Broden wondered if she had been visited in the night by spirits. They had been near Crow Forest and there had been tales of people being given messages by dreams. Had Iona been given a warning or some grim portent of the future? She had been shaken by the appearance of the bandit, of course. How it pained him that she had been unable to glean any more information about the bandit’s appearance. Women were of a more delicate nature so perhaps she needed more time to calm her emotions. He intended to see her again because he wasn’t a man to take defeat lightly—not in war and not in love.
However, it had tempered his intention to ask Laird Hendrickson for her hand in marriage. There seemed to be no point if she was going to refuse so intently.
Before going to the Laird, Broden stopped off to speak with Connor and Niall to ask them if they had seen anything strange happening around the estate. Connor and Niall shook their heads.
“Which, if ye ask me, is strange in itself,” Connor said. “Naebody seems tae be bothered much about the bandits attacking them. Oh, they make efforts tae keep watch on the walls, but there is nae hurry tae anything they dae.”
“I did ask one of the guards why they acted like this and he said that they had nae been attacked, sae they didn’t think they were gaeing tae be attacked,” Niall said.
Broden frowned. There was something not right about this entire situation, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. It was as though the people there were in a dream and didn’t much care for the happenings in the outside world. He quickly told Connor and Niall what had happened while he and Iona had been caught in the storm, although he left out the part where they kissed. Connor and Niall suspected that something might have happened, but Broden was impassive when they teased him.
“I hate that I was sae close tae one of them. They’re getting more confident, and that means they’re more dangerous,” Broden said.
“Aye, but it also means they’re more likely tae make a mistake,” Connor replied. “We’ll get them Broden, dinnae ye worry about that.”
Broden grunted in agreement.
“Aye, I know, but how long is it gaeing tae take us? And how many more people are gaeing tae get hurt? I’m gaeing tae speak tae the Laird now. Maybe I can get some answers from him,” Broden said.
“There is just one wee thing...ye might want tae keep an eye on Brice,” Niall said. Broden had risen from his chair, but he stopped at the doorway.
“Why dae ye say that?” Broden asked.
“Well, have ye seen him around? Whenever I ask anyone about him they always say that he’s out hunting, but how can a man hunt that much? I dinnae ken what he gets up tae, but it’s nae right that the heir tae the estate is always found elsewhere. There are some loose-lipped servants who are more willing tae talk than the guards. They gave me the impression that Brice likes tae indulge his vices a wee bit much. Ye would think that with his da in bed he would be here tae dae what ye are daeing,” Niall continued. Brice pursed his lips and nodded firmly, and then went to visit with Laird Ciaran.
Broden walked through the estate with his face set into a determined expression. Speaking with Laird Hendrickson was the entire reason he had come to the estate; it was just a coincidence that he had been distracted by other matters…matters with silvery hair and a sweet scent and luscious lips.
He shook the thoughts out of his mind, telling himself that he must try to focus on the matter at hand. Women were devilishly intoxicating. They were like the most potent alcohol and it was difficult to wrest the chaos from his mind. Duels and war were far easier things to grasp, for when one looked into a man’s eyes they knew exactly what he was thinking. It was simple: either kill or be killed. The waters of love were murky and difficult to navigate.
Broden walked up the stairs and made his way to Ciaran’s chambers. There was a soft, lilting voice singing a sweet song as he rapped his knuckles against the door and announced himself. The singing stopped and a woman’s voice beckoned him to enter. Broden opened the door and saw Ciaran in bed, looking pale and weary. He was wrapped in blankets and there was a plate of food beside him and a large mug of water. The plate had nothing but crumbs on it. Beside him was a woman of striking beauty, and it was plain to see from her features that she was Iona’s mother. She had a beautiful aura and the same silvery hair. The echo of her song lingered in the room and it felt enchanting. She looked younger than her years, and if she had been introduced as Iona’s sister he might well have believed it.
