by Sondra Grey
Staring up at Lachlan he said, “If she’d left. Where would she go?”
The steward thought about it for a moment and shook his head helplessly. “To James, if she thought he might shelter her, but I cannot fathom why she might have done that…”
Adam closed his eyes. He could. He could not protect her, could not keep her from the Camerons, could not give her a child. She’d take her concerns to James, who might gift her with an annulment, find a husband who might be worthy of Annis and of Inveralt. No. He couldn’t think like that. Adam opened his eyes. “And if not to James?”
“She might go to her cousins; her father’s second cousins now reside in his manor in Glenfinnan. She might have gone there to seek support. But she does not know them well.”
“And where else?”
Lachlan shook his head. “Nowhere. She’s not travelled much but through this region with her father on occasion, when she was a girl. She’s been to Edinburgh, and the towns around Glenfinnan…”
“We’ll send riders to those towns,” Adam interrupted, impatient. “Simon, where the hell is Blaire!”
“Here,” said the young man, bursting into the room, breathless. Blaire was Adam’s runner. He was an adept and speedy rider, good at travelling unnoticed.
“Blaire, I need you to send missives to the king, and to my father at Duart and cousin at Argdour. And I need you, right now, to name me every Cameron holding you know of.”
Unfortunately, there weren’t many. There weren’t any that Blaire or Simon could name that Adam could not. And in the end, looking at their list, it seemed wholly improbable that they’d have taken Annis to any one of them.
“Get me MacNair, Brody, Michael, and Iough. I need riders to each of these castles. I want to know where the Camerons are keeping her.”
In the meantime, he’d go over the area surrounding Inveralt and then he’d head south. If her horse went South, there was a good chance that Annis was with that horse. And if not…well then Adam was going to find that blasted horse and figure out what happened to his wife.
Chapter 4
H er jailor’s name was Brandon. Black Brandon Cameron was so called not only for his dark looks, but for the black mark upon Lochiel Cameron’s house. For more reasons than one.
Not only was he bastard born, but he’d betrayed his brother Eudard to the Campbells, directly causing his death.
“I don’t feel a bit bad about it,” said Black Brandon, matter-of-factly. “Eudard was a terrible arsehole who deserved everything he got.”
There was more to the story, Annis was certain, but she dare not ask her captor.
It had been twelve days since her capture and she was beginning to despair. Brandon had informed her of the plan that Lochiel had concocted to get Inveralt under his thumb. No mistakes like last time. They had waited patiently for two months for Adam to and the Macleans to leave the estate….
“Your husband must be a complete fool to not realize what Lochiel was doing.” Brandon had said more than once. “Why, the Old Wolf had two men in Inveralt at all times, and has had one at Argdour for the past year…”
…Ewan, Ervyn, and Ned had gone in, abducted Annis, and made it look as if she’d left of her own accord. They had apparently taken food from the pantry, the horse from the stable, and clothes from Annis’ wardrobe. Then one of Ewan’s men had, apparently, ridden the mare south and sold it.
“The only conclusion to be drawn is that you left willingly. And now you’re here, on the Isle of Ruim. Even if Adam Maclean managed to figure out that you didn’t leave yourself, there’s no possible way he can track you here.”
Brandon didn’t brag, but spoke facts.
And as the second week passed and the third began, Annis was willing to believe that Brandon might be right.
“What is your stake in this?” she asked him one night, when he brought up her dinner and stayed to watch her eat it. She had a feeling that Brandon sat with her to pass the time.
“Mine?”
“You don’t seem like them,” she said, meaning his half-brother and friends.
Brandon’s smile was wry. “I’m not much better,” he said. He looked thoughtfully out the barred window, as if trying to figure out how to answer her. Annis wished he wasn’t so fine to look at. She was beginning to realize that she was susceptible to a handsome face. She liked looking at Brandon’s nearly as much as she liked looking at Adams.
“Do you know,” said Brandon, after a moment of silence. “That this is my third year on Ruim?”
