lie.” He slapped her hard, but she didn’t react other than to turn her face slightly from the blow.
How many slaps had she endured over the five years of her captivity? She didn’t wish to count.
“I did as you asked. I told the truth about not knowing him before Inverness. The only other place I’ve seen him is in the whorehouse in Edinburgh. I know not why he follows me. I speak the truth, my lord.” While she doubted his true heritage was noble, she knew how much Guy and Dee preferred to be addressed as if they were.
He gave her a scathing look but stepped back and indicated she was to sit down again.
Guy had brown hair that he kept rather short and a long beard he didn’t trim. He was surprisingly fit for a man his age. He and Dee lived in England at a nobleman’s castle, one much farther south, but their most recent venture had required them to travel more than usual.
After what had happened in Inverness, she had an inkling of what that venture might be, but she chose not to face the truth of it. If she was right, she wasn’t sure she could go on—and she needed to be strong.
For as much as she abhorred her assignment, she had no choice other than to cooperate.
“I’ve done all you asked. My boon mark is in another sennight. Have I met the requirements yet? I worked hard in Inverness.”
He whirled around as if just realizing it was her boon time. How could he not know? Everyone knew when it was her boon time.
He paused, chewing on long hairs from his moustache while he stroked his beard. “You have a good start, but I think we’ll have something else for you to do. We’ll require your help in a new venture that will be unfolding in a matter of days. See that you do everything we ask. Or else…”
She shuddered involuntarily, because she knew exactly what “or else” meant.
Chapter Two
Connor led the group to the castle on the water. It was a majestic sight, although it was evident it had deteriorated in places. The keep sat on a hill set back from the shoreline, distinctive for its four towers and deep turrets. Flags flew high in the wind, whipping freely. From its highest point, the view of the sea had to be spectacular from on high. Half a dozen guards surrounded the gates.
The castle wall traveled all the way to the sea, a most imposing picture. That wall would prevent anyone from strolling into the castle from the shoreline, instead forcing visitors to go through the gates or arrive by boat. If he were to guess, the design was purposeful—it allowed the castle dwellers to bypass the busy port of Berwick.
He considered the possibility of using the shoreline as a point of entry and decided against it—even if the guards couldn’t properly watch it, it would be dangerous at night. If they needed to sneak inside, climbing the wall at the back would be a better alternative.
Based on the imposing fortress in front of him and the possibility that the Channel could send ships from inside the gates, it would be even more difficult for the Band of Cousins to stop this shipment from heading out to sea.
“What shall we do, my lord?” Thorn asked. “I know ’tis the castle they discussed. They were laughing about how close it was to town. They called it Berwick Castle.”
“All in good time, Thorn. As long as we’re this close to the water, I want to check out the port. See how many berths there are for ships,” Connor said. “My father told me this is one of the areas that earns Scotland the most money because it’s the closest spot to France by ship. Many boats aim for this area, and a large amount of wool and other products leaves the port on a daily basis.”
“I hope that all those in Berwick are not aware of the sale of bairns. Would be a sad testament to the value of coin, would it not?” Braden asked.
Roddy said, “I should hope not.”
“Agreed,” Connor said. “I’d like to search the town and see if anything looks familiar. In Inverness, the Channel men frequented alehouses and stored many crates in buildings near the docks in Inverness. Berwick looks much different than Inverness, so ’tis like starting over again. Where are the whorehouses? The most popular inns? The busiest alehouses?”
After leaving their horses in a safe place, they made their way to the center of town. The streets were still busy, bustling with a large number of people wandering about. Much like the other towns they’d visited in their quest to end the Channel, Berwick was dirty. The air smelled foul no matter where they went, and rats moved among the food stalls looking for scraps. Thorn informed them that he’d once had a job killing such varmints.
As they moved closer to the coastline, the salty scent of the sea wafted past them. Down near the center of the port, fishing boats lined the berths, and the smell of dead fish overpowered the other unsavory scents. Connor loved fish, but he had the sudden urge to heave. There were fewer vendors near the ship berths, mostly because they were teeming with activity. Boats of all sizes were lined up in berths, and still others were moored a bit farther out.
Connor stopped and stared out across the water, the others close behind him.
Thorn followed his gaze, then glanced up at him. “What are you looking for?”