“Laird MacCrae, it is an honor to see you,” she said, dipping her head. She did not rise, for she was already preoccupied with bathing Ciaran. There was a small tub of water on her lap. She dabbed a towel upon his forehead to refresh Ciaran. It was a picture of domestic bliss, and was something that Broden hadn’t realized he wanted: a devoted wife taking care of her husband. He could well imagine the scene with himself and Iona in the place of Ciaran and Freya.
“As with ye,” Broden said, bowing with courtesy. “I hope ye forgive this intrusion, but I must speak with the Laird.”
“Of course. He has been resting well and although he’s not quite ready to rise from his bed he will be able to answer your questions. I shall leave you in peace,” Freya said. She dabbed Ciaran’s head one last time and then wrung the cloth into the tub. Water splashed into it, reminding Broden of the rain that had poured down around the house when he and Iona had kissed. She then kissed Ciaran on the forehead and helped him take a sip of water before she took her leave. Broden walked up to the Laird and sat down beside the bed on the chair that Freya had just vacated.
“I wanted tae thank ye for all ye have done while I have been wounded,” Ciaran said in a rasping voice.
“The MacCraes will always protect the different clans,” Broden replied.
“Aye, as ye have done for generations.” Ciaran nodded sagely.
“I wanted tae talk with ye about the bandits. Can ye tell me anything? Dae ye know anything about the recent attacks? I dinnae ken if ye have heard, but they raided my home and left my da wounded. I have nae been able tae stop them yet. There have been plenty of other raids, but this place has been left unharmed.”
“Aye, we have been blessed by the gods,” Ciaran said.
Broden muttered something unintelligible under his breath. “Sae have ye heard anything?”
“I cannae help ye Broden, as much as I would like tae. I think it’s horrible what’s happening tae the land. I swear, it seems like bandits are getting more and more frequent. People are desperate, lad. There’s nae enough food or coin tae gae around sae ye get desperate men, men who can see nae other way tae make it through life. Ye have tae wonder where it all went wrong. Could we have done more? I dinnae ken, but I fear for the future.”
“That’s why I’m here, tae make sure we take care of this now, before it gets out of hand. I dinnae want other bandits tae get the impression they can run all over this land like fleas on a horse’s ass. I just know they’re out there somewhere in Crow Forest, laughing at us all, enjoying the labors of their work.” Broden’s words were laced with frustration and the hand that rested on his lap curled into a tight ball.
“Aye well, if they’re in that place the spirits will get them eventually.”
Broden turned his face away. “What if we’re all wrong about that place?” he asked. “The spirits have nae attacked them yet. I cannae wait for the spirits tae dae their work. I have tae take care of them myself before they grow even bolder and get stronger. The more they get away with, the more people are gaeing tae be tempted tae join up with them, and the harder they’re gaeing tae be tae stop.”
“It’s a grim situation, that’s for sure,” Ciaran said. He pushed himself up a little on his bed. “I wish I could help ye more, but I can say naething else other than we’re blessed here, tucked away. We dinnae bother anyone and people dinnae bother us.”
“I would watch yesel if I were ye. The bandits are slowly running out of targets. It may be just a matter of time before they come here. Ye might
want tae run some more drills with ye men. I dinnae ken if they’re ready tae face what the bandits can throw at them.”
“They’ll be ready all right. Brice will see tae that.”
“Brice, ye son?” Broden asked.
“Aye, he’s a good lad.”
“Ye good lad has barely been seen over the past few days,” Broden said bluntly. Ciaran’s face fell and he looked confused. “Dae ye knew where he goes?” Broden asked, following up his question. Ciaran sighed and clasped his hands over his chest. Seeing him there brought to mind Broden’s own father; how weak the mighty seemed when they were forced to stay in bed. The vigor seemed to slip out of their bodies and they were left just a weakened version of the men they had once been. It made Broden think about the future. It seemed to come rushing towards him with all the promise of glory and sorrow. At some point his father would die, but to think of a world in which Artair MacCrae did not live was almost too difficult to comprehend. It emboldened Broden’s desire to prove himself worthy of the mantle of Laird before that could happen. He needed his father’s approval, and to do that he needed to catch the bandits.
