He couldn’t make love to her until he could control himself. It wasn’t safe and he didn’t want to risk hurting her.
He’d never forgive himself if he lost himself in the madness again.
The rope tightened across his throat, the hemp abrading the bloody skin. Bram’s vision blurred as they choked him and though he fought off the soldiers, the darkness closed in. He fought against death’s summons, willing himself to stay alive. He had to, for Callum’s sake. His brother hadn’t spoken in several weeks and he seemed lost in a world of his own madness.
With his feet, Bram kicked hard, sending the soldier stumbling upon the ground. Air blasted through his lungs and he nearly passed out as he fought to breathe.
A quarterstaff came down upon his shoulders and he gritted his teeth as the wood reverberated through his muscles, bruising his flesh. Through it all, Callum never stopped staring. His brother was only twenty years old, held captive since the age of thirteen. Too young to have witnessed so much pain and horror.
When the soldiers stopped beating him, Bram tasted blood and he crawled through the dirt to lie at his brother’s feet. He pushed away the pain, concentrating on one breath at a time. The cool dirt chilled his face, but eventually he gathered the strength to lift his head.
‘I’m going to get us out, Brother. I swear it on our father’s life.’
But Callum made no reply. The emptiness in his brother’s eyes spoke more than any words.
The vision faded away and Bram’s eyes were dry, staring into the grey morning light. Whether he’d fallen asleep or simply been caught up by the memory, he couldn’t be sure. His eyes ached and his muscles were rigid and sore.
Beside him, Nairna was fast asleep, her long hair covering one shoulder. For a long time he watched her sleeping. Despite their awkward living arrangements, he was grateful to have her near.
Slowly, he eased closer until her shoulders were pressed against his chest. She stirred slightly, but then snuggled back against him. The softness of her body made a tightness gather in his chest. Simply feeling the warmth of a human touch was something he hadn’t had in so long. He held her gently, for fear of waking her.
She hadn’t touched him with repulsion, as he’d thought she would. Nor had she shied away from lying with him—instead, she’d held him. He breathed in the soft scent of her skin, as if drawing strength from her.
But his mind taunted him for even thinking he could have a woman like Nairna. You don’t deserve a normal life. Or a wife and family. Not after what you did to Callum.
With reluctance, he let Nairna go and rose from his bed. Though it wasn’t yet dawn, he knew he wouldn’t find sleep again.
Nairna hardly saw Bram all that following morning and afternoon. She’d overheard him speaking to Alex about plans to rescue Callum, but she didn’t know when they would leave.
Did they honestly believe Bram could fight the English so soon? He hadn’t recovered from his imprisonment, and though there was muscle beneath his thin frame, he wasn’t strong enough to defeat his enemy.
Last night, she’d slept poorly, worrying about him. He’d seemed eager to make love with her, only to stop without any explanation of why. She didn’t know if she’d humiliated him with her unintended laughter. Or, worse, if she’d done something else wrong.
For a long time, she’d lain awake, her body needing his. She remembered the touch of his hands between her legs and the thought only conjured up more restless desire.
In the middle of the night, she’d awakened, only to find that Bram’s eyes were open and he was staring at the ceiling.
How could anyone endure a life with so little sleep? It was no wonder his mind was still imprisoned.
She was a woman accustomed to taking care of people. At Ballaloch and Callendon, she’d ensured that everyone had enough to eat and everyone’s needs were met. No one went hungry if she could help it.
But Bram’s needs went beyond hunger and rest. He wasn’t a man she could fix with food or a soft mattress.
He needs you, a voice inside her reminded. Bram’s rough features hid a man she wanted to know. The scarring revealed his courage to survive. If she’d suffered the same imprisonment, she’d have given up within the first year.
But he hadn’t. He’d endured more than any man should have. And though the expression on his face was grim, holding years of fatigue, there was also determination.
He loved his brother and he wouldn’t fail him. She understood that sort of loyalty and respected it.
