Hannah was about to end the questioning, seeing how much pain it was causing Conlan when Helice spoke up.
“Enough, he needs to rest.”
“We will talk again when you are stronger,” Slain said, “and welcome to the Clan MacKewan.”
A tear slipped from the lad’s eye as he struggled to speak. “Will serve you well, my chief,”
“You serve me well by resting and growing strong and doing as Helice says.”
Conlan looked to Helice, another tear slipping from his eye.
Helice walked around in front of Hannah and nearly snatched the lad’s hand out of hers to tuck beneath the blanket. “You will drink more of the brew I fixed and sleep. No more talk today.”
“Tales?” Conlan asked eagerly.
“Aye, after you rest.”
He closed his eyes, then opened them quickly, settling them on Hannah. “Grateful.”
Hannah stood, Helice moving back as she leaned over the bed and kissed Conlan’s brow. “Get well, we have fishing to do.”
He wore a soft smile as he closed his eyes.
All three left the room and before Helice could walk away, Hannah said, “I am grateful to you for taking such excellent care of Conlan.”
“He is no chore,” Helice said and hurried off.
Hannah stared after her, sure she had seen tears in the woman’s eyes. She was about to ask her husband if he had seen Helice’s tears as they entered the Great Hall when she saw that Imus and Wilona waited there.
“A word,” Imus said to Slain.
Slain nodded and looked to Wilona.
The woman wrung her hands as she spoke. “I came to apologize to Hannah for speaking wrongly of her the other day and ask about the lad who, I am told, saved my husband’s life.”
“I am pleased to hear that, Wilona, and I will leave you both to talk,” Slain said and with a kiss to Hannah’s cheek, he took his leave with Imus.
“I regret my words to you that night,” Wilona said.
Hannah pointed to the table. “Sit, we will share a brew and talk.”
“Was the lad able to tell who did this evil thing to him and Potsman? Wilona asked, slipping along the bench to sit.
“Unfortunately no,” Hannah said, sitting as well and filling two tankards with the heated brew.
“Everyone worries.”
“Understandably, but I am sure the culprit will be caught soon,” Hannah assured her.
“You believe so?” Wilona’s eyes turned wide. “That would be most reassuring.”
“The men who search will find something that will help lead us to the person who did this. He will be caught and punished.”
Wilona hugged herself, her face paling some.
Hannah reached out a comforting hand. “Worry not. Potsman will recover and all will be well.”
It was an hour later that Hannah stood outside the keep watching Wilona walk off, the woman’s steps were burdensome, but then she had troubles enough to carry. She was about to turn and enter the keep when she thought she caught something out of the corner of her eye. She was surprised to see Imus enter the woods, casting a glance around as if he watched to see if anyone followed. She quickly hurried to a spot by the keep wall where she hoped she would not be seen and braced herself against it. After a few moments, she took a chance and peeked to see where Imus had gone. She spotted him disappearing deeper into the woods.
Her mother once told her that she lacked good sense, plunging into things without thinking and that was what she did now. She plunged ahead without thought to possible consequences, though that did not matter to her. If Imus was betraying Slain, she had to know. She had to protect her husband and new clan.
Cloudy skies made it a gloomy day, casting darkness and shadows over the forest and making it appear uninviting as Hannah entered and hurried to follow Imus. A soft wind stirred the branches and sent a chill through Hannah as it swept down around her. She rubbed her arms, wishing she had her cloak, but there had been no time to spare. She had to follow Imus and settle her doubt about him once and for all.
She kept a good distance behind him, barely keeping sight of him, for fear of him detecting her steps. It did not take long for her to realize Imus was headed to the same spot where he had last seen him meet a man. Confident she was right, she changed direction and came upon the boulder she had hidden behind when she had first accidentally intruded upon Imus and the stranger. She waited and it was not long before she heard voices.
Hannah strained to hear what they were saying, the voices lower and more cautious than the last time. She caught a few words with hopes she could make some sense of them.
“Not long now.”
“When.”
“All is ready?”
“Knows nothing.”
“Not prepared.”
Frustration jabbed at Hannah, the few words she caught making it seem as if Slain was not prepared for what was to come. Was Imus telling the man that the Clan MacKewan was vulnerable, not prepared to defend itself? What was not long now? An attack?
The voices drifted off, sounding as if the two man were walking off together. As the voices got further away, she decided to dare take a peek in hopes of possibly identifying who Imus was speaking with. She moved to peek her head past the boulder when a hand suddenly covered her mouth with such a strong grip that she could not breathe. An arm coiled around her waist equally as tight and before she could fight the culprit, a whisper settled against her ear.
“Silence, wife.”
Fear fled, leaving her body so rapidly that she fell limp against him.
He dropped his hand away from her mouth, turned her around to face him, and pressed his finger to her lips.
She nodded, understanding his gesture for her to remain silent. He gave a nod in the direction of the keep, took her hand, and pressed his finger to her lips once again. Again she understood what he silently conveyed to her. They would return to the keep in silence.
