TAYG EXCUSED HIMSELF, promising to return soon. He tucked his drum into its carry sack and laid it next to his belongings, which sat in a corner of the hall. He dared not take his things with him as Dogface watched him carefully. He worked his way toward the end of the hall leading to the privies. He did not think Dogface would follow him there, especially if he thought Tayg was returning immediately.
But he wasn’t, of course.
He had to find Catriona. He needed to know what she was up to. He couldn’t chance her falling into Dogface’s hands. Her future, and the king’s, depended upon it. He didn’t want to think about the order of his concerns at the moment.
He exited the dark confines of the castle into the snowy, deserted bailey. The storm had increased, and the snow whipped about him as it was driven by the wind from the night-dark sky. Tayg shivered. He should have taken the long way through the castle corridors instead of cutting across the open bailey. But he didn’t want to waste the time.
They were going to have to leave now, without his bags, for he could not risk returning to the hall. He had been safe from Dogface’s questions so far, but soon all would seek their beds and he would be left to explain why he was traveling with the man’s intended and taking her and Dogface’s missive to the king.
’Twould be simpler if he could just abandon her here. That would distract Dogface long enough for Tayg to get away. The king would still be warned of the plot against him. Whether or not he had Cat as a hostage wouldn’t matter that much.
But he couldn’t abandon her. There was something about her that pulled at him. Despite her prickly behavior there were moments when he spied the woman underneath. She used her temper like a suit of armor, but every once in a while…he remembered lying atop her after their tumble down the snowy hill that morning, her mouth moist and inviting, her twilight-blue eyes twinkling and her pale skin flushed.
He shook himself and pulled his plaid about him. ’Twould not do to dwell on such things. The king would decide her fate, and he was sure ’twould include marriage to someone who could control the wayward MacLeod clan. He was destined to lead his own small clan, ’twas his duty, and hers. They would see their duty done.
Tayg started toward the tower where Kester had escorted Cat earlier. Just as he reached the middle of the bailey a commotion at the gate made him stop. Five riders erupted from the gatehouse clad so heavily in snow-blanketed skins and woolens they looked like little more than great hulking lumps upon their mounts.
“You there!” one of the lumps shouted at him.
He looked the snowy furs over. Something about these men made him wary. He stood his ground and answered, “Aye?”
“Will you give us leave to bide here until the storm passes?”
The voice was almost familiar.
“’Tis not my place to grant such leave. I am but a traveling bard and a guest myself.” Tayg moved around them, keeping his distance and a veil of snow between them. “’Tis a bad night to be traveling.”
“Aye. Where is the chief?”
“I do not know, but his daughter is there,” he said, pointing at the great hall.
The largest lump dismounted, shaking snow from his mantle. “Are there many guests here this evening?” The hulk moved closer to Tayg.
“Aye.”
“Is there a lass amongst them, dark-haired and evil-tempered?”
The hair on Tayg’s neck rose, and all his senses sharpened. “Nay, none that I have seen.”
“Indeed.”
The way the man said “indeed” reminded him of Cat’s more caustic moments. No doubt these men were her brothers. It wasn’t bad enough that Dogface had found him, but now these great louts had too.
He watched as the hulk came nearer, circling Tayg as if sizing him up. The size of the man and the beady black eyes barely visible in the gloom made Tayg think ’twas probably Broc, based on Cat’s description, though ’twas possible another brother took the lead. Tayg tried to breathe evenly, keeping his stance ready but nonchalant. He must tread very carefully here and pray Cat didn’t choose this moment to make her whereabouts known. Of course she knew Dogface was in the great hall, so she might just do the right thing and stay hidden until he could sort this out.
“Well then,” Tayg said, flashing a false grin at the circling man, “I’ll find my bed then. The chief’s daughter is in the hall.” He pointed the direction. “Isobel is her name, and she’s a bonny lass who will no doubt welcome you to Duchally properly.”
He turned back the way he had been headed when the party entered the bailey. A sharp grunt from the hulk had him turning and reaching for his dirk, but the man crashed into him before he could pull it free of its scabbard. He hit the ground hard. The air whooshed out of his lungs. A fist crashed into his face. The man leaned over him, lifting him by his tunic front until they were nose to nose. Now Tayg could see the temper in the beady eyes.
“Who’s bed will you find, bard?”
Tayg said nothing.
“Do you not know who we are?” the huge man asked.
“Nay,” Tayg lied, holding fast to his feigned ignorance. “But I do not think the chief will take kindly to you attacking a guest to whom he has offered his hospitality.”
Tayg glanced around him at three other large men arranged about his head. He thought there had been five. Snow seeped into his clothes, dragging his thoughts away from counting hulks. The largest man still loomed over him. He would do well to talk his way out of this mess. Despite his battle training, he was out-fisted and outweighed by any two of them.
“You are the bastard who stole our sister away. Where is she, bard?” Now Tayg was certain this man was Broc MacLeod, Cat’s eldest brother, and he drove home his question with another fist to Tayg’s face. The other brothers were silent, though the fury could be plainly felt in the tension surrounding him.
“What say you?” Broc pulled him roughly to his feet, and Tayg began to look for an escape.
“I do not know the lass you speak of, and if she is evil tempered, why would anyone take her anyway?” He quickly noted that the fifth brother was there, though standing back from the others as if he only watched. “Is she a great heiress?” he continued. “An astonishing beauty? Well versed in bedding a man?”
