‘Even your own mother?’ She broke off a piece of the bread, setting it on the ground within reach.
He snatched it up, shoving it into his mouth to avoid answering. Behind his brown eyes, she saw the shadow of hurt. ‘I don’t care if I see any of them again.’
The lie slipped from his mouth and he didn’t meet her gaze. Nairna left the remainder of the bread at his feet.
‘I’m going to bring them back,’ she promised. ‘But first, I need to learn more about what happened with the attacks.’
‘I’ve nothing to say to you.’ Dougal ate the bread, his gaze fixated upon the horizon where his brothers were disappearing over the ridge. The intense longing on his face and the adolescent sense of unfairness possessed him.
Bram was right, Nairna realised. If she dared to loosen the ropes, the boy would be gone within a few minutes. Though she hated the thought of keeping him tied up, there seemed to be no alternative.
‘I’ll bring you food and drink later,’ she promised. With a reluctant glance back at Dougal, she left him behind.
Inside the Hall, the MacKinloch men had left the evidence of their own meal from the night before, with bits of bread, discarded meat and refuse strewn everywhere.
The chief’s wife Laren crossed the Hall, seeming to recognise the dismay on her face. ‘It’s a waste of time to let it bother you.’ She lowered her voice and leaned in. ‘The men here don’t bother to think of living any differently. In all the time I’ve lived here, nothing has changed.’
‘What about Alex? Doesn’t he care?’
Laren’s mouth tightened. ‘He’s occupied with other matters. Table manners are the least of his concerns.’
‘The women,’ Nairna guessed. ‘Is he trying to bring them back?’
Laren shook her head, disappointment crossing her face. ‘Not really. He says they’ll come back when they’ve learned their lesson. He’s more interested in defending Glen Arrin against the English.’
‘And what if you’d gone with them?’
Laren only shrugged. Her silence suggested that her husband wouldn’t even miss them. Nairna almost reached out to take Laren’s hand, but realised the woman didn’t want her sympathy. Whatever sort of marriage she and Alex had, it was not a happy one.
‘I can’t see why the English would want this place,’ Nairna said. Most of the fortress was in a deplorable state.
‘The location would give them a garrison closer to the Highlands. With the mountains, you can see any invaders from miles around.’
‘Is that why Bram wants to build our house up on the ridge? So he can see the English before they get here?’
Laren gave a nod. ‘He and Alex thought it would be a strategic location.’ She reached out and adjusted her gloved hands, lifting her mantle to cover her hair. ‘I only hope the English leave us alone until Alex and Bram return.’ She nodded towards the far end of the room. ‘There’s an underground storage chamber beneath the Hall. I usually take the girls belowground when we’re under siege.’
Nairna didn’t care for the sound of that. ‘Does it happen often?’
But the Lady only shrugged. ‘From time to time. Unfortunately, the MacKinloch men love any opportunity to fight.’ A shadow of melancholy passed over her, and her blue eyes turned wistful. ‘They’ll never surrender their freedom. They’re too proud.’
Nairna couldn’t help comparing the two clans. Her father hadn’t cared about pride or freedom. Hamish had pledged his loyalty to the English king, to save their lands and protect the people. He’d made his choice, to turn his back on the rebellion. And though his cowardice bothered her, eventually he would be forced to confront the English. In contrast, the MacKinlochs lived in the shadow of constant battles. She didn’t know which was worse.
‘My girls and I are going for a walk,’ Laren said, her face reddening slightly. ‘We should be back in a few hours.’ From the guilty expression on her face, it was clear the Lady of Glen Arrin had no desire for Nairna to accompany them.
‘While you’re gone, might I have a look at the household accounts?’ Nairna blurted out. ‘At my father’s fortress, I helped them to increase their earnings. It might be that I could do the same here.’
Laren shrugged. ‘If you wish.’ She gave instructions as to where Nairna could find them and then excused herself from Nairna’s side, ignoring the mess within the Hall.
As Laren crossed the room, it seemed that there was no light left within her, as if she’d abandoned hope. Her girls emerged from the narrow staircase and joined their mother, holding hands in their quiet retreat.