Annis was going crazy after just fifteen days. She could barely fathom being stuck here for three years.
“You,” said Brandon, black eyes turning on her, staring at her appraisingly. “You are my way off this island. My father has struck a deal with me. Play his little game, and I can trade Ruim for Inveralt.”
Annis felt desperate for a moment. “You wouldn’t,” she said. “You’re not the type to take someone against their will. I know it.”
Brandon’s black brows rose in surprise. “You think you know me?” His smile at her was slightly sad. “You don’t.” His expression darkened. “I would do worse things to leave here. It’s best you remember that. I’m not afraid of your husband.”
He looked out the window again, lips quirking in a half-smile. “I cannot believe what a fool Adam Maclean is. He wasn’t such an idiot when I knew him.”
Before she could defend Adam, Brandon stood and departed the room without so much as a goodbye.
Annis watched the door swing behind him. And when it closed, she began to cry.
Chapter 5
I t had been a month. A month had gone by without word or sight of Annis and Adam was at his wits end.
She was not at Edinburgh. The king had sent messengers to Tor Castle and she was not there. His men had eyes on the Cameron property and there was not so much as a hint of Annis.
But a month had passed. Adam was frantic. He was convinced the Camerons had her. He had ridden with the King’s men to Tor Castle and looked old Lochiel in the face. The old man was practically gloating, and yet Adam could learn nothing.
After a month, she was either with child or she wasn’t. And if she was with child, would they kill her? If she wasn’t they would marry her to one of Lochiel’s get. Adam had men watching Tor, men watching Ewan, Ranald, and Douglas.
And he’d followed the horse’s trail south to no avail. He’d written letters, which he stuck in blacksmiths’ shops from Achnannellan to the lowlands, describing the horse, offering a reward to anyone who knew anything.
Two men had come forward, but both searches had been dead ends. Adam had paid them for their time. The third rider arrived right as Adam marked a month without his wife.
He was a thin man, who’d ridden from Geary, where his local blacksmith had told him of the reward for the horse. The man said that he was pretty sure Angus Hough, who owned a small farm south of Geary, was keeping Adams horse.
“But I couldn’t swear by it, sir. The horse you described was brown, with white forelegs. Angus called me out to doctor an abscess in this horse’s hoof. Picked up the foreleg and lanced the abscess, and only when I left did I realize that my hands were covered in a type of brown varnish, or polish, or something.”
“Meaning?” Adam snapped.
“That the horse’s legs had been painted,” said the man. “I’m out on Angus’ farm once a month to see to animals. This horse was new. I’d bet my life on it.”
“Will you take me there?”
“You’d have to pay me handsomely,” said the man. “Angus will find out that I’ve given him up to the Laird of Inveralt, and I’ll lose a handsomely paying customer.”
And so, Adam had paid handsomely and now found himself riding an hour through Creagan, five Macleans in tow, and arriving at a small farm.
Adam saw the horse immediately. His informant had been correct. It was Adam’s horse, but with painted forelegs.
The farmer came striding out, eyes wi
de when he saw the contingent of large and well-armed Macleans.
“Gentlemen,” said the farmer, nervously. He was a man of middle age with a hard stomach and burst veins in his cheek. “Can I help you?”
Adam dismounted and pointed to the horse over in the paddock. “You can tell me what you know about the man who sold you that horse. If you’re honest with me, I’ll let you keep the horse and a reward. But if I think you’re lying, my men and I will gut you here and now and deal with the magistrate later.”
The farmer blanched, but took one look at Adam’s face, eyes lingering on his scar, and he started talking.
“The man I bought it from is a horse thief,” he said. “We grew up together in Creagan, but he left to find work in the north.”
“Who employs him?”
“One of The Cameron’s sons.”
Triumph and relief (she hadn’t left him) were followed quickly by fear and dismay (they’d had her for a month).