“Brice has had a hard time of it in this life,” Ciaran said. “He took his ma’s death hard, sometimes I think he took it even harder than I did. The poor lad didnae ken what tae dae with himself. Neither did Malie really. I’ve tried my best tae help them get through the pain, but it is nae easy. Brice has always been his own man. I tried tae bond with him through hunting but, well, as ye can see it didnae gae well.”
“Ye believe he gaes hunting sae often?”
“I’m nae a fool Broden,” Ciaran sighed. “I was a young man once tae. I can imagine the kind of trouble Brice gets himself intae, but there is wee much I can dae about it. I would love tae sit him down and talk tae him about his responsibilities but he wouldnae listen. Freya tries, bless her heart, but as much as she cares for them she is nae their ma. He’ll come tae it in time, I ken that.”
“I hope he does,” Broden said. “I would hate tae see this place fall intae ruin. I would like tae have words with him.”
“I’m sure he’ll be happy tae talk with ye. Maybe seeing a fine man like ye will help remind him of his duties.”
“Maybe,” Broden said, although he doubted it. Ciaran definitely had a biased opinion of Brice. From everything Broden had been hearing of the man it didn’t seem as though he was worthy of the title of Laird, and was indeed one of those men who flaunted discipline and self-restraint.
“Have ye seen Malie too? A fine lass she is. She’ll make someone a good wife someday,” Ciaran continued.
“I have indeed met with her,” Broden said diplomatically. He’d made a note of the wild look in Malie’s eyes. There was definitely one thing she desired more than everything else, and her brazen approach to life was far opposed to Iona’s more demure nature. Malie was aggressive where Iona was tender, and while Malie was beautiful from the perspective of a Highlander—with bright red hair, a light sprinkling of freckles across her nose, and a shapely figure—Broden was more enthralled by Iona’s exotic beauty.
“I have also spent some time with Iona,” Broden added.
Ciaran smiled. “Ah yes, my sweet girl. Soon it will be time for her tae marry as well. I fear that tae many people will see her as strange and nae want anything tae dae with her. I already had tae put up with tae many people thinking I was strange for taking Freya as my wife, but when ye love someone what can ye dae?”
“I’m sure she wilnae suffer that fate,” Broden said. His tongue suddenly felt swollen in his mouth. He shifted his position in his chair, knowing that if he was to ask Ciaran for Iona’s hand in marriage then now was the time, but the words would not come. There was enough doubt cast over her feelings for him that he didn’t feel confident the matter would be met with anything but an outburst and angry shouting from her part, and if he could not rid the land of these bandits he would not make a worthy husband anyway.
There were matters that needed to be attended to first, but as soon as they were resolved he would find a way to make her his wife. In this matter his heart was settled.
“There is one more thing I would like tae know,” Broden said, rising from his chair. Ciaran looked at him inquisitively. “What mighty beast was it that put ye in this position?”
“Ach...” Ciaran coughed up a ball of phlegm that looked as thick as a knob of butter and spat it onto the plate beside his bed. He shook his head and a grim expression came upon his face. “It was a stag. I was sae proud tae have found such an animal, and I wanted Brice tae see it for himself. I cried out for him, a risk I was willing tae take for the sake of sharing the moment taegether. Of course, this only warned the stag. I thought with the two of us taegether it would nae pose a threat, but he didnae hear me.
“The stag was an angry one, was nae one tae shy away from a challenge. I was looking around tae see if Brice was riding up the horizon tae join me. When I turned around the stag charged. My horse reared and nearly flung me off, and then the stag barreled into us. I will nae lie tae ye; I thought those would be my last moments. I could barely move. As I said, for some reason the gods have seen fit tae bless me and this place...I figure because I have suffered enough before. I’m just glad they saw fit nae tae take me away when I still have the rest of my life tae enjoy with my family, and I know that Brice would nae be able tae handle both parents dying on him. When ye see him, dinnae judge him tae harshly.”