Where were they going? Along the edge of the loch for their walk? It struck her as unusual for the Lady to abandon the keep for hours on end. Something wasn’t right. Nairna thought about following them, but decided against it. She had her chance now to learn more about Glen Arrin, without Alex or Bram to interfere. Perhaps she could determine ways to rebuild their holdings.
Earning money was something she understood. Numbers and coins could be multiplied and increased. And if there was a way to improve their living circumstances at Glen Arrin, she would find it.
Nairna leaned up against the outer curtain wall, her mind mulling over the problems of the clan. Her mind was filled up with ideas. Sheep could bring in the profit of wool, or perhaps they could increase their cattle herds. There was a little space for farming, but only enough to provide grain.
As her brain spun off dreams of increasing the wealth, her heart worried about Bram. She remembered his heated mouth seizing hers, the way he’d cupped her breasts, running his thumbs over the nipples. Nairna turned her burning face to the wall, her skin growing more sensitive. Though he wasn’t here, she imagined him removing the clothing from her body, baring her skin to his touch. His lips would kiss her and she wondered if his hungry mouth would move over her breasts, down to her thighs.
The air in her lungs grew heavier, and Nairna pressed her hand against the wooden enclosure, trying to shut off the vision.
Bram had said he would return with Callum in a little over a sennight. She wanted to believe that he would return safely with his brother, but her greater fear was that once again, she’d lose him.
She pushed back the fear gathering inside. Right now, she had to be strong, to wait for his return. But once he did come back, what then?
Would she finally become his wife in body, rekindling what was lost between them? Would her womb finally bear a child of their union? Or would she become bitter and angry at herself, their marriage weakening as Laren’s had?
Her gaze moved across the inner bailey, taking note of every man and adolescent who remained. There were about twenty younger men and ten elder. Though the men worked in their daily tasks, the air of neglect hung heavily.
As stubborn as their chief was, she doubted if Alex would go after the women, despite what his men needed.
But perhaps there was something she could do.
At dawn, Nairna cut Dougal free. The boy’s eyes were bloodshot, as though he hadn’t slept at all. She’d given him food and drink at several intervals, as well as a blanket last night, but hatred darkened Dougal’s face. As he passed by her, he deliberately walked into her shoulder, knocking her aside. Nairna was so startled by his aggressive behaviour that she had no time to respond until he was already past her.
She rubbed her shoulder and one of the other adolescent boys came forwards. ‘He didna hurt you, did he?’
Nairna shook her head. ‘I suppose he blames me for following Bram’s orders.’
‘He doesn’t like anyone. No one likes him, either.’ The young man shrugged. ‘He’ll get himself killed in a fight one day.’
Nairna blinked at the nonchalant assessment. ‘I hope not.’ Never had she seen anyone with that much fury locked inside. It was unsettling and she wondered if anyone had ever attempted to talk with Dougal.
‘Don’t let it bother you.’ The young man, whose name she learned was Monroe, started to walk away.
But Na
irna caught up to him, wanting more answers. ‘Was he always this way?’
‘He got worse after the women left,’ Monroe admitted.
‘They need to return. The clan is lost without them.’ It occurred to her that she was in a better position than the men to ask them to come back. She could find out the true reasons why they’d left and do what she could to bring them home.
‘I’m going to go after them,’ she said suddenly. ‘And bring them back.’
‘They might not come,’ Monroe said. ‘Lady Grizel, Alex’s mother, won’t set foot upon Glen Arrin again. She said so. And if she doesna come, the others won’t either.’
‘It can’t hurt to ask.’
Monroe sent her look of disbelief. ‘You don’t know Lady Grizel well, do you?’ He didn’t bother to hide his shudder.
Nairna ignored his cynicism. ‘I’ll need escorts and supplies. Can you gather some men together for me and we’ll leave on the morrow?’
‘I can ask, but it’s safer if the women and bairns stay with Lord Locharr,’ Monroe argued. ‘His castle is stronger than Glen Arrin will ever be.’