Hannah dutifully obeyed, agreeing with him that they should remain silent, not chance being discovered, since they truly did not know if anyone else lingered in the woods.
Once they stepped out of the woods she went to speak, but he cautioned her with a shake of his head.
Not another word was spoken until they entered his solar.
“Now do you believe that Imus is not the friend you believe him to be?” she asked, knowing he had to have heard some of the conversation between Imus and the stranger.
“Imus, unlike my wife, obeys my orders,” Slain said, pointing to the chair for her to sit.
She walked, instead, to the hearth, standing near its warmth, staring at the flames for a moment, then turning to him with a shake of her head. “I do not understand. Are you saying that you instructed him to make it seem like he was betraying you?”
He ignored her question and instead demanded, “Did I not forbid you to go into the woods alone?”
“Why do you not answer my question?” she asked.
“For your own safety,” Slain snapped.
“Or is it that you do not trust me, since I am the daughter of your enemy?”
Slain walked over to her, his hand shooting out to cup the back of her neck tightly. “Listen well, wife. If I thought I could not trust you, you would have been long gone from here. I keep things from you to keep you safe. I could not bear anything happening to you. You have given me something I never thought I would have again… hope for a future. A good and loving future.”
“I want the same,” she said, “and to have that I need to know you trust me.”
“I do trust you, Hannah, but you have tasted the suffering of torture. Would you not confess anything to save you from such a horrible fate?”
Hannah shut her eyes against the memories and his hand loosened from around the back of her neck to ease her into his arms—strong, protective arms—that tightened around her.
“At one time, I would have believed myself strong enough to protect whatever secret was e
ntrusted to me, but after experiencing torture, I know better. It takes a heartless person to create such torture devices, knowing what they are intended for and may he rot in hell for doing so.”
Slain tightened his arms around her.
She turned her head up, meeting his eyes. “What do you fear that you do not tell me?”
That was an easy question for him to answer, for it so often troubled his mind. “That you will see me for what I truly am—a savage—and you will love me no more.”
“That will never happen. Nothing can rob me of my love for you. It is there deep inside my heart, my soul, forever and beyond. As much as you want no harm to come to me, I wish to keep you from the same. I would fight until my dying breath to keep you safe and with it I would make sure to tell you one last time… I love you.”
“Do not speak such nonsense,” he demanded, feeling the weight of her words. The thought of losing her too much to bear. He rested his brow against hers. “It is I who will always protect you and every one of our bairns.”
“We shall have many,” she said eagerly.
“And we will enjoy making every one of them,” he said with a playful smile.
“I do so love you, husband,” Hannah said softly, “and I will trust you, since I believe you have plans in motion and I will not chance upsetting them.”
“You are a wise wife and much appreciated.”
Hannah turned a teasing smile on him, her response interrupted by the village bell tolling loudly.
The two rushed out of the solar and into the Great Hall, Helice following behind them. Fright twisted tightly at Hannah’s stomach and her heart beat madly in her chest. She had a dreadful fear of what awaited them as they stepped outside.
Hannah’s hand rushed to grab her husband’s when she saw that her fear had not been misplaced. She watched her father lead a troop of his warriors toward the village, her step-brother riding beside him.
Chapter 27
Slain kept his grip strong on his wife’s hand, her tremor of fear rippling along his arm. “You are safe, wife.”
“My father brings many warriors,” she said, her eyes on the troop of about fifty men, all carrying weapons, marching in precision behind her father and step-brother. They looked ready for battle. She turned soft green eyes on her husband. “I trust you, husband.”
He leaned his head down and whispered, “Others may have failed to protect you… I will not.”
His dark eyes held a fierce determination, but it was his love for her burning so strongly for all to see that brought an instant smile to her face. “Of that I have no doubt.”
Hannah was pleased and proud to see the clan, men and women alike, approach the keep, weapons in hand. They formed two lines, opposite each other, creating a path that would force her father and step-brother to travel up to reach their chief.
Helice stepped around Slain and handed him his sheathed sword, then went and joined one of the lines of clansmen. Hannah saw that a sword hung from the belt around her waist. She was prepared to fight along with the others.
Slain released her hand and while he secured the belt around his waist, Hannah cast curious eyes over the clan. They stood with confidence. There was not a tremor of fear among them. Was it confidence in Slain that had them standing there with certainty? Or did they know something she did not? That thought plagued her far too often.
When her husband’s hand closed around hers once again, her glance drifted back to him, and with great pride she stood beside him as her father drew closer.
Her fearful tremor returned when her father was close enough for her to see the anger on his face. He was a man of fine features, something that probably had first drawn her mum to him, but over the years his constant scowling and anger left deep lines on his face that turned permanent, leaving him appear forever angry and aged beyond his years. His long, pure white hair also added years to him that he had yet to claim. His size was substantial, broad and thick, and his height fair. He was easily a man who could intimidate, though nowhere near as intimidating as Slain.
