by Willa Blair
“What, Toran? Tell me what’s wrong. Is it Coira? Please tell me she hasn’t been hung from the ramparts, has she?”
Toran grimaced and looked away from her, out over the bailey, where members of his clan went about their chores, a few of his warriors practicing their skills with swords and arrows. Aileana followed his gaze, seeing nothing unusual.
“This man ye call yer assistant…”
“Ranald. Yes? What does he have to do with Coi…”
Toran interrupted her. “Is he close to ye?”
“I’ve told you about Ranald,” she reminded him. Nerves loosened her tongue, and all this grim solemnity made her uncomfortable. “He was wounded. His leg healed badly. He could no longer fight, but he had some skill tending battlefield wounds, so he became my assistant.”
“I ken all that. Answer my question, Aileana. Is he close to ye?”
“Toran, what has happened?” His face, in profile, brooked no nonsense, and Aileana suddenly chilled, though no breath of wind stirred.
Toran looked at her then, and she scowled up at him. “Have you seen Ranald? Do the MacAnalens have him?” That would be good news; away from Colbridge, he could make a new home with them or join her in the Aerie.
Toran shook his head and sighed. He seemed to come to some difficult decision, and pulled her closer to the crenellation.
“It’s no’ good news, Aileana. I’m sorry to do this to ye, but I must make ye look. Is that Ranald?”
Aileana looked out over the glen into Colbridge’s camp, and reeled as her blood sank to her toes. “Oh, no,” she whispered against her fists quickly pressed to her lips. “Oh, no.”
Toran gently shook her arm, and she blindly turned in his direction.
“So it is, then,” Toran sighed. “I was afraid of that. He looked like the man I’d seen with ye in the camp.” He pulled her behind the merlon and away from the horrible sight of Ranald, lit by firelight, hanging by his arms, blood running from his body in several places, head slumped onto his naked chest.
“’Tis Colbridge’s doing,” he continued. “Ye can be sure of that. He’s trying to draw ye out, using the one person that he thinks ye care about.”
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Aileana managed to choke out through her tears.
“No, I dinna think so,” Toran answered her. “He’s no use to Colbridge dead. I think he believes Ranald was dear to ye…perhaps even a lover, and that ye will be compelled to go back to heal him, to save him. Colbridge canna get to us inside these walls, so he’s trying to draw us out.”
Memories flared bright and suddenly painful in Aileana’s heart at Toran’s use of the word lover, something they had so recently become. Husband. Wife. “You would let me go? You would help me save Ranald?”
Toran’s expression grew even grimmer and he shook his head. “Nay.”
“But, Toran, he’ll die, horribly. Colbridge won’t stop torturing him until he’s dead.”
“I can’t help that, Aileana. As much as I might wish to for yer sake and his, I canna help Ranald, not by sending ye back into Colbridge’s clutches. Ye’re mine now. I won’t risk ye.”
“But he’s…”
Suddenly a shout echoed up from the glen. “Laird Lathan!”
Toran pulled Aileana further behind the merlon, then peered out.
“Colbridge, the cocky bastard, alone, in the glen,” he said, as Donal ran up to stand with him. “He must have seen us up here.”
“Out of range?” Donal asked.
“What do ye think?” Toran’s reply was terse. “Get the archers ready, in case he comes closer.” Donal nodded and moved away to do his laird’s bidding.
“Laird Lathan,” the call came again. “I’ve something you should see. You and the Healer you stole from me.”
Toran moved into sight and called back, “What do ye want, Colbridge?”
“Get the Healer,” the reply came. “This is for her enjoyment, as well.”
Aileana watched Toran’s hands close into fists out of sight of the man below in the glen, then he turned and gestured her over. “Ye must be brave, lass,” he said quietly.
Aileana slowly moved to stand next to Toran and lifted her chin. Her instincts were screaming at her to stay hidden from Colbridge, but she had no choice if she hoped to save Ranald.
“Aileana, so good of you to join us,” Colbridge sneered, then gestured behind him. “You’re late to the festivities, and I fear Ranald has already enjoyed himself too much.”