“Listen carefully,” said Adam. “And answer truthfully. That horse thief was working for Ewan Cameron, who abducted my wife over a fortnight ago. They rode that horse down here to make it seem as if she’d left of her own accord. What do you know of it?”
The man swallowed and Adam took a menacing step forward. He knew something. “My friend told me a bit of the plan. I’d said as how he’d had a long ride from Tor, and he said he hadn’t come from Tor, but from out near Glenfinnan. I asked what he was doing, selling a horse this far down. He told me as how he was instructed by one of Lochiel’s brood to ride the horse and sell it where it wouldn’t be found.”
“And then what?”
“He asked where he might steal a good horse nearby, as he was supposed to be meeting his party in Portnaig.”
Portnaig? Portnaig was technically still Maclean land, a small port town south of the Isle of Skye.
“Anything else,” said Simon from over to Adam’s left. Adam glanced at his squire and then back at the man, who was shaking his head. “I didn’t ask any more questions.”
Adam closed his eyes, trying to tamp down the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. Reaching into his saddlebag, he pulled out a small purse and tossed it to the man who fumbled with it, ultimately letting the purse fall at his feet, coins spilling out.
Adam watched, disgusted, as the man fell to his knees. But this wasn’t Ewan Cameron. He would save his wrath to spend on the one who deserved it.
Annis stared down Black Brandon, whose only sign of frustration was a slight tick in his right jaw.
She held out her hands helplessly. “It’s always been irregular,” she lied. “Women aren’t clocks. We’re not tides. Someone women bleed every twenty-one days. Others bleed every three months…
“Did you know that the Camerons employ your maid, Morgana. She told us you last bled two weeks before Ewan brought you here. So by your count that is six weeks, the moon has waved and waned and waxed again, and you’ve not bled.”
Annis stared at him, shaking her head. “It means nothing.”
Brandon nodded to her. “Unfortunately, it will mean something to Ewan, who will arrive any day now to see for himself whether you are to be a Cameron. I’ve already sent him word that your flux has not come.”
“What will he do?” asked Annis, who refused to tremble before Brandon.
“We’ll find out when he gets here.”
“Please,” said Annis, refusing to clutch her stomach. “You can’t be so cruel as to leave me to his mercy!”
Brandon had snorted. “You think there is anything I can do? You forget, Lady Inveralt, that I am a prisoner myself.”
“You could lie. You could tell him…”
“And you would grow big with Maclean’s child. I’d be a dead man. No, lady, I cannot help you.”
Tears had slipped down Annis’ cheek then. Brandon couldn’t stay to watch her weep, and so he left.
The Macleans spread out through Portnaig, calling at the inn near the small dock, knocking on the doors of village, looking for anyone who had seen Ewan Cameron, or a young woman… No one had.
And so, the Macleans rode. They rode to Rhumach and Keppoch before turning and riding down to Lochail. And it was at Lochail that they found answers.
Yes, said an old woman collecting cockles down by the sea’s edge. She was there often and did, one month ago, chance to see a boat returning to the dock, and in it a man matching the description Adam gave her.
“There was no young woman with them,” said the lady. There were just three men, but they weren’t from around here.
“Where might they be going?” asked Simon, thinking aloud.
“There are a few boats that leave from here,” said the old woman. “Most are fishing boats, but some head for the isles.”
“What do you know about these isles?” asked Adam, trying not to seem overly eager. “How many are there? Who inhabits them?”
“I’ve never visited,” said the woman. “But there are three larger isles that used to be Norse lighthouses. From what I’ve heard, they’re dark places, coated in mist. The old gods keep their presence there.”
“Lighthouses,” said Simon.
“Three isles,” said Adam. He looked at the old lady and handed her a gold piece. “Madame, are there lighthouses on all of the isles?”
But the woman couldn’t help him further. What they needed was a boat, and the tides to turn in their favor.
