by Willa Blair
Eduard slumped between his captors, conscious, but forcing them to bear his weight. Good man! Bruises marred his face and arms, so Euan had no reason to think they did not also decorate his torso and legs. He'd been beaten, but seemed otherwise unharmed.
From the frowns directed at Silas, Euan could hope Erik was on the way to winning this battle. The rest of the clan did not appear to be eager to shed Eduard’s blood, or to approve the way he'd been treated up to now.
Then Silas pulled a dirk and laid it against Eduard’s throat. Euan's blood ran cold, and he had to force himself to remain in place. The optimism he’d felt just a moment ago evaporated into even greater fear for his friend. Beside him, Duncan and Neil tensed.
“What are ye doing, Silas?” Erik barked.
She pressed the blade’s edge against Eduard’s skin. A thin line of red appeared along it. “Ye may no' have the bollocks to avenge Donas, but I do!”
“Ye fool!” Erik shouted and lunged. He knocked her arm away from Eduard’s throat, then grabbed for the knife in her hand.
She twisted around Eduard and went for Erik with an unearthly howl.
Erik was right. Silas had to be out of her mind to attack a seasoned warrior like Erik. He was nearly twice her height and easily double her weight—all of it muscle. Euan couldn't see everything that happened, but as long as Eduard remained standing and Erik prevailed, Euan didn't care.
Erik got a hand on her wrist and turned the knife away from his chest. But then she gripped his wrist and pulled, forcing him to balance against her weight. He fended her off, his expression betraying determination. She was craftier than Euan gave her credit for. Perhaps because she knew Erik did not wish to hurt her, she had a small advantage. She had no such compunction about hurting Eduard or Erik. He kept forcing her back, but she charged again and again while he shouted at her to stop, for her men to hold her before she got hurt. No one moved. In the end, it was Silas who lay bleeding, the dirk protruding from her abdomen.
“Is she dead?” Neil whispered.
Euan shook his head. No one was moving to help her, so he assumed she was. Erik looked stunned, and Euan was certain the man had tried to turn his blows to disable her, not to kill her. Something had gone terribly wrong.
In the confusion, Euan noticed Eduard's guards, distracted by the fight, had released him. “Run, ye fool,” Euan urged him silently.
At that moment, Eduard made a break for the trees, but he didn't get far. The Ross guards caught him and, at Erik's signal, returned him to the cottage Silas had marched him from. Euan nodded. He had him now. After dark, they’d free him. In the meantime, Euan was satisfied Erik had other problems to deal with. Chances were, they wouldn’t beat Eduard again before the Brodies could get to him.
Chapter 15
Muireall fretted all day. Once Iain and Annie returned from Rose, should she tell Iain where Euan had gone? If she spoke up, Iain might feel the need to send more Brodies into danger to go after him. But if she kept silent, Euan might not get the help he needed if he was in trouble. She couldn’t decide the right thing to do. She paced in her chamber, wearing a track across the cold stone floor as she walked back and forth, debating with herself.
She wasn’t the only one left in the keep aware of where he and two others had gone. Calum knew as well. And Euan would not appreciate either of them telling Iain before he got back with Eduard. Euan would want to face his laird with the evidence of his success. If he came back without Eduard, Iain would flay him. Nay, she didn’t think Iain would really do that, but he’d be furious. And what if Euan didn’t come back at all…she sank onto her bed and dropped her face into her hands. What would she do if he did not come back?
Needing some fresh air, she left her chamber, intending to go outside. But she ran into Annie crossing the great hall.
“Ye are back!” Muireall exclaimed before she could stop herself. She knew she must sound, as well as look, guilty of something, but seeing Annie startled her.
“Aye. Iain as well. Ye look as though ye have seen a ghost. Is something amiss?”
Muireall shook her head. “Nay. No’ really. At least I dinna think so. I hope no’.” God, she was babbling.
Annie propped her hands on her hips and peered at her as if she was a bug in the oat flour. “I believe I ken what is fretting ye so. Come with me.”
“What? Where?”