Tears started afresh in Aileana’s eyes as she once again beheld Ranald’s slumped and bloody form.
“What do you want?” Aileana called out, silently cursing the tremor in her voice as much as she cursed the monster on the glen below her. “Why have you hurt him?”
“Why, you, my dear,” Colbridge answered, as if nothing in the world was amiss. “I want you. Come back. Your lover needs you. He’s eager for your touch.”
“Cut him down!” Toran shouted at her side.
“No, I don’t think so,” Colbridge replied, reasonably. Then his voice turned hard. “In fact, I think I’ll leave him right where he is, so the Healer can watch as I carve him up. I’ve already ruined his good leg. He’ll never walk again. Not that he’ll need to, by the time I finish with him. Unless you come back, Aileana. I’ll let you save him. Or stay where you are, and watch him die. Slowly. In agony. And then it will be your turn, when I break down your walls. Everyone with you will die. You, will, too. As slowly as your lover.” Colbridge laughed. “We’ll see if you can Heal yourself.”
Aileana gasped at the brutality Colbridge promised, and Toran reached over to take her cold hand in his strong one.
“She’s no’ coming out,” Toran growled. “No’ now, no’ ever. Kill that man if ye must, but do it quickly. He’s not yer enemy, Colbridge. I am.”
“No,” Colbridge refused, smiling. “I’m not finished with him yet. It’s up to you, Aileana, how long he suffers. Whether he dies strung up like a pig to slaughter. It’s your choice, Healer. Save him, or die like he does.”
With that, Colbridge whipped his mount around and rode back to his camp. As he approached Ranald, he pulled his dirk. Toran pulled Aliana’s face against his shoulder but he could not prevent her from seeing Ranald’s body arc against his bonds in agony as Colbridge slashed his torso from shoulder to ribs.
****
Aileana opened the door to her chamber, her refuge, where she’d retreated after seeing Colbridge’s horrible display, in answer to the soft knock that awakened her from her exhausted, grief-stricken doze. Toran looked down at her, observing, measuring, in that quiet way he had. The connection between them was strong, but she didn’t need it. His grave countenance told her without words that the scene with Colbridge still weighed on his mind. She stepped back and waved him in, resigned to the coming confrontation.
“Whatever you have to say to me, come in and say it. You don’t need to stand out in the hall.”
“I have questions,” he began, closing the door behind him and following her as she walked toward the hearth. “And I need honest answers. No’ lies.”
Shocked, Aileana spun to face him.
He gripped her shoulders and pulled her face up to his. His features were twisted with anguish and realized that he thought she had betrayed him somehow with Ranald…or soon would.
“Toran, put me down.” When he didn’t release her, but continued to hold her, his eyes searching hers for answers, she kicked him. “Put me down. Please! You’re hurting me.”
Toran released her as if she had suddenly become as hot as the flames in the hearth. He continued to stare at her, saying nothing, as he stepped back and crossed his arms over his massive chest. Aileana wanted to put her hands on those arms, to pull them around her so that she could sink into his warmth and strength. She felt safe when Toran held her, but she knew that he would not hold her now…and might never do so again. Ranald’s torture was more than she could ignore. As soon as she could, she’d leave the
Aerie and go to him. And somehow, Toran knew that.
“What do you want to know?” Aileana asked, wondering again if she would have any answers that would satisfy him.
“Why are ye here? And what is Ranald, to ye, really?”
Aileana sucked in a breath, fighting the urge to pound her fists on Toran’s chest. “Why am I here? How can you ask that? You know why I’m here. You brought me.”
“Did I? Or did ye somehow bewitch me into wanting ye, into bringing ye? While ye Healed my head, did ye plant yer wishes there, too? Ye were conveniently at hand at just the right moment…or had ye planned that, also? To get inside the Aerie, learn what ye could, then report back to Colbridge? Only when I didn’t release ye right away, Colbridge tortured a man ye care about, so ye’d remember yer duty and bring yer information back out. He has no interest in Ranald, other than using him to compel ye. He wants to know what ye know about the Aerie, and if ye fall into his hands, ye’ll be forced to tell him everything. The moment he gets the chance, his men will be inside our gates to finish what their siege could not.”