But would he hold the same loyalty towards their marriage when he discovered her childlessness? It already bothered him to no end that she was not a virgin. She could see the tension in his body, the hidden jealousy in his eyes.
And Bram was nothing like Iver. He tempted her, breaking down her resolves with his mind-stealing kisses and his rough hands. Even last night when she’d slept beside him, the warmth of his body was not unwelcome. She’d felt him holding her close, his face buried against her hair.
Iver had never bothered with affection. He’d simply taken her body beneath his and accomplished his duty. With Bram, she sensed there would be far more.
She tried to shake off the tremulous feelings that prickled inside. Today, she had to learn more about the MacKinloch clan and decide how she could best help them.
She walked around Glen Arrin, surveying the grounds. The fortress showed clear signs of neglect and it bothered her that no one had lifted a hand to tidy up the mess or rebuild the rotted timbers. It was as if no one cared or had any pride remaining. Even the men had a sense of weariness about them.
As she continued back to the keep, she felt the eyes of the others boring into her skin, as though she were an oddity. Though they had been polite to her, it made her uncomfortable.
Something was wrong at Glen Arrin, but she couldn’t quite determine what it was. Something beyond the poverty. Her eyes narrowed, searching for the source of her discontent.
As her gaze fell upon the different clansmen working at their tasks, tending their plots of land and going about their duties, the problem suddenly crystallised in her mind.
There were no women and children. Not anywhere.
Shock numbed Nairna from inside, though she tried to remain calm. Where could they be? Were they staying somewhere else, perhaps within a different fortress not far from here?
Or had something happened to them?
Chapter Seven
After settling the matter of where he and Nairna would live, Bram sat with Alex and Ross, listening to them discuss how they would break Callum free of the English prison. They’d debated for the past hour about whether to use stealth or force.
He didn’t care. As long as they got Callum out, it didn’t matter. Their words mingled together, strategies blurring, until Bram heard nothing more of what they said.
Instead, he watched Nairna. From the entrance, he could see her wandering the courtyard. There was dismay upon her face, as though she couldn’t understand what had happened to Glen Arrin.
With every step she took, he saw her setting things aright. Picking up a fallen pot, finding a broom to sweep the entrance.
Over the next hour, she worked within the Hall, removing the refuse. She even located fresh rushes from God only knew where, spreading them over the floor to mask the odours.
Her head was covered, but he could see her dark braid hanging over one shoulder. She moved with a silent grace, her face tense with worry about something.
Once she’d finished straightening the Hall, she strode forwards, as though she’d come to a sudden decision. When she reached Alex and the others, she didn’t hesitate to interrupt their conversation.
‘Where are all of the women and children?’ she blurted out.
Bram’s gaze sharpened, and he realised she was right. He’d been so preoccupied with worry over Callum, he’d hardly noticed the other MacKinlochs. But there were no women to be seen anywhere. He’d presumed they were in their homes or with Alex’s
wife somewhere.
He sent a questioning look to his brother, but Ross interrupted. ‘Lady Laren’s gone with her girls out walking. She does that each morn.’
‘And the others?’ Bram asked. From his brother’s defensive expression, Alex appeared embarrassed, rather than worried.
‘They are with our mother. She coerced them into seeking refuge with Kameron MacKinnon, the Baron of Locharr.’ From the annoyance in Alex’s tone, it was clear that their mother hadn’t changed at all.
Brisk and steel-minded, Grizel MacKinloch had been like an unmerciful war lord when he and his brothers were growing up. With four sons, she’d had to be. While other women might have consoled their young boys with a kiss, when their sons scraped their knees, Grizel had told them that they should have minded where they were going. There was no sympathy from the matriarch, no weaknesses accepted.
And once she got an idea into her head, no one could convince her otherwise. Bram didn’t doubt that she’d decided to punish the men by leading the exodus of women.
‘Have you gone to visit them?’ Bram ventured.
Alex’s face showed his discontent. ‘Once. They’re safe enough, and it’s only been a fortnight. They’ll come back.’