Broden nodded, although he was going to reserve judgment until he talked with Brice properly. There was something unsettling about the way Brice seemed to be slipping through his fingers. His place should have been at the estate. For someone like Broden, for whom honor and duty were everything, it was a flagrant dismissal of the important qualities in life. Ciaran’s view of his children was definitely tinted with the favor of a father, and in Broden’s opinion Iona was the only one deserving of that lofty opinion.
10
Iona’s mind was troubled. She purposefully avoided the areas of the estate where she thought Broden might appear as she couldn’t handle seeing him just yet, not until she had met with Ally and spoken to him about what Brice had gotten them all into. Her cheeks burned with shame when she thought about him gambling away the family fortune in seedy taverns, throwing around coin he couldn’t afford to lose on gallons of beer…it left her with a loss of words as she couldn’t understand how he kept repeating that pattern of behavior when it was clearly getting him into trouble.
She walked briskly across the courtyard and greeted the servants she met with a kind smile, hoping that none of them would suspect that anything was amiss. She heard some giggling chatter as she passed a few chambermaids. They were prone to gossip and evidently took great delight in speculating about what might have happened during the night when both she and Broden were absent from the estate. Iona hated being the subject of idle chatter and the servants soon shut up when she shot them an angry glare, but their conversation rose again when they thought she was out of earshot.
Eventually she reached Ally’s office. She rapped on the door with her knuckles, but didn’t wait for Ally to welcome her in before she pushed open the door. Ally was just rising from his desk to greet her. He smiled and sank back into his chair. Apparently it had taken a great deal of effort for him to get up. He looked more tired than the last time she had seen him. There were papers and documents strewn haphazardly over his desk and a quill had been dipped in some ink. He smiled wearily at her and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. His nose twitched as he plucked a morsel of cheese from a plate and threw it into his mouth, before offering Iona some. Iona held her hands up in refusal.
“What can I help ye with lass?” he said. Iona pulled up a chair and sat down, smoothing out her skirt.
“Actually I’m here tae talk tae ye about a delicate matter. I need tae talk about Brice.”
Ally’s gaze flicked towards her, and then darted down to his desk. He made himself busy by gathering up some of the documents to tidy
his desk somewhat, but Iona could tell he was flustered.
“What dae ye want tae talk about?”
“I know what ye and him are up tae. I know he is the one causing all this trouble. I know that he gambled away the family fortune,” Iona said. She made an effort to keep her voice steady as she spoke, but a few trembles crept through that Ally didn’t seem to notice. He shook his head so vehemently that his jowls shook.
“I dinnae ken what kind of fantasies have been spinning in ye mind but ye couldnae be further from the truth lass. Who has been spreading these nasty rumors? There is nae truth tae them, nae truth at all!” He slammed his hand against the desk to punctuate his point. It was such an abrupt action that it made Iona jump, and the plate wobbled. Crumbs of cheese leapt off and fell onto the desk.
Iona paused for a moment to regain her composure. “Ally, Brice told me himself. I dinnae need tae tell ye the exact circumstances about how I know, but he revealed everything. He told me that he lost money gambling and that he has tae work with the bandits tae pay off his debt.”
Upon hearing that Brice had told her directly, Ally’s head dropped and his shoulders slumped. He sighed heavily and scratched the back of his head. His mouth hung open and his red lips looked stark against his snowy white beard.
“I suppose ye have the right tae know. I had a feeling we couldnae keep it a secret for tae long.”
“Why did ye help him Ally? Ye are supposed tae be responsible for the finances. Da trusted ye tae manage the estate. Why would ye keep giving him money?” she asked, fury creeping into her voice.
Highlander’s Flaming Secret (Scottish Medieval Historical Romance) Page 7