“No,” Aileana said, and repeated it over and over as Toran raged. “No, that’s not it; that cannot be.”
“No, Aileana? Are ye so certain?”
“You must be wrong. Colbridge would never hurt me. He’s trying to get me back…”
“Unless he thought ye could be used against him, against his men, to keep another army at fighting strength. He has to have realized by now that ye can be a danger to him.”
That stopped her cold. “Oh, no.” She turned away from him, unable to look at him and think at the same time. And she needed to think.
Toran came up behind her and turned her to face him. “Ye saw what he’s done to Ranald. There is no way ye would be safe again in his camp. I will not allow ye to go. I canna.”
Aileana stared, stricken with fear at this new world she found herself in. Nothing had been the way she thought. She’d been a fool, all that time. She had thought herself at least safe there, guarded by her Talent and Colbridge’s need for it. But that had never been true, not when he threatened her now. And Ranald, if he survived what Colbridge was doing to him, he would never forgive her for the agony he had suffered because of her. He was the last of her kin. If Toran’s anguish meant he was turning against her, too, she really would have nothing, and no one.
The only thing she had left was her Voice—a talent that Donal would greatly fear if he knew of it. It would only take a touch, and the right suggestions.
She could go to Ranald and heal him. She could walk out though the postern, or she could have Toran escort her out the front gate, and forget he’d done it. She could control Colbridge with a touch and a word, something she’d never dared before because there’d been no threat from him to cause her to try it.
But could she really do this? Toran would never trust her again. She did not want to leave him. She wanted him. For God’s sake, she’d married him, and she wanted the home with his clan in the Aerie that she had begun to love. She had fallen in love with him, deeply in love, even before she had given herself to him. Her breath caught. Oh no, had she come to this knowledge just in time to lose him?
No, it wasn’t her fault that Toran had grabbed her and stolen her away, but she was glad that he had. Nor was it her fault that Colbridge was a brute bent on destroying everything and everyone that he encountered, but she could do something for Ranald. She bowed her head as tears sheened her eyes. She had no choice.
Toran reached for her then and folded her in his arms. “I promised not to make ye cry, and in my fear for ye, look what I’ve done.”
“But I…” Aileana murmured against his chest. She had to tell him. Before she left. Before she disappeared from his life, possibly forever, if Colbridge caught her.
“Hush, it doesna matter,” Toran said, soothing her.
“But, Toran, it does. Ranald is my half-brother. I don’t want to leave you. I love you. But I have to save him,” Aileana said, looking up into his deep blue eyes.
As he leaned down to kiss her, his churning emotions washed over Aileana. The connection between them waxed stronger since he’d taken her, no, since he’d awakened her, loved her, made her his. But what he was feeling—shock? Joy? The mix of emotions running through him confused her. It was almost too much to bear, knowing how she must hurt him to save her kin.
“Aileana,” he vowed against her hair. “it matters no’ who he is. Ye canna go into that camp. It isna safe. Ye are mine. Forever.”
“And a day, aye,” she whispered. If only that could be true, she thought as he attacked her defenses with his mouth. But no, she could not make love with Toran while Ranald suffered because of her. Nor could she let even a hint of the anguish that plagued her over what she was about to do leak through to him.
“Toran, please,” she protested. “Let me rest.”
“Aye, lass.”
He left her after one more gentle kiss, after gazing at her as if she was the most precious thing in his world, after gently trailing his fingers down her cheek, then pulling her again into his embrace, the only place where she was warm and safe. Aileana stared at the door to her chamber after Toran closed it softly behind him and wondered if she would ever see him again.