Bram wasn’t so certain. Their mother had never been the sort to admit when she was wrong.
Nairna’s expression narrowed as she regarded his brother. She looked as though she had a thousand questions to ask, but in the end, she kept her voice cool. ‘Have you told your mother that Bram has returned?’
‘I sent word this morning, aye.’ Alex stood up, using his height to remind Nairna of his authority.
His wife didn’t back down, but instead lifted her chin, turning back to Bram. ‘And are you planning to go and see her?’
‘No. I’m not.’ He hadn’t seen Grizel since before their wedding, and he knew she’d have no wish to see him again. Because of his reckless behaviour, her husband had died. He doubted if Grizel would ever forgive him for it.
‘Why?’ Nairna asked. ‘She’s your mother. You have to go and see her.’
‘Were it me, I’d enjoy the peace while I could,’ Ross advised, elbowing him. To Nairna, he said, ‘Grizel isn’t the sort to weep and celebrate the return of a prodigal son.’
‘More like to string him up and curse him for coming back,’ Alex added.
Nairna gaped at them and Bram cut off any further questions, saying, ‘I have to go and train with my brothers. I’ll see you later.’
Alex nodded his own dismissal to Nairna. ‘You might try the chapel if you cannot find Laren out walking. Sometimes she spends her time there.’
Bram overheard his wife mumble something about understanding Laren’s need for prayer if she was the only woman remaining at Glen Arrin.
Before she could leave, Bram stopped her, taking her hand. ‘It won’t always be like this, Nairna. The other women will return.’
She gave a shrug as if it didn’t matter. But he knew it did.
‘I’ll send for your maid, if you want.’ Perhaps the female companionship would make Glen Arrin a more bearable place for her. At least, until the others returned. ‘It may take a sennight until she arrives, though.’
The startled look in Nairna’s eyes held gratefulness. And surprise, as if she’d never expected it from him. ‘Thank you.’
In answer, Bram stroked her palm, rubbing a slight circle there. Her hands laced with his, and just the barest squeeze filled up the emptiness inside him. He held it for a moment before letting her go and rejoining his brothers.
She stood a short distance away, watching them spar. When Alex signalled for him to join them, Bram unsheathed his claymore, balancing the blade with both hands. The weapon was heavy, but he welcomed the weight. He wanted to lose himself in the sparring match, releasing his frustration.
He would regain the strength he’d lost, rebuilding himself into the fighter he wanted to be. He’d give Nairna a house of her own and all the freedom she wanted.
He wasn’t good with words or courtship the way other men were. He could only hope that, in time, she would see that he would protect her and provide for her.
It was all he had left to give.
Nairna’s palm was still warm. Though Bram had done nothing more than hold her hand, the gesture had made her skin grow warmer with restless needs. He’d stared at her with the intensity of a man who wanted to do far more to her. In that slight moment, she’d wanted to touch his face, to run her hand down his neck and touch his chest.
She busied herself with sweeping the entrance, although she’d already done so earlier. It was a good excuse to watch the men.
Bram and Ross faced off with swords, and it was soon clear that this match was about testing Bram’s strength, not an actual fight.
‘Are you certain you’re wanting to do this?’ Ross asked, circling Bram.
He gave a short nod, testing the weight of the claymore with a few practice swings.
Ross slashed out with his weapon, striking a blow that Bram barely defended. The ring of metal resounded in the afternoon and Nairna gripped the broomstick harder.
Despite the endless opportunities, not once did Bram counter the attack or gain the advantage against Ross. He blocked the blows, but did little else. It was defence, nothing more.
Though he continued to meet Ross’s attacks, deflecting the blade, Bram’s expression was grey. His eyes were glazed, his footing unstable.
He’s not ready for this, Nairna thought to herself. She kept sweeping, until the threshold was so clean she’d probably eradicated every last speck of dust. Yet she couldn’t tear herself away from the fight.
