“I appreciate that, but I can stand up for myself against those fools. However, I’ll accept any assistance in getting my daughter away from them. Her safety comes first. Please remember that.” She gave Connor and Logan each a pointed gaze before she faced front.
This time Gavin snorted, his bark of laughter much like his father’s. “You don’t know my aunt Maddie well, but if she said she’ll get your daughter, you can count on it. I heard she said she’d stick a needle in the eye of the man who loves spiders, Hord. You can count on that, too, if he doesn’t give the wee bairn up quickly. Uncle Alex will hold him down for her.”
“She’s quite a lady,” Sela said. “I’ve not seen anyone stand up for bairns as she has.” Her sideways glance at Maddie told Connor how impressed she was with his mother.
“She’ll take care of Claray,” he said.
Her voice came out in a whisper only he could hear. “I surely hope so.”
***
They’d stopped for the night in a meadow. The moon gave them plenty of light. Sela had made a point of climbing to the top of a small knoll just so she could look out over the lines of warriors brought by the Grants and their allies. They only brought a hundred men, leaving many of the Grant warriors on Ramsay land, where they would await further instruction from Alex Grant. They’d all agreed it was best not to reveal their full strength to the enemy.
Sela liked looking at the group because the sight of them gave her hope—hope that the hell she’d lived in for the past five years could be ending.
Hope that she could indeed have a sweet life with Claray.
But something else had come to life inside her. If she couldn’t have a life with Claray, she wished for her daughter to have a mother like Madeline Grant and a father like Alex.
Or Connor.
After she finished her ablutions, she headed back to the group, adjusting the leggings Connor’s Aunt Gwyneth had given her. The fierce woman had insisted they’d help her if she had to run.
Sela loved them because the bugs would have a tougher time finding her skin. She came under a large tree and stopped for a moment just to look up at the beauty of the sky through the bare branches. A broken twig behind her told her she was no longer alone.
Connor approached her, his white teeth shining in the moonlight. “I like you in leggings, Sela.”
“My thanks. I’m quite fond of them.” She ran her fingers across the smooth fabric. If she had her way, she’d never wear another gown and she’d dress Claray the same way.
He stepped closer to her and she forced herself not to step back. Connor Grant was a good man. She’d tried to push him away, and still he’d sought to help her, to protect her and her daughter. He’d believed in her before he even knew the truth of her situation.
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Your bites are looking much better.
She reached for his hand. “You mean I don’t look quite so hideous anymore.”
“You never did,” he said, his hand sliding through the silky tresses she’d unbound for the night. “You’re always beautiful to me.”
“Connor, I wish for you to promise me something.” She leaned into him, savoring his warm touch.
“Anything, if ’tis in my power,” he said, cocooning her icy hand inside his two warm ones.
“If anything happens…”
“We will come out ahead. I promise you that.”
Her other hand rested on his forearm. “Please? Hear my request?”
“Go ahead. I’m listening.” He gave her his full attention, his straight hair hanging just below his shoulders while his gray eyes focused on hers intently.
When had she ever cared about a man this much? Other than her sire, she’d grown a fierce dislike of men, but this man had changed something inside her. When had she ever wished for a man’s opinion or sought his warmth, his touch? When had she ever wished to run her fingers down a man’s strong jawline, through the stubble of his beard and over to his lips?
Focus, Sela. Focus. The man drove her to distraction.
“If anything happens to me, will you ask your mother to raise Claray? Would you help her take care of my daughter?” She couldn’t stop a tear from rolling down her cheek as her lips quivered.
He wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head against his shoulder. “You have my word. But you need not worry. You’ll be coming back to Clan Ramsay with your daughter. You can choose to live a normal life there or at Clan Grant, though I would prefer for you to come to us. I wish to get to know you better. Much better.”
Sela was already shaking her head. “We would never suit. I already have a daughter, and I was used…”
“Hush. You’ve done the best you could under difficult circumstances.”
She leaned back to catch his gaze. “But I watched them beat lasses. I forced them to fight and allowed the men to force them to do other things…”
“You did those things to protect your wee bairn. Am I not correct?”
“Aye, but I have much to atone for.” Her cheeks burned even in the cool of the night. If she escaped from this unscathed, she’d have to do much praying for forgiveness. “I fear I can never make things right.”
“You can worry about that once you and Claray are safe.”
She just nodded, not ready to share her thoughts.
He must have sensed her disquiet because he kissed her softly. His mouth tasted of the mint leaves he often chewed, and his kiss promised protection, caring, and so much more. When she was with Connor, she almost believed her dreams were still possible. He ended the kiss and she fell against him, her chin on his shoulder.
“Do you know what I fear will happen?”
“Tell me and I’ll do what I can to banish that fear,” he whispered into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.
“That they’ll only give up Claray if I return to them.”
He stood back and said, “That’s not a possibility. They do not need you.”
“But once Hord knows I’m still alive, he will want me back. Or he’ll try to hurt me.”
He cupped her cheeks and said, “None of that is going to happen.” He paused. “Is he Claray’s sire? Pardon me if I’m being too personal, but is that his motivation? If so, we may have a harder time getting her away.”
