Highland Brawn (The Band of Cousins Book 8)

by Keira Montclair

  Connor shrugged. “I spoke with Sela in the port, but she was reprimanded for talking to me. After leaving my own impression on two of her guards, I left, but not before I saw her fearful reaction to one particular man. Thorn and I crept into Berwick Castle later last night to see if she would give me more information, but as you can see, they didn’t appreciate my speaking with her.”

  “How did you get away, Thorn?” Uncle Logan asked.

  “Who are you again?” the wee lad asked, staring up at the man pacing behind him. “Are you a Ramsay?” He paused, then added in a loud whisper, “Do you know the bollocks splitter?”

  Uncle Logan stopped his pacing directly in front of Thorn, one brow quirked over the other. Only his mouth—the lips pressed a slight bit too tightly together—revealed he was on the verge of laughing. “The bollocks splitter? You’re around lasses, lad. Not the most proper language, if you ask me.”

  Thorn glanced around him as if only just noticing all the women in the hall. “My apologies, but do you know her?”

  “I think I do. What know you of her?”

  “Did she pin a man to a tree by his…by his…was the arrow between his legs?” He looked up at Logan Ramsay, his hand going to the front of his trews.

  “My name is Logan Ramsay, and the…”

  “The spy? You’re the spy? The one they call the Beast?” His hands shot out from his sides now, as if he wished to hug the man. When Connor and Gregor had first encountered Nari and Thorn, the lads had revealed their admiration for the Ramsay and Grant clans—they’d heard many stories about Logan and Gwyneth Ramsay, he imagined, as well as a few about his sire.

  Uncle Logan grinned at this question, glancing at Connor’s sire, his chest puffing out a wee bit. “Aye, I’m the Beast, but I plan on retiring that name. The woman you refer to is my wife. Everything you heard is true, and you’d better behave yourself around her. She’s got a mighty good eye when she’s got a bow in her hand.”

  Thorn stepped back quickly, until he stood just beside Connor’s chair. He then leaned over and whispered, “Which one is she? And is it true?”

  “She’s sitting right over there,” he pointed to where Aunt Gwyneth sat. “I’ll introduce you a wee bit later. And aye, ’tis all true.”

  “Lad, if you’ve finished all your questions, I’m still waiting to hear how you rescued my son,” Connor’s sire said.

  Thorn’s eyes went wide. “Your sire is verra big,” he whispered. “Is he as big as you?”

  Connor whispered back, “Not quite. But close.”

  Thorn squared his shoulders and began his tale in a more confident tone. “I spied on her first, then Connor went inside, so I waited outside the wall, but when he didn’t come back, I went back inside. I heard them talking about hurting Connor, so I went back for Braden and Roddy.”

  “Good job, lad,” Alex said.

  Connor added, “I tried to do it on my own. I know I shouldn’t have, but I wanted to get her away from them. I knew she harbored a deep fear, and it seems to have been a valid one.”

  His father just arched his brow at him. “Her wounds?”

  “From hundreds of spiders is my guess. I will be there when she awakens.” He took three swigs of an ale and two bites of bread.

  “Why?” His father wouldn’t let it rest until he answered, that much he knew.

  “Because she’s been with the Dubh men. She can probably tell us exactly what they plan, when and where.”

  True, but it was not the answer his sire sought.

  As if his sire could read his thoughts, he asked, “And what is she to you? I asked this of you before, and you were evasive. I think your feelings are stronger now. Am I wrong?”

  Connor didn’t know how to answer that question, so he paused, giving himself time to consider his answer.

  Thorn chimed in. “I know what she is! ’Tis why the Dubh men said to leave them together.”

  Connor spun his head around to face Thorn.

  “They said Hord nearly killed Sela so they’d have to leave the lovers out to die together.” He nodded his head, apparently proud of his memory.

  Connor shook his head and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I was in her chamber searching for answers when they walked in and found the two of us together. They made an incorrect assumption. I was there for information.”