The last earned him the angry outcry of the four brothers surrounding him. He realized the depth of his mistake when they began pummeling him with meaty fists. Tayg was no stranger to a good fight, and he landed a few well-aimed punches, bloodying at least one nose, splitting a lip on another, doubling one of them over with a vicious kick to the groin.
But he was badly outnumbered.
With a mighty backhand, Broc sent him spinning into the snow. Tayg pushed to his hands and knees. Blood dripped from his nose and lip, staining the snow. Before he could rise, a roughly shod foot landed squarely in his ribs, sending him sideways into more snow. Another kick landed just where the first one had. Pain knifed through his side, and he curled to protect his ribs from further abuse. Someone reached down and dragged him to his feet again, shoving him roughly against a stone wall.
Tayg gasped for breath as he watched the man’s arm slowly pull back, the fist clenched tightly, then speed toward his face. Just in time Tayg rolled to his right, feeling the wind of that punch just as he heard the dull crunch of fist against stone wall. A howl went up.
Tayg used the confusion of the howling man and the cover of thick snow and darkness to limp as fast as he could toward the nearest doorway. He was jerked to a stop by a hand in his hair. Another brother appeared in front of him and proceeded to rain punches to Tayg’s stomach and ribs. Tayg tried to defend himself, but there were too many of them. When the one punching him stepped back, the hair-grabber let go, dropping Tayg into a groaning heap at his feet.
“Now perhaps you’d like to tell us where Triona is,” Broc said, his voice low and menacing.
Tayg’s head hurt as he tried to decide if she was worth dying for. If the brothers took her back to As
synt, who would be harmed? Anyone within striking distance of Cat’s dark temper. And the king, he reminded himself. He tried to push himself to his knees, buying himself time. The king and Cat would be the worse for it.
His stomach clenched at the idea of Broc trussing Cat up to haul her home. His gorge rose at the idea of Dogface kissing her, bedding her…breaking her fiery spirit. Damn! Cat didn’t deserve that fate.
Tayg shoved himself to his feet, his fist swinging upward into Broc’s chin so hard the man was knocked off his feet and onto his arse. He turned and punched another in the gut and managed to land another fist to one of their noses, but there were too many. Quickly they had him pinned to the cold ground again, Broc kneeling atop him with his knee on his chest so Tayg could barely breathe.
“Where is she?” Broc demanded again.
If keeping Cat’s whereabouts a secret—not so hard to do, since he didn’t know where she was at this moment—kept her from Dogface and these rogues, he would keep his silence—or better.
“Do you mean that shrew who was at Fionn,” he gasped, “dark hair and a tongue like a well-honed claymore?” He sneered and hoped his face showed as much disdain as Broc’s did.
“She left Fionn with you,” one of the brothers said. Tayg didn’t take his eyes off Broc, though. It was clear who was in charge of this rabble.
“She did not. She disappeared during the evening. I left alone at dawn. ’Twas a braw lad she wandered off with.”
A kick to his side knocked the breath from him and made his vision go black for a moment.
“Truth, you bloody bastard. No one would go off with Triona.”
Tayg grunted his agreement.
“Where is our sister?” This from a brother who had said nothing so far. His voice was quieter, firmer than the others, and somehow more dangerous.
“What passes here?” a hesitant feminine voice called from the top of the steps leading from the great hall.
For a moment Tayg thought all was lost, but then he realized it was Isobel, not Cat, who called to them. He allowed himself a moment of relief as the men hesitated. One of them landed one last kick to his ribs before they all turned to face Isobel, blocking Tayg from her sight.
“What are…” She approached them slowly, peering around them when she got close enough. “Bard? Bard!” She barged around the men and knelt beside him.
“I’m fine, lass,” he said, slowly rising to his feet. “These lads mistook me for someone else.” He rubbed away the blood trickling from his nose with the back of his hand and tried to stay steady on his feet. He glared at Broc, daring him to sully his sister’s virtue by revealing the truth.
“You should find them a warm place in the hall,” Tayg said to Isobel. “I’m sure they will be grateful for a hot meal and plenty of ale.” He turned, needing to get away before he said something that would get them all in trouble.
“I shall send your sister to tend you,” Isobel called after him as she herded the brothers away from him.
He could well imagine the reaction of the brothers MacLeod to that remark. He raised a hand in a wave, but limped as fast as he could toward the far tower.
’Twas not the most heroic exit, but at least he was still walking.
For now.
CHAPTER TEN
CATRIONA PACED THE small confines of Isobel’s chamber. The fire did little to warm her, though sweat made her clothes stick to her. How had Dogface found her? Was it just coincidence, or was he after her? It didn’t matter. She would never marry the man. She must get away from here now and find the king. Immediately. But Tayg was still in the hall, entertaining her nemesis. Didn’t he know who Dogface was? Hadn’t Tayg seen him sitting right there in their midst? Nay, he was too busy flirting with Isobel.
She glared at the leather sack she had packed. Somehow she had to get Tayg out of the hall, and they had to escape before Dogface realized who the wimple-clad woman he had spoken to was. But Tayg-the-flirt wouldn’t come looking for her even if she had left precipitously. He was having too much fun. What did it matter if the man who could ruin her clan and her life sat across from him? He wouldn’t leave until he was ready. So she would have to convince him he was ready, but she couldn’t risk going back in there.
Face-to-face with Dogface once was too much. She wrapped her arms about her, trying to stop the trembling that had started in the pit of her stomach and was quickly spiraling out until her hands shook and her teeth chattered. That had been too close. She wouldn’