‘Don’t you think Alex is trying to change that?’ The chief of the MacKinlochs struck her as an ambitious man. ‘Glen Arrin can be more than it is.’
‘It’ll ne’er happen,’ Monroe said. ‘The clan’s too divided. Bram was meant to be chief, but he doesna want it anymore. He’s too weak, anyhow.’
‘He is not too weak,’ Nairna shot back. ‘In a few weeks, he’ll be as strong as any of them.’
‘If he comes back.’ With that, Monroe nodded his head in farewell and walked away.
Nairna’s skin turned cold. He’ll come back, she reassured herself.
He had to.
Chapter Ten
Bram remained in the shadows, watching the English soldiers who patrolled the garrison. He knew their faces, especially the men who had guarded the prisoners. Some had been impassive, merely obeying orders. Others had enjoyed tormenting those in chains.
He gripped the crossbow Alex had given him. Though he would have preferred hand-to-hand combat, given his physical weakness it was likely the better choice to remain here.
He’d led Alex and Ross to the loose section of the palisade wall near the back of the fortress. Vines and underbrush had grown over the wall, and the greenery kept the loose stones hidden from the rest of the soldiers. They’d spent the last half-hour removing the stones in silence, until the opening was large enough for a man to fit through.
Bram chose his position behind the veil of vines, keeping his crossbow loaded. With any luck, they could free all of the prisoners and get Callum out, using the chaos to make their escape.
As his brother and Ross entered the fortress with stealth, time crept onwards. Bram stared at the limestone, remembering how, day after day, he’d stacked the stones atop one another. The backbreaking work was done in silence, occasionally interrupted by a soldier issuing a command or smashing a quarterstaff against a captive’s shoulders.
He lost sight of Alex and Ross as they disappeared with the others, keeping to the shadows. The remnants of a stone wall lay unfinished near the inner curtain. The Earl had several garrisons across Scotland, and Bram had worked upon many of the structures before they’d been moved to Cairnross.
Had they arrived a few hours earlier, the prisoners might have been working on the wall. As it was, the men were likely belowground, trying to steal an hour or two of sleep. The underground cellar wasn’t tall enough to stand in, and remembering the interior brought a phantom ache to his neck and shoulders.
Bram’s gaze grew fixated upon the opening within the ground; it was as if he were looking through water, with blurred images and muffled sounds. Though he kept a bolt fitted to the crossbow, he felt himself slipping away from the present into the past.
The scars upon his neck itched, a bead of sweat rolling down to his collarbone. The scents of the garrison stung, bringing him back to the years of imprisonment. When a soldier passed by him, he held his breath.
He could almost feel the slash of the dagger against his flesh once again. Taste the blood in his mouth from where they’d struck him across the jaw, yelling taunts about his weakness.
Where was Callum? He craned his neck, searching for a glimpse of his brother. Right now, he wanted to leave his position, to free the others from captivity and bring his brother out of the darkness.
Broken memories assaulted him, and as minutes transformed into an hour, there was still no sign of Callum. It was as if he’d vanished. Bram’s fingers trembled upon the trigger of the crossbow. With the slightest pressure, he could kill one of the English soldiers who’d threatened them.
One of the soldiers lifted a torch and headed to the underground entrance where the prisoners were held. What was he planning to do?
Without waiting to find out, Bram released the bolt. It struck the stone wall beside the soldier, bouncing away in a clear miss. Seconds later, the man dropped the torch. He unsheathed his sword and charged at Bram, his voice crying out a warning to the others.
The crossbow fell from his fingers onto the ground. Bram reached for the claymore he’d worn strapped to his back, but his hands froze upon the hilt. His arms felt as though they were weighted down with stones, unable to move.
He saw the eyes of the man who had tortured his brother and himself. Nausea swam in his stomach, and when the soldier’s blade raised high for the killing blow Bram managed to unsheathe his weapon. He barely defended the blow that slashed at him, stumbling like a child.