“Nay, ’tis Guy or Dee. I know not which one for sure.” The palm of her hand came up to her mouth, but she forced the words out beyond it. His questions filled her with shame, but she recognized the importance of answering him honestly. “Do not be surprised when you see her. She has the red hair of my sire, George Seton.”
“I’m sure she’s beautiful,” Connor said, his gaze catching hers.
“She is beautiful, especially her heart.” She stifled the urge to cry, knowing she had to remain strong. Her daughter’s life could depend on it.
She stared up at him. “Thank you for our promise. It comforts me to know she won’t be alone if I cannot be with her. And promise me one more thing?” For so long, she’d avoided emotion, knowing all of her guilt and anger and grief were powerful enough to cripple her, but it was impossible to avoid it anymore. Impossible to avoid it around this man who brought everything to the surface. Tears flooded her cheeks.
“Anything, though ’tis not necessary,” he said, his thumb brushing her cheek.
“Promise me you’ll remember me.”
***
How had anyone ever thought her an Ice Queen? The woman who stood before him was all emotion. Warm and beautiful. Connor put his finger under her quivering chin to lift her gaze to his. “I will always remember you. You need not worry about that. From the moment I met you, you were burned into my mind. Naught will happen to you, but you have my word that should something go wrong I will always tell Claray about her mother.”
“My thanks,” she whispered, though her tears were so thick he doubted she could see the intent in his gaze.
“Come, you need to rest before we leave.”
She just stare
d up at the sky, whether to hide her tears or to try to ignore him, he wasn’t sure.
“You need rest if you’re to heal, Sela. ’Twill help you be strong for Claray.”
“I know that…”
“But?”
Her voice came out in the barest of whispers while her gaze searched the area to look for eavesdroppers, he guessed. “But I cannot.”
“Why not?” The truth dawned on him. She’d had a nightmare when she’d been in the healing chamber. He’d seen her reach for bugs that weren’t there. Now she was out in the open, exposed to the elements. How had he not guessed?
She averted her gaze, looking over his head as she might have in the days before, when she’d treated him as if he were nothing. Her way of defending herself, he realized. She’d been forced to arm herself against those around her. Her strength humbled him.
“Go to sleep and do not worry about me. I’ll be fine,” she said. But the dark circles under her eyes told him otherwise.
He stepped closer and whispered in her ear. “I’m going to set up a tent. I’ll hold you through the night.”
She shook her head and said, “Nay. Your mother and sire are here. What would they think of me?”
He reached up to trace the delicate slope of her jaw with one finger. “I’m not accepting that answer. We’ll set the tent up away from the others so no one will see us. If you lie on top of me, no spiders can reach you from the ground. The tent over our heads will protect us from an attack from above.”
“Oh, Connor,” she said, swiping at her tears in embarrassment. “You need not…”
“I’ll not allow you to refuse.” He reached for her hand. “If you knew my parents better, you would not worry about it. They will not judge you.”
He didn’t wait for her answer but instead strode over to the packhorse to retrieve a tent. Most of them weren’t in use because it was such a beautiful night.
Once he set the tent up, he held his hand out for her to climb inside. Her hesitance wrenched his gut. She couldn’t stop scanning the material for any evidence of a creature in the night.
He climbed in next to her, lay flat on his back, and said, “Come. Face down on top of me. I’ll act honorably, but you must sleep.”
“I am exhausted,” she admitted with a sigh.
She settled on him and all Connor could think was how wonderfully she fit against him.
“Close your eyes, lass. You need your sleep.”
She slept the night through, not one nightmare.
Chapter Eleven
Wrapped in Connor’s arms, Sela had slept through the night, something that had not happened in a long time. She didn’t understand the way he comforted her, when most men filled her with contempt and fear, but there was no denying it. They’d risen before the rest of the camp, and no one had commented on the tent.
They’d ridden toward Berwick Castle quietly, Sela in front of Connor. A small patrol had been sent out ahead of the group to check the area for any hidden factions. So far, nothing unusual had happened, but the closer they came to the castle, the more unsettled Sela felt. Connor rubbed her arm, attempting to calm her, but the thought of seeing Hord made her wish to vomit.
And what of Claray? Lady Brenna was the best healer in all the land, but her wee daughter wouldn’t have had someone of equal talent to treat her bites. What if they still pained her?
What if Claray hated her because she had failed to save her from the spiders?
Stop! You must stop torturing yourself. Focus on Claray.
“Sweetling, I think it best that you ride behind me when we arrive outside the gates. I don’t want Hord to see you right away. They can deal with my mother initially. If we must bring you into it, we will. My sire will judge that.”
“Nay, Connor. I cannot hide. I must see Claray with my own eyes. I need to stand strong in front of the bastards. I mustn’t cower in front of them. If I hide, they’ll think they still have me under their control.”
“All right.”
She almost told him what they had planned, but he would never allow it, and she could not allow him to stand in her way.
All she could do was hope he would forgive her.
***
Connor heard sounds he recognized, glancing up in the sky right before they arrived at the gates. Will, Maggie’s husband, was the former rover known as the Wild Falconer, his falcons rightly famous for their loyalty and ability to follow his direction.