Sweat gleamed upon Bram’s forehead, his stare unfocused. Despite his attempts to stave off Ross’s blade, the weariness burdened him until, at last, Ross stopped the fight, dissatisfied with what he’d seen.
‘Let’s try a different weapon.’ He unsheathed his dirk, the short blade glinting in the morning sun.
At the sight of the weapon, Bram froze, his eyes growing distant. It was similar to the expression Nairna had seen before, when she’d cut his hair.
Bram’s gaze paled as he stared at the dirk, seeing it, but not responding. Ross slashed the blade, adjusting his weight on the balls of his feet.
Alex moved towards them, unsheathing his own dirk and offering, ‘I’ll loan you mine for practice.’ He flipped the weapon into the air, the blade turning edge over edge. Bram made no move to catch it and it struck the dirt at his feet.
Emptiness filled up his expression and it was as if he were no longer aware of his surroundings. Bram stared at the ground and despite Ross’s prompting, he appeared lost.
To regain his attention, Ross sliced at Bram’s sleeve, drawing a line of blood. The reaction was instantaneous.
Bram let out a raw cry, reaching for the blade and lunging at Ross. In his eyes, there was no sense of control, only wildness.
He lashed out at Ross, moving like a primal animal with the blade gripped in his hand. The older man’s nimble footing saved him from being stabbed more than once.
Sweat dripped down Bram’s brow, his movements slicing over and over. If the fight continued, Bram would either kill Ross or lose face before his brothers.
No one else knew that he wasn’t aware of what he was doing. The madness had him in its vicious grip and Nairna couldn’t stand aside and let it go on. Someone would be hurt.
‘Enough!’ she called out. ‘Bram, let him go.’
But he gave the command no heed, though Ross lowered his blade. Instead, he sought to take advantage of the older man’s weakness, surging forwards.
‘Alex, stop him,’ Nairna pleaded. The chief took up his sword and stepped between them, shoving Bram backwards until he sprawled onto his backside, his head striking against the stone wall. A trickle of blood ran down his temple and Nairna rushed to his side.
Within his brown eyes, she saw the pain and the clarity. For now, he’d regained his senses.
Nairna sent a sharp
look towards the chief. They’d wanted to judge Bram’s strength, and now they had their answers. He wasn’t ready to fight and she saw no reason to humiliate him any further.
‘We’ll have another go at it later,’ Ross said. But he exchanged a glance with Alex and neither looked pleased.
Nairna helped Bram rise to a standing position. His palm still gripped the dirk and he strode over to Ross, offering it back.
Afterwards, he took Nairna’s hand, gripping her palm firmly. Though heavy circles lined his eyes, he appeared furious with her for stopping the fight.
Without releasing her, Bram continued walking across the fortress, through the inner bailey and towards the outer gates. Where he was taking her, Nairna didn’t know, but it was evident he didn’t want anyone else to be nearby for their conversation.
So be it. But she had no regrets about ending the fight.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
Bram didn’t answer, but led her to a small wooded copse. Her feet crunched upon pine needles and dry leaves as they travelled away from the fortress, the land sloping uphill. By the time they reached the top of the ridge, Nairna was out of breath and lightheaded from the effort.
The view from the top was startling and she could see for miles around. Lush green hills cradled the valley and the silver reflection of the loch sparkled in the afternoon sun. From the slight altitude, mists shifted between the hills, giving it a ghostly air.
She sat down upon a large stone in the clearing to catch her breath.
‘Why did you stop the training?’ Bram moved forwards, his face tight with displeasure. His hand came to lift her chin up and she faltered at the blistering anger in his eyes.
‘To keep you from killing Ross. You weren’t in control of yourself.’
‘It wasn’t your right.’ He glared at her, but Nairna refused to feel guilty about it.
‘Do you even remember the fight?’ she asked. ‘Because when you went after him with your knife, you weren’t even looking at him. Like the night when you grabbed my wrist.’
Claimed by the Highland Warrior Page 7