Annie grabbed her arm and pulled her along to Iain’s solar.
Seeing Iain at his worktable, Muireall dug in her heels. “Nay, Annie. There’s nay need to disturb the laird,” she protested, but Annie wouldn’t let her go.
“Ye’d best explain to this lass what’s going on,” Annie announced to her husband. “She’s worn herself to a frazzle in the two days we’ve been gone—though our absence has little to do with her state, I’ll wager. ’Tis Euan’s absence that worries her.”
Muireall gasped. How could Annie know that?
Iain slid his gaze from his wife, who’d gotten the beginnings of a smile from him until she started talking, to Muireall. One eyebrow went up. “I dinna think that’s necessary, my love.”
“I do. If ye willna tell her, I’ll tell her myself.”
“Tell me what? Is Euan well? Dear God, he’s no’ dead, is he?” Her eyes welled, making her want to turn and run. But Annie still had a tight grip on her arm.
“Iain…” Annie’s tone brooked no dissent.
Muireall squeezed her eyes shut and heard Iain sigh, then the scrape of his chair as he stood up.
“Come here, lass. Sit by the fire. Euan is well. As far as I ken, that is.”
Muireall opened her eyes to see Iain standing by a chair next to the hearth, his hand open, palm toward her, inviting her to sit. She moved to the chair he indicated and sat.
Annie took the seat next to her, leaving Iain on his feet.
He paced a step or two, then turned back and nodded. “I’m worried, too, but I couldna leave Eduard a prisoner at Ross. Euan was…is…the best hope to get him back. I willna go into the politics behind it. Suffice to say I couldna send him openly. But he’s been there, seen the area and the Ross village. He knows how to get in and how to get out. So I sent him. Also because he’s Euan. He’s responsible, determined, and despite causing chaos, always lands on his feet.”
Muireall liked that Iain put his trust, and maybe, if she correctly understood what he very carefully wasn’t saying, his lairdship, in Euan’s hands. But he was worried, though. Like she was. She glanced at Annie, who nodded and smiled. Of course Annie knew all about it. And now Euan’s leaving in the middle of the night made sense. “So ye havena heard whether he…”
“We willna ken until his skiff returns. With Eduard, or no’. I dinna like waiting, either, but ’tis what we must do.” He stopped pacing beside Annie. He laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. She placed her hand over his, an unmistakable gesture of support.
“Thank ye for telling me,” Muireall finally managed to say.
“And ye’ll tell no one, aye?”
“Of course no’. I’m very good at keeping secrets.”
Iain and Annie exchanged a glance, then Annie stood. “That’s that, then.”
“Only…” Muireall hesitated, then plunged ahead. “Have the men ye sent to Munro returned?”
Iain glanced at Annie, his expression bleak, and Muireall’s heart froze to ice in her chest. She started shivering and crossed her arms.
“They have no’. No’ yet.”
“Ye fear something happened to them.” Muireall felt it in her bones.
“I always have that fear, any time I send men out on a mission. But lass, there are many reasons for their delay. The best is that they are enjoying Munro hospitality and will be back soon.”
“And the worst?”
Iain pursed his lips, and Muireall immediately pictured the wreck of the Tangie. They could be lost in the firth, like some of Euan’s crew. Because of her. “Ach, nay…”
“Dinna fash, lass. If they ar
e no’ returned to us tomorrow, I’ll send another boat.”
“And risk more men on the firth?”
“The firth is no’ the greatest danger.”
“Ross ships, then.”
“Possibly, but no’ likely. More likely is they’ve drunk too much Munro ale and will sail back tomorrow.”
Annie spoke up then. “’Twould be just like them.”
“Aye. Ye lasses go on and let me think. I have to plan for several contingencies. Though they’re no’ all bad, they all end with me telling the council what we’ve done. That will be a difficult meeting.”
Annie gave him a sympathetic kiss on the cheek, then she and Muireall left the solar.
“Well, what shall we do now to cheer ye up? Aye, of course. Ye havena tried archery yet. Let’s go. I want to work off some worries, too.”