  “And now that you’ve brought her here, I’ll ask you again how you feel about her,” his father said.

  Hell, but that man never did forget anything.

  Connor wouldn’t evade the question any longer. His answer would be honest. “I’m not sure. I’m driven to protect her.” He glanced at his mother. “I saw her desperate fear and couldn’t walk away.”

  The door to the healing chamber opened and Aunt Brenna came out. A hush settled over the group while they waited to hear what she had to say. Jennet followed her, paler than usual.

  “I don’t think we’ve ever seen a person in a more gruesome state. Connor, she is covered in bites. Everywhere. The only place that seems to have escaped is an area around her belly, as if she held something over herself.”

  “But she’ll be fine, will she not? They’re just bites…” Connor needed to hear that Sela would heal completely.

  “Her body is fighting a fever and poison from some of the bites. If she were to awaken, I imagine the itching would be quite fierce. I can give her something to make her sleep, but I’ll refrain if you wish to ask her some questions first.”

  “Is she awake now?”

  “Nay, and… I’m not sure how to explain this, but you have to want to heal. If you think you can give her a reason to want to live, then perhaps you should sit with her. Talk to her. She may be able to hear you.”

  He nodded once, resolute. “I’ll see if I can get her to awaken to answer a few questions. Do keep the potion handy. I don’t want to see her in pain.”

  That statement was more telling than any other he could have said.

  ***

  Sela opened her eyes, uncertain of where she was. The memories of her torture, of wee Claray’s cries and screams, were fresh in her mind, so much so that when something brushed across her leg, she sat up, trying to kill it.

  “There’s naught there, Sela. I’ve been watching.”

  “But a spider...could have…maybe survived…” She glanced over at the speaker, surprised to see Connor Grant seated on a stool next to the bed. “Where am I?”

  “You’re in the Ramsay keep, tended by the best healer in all of Scotland.”

  “Nay, I have to get…where is she?” She tried to get herself out of bed, but her legs would not move. Glancing at her arms, she gasped when she saw the size of her arms, swollen with venom or whatever the spiders had carried. She was going nowhere. Vaguely, she recalled her dear friend Vern had promised to take care of Claray. She knew she could trust him so she fell back onto the bed, noticing the sweet aroma of heather coming from the mattress.

  “How did I end up here? How did you get me away from the bastard?”

  “The bastard?”

  “Hord. The demented man with the spiders. I was sent to him for my punishment. ’Tis the last I remember. Where did you find me?”

  “They apparently left us both for dead in a secluded place north of Berwick. Thorn said the man you called Hord feared he’d gone too far and nearly killed you. You’re free of them.”

  Sela sighed and closed her eyes. “How I wish, but she’s still with them, so I’ll have to go back.”

  “Who is ‘she?’” Connor asked, his gaze too shrewd by far. “What hold do they have over you besides the torture?”

  An intense itching began in the middle of her head, then shot down to her hand. Scratching the many different spots proved fruitless, though she continued to try.

  Connor moved to the side of the bed, sitting on the edge and tenderly reaching for her. “You cannot scratch, Sela,” he said, holding her hands. “You’ll only make it worse. My aunt has a sleeping potion she
can give you, but I’d like to ask you some questions first. Are you willing?”

  Sela stared at the handsome man beside her bed, wondering why he cared. He should hate her. Perhaps he only wanted news of the Channel. There were things she could tell him, but should she really tell him everything?

  How could she bear it?

  “I’ll tell you all I know if you’ll lie next to me and hold me.” The intense urge to be comforted would not leave her. Her daughter comforted her, aye, but she was Claray’s protector, not the other way around.

  Inside her was a driving need to be close to someone who could kill both the spiders and Hord. Someone who could drive out some of the darkness that threatened to engulf her.

  “All right. I would be pleased to do that.”

  She met his gaze and held it, the sincerity of his statement evident in his eyes. “Good,” she whispered, “because I don’t wish to see your face when you judge me.”