Ross MacFillan’s eyes went to his daughter as soon as he brought his horse to a stop. “I gave you no permission to marry. You will return home with me this day.”
Slain did not bother to hide his wrath. “I gave you no permission to speak to my wife, MacFillan. Keep a civil tongue or leave.”
Ross laughed. “How will you make me do that when you have a mere pittance of a clan to defend,” —he stretched his arm out behind him— “and I have a troop of warriors.”
Slain took a step forward, his hand still firm around his wife’s trembling one. “I care not about your troop. It is you I will capture and all will see what I do to those who threaten me.”
Hannah did not believe the tremble of fear her father visibly displayed.
“Have your say and be gone,” Slain commanded.
Slain’s sharp demand did not sit well with Hannah’s father and as was his way, his temper took flight.
“You had no permission to wed my daughter. You will release her to me immediately or there will be war between us.”
“I warned you about threatening me,” Slain said his tone more menacing than Hannah had ever heard it.
Her step-brother joined in, turning an accusing eye on Hannah. “You did this on purpose. You married this savage to defy your father.”
Slain turned a harsh tone on him. “Speak to my wife without permission again and I will take great pleasure in killing you slowly.”
Slain glared at him with such hatred that Hannah thought Nial would drop dead there and then.
“You do not frighten me,” Nial said, keeping his voice strong.
“Then you are a foolish man,” Slain said.
“I demand you return my daughter to me,” Ross shouted, shaking a tight fist at Slain.
Slain punctuated each word with distinct sharpness to make himself perfectly clear. “My wife stays with me. And why is it you arrive here and demand Hannah’s return, but yet not ask how she fares? Do you care more to war with me than you do with your own daughter’s safety and well-being?”
“You have no right to question me,” Ross said.
“I have every right to question you when you ride onto my land ready for battle.”
“If it is a battle you want, it is a battle you will get,” Ross warned, his hand going to grip the hilt of his sword at his side and a fierce hunger in his eyes to use it.
“We will battle, MacFillan, that is for sure, even though our clans are united through marriage,” Slain said, a hunger in his own eyes to see it done.
“Never!” Ross screamed, shaking his fist in the air. “I will conquer your clan and you will get on your knees before me, in front of all, and pledge allegiance to me. And my traitorous daughter will be given to another man to wed. One who cares not that she has been soiled by… the savage.”
Hannah felt his words like a slap in her face and she turned her head away.
“You should turn away in disgrace, daughter, for the shame you have brought to me and your clan,” her father shouted for all to hear.
A low growl rumbled deep in Slain’s chest, his eyes turning darker, narrower, and his glare deadlier, ready to spew vile words at the man, but his wife spoke before he could.
“It is you who shames the clan, Father,” Hannah said boldly, turning to face him. “With this marriage, you have a chance to unite two strong clans, but you let your greed, hatred, and selfishness stand in the way. I wed Slain freely. He did not force me and I take great pride in calling him my husband. The one and only husband I will ever have. So say and do whatever you will, but I stand by my husband, Slain MacKewan and the Clan MacKewan, now and always.”
“Your father is right, you are a disgrace to Clan MacFillan,” Nial spat.
Slain wanted to reach up and tear the man off the horse and beat him until he was a bloody mess. He could not have been more proud of his wife and the courage it had taken her to speak to her father like that in
front of so many, and Nial had the audacity to say she was a disgrace. Now he had even more reason to kill the fool.
“I will speak to my daughter alone,” Ross said to the surprise of everyone, especially Hannah.
“No!” Slain said with such force it sounded like an edict.
“You deny me to speak with my daughter?” Ross accused.
“I deny you to speak with her alone,” Slain corrected.
“I agree with the savage,” Nial said, “she may try to do you harm. I will stand by your side and protect you.”
This time it was Hannah who spoke, though her tone was even. “No, I will speak with my father alone.” She turned to Slain, slipping her hand out of his to rest on his arm. “Please, husband, grant me this.”
Slain had asked his wife to trust him and he needed to do the same for her. “I will remain close by, if you should need me.”
She turned a soft, grateful smile on him.
Nial dismounted along with her father and they exchanged low, angry words until her father finally walked away from him and approached her.
Hannah turned as he neared her and walked a distance away from Slain, her father following.
Though the distance was short, Slain had a difficult time with it. He did not believe MacFillan would do his daughter harm. She was too useful to him, a pawn in a game he intended to win. Still, he did not like leaving his wife vulnerable in any manner and alone with her father left her susceptible enough. The man could be vicious with words and words could sometimes leave far deeper scars than wounds to the body, and sometimes they never healed.
“I should have taken my hand to you years ago, then you may have been a more obedient daughter, though I have my doubts. You are far too obstinate,” Ross said when they stopped not far from the keep.
“Like you?” Hannah asked, having had expected unkind words from him, not that they did not hurt. They seemed to confirm what she always believed, that her father cared little for her.
“Watch your tongue or I will do what I should have done,” he warned.
“I would be careful, Father, my husband would not take kindly to you raising your hand to me.”
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