Muireall readily agreed, though the meeting with Iain had depressed her. Still, it was one more skill she might be able to teach Georgie before he had to compete with the other lads. And now that she didn’t carry the burden of Euan’s errand alone, she could enjoy Annie’s company. She found herself becoming more infatuated with Annie’s spirit—and independence—with every meeting between them. Annie let nothing stand in her way. She either went through it or if that failed, around it.
Muireall told herself she had a touch of that same spirit. She had tried—twice—to escape Donas Ross. With Euan’s help, the third time had worked.
If she could learn to take care of herself as Annie did, she could teach Georgie to stand up for himself and give him some skills that might gain him respect from the other lads. And she might never need to wed, though that was cold comfort when what she really wanted was Euan—if he was still alive—to offer for her.
Annie interrupted her thoughts as they reached the archery practice area. “Tell me about Munro,” she suggested, “while I set us up.”
Muireall obliged, watching Annie gather arrows from the straw bales used as targets. “The Munro is currently without a wife,” she began, thinking Annie meant her father more than her clan. “He lost his last one in childbirth eight years ago.”
“I’m so sorry,” Annie replied and picked up several bows the lads had left behind, standing them on end and using her weight to test their flex.
Muireall took that as encouragement to continue. “He leans toward supporting Domhnall of Islay. The Lord of the Isles, ye ken.”
“Aye, we do.”
“More politically practical, I suppose ye’d say, than Albany, given so many other clans nearby look to the west.”
“What about Ross?” Annie decided on a bow and selected an arrow.
Muireall snorted. “We have longstanding relationships with various septs of Ross throughout their territory—some good, some nay. Taking Ella, Tira, and me will not help resolve that. Though with Donas out of the way, Erik may be able to mend relations.” If any of the Munros were left. She still didn’t know for sure. Why hadn’t her father, even if he didn’t know who took the women, send word out to neighboring clans. The resounding silence troubled her—more than she dared show.
Annie pulled and let fly. The arrow thunked into the center of the bullseye drawn on the farthest bale.
“Oh…I’ll never be able to do that.”
“Of course ye will. I’m going to teach ye.”
Annie had her test the pull of several bows until they found one that satisfied Annie, if not Muireall. All of them felt strange and awkward in her hands. She had seen how the younger lads struggled to nock an arrow and often dropped them rather than letting them fly. She’d be so embarrassed if she couldn’t do better.
With Annie’s help, her first attempt fell short, but at least she didn’t drop it. Annie asked about her family while getting her properly positioned again.
Muireall revealed that her father lived, as well as two brothers. She didn’t want to give anyone at Brodie any more information than that—it might get back to Euan.
“Take a deep breath as ye pull, then let it out slowly and pause. Then let go,” Annie coached her. From then on, her arrows reached the first row of straw bales. Some even embedded themselves, though many went wide of the mark.
All too soon, it started to get dark and Muireall’s hand tired.
Annie called a halt. They sat on the target bales, enjoying the gloaming and talking.
“It must have been terrifying, thinking ye were going to drown trying to make it around the headland,” Annie said.
“Honestly, I dinna have time to be too scared before I passed out. Euan pulled me out of the water. Then, for a while, I was afraid of him. How could I know what he would do? But eventually, he admitted who he was and so did I. From then on, we worked together to escape.”
“That’s our Euan. He’s a good man. Brave, smart, strong, though Iain is right to be concerned. He’s also reckless at times. But ye dinna wish to hear that, do ye?”
Muireall couldn’t argue about Euan’s good points. “If he’s so wonderful, why is Iain so irritated with him, and why is he no’ married?”
Annie gave her a long look. “Interested, are ye?” She laughed. “He’s gotten in trouble before, acting before thinking. He and Iain…go back years. Iain is not that much older than Euan.”
“Do ye ken what he was like as a lad?”
“No’ really. Iain has said Euan’s responsible streak may be why he’s no’ yet wed. He has kissed a few lasses, but nothing like Iain in his day. Euan’s always been more focused on making himself better—bigger, stronger, a better fisherman, a better fighter, and so on. I dinna ken what drives him, but that doesna leave him much time for the lasses.”