His mind roared at him to strike back, to fight for his brother’s life. But his arms moved too slowly, his body broken down. It infuriated him that he’d come so far, only to lose his strength.
Move, damn you, he ordered himself. But his strength wasn’t enough to counter his lack of co-ordination. He’d truly fallen hard. God above, what had happened to him? After all this time, his fighting had worsened. Shame burned through him when Alex stepped in to cut down the soldier.
His brother stared at him, as if he no longer knew him. ‘It was a mistake for you to come.’
Bram knew it, though he said nothing. He locked glances with Alex, furious with himself for his weakness. He’d foolishly believed that his anger would carry him when raw skill would not.
He reached for his crossbow, but Alex stopped him, handing him a shield instead. ‘Get back to the horses and wait for us. Ross went below to free the others, but Callum wasn’t there. He’s gone.’
The words took the air from his lungs. Had they been too late? Was his brother already dead?
The roar of the other prisoners resounded in the night air as they fought for their freedom. One seized a torch and used it to set a shelter on fire. Flames and black smoke soared into the sky, while they ran for the gates, some with their hands and ankles still chained.
On the opposite end of the garrison, Bram saw a woman huddled against the other end, cowering against the wall. If she didn’t move, she’d be caught in the violence. All around her, prisoners cut down their captors, slaughtering the English with any weapons they could find.
Seeing her fear reminded Bram of his wife. He couldn’t leave this woman here, any more than he’d want Nairna to be trapped in such a place. As he crossed the garrison, slipping through the shadows, his thoughts drifted back to her. Though he supposed his wife was safe enough at Glen Arrin, he hadn’t liked leaving her behind.
It reminded him too much of the night he’d left her after their wedding. He’d kissed her goodbye, never realising that it would be the last touch between them for seven years.
And tonight, if he didn’t get out of this burning fortress, it might well be the last time he saw his wife.
Bram stared at the woman, who kept her face to the stones, quaking with fear. Interfering with her fate was a mistake. He knew it, yet he couldn’t stop himself from approaching her.
He avoided the men around him, keeping his shield up, until he reached her side. ‘Are you a
hostage?’ he demanded.
She gripped her arms, as if she hadn’t heard him. Lowering her hood, he realised that she was only a little younger than Nairna. With veiled hair and terrified eyes, her gaze darted about as if she didn’t know where to flee.
‘If you want to leave this place, my brother can grant you sanctuary,’ Bram offered. ‘My wife will look after you, and I promise, you’ll face no harm.’
The woman stared at him as if fighting her own indecision. There was distrust on her face, but an even greater fear of staying behind. In the end, she picked up her skirts and ran towards him. ‘Please,’ she begged, in heavily accented Gaelic, ‘help me get home to my father.’
Bram caught her hand and drew her outside the broken wall. He spied Alex and Ross starting to make their own escape and he led the woman to their horses.
When Alex and Ross arrived with the others, the chief lost his temper. ‘Bram, what in God’s name have you done? She’s not coming with us.’
‘We can’t leave her there,’ he argued.
‘She’s one of them,’ Alex snapped. ‘And if you bring her, Cairnross’s men will follow her to Glen Arrin.’
‘No,’ the woman interrupted. ‘If you send word to my father, he’ll come for me and you will be rewarded.’
‘And just who is your father?’ Alex demanded.
The woman’s face turned cool. ‘Guy de Montpierre, the Duc D’Avignois.’
Alex’s face grew intrigued. Bram could read his brother’s thoughts without words. Rescuing the daughter of a French duke might result in a reward for their clan.
‘I am Marguerite de Montpierre,’ the woman continued, offering them a regal nod. ‘I was betrothed to Lord Cairnross.’ From the distaste upon her face, it was evident that she had not wanted to marry the man.
Bram wasn’t certain why the duke would want his daughter to wed an English lord instead of a French nobleman, but he didn’t ask. Perhaps she was a bastard.
‘You may have our protection until your father arrives,’ Alex agreed. ‘But you’d best pray that Cairnross doesn’t find you.’
Claimed by the Highland Warrior Page 11