“A ship the size of the one we all saw in Inverne
ss, but I don’t see one.”
“How big?” Braden asked. Neither he nor Roddy had been to Inverness.
“Double the size of any of these. These are mostly fishing boats. A few of these ships would be capable of carrying cargo, but human cargo weighs more than they can handle. I don’t see any buildings close enough to hold the prisoners for a big shipment either. Nor is there an area to hide crates.”
Roddy said, “I’m going for a meat pie while you look. Anyone care to join me?”
“Me!” Thorn yelled. “I’m starving.”
Braden cocked his head. “I could use an ale.”
The prospect of a rest was tempting, but Connor couldn’t allow himself to be distracted. He would not stop until he found Sela again. She was here somewhere.
He could feel it.
“I’m going to keep looking for a while longer. Which alehouse are you going to?”
Braden pointed to the one at the end of the street they were on. “I think this one serves food.”
“I’ll see you there shortly,” Connor said absentmindedly, waving his cousins off. He kept looking about, absorbing everything. It struck him again that this city was quite different than Inverness. Aye, they were different towns, but it went beyond that.
The reason for his reaction finally dawned on him.
He was surrounded by fishermen. There weren’t many men strolling the docks looking for work or moving crates.
That was it.
Every time they’d visited the docks at Inverness, there had been men moving and lifting crates. Stacking them to the sides, loading them on the boats, grunting as they worked because the crates were so heavy. Not here. One boat was in the process of being loaded with small crates, but he suspected it was naught but wool or grain or perhaps an occasional crate of Scots liquid gold—whisky.
There were no crates large enough to fit a person.
His gaze carried over to the castle on the hill behind them. The castle had impenetrable walls around it, a fortress as strong as any he’d seen. When they’d approached from the other side, he had seen the wear on the stone, the crumbling edges. From here, it looked majestic and imposing.
A familiar voice caught his attention and he spun around, surprised to find himself staring into a pair of ice blue eyes.
Sela. She had two guards behind her. The woman was never left alone, another indication that she wasn’t working for the Channel willingly.
Hell, she seemed to grow more beautiful each time he saw her. Her hair was pulled back into a plait that started at the crown of her head. It fell nearly to her hip, the whiteness of it so glaring in this environment that it had caught the attention of every man in the area, though the two guards behind her would make certain that no one stepped near her.
In Inverness and Edinburgh, she’d dressed in regal fashion, but today she wore a simple dark green wool gown, covered with a dark blue mantle. High cheekbones and a pair of luscious lips called to him, although he had to fight his natural reaction to her.
Beauty or not, she had a cold heart. She hadn’t earned her nickname of “Ice Queen” for nothing. Although he suspected she wasn’t working with the Channel of her own free will, there was no denying she was working with them. Had all the lasses who’d fought for her in Inverness been kidnapped? Had she given orders to the men who’d plucked them from their homes?
“Why do you follow me?” she asked, her lips pursed and unforgiving.
“I don’t follow you,” he replied with a smirk. “I think I was here first.”
She chuckled, but the sound never reached her eyes or her lips. “Your homeland is deep in the Highlands. We passed Grant land on our journey here. And yet, here you are. First you showed up in Inverness, then Edinburgh, and now you’ve followed me to Berwick. I want you to leave me alone.”
“Nay, I won’t.” He would get the answers to his questions before he left.
“What must I do to send you away? You cause trouble for me and it is unwelcome.” Her gaze narrowed as she stepped closer to him, her chin lifting just a notch to meet his gaze.
He was certain she intended to intimidate him, but it wouldn’t work. For some reason, having her step closer pleased him.
His gaze locked on hers, looking for any cracks in her icy mask. “Tell me why, and I’ll go,” he said.
“Why what?” Her stony glance told him he would have to do much more to break through to her.
He wanted to know what had frozen her heart as much as he wanted the names of the leaders of the Channel of Dubh. He believed she could lead him to them, but he had to come up with some leverage.
She wouldn’t make it easy.
He took a step closer and leaned toward her. “Why would you take part in this operation? Have you no morals? No guilt?”
When he said that last word, he saw a glimmer of the woman beneath the ice. True, it had been fleeting, but he’d seen it nonetheless. She hadn’t answered yet, so he pressed her. “I saw that.”
“Saw what?”