Chapter 6
A nnis heard Ewan before she saw him. It was difficult to see anything in the mist that seemed to constantly coat the isle. Only twice had the sun shone n on Ruim. Those two days, Annis hadn’t seen hide or hair of Brandon. However, his burnt countenance the following days were evidence enough of where he’d been.
“Is it true?” She heard Ewan’s voice, slightly higher and a bit more nasally than Brandon’s. She couldn’t hear Brandon’s response, but the men had entered the tower and the thick stone walls swallowed sound.
Annis cupped in her abdomen. There was no swelling yet, and yet she knew with certainty that she was pregnant. She closed her eyes, panic rising at the thought that Ewan Cameron, the man who’d cut her husband’s face, was here to deal with her.
She paced the small confines of her room, squeezing her eyes shut, straining to hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs, but for an hour she heard nothing.
Then they came. Brandon’s unhurried, measured tread, and the sound of others. Annis didn’t realize it, but she’d pressed herself back against the far wall. It took all of her courage to stand away from it. To stand straight as the door opened, revealing Brandon, Ewan, Ervyn, and Ned.
Ewan looked on her with disgust. “Is it true?” he demanded.
Annis took a deep breath. “Is what true?” she asked, happy that her voice did not shake.
Behind Ewan, she saw Brandon give her an inscrutable look.
“Is it true. You’re with child?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice coming out breathless. For a split second, she thought that Brandon had lied for her, that he’d told Ewan that her flux had come. But no. Brandon wasn’t altruistic, and as her heart sank, she couldn’t blame him. If she’d been trapped here for three years, there was no telling what she might do to leave.
Ewan swore and strode up to her, Annis found herself backing away, but there was nowhere to go as his hand flew, landing a sharp, ear-ringing slap against her cheek.
Annis fell sideways, knocking onto the bed and falling to the floor.
“That’s enough,” said Brandon sharply. “You cannot blame the girl.” When Ewan turned to snarl at him, Brandon smiled smugly. “After all,” he said. “Maclean is a handsome man, even with that scar you gave him. I’d have found it hard to resist him, myself.”
The look Ewan gave his half-brother could have peeled paint from a barn. Annis clutched her throbbing cheek and stared at the men, unable to hide her fear.
“You’ve spoken to father,” said Brandon, mildly. “What is it that he recommen
ds?”
Ewan stared at Annis with loathing. “The King has sent men to France, and there’s talk throughout the highlands of expelling the English presence while their forces are split. James is gathering his Chiefs. The Macleans will be too busy summoning their forces to the King to hold Inveralt. And by the time the English are through with James, there will be no army to gainsay the Camerons. We don’t need her.”
“Then you will let her go,” asked Brandon, mildly.
“No, of course not. She’s a liability now, and her child might one day contest the Cameron claim to Inveralt. No. We kill her.”
“And risk the wroth of James? He’s her guardian.”
“For all anyone knows, she left Inveralt of her own accord. They’ll not trace her disappearance to us.”
Cold fear swept through Annis. Her hands clenched around the foot of the small bed as she stared up at the men, speaking about her as if she weren’t even there.
“Shall we do it now, Ewan?” asked Ervyn, eyeing her speculatively, his hand going to the dirk at his belt.
“I’d appreciate you not spilling blood in this tower.” Said Brandon, quickly.
Ewan rolled his eyes. “Have you grown superstitious in your captivity?”
Brandon’s smile was cold. “You might too, if you lived on an island inhabited by the old gods. But no. I’ll not have her haunting me through my days. If you want to kill her, you’ll not do it on Ruim.”
“You’ll not tell him what he can and cannot do,” said Ervyn, his voice matching Brandon’s for mildness. He lifted his dirk and picked his fingernails with it, the warning clear.
“We’ll throw her off the cliffs and be done with it,” said Ned, Scornfully.
Ewan raised his eyes heavenward, as if praying for patience. Then he strode forward and gripped Annis by her hair. “Come, you,” he said.
Annis fought him. She curled her hand and raked it upwards, catching Ewan’s face as he bent down to haul her up.