Muireall was happy to hear he hadn’t bedded every skirt he’d ever been offered.
“I will say I’ve never seen him so devoted to a lass as he appears to be to ye, though ’tis true I havena known him very long.”
“He feels obligated to me. Because he saved my life. I’ve tried to tell him he need not be, but he’s also stubborn.”
Annie laughed. “Aye, that’s our Euan.” She stood. “Come away and let me show off a bit.”
Muireall stood and went back where they’d left the bows and arrows.
Annie picked up the bow she favored and fired an arrow into a near target. Then split it with another arrow.
Muireall gasped.
“’Tis nothing,” Annie told her. Watch this.” She took aim at the arrow she’d left in the far target’s bullseye, pulled and let fly. Before Muireall knew what happened, that arrow was split as well, Annie’s latest shot vibrating at its center. “That’s enough. The fletcher will have my head if I ruin any more. But thanks for letting me show off a wee. I dinna get to do that very often. ’Tis no’ good for the lads to be intimidated—or out-shot—by a mere lass.” She gave a hearty laugh, and Muireall joined her. “’Tis getting too dark to see, anyway,” Annie continued. “Let’s go get some supper.”
At sunset, Ross men gathered again in the open space in the center of the small village. Euan perked up. Something was about to happen.
Erik joined the group and they formed an arc before him. He looked tired, but his voice was strong when he announced, “Silas still lives.” He paused and his gaze traveled the arc, making contact with every man there. “But ye ken what her loss has done to her mind. She threw herself on my blade.”
Euan and the men with him traded glances. They hadn’t seen, and had wondered how Erik had come to stab her when he so obviously tried not to harm her.
“She is no’ fit to lead this clan,” Erik continued. “So I ask ye, will ye have her—if she lives—or me? Ye ken who I am, what I’ve done and what I stand for. I call for a vote. Who is with me?”
A low rumble filled the air as the men reacted to Erik’s announcement. First one fist shot up, then another and another, along with a chorus of ayes. In moments, it was over. Erik was the new Ross laird. Euan breathed a sigh of relief. Muireall had related her encounters with Erik and believed that despite his te
mper, he could be a thoughtful man. Euan expected, if it came to it, Iain could treat with a laird who deliberated before he acted. Even better, Erik saw the value of their hostage. Eduard’s life would no longer be threatened. But accidents happened. And even though the vote had gone to Erik, Silas’s supporters could still wreak havoc and force Erik’s hand by killing Eduard.
Euan had to free Eduard tonight.
Among the discussions going on after the vote, Euan heard one man say, “Brodie did us a favor, getting rid of Donas.”
Erik shrugged off that remark. “We are still owed recompense,” he answered, “if no’ a life. We’ll see how they respond to get their man back.”
Euan frowned at that. Brodie could not afford much compensation. Once they freed Eduard and got him home, they’d have to figure out a solution both Brodie and the new Ross would accept.
Chapter 16
By midnight, the Ross village had gone still and silent, the clan settled down for the night after hours of celebrating, including drinking casks of ale and whisky. Euan expected they’d be out for hours and hard to wake even then.
Mindful of wandering patrols, Euan and his men rose from their concealment and spent a few minutes stretching cramped muscles.
Euan left them to watch his back and signal if they spotted trouble coming. He moved silent as a wildcat to the cottage where Eduard was held. A guard slept across the doorway. Euan sent him deeper into slumber with a quick blow to the head using the hilt of his dirk. Rising, he lifted the latch and slowly pushed open the door.
Eduard lay on a pallet on the floor, alone save for the unconscious guard at his door. Euan crouched and shook his shoulder, then quickly clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle a shout.
Eduard’s eyes popped open.
Euan felt his jaw lift and flex as he drew in air, then he recognized Euan and nodded. Euan removed his hand and helped him stand.
“It took ye long enough,” Eduard groused, then grabbed Euan in a bear hug.
Euan hugged him back, disconcerted by his thinness. “They didna feed ye?”