  Chapter Eight

  Sela could barely move, but Connor picked her up as if she weighed no more than a pine needle and settled her over to the side a bit. The bed was large enough for two. Clearly she’d lost her mind by inviting him to lay beside her, even if he was fully clothed.

  “Are you comfortable enough there or would you like me to adjust you?” he asked, carefully arranging a plaid over her legs.

  “Nay, I’m fine.”

  “There’s that Scots brogue again.” Laughter seemed to dance in his gaze at times. She’d noticed that from the first, although she’d tried not to care. Laughter, even in a gaze, had been so absent in her life these last five years.

  “Aye. As I told you, my sire was Scottish. The Dubh men came to my home five years ago. They killed my parents in front of me, first my mother and then my father, and kidnapped me.”

  “Why? For no reason?” he asked, his hand holding hers lightly.

  “Because they wanted me. That’s the only reason I was given. They tried to purchase me from my sire and he refused. He did his best to fight them off, but he lost.” Her eyes misted at the memory of how hard her sire had fought to protect her from the bastards, but they’d brought men with him, and he’d been helplessly outnumbered. “They dragged me along with them, although I kicked and scratched all I could.”

  “You must have been shocked. I’m so sorry you and your family were treated with such cruelty.”

  She watched his hand, moving ever so lightly over her skin, a caress unlike anything she’d ever experienced other than her mama’s sweet touch. He was careful and gentle, something so rare for her that it stopped her thoughts, but then she wished to continue, to finish the horrid tale.

  “They weren’t known as the Dubh men yet, but the men known as Guy and Dee were the ones who began it, along with another man who was even nastier. That man is now dead.

  “I’m sure you can guess how I had to serve the two men, and eventually I became with child. That was the best day of my imprisoned life because they both left me alone after that. I gave birth to a beautiful lass three years ago. I named her Claray.”

  She leaned her head down against his shoulder, his body cushioning hers so the pain of the wounds was not as severe. Had she ever known anyone as gentle as Connor Grant? He handled her as if she were a new babe in his arms. Closing her eyes for strength, she continued, “One of the men who started to work for them after I gave birth to Claray is known as Hord. He took a liking to me, and asked Guy and Dee for my hand in marriage. I refused because he frightened me, and he’s hated me ever since. But I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t force myself and my bairn to have to answer to him.

  “He was verra angry over my refusal. One day he discovered my fear of spiders, so he began to taunt me. He would collect them and set them free on me in the middle of the night. His obsession with me grew over time until it led to this.” She waved her hand over her body. She paused again to gather strength.

  “Once they brought the Channel to Inverness, they gave me the assignment to handle the women—fighting and whoring. I tried to run away with my daughter, and they...they took her from me. They said they’d only allow me to see her if I did as they bid. I soon learned there was another punishment for denying them—Hord’s torment with the spiders. I did as they asked, doing my best to ignore the awful things I often had to do. I know it was wrong, but my wee lassie…” Tears choked her, threatening to soak Connor’s shoulder, but she tried to contain them.

  “This time was different?”

  She nodded, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. “Aye. My daughter was with me. I’ve never been so frightened in my life. Trying to protect her, to keep the spiders away from her…”

  “Where did they do this?”

  “Small chambers. He gathers bags and bags of spiders inside netting and releases them into the chamber. More spiders than you can imagine. They crawl all over you, and they bite if you move, if you swat them, if you do anything. I hate spiders. When it first happened, my reaction wasn’t this severe, but the punishment was more than I could handle this time. The bastard put my daughter in with me.”

  Memories of Claray’s screams blended with her own tormented her. She wept openly in Connor’s arms, letting go of the pain she’d bottled up for so long. For the first time in five years, she felt safe and protected.

  “Where is Claray now? She was not with you when I found you.”