He leaned in closer to whisper to her, and the sweet aroma of wildflowers and Sela washed over him, something he wished he could have avoided. He didn’t need any more reminders of her to haunt his dreams at night. Avoiding the temptation to breathe in deeper, he held her gaze and said, “You flinched. You do feel guilty. Why do you do it?”
She surprised him by leaning in a wee bit closer, so close their lips nearly touched. “As I told you outside the whorehouse in Edinburgh, I have my reasons. You’ll never know them.”
The two were caught in a battle of wills of sorts, neither one moving. He was oblivious to all sounds around him, but intuition told him that he could speak low enough for her ears only. “Let me in and I’ll help you.”
The iciness melted away this time, revealing the woman trapped beneath it. Fear, hope, hatred, and love—all those emotions crossed her face in a moment that seemed to linger, but the most important one he saw was desperation.
He would never forget that look.
She pulled back and said, “Leave me alone. Please. You have no idea what trouble you cause.”
She spun on her heel and left him, her steps not as strong and confident as usual. What he’d seen in her gaze had told him everything he needed to know. He would follow her until he conquered that look, forced it away forever.
Fear and desperation controlled this strong woman.
Sela held a fear so powerful, so all-consuming, that it drove everything she did.
He’d wipe that fear away if it was the last thing he did. If not, he’d probably die trying.
Chapter Three
Sela stalked off, afraid to say another word, afraid to be so close to that man.
Connor Grant stirred something inside her that she hadn’t felt in years.
Hope.
Could he find some way to help her? No, if life had taught her one lesson, it was that hope was a foolish dream. Connor was one man against countless Englishmen. The two men who controlled her could call in a cluster of chain-mailed, armor-clad English knights at a moment’s notice.
She’d played a part in ruining too many lives. Any more guilt would crush her. Although the Grants and their friends had won some battles against the Channel, they’d be foolish to make a stand against them here in Berwick.
Besides which, the mere act of talking to Connor was likely enough to bring more punishment down on her.
Oh, how she wished she were wrong. If she had her choice, she’d run away and live her life in peace, hidden deep in a forest where no one would bother her.
A man approached her from a crowd across the street.
“Sela!”
She froze, shocked to recognize him. Her entire body began to shake at the mere sight of him. The short man strode straight toward her, the two guards stepping back from her. “What are you doing out here? Have you been given permission to leave the castle? Who was that man you were speaking with?”
She backed up, her insides now churning with fear.
How she hated this man, known as Hord, who delighted in inflicting punishments on the lasses forced to work for the Channel. He had a twisted mind, and his cruelty was beyond belief.
“Sela? I asked you a question. Must I see you punished?” he asked quietly, the smirk on his face proof of how much he enjoyed inflicting his odd forms of torture.
“Nay, Guy asked me to walk to the port to check on something. ’Tis why he sent two guards with me.”
He moved forward. If he came any closer, she’d pass out for certain. She could feel her vision dimming at the edges.
“What were you sent to do?” The urge to cower overtook her, sickening her, as the small man with the paunch invaded her senses.
“He asked me to look for a ship. ’Tis supposed to arrive sometime today.”
“Who was that?” he persisted, his beady eyes boring through her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” she stammered, shaking her head in denial. He couldn’t have seen her with Connor. She’d only allowed herself a moment to talk with him.
Hord grabbed her wrist in a tight vise and she gasped in fear, but the next sound almost caused her to crumple to the ground.
Connor Grant’s voice echoed across town in a dull roar.
“Unhand her.”
***
Connor had to fight the instinct to unsheathe his sword. He reached for the brute who’d grabbed Sela, but the man stood back and waved her guards forward to do their job. Those two weren’t a challenge. He put his fist in the face of the first one and knocked him out cold, then grabbed the second one by the throat and punched him in the belly. When he fell back, Connor kicked him in the gut and he landed on the cobblestone street, his head snapping back and hitting the hard surface, knocking him out, also. Proud of himself for not killing anyone yet, Connor reached for the other man, who’d turned to run away.
He wasn’t fast enough.
Connor grabbed him by the back of the neck and tossed him off to the side. He landed facedown on the street. “Who raised you? What gives you the right to hurt a woman?”
Highland Brawn (The Band of Cousins Book 8) Page 2