If the falcons were near, Maggie and Will were almost upon them. Why would they change their minds? Or had they decided to stay at the back to observe?
The rest of the Band lined their horses up in a show of solidarity, his father in the middle with his mother in front of him. A guard was positioned in front of them, one on either side, and many behind them.
Two men, he guessed Guy and Dee, came out of the castle to greet them. “Greetings to the Highlanders. What brings you to England and why have you brought so many reinforcements? We have no desire for a battle.”
Alex Grant spoke first. “You beat my son and left him for dead. Did you think we’d not retaliate? Be warned that we will if you don’t agree to our demands today. We have no wish for battle now, and just so you’re aware, you are indeed in Scotland. This land has gone back and forth, but Berwick is currently under Scots control. Mayhap you are lost?”
The man he guessed to be Guy laughed, a dark laugh that made Connor wish to throttle him.
“What is it you want? Speak and be done with this,” the other man, who had to be Dee, instructed, his eyes coming to settle on Sela.
Connor’s mother was the first to speak. “You tell Hord that Madeline Grant, wife of Alexander Grant, wishes to see him now. And do not play foolish with me.”
Dee’s gaze panned over the group for a moment, as if he were assessing whether or not the request could be denied. Something like fear flashed in his eyes, and he turned back and spoke to a man behind him. “Get Hord and bring him here.”
“Good, we will wait,” Connor’s mother said firmly.
If Connor were to guess, these men were nervous because they were not prepared for battle. They may have been promised a hundred guards, but that number had not yet arrived at Berwick Castle.
The foul man Connor recognized as Hord came through the cluster of horses—stringy dark hair, dark mantle, and an odd bag hanging from his waist. He had a sick grin on his face that made Connor wish to throttle him.
“Well, greetings to you, Sela. I’m so pleased you’ve returned to me. You have a tough constitution.”
Uncle Logan and Aunt Gwyneth rode up to join Connor’s mother, adding to the show of strength. It surprised no one in their group, except for Sela, whose eyes grew as large as coins, to see Aunt Gwyneth nock her bow and aim it at Hord.
The look Uncle Logan gave the wee man was a reminder of how he’d earned the title of Beast of the Highlands. “Where would you like her to aim? For your bollocks or straight for your eye? She can make the shot, as I’m sure you’ve heard. She’s the best archer in all of Scotland and England.”
“Are you Hord?” Connor’s mother asked.
The man nodded briefly, but not with conviction. He was clearly afraid of the two women—and rightly so.
“You will bring me that bairn of three summers who you dared to torture, and if you do not, I will have ten of my husband’s men hold you down while I drive my sewing needle into both of your eyes.”
Hord began to laugh, but it was a nervous sound void of humor. “I know not what child you speak of.”
“Aye, you do, you bastard. I want my daughter,” Sela shouted. So angry was she, Connor feared she’d vault off the horse. Connor’s mother shot her a look that he recognized from childhood—although Madeline Grant was known for being kind and even-tempered, she could stop a rampaging boar with one glance. This was that kind of glance. Sela sagged back against him and did not speak again.
“You will bring me the lass named Claray,” Connor’s mother said, �
�or by the time I count to ten, those falcons over your head will be pecking your eyes out, while Gwyneth shoots her arrow and pins you to your horse. The last man who crossed her had his bollocks pinned to a tree. He did not live to tell the tale. Have I made myself clear?”
Hord nodded but didn’t move, his gaze slowly raising overhead.
Will had clearly been giving lessons to others in the clan, for Maddie Grant whistled and two falcons dropped out of the sky, swooping around Hord’s head, squawking as they did so. Hord bellowed and said, “Get her. Get Claray now.”
Another whistle and the birds lifted back into the air, although they did not go far.
“Is that all you want?” Dee asked in apparent disbelief. “A lass of three summers?”
“’Tis what we came for, and I’ll not leave without her.”
A few moments later, a man emerged on horseback with a wee lass in his arms. Although she did indeed have red hair, her delicate features matched Sela’s. This had to be Claray.
“Mama, is that you?” the wee lassie asked. “Take me away with you. I don’t like it here. Please?”
Sela moaned, and Connor had to wrap an arm around her to keep her from vaulting off the horse.
“Give me the bairn,” Connor’s mother insisted.
Hord said, “You’ll get her, but we’ll take Sela back. Sela, we need you. Come back and I’ll send your daughter to safety with the Grants.”
“Like hell. Let the child go,” Connor barked.
“Mama, please!” Claray burst into a moaning, heart-wrenching cry.
Chaos erupted.
Hord reached for Claray, close enough to wrench her away from the man who held her, and she screamed. “Nay, nay, do not allow him to touch me. Please, Mama. Save me from him.”
The man who held the lassie did his best to comfort her, but her eyes were wild with fear.
This time, Connor could not contain Sela. She jumped off Midnight Moon and raced to her daughter. No one stopped her when she grabbed the sobbing lassie. No one stopped her when she raced back to Connor’s mother and handed the bairn to her.
Highland Brawn (The Band of Cousins Book 8) Page 8