  “Vern. He’s become a protector of sorts to me, and he told me he’d take care of her, make sure she was hale. I trust him. He told me I’d done a fine job of protecting her. Connor, I tried, I took my gown off and wrapped her inside it as tightly as I could, but they still got through a bit, especially to her face.” She hiccupped three times. “Then I put her underneath me on the floor to protect her. It was awful, so awful…”

  “And where does this spineless bastard stand while you’re going through his torture?”

  “He stands outside the door and watches through a small window, laughing, a sick sound that makes me ill all by itself.”

  He cupped her face the best he could and kissed her lightly, the merest of touches. “I don’t wish to hurt you,” he said as he kissed her again. “Tell me if I do, but I promise you on my honor as the son of Alexander Grant that I will find that bastard and kill him for what he’s done to you and your daughter.”

  She met his gaze and held it. The determination she saw there awed her—but when it came to Claray, she was just as determined. “I have to go back. Many thanks for bringing me here, but I must go back for my daughter.”

  Whether he allowed it or not, she would find her way back.

  Somehow.

  ***

  Connor did all he could to tamp down his fury over the abuse and torture this poor woman had endured. And his anger toward that Hord bastard who’d dared to hurt a bairn of only three knew no bounds. Killing was too good for these men.

  “Sela, you’re in no shape to go back there. I cannot allow you to go back.”

  “True, not today, but I’ve been through this before. In another day or two, I’ll be fine, and I am going back. You cannot stop me. I must go back for Claray.”

  “I’ll get your daughter for you. If you tell me what you know of the castle, I’ll find her.”

  “But she’ll never come to you. She’s afraid of men.”

  “Then I’ll bring Thorn and Nari along.”

  “Who?”

  “Thorn and Nari. Two young lads who help us. Surely she’ll come to two laddies. They’re but seven and eight winters.”

  “Connor Grant, I appreciate what you’ve done for me, but you’re not my keeper. I will go back and you cannot stop me.”

  Connor could see how upsetting this was for her, so he decided to change the subject. He could see she had a strong character and an even stronger will. She’d not be stopped once she set her mind to something. He would have to discuss the matter with her later.

  “All right. We’ll talk about this on the morrow, but we need your help. We can put an
end to the Channel if you can tell us where the shipments are going out, who’s in charge, and where they are holding the bairns. We’ll get them this eve and wee Claray could be among them.”

  She told him all she knew about the shipments, which didn’t amount to much, but she knew the lads and lasses would be arriving in three shipments. “You cannot go this eve because they are not there yet.”

  “When will they be arriving?”

  “The first shipment, from London, will arrive the day after the morrow. The other two will be arriving the next day.”

  “How many?”

  “Between seventy-five and one hundred in total.” Fear flashed in her eyes. “They have hundreds of English knights and warriors. They’ll crush you.”

  “We are calling all our allies in, and my sire has over three hundred guards arriving by the morrow. We could number five hundred, if necessary. We’ll take care of the bastards and save the young ones, too.”

  Aunt Brenna stepped inside the chamber as quietly as possible. “You’re awake? How are you doing?”

  “I have to go,” Sela insisted. “Not today but on the morrow. I must go.” She reached up to rake her hands her hair, wincing, then scratched her neck before reaching down quickly to touch her foot. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, but once I can walk again, I must go.” Her scratching became more persistent. “Please stop this itching. Please help me.”

  Connor nodded to his aunt to get her the sleeping potion. Then he did the only thing he could do. He held her while she swallowed the mixture, humming softly until she closed her eyes and fell against him.

  Shortly after Sela fell asleep against his chest, the door opened and his parents entered the healing chamber.

  “Mama, it seems I’m stuck for a wee bit. I don’t wish to awaken her—she’s so irritated by the bites that she had trouble falling asleep.”

  “I don’t doubt it. I would suggest you relax and sleep a bit, too. Connor, you’ve got your own wounds to heal,” his mother said, running her hand through the dark locks of hair that had fallen forward onto his brow. “You are so like your da.”