****
Aileana waited until the clan settled down for the night. It was late, very late, when she ventured quietly from her chamber. The door closed silently, but the barely audible click of the latch stopped her. She breathed in and out, once, twice, three times, trying to slow the pounding of her heart. So far, she’d done nothing wrong. She simply needed something from the herbal to help her sleep after a trying day. That was all.
Only that wasn’t all. From there, she would make her way down into the caves. If her luck held, she’d find a torch still burning that she could use to light her way. If not, and she didn’t kill herself falling down the long flights of stairs in the dark or get lost on a side path that she didn’t remember, she’d leave from the postern gate and be on her way to save Ranald. If all went well, she might be back with him before daylight. Toran would be furious both at what she’d risked, and at bringing Ranald back through the postern, but she didn’t have any other choice. The guard on the main gate would raise an alarm if she returned that way, not that Ranald’s sudden presence in the Aerie wouldn’t cause alarm. Maybe she could hide him, at least until she could explain to Toran what she’d done.
There was little chance of everything going perfectly, she despaired as she crept down the main stairs into the Great Hall. She hadn’t counted on anyone sleeping there, but several men were sprawled on pallets near the hearth, most snoring, loudly or softly. Their noise was good cover for any sound she might make as long as it didn’t awaken one of them. Two hounds raised their heads to regard her briefly, startling her and giving her a bad moment until they put their heads back down and sighed. She supposed by now they recognized her as belonging here. Heart pounding again, she went carefully on her way down the long hall toward the kitchen, Senga’s herbal, and the stairs she needed. There was no one to delay her progress as she took her first hesitant steps down to the storage caves and below.
The first stairs were easy despite the lack of illumination. She’d been down those to the area where Senga stored the bulk of her dried herbs many times. But below that, she’d only been once—the day she’d been brought down to heal Jamie. That trip down had been so hurried, she’d scarce noticed any details. And she’d swooned after she’d finished, so that Toran had carried her back up, and she’d seen nothing.
She kept one hand on the wall beside her as she carefully edged down. Finally, the blackness was pierced by a dimly guttering torch set into a bracket, and Aileana took it to light her way. The flickering flame quickly died to embers, but it provided enough illumination to allow her to see the next tread. Once she startled a sleeping ginger cat, a mouser, she surmised, slacking at its duty. It gave her a one-eyed glare and a twitch of its tail, then settled back to its n
ap as she passed.
It seemed to take hours, though she knew it couldn’t have been more than minutes, before she reached the bottom step. The last faint glow from her torch chose that moment to die completely.
The darkness was absolute. Across the wide floor of this cavern waited the gap that led to the postern. It would be hard to find if she tried to cross the open floor. But if she kept one hand on the wall and went around, she’d come to it, she was sure. She didn’t recall anything being stored here, but there had been so many people surrounding her as she worked on Jamie, that she couldn’t be sure.
She smelled horses and heard their faint whickering from far away—another cave? Should she try to take one? No, that would make too much noise. Someone might hear and come to investigate what was disturbing them. She’d stick to her plan and go afoot. So she set the now useless torch on the ground then placed her hand on the chill rock beside her. She walked slowly and carefully, fearing the fall that could result from tripping over something in the dark.
She’d already passed several cracks no wider than a handspan when she finally came to the one she expected to find. She could smell fresh night air and feel a slight breeze as she reached it, but because of the way it angled, she could not see outside. Emboldened, she quickened her pace and turned into the corridor. But only three steps beyond, she found herself sprawled, half on the cold, rocky floor, and half on a large, warm body. Wide hands suddenly gripped her. As he stood, her captor pulled her to her feet.
Even in this deep blackness, she knew who now kept her from her mission. Toran! She’d know his scent anywhere, the feel of his big hands, his sheer size.
“I thought ye might try something like this,” he began, without preamble, knowing full well whom he had captured. He’d expected her, lain in wait for her to arrive, that was plain. And though she could not see his face, she could sense anger coursing through him. “I told ye I could not let ye leave the Aerie,” he said, gripping her shoulders and shaking her gently, like one would do to command the attention of a child. “Ye canna defy me, Aileana. No’ in this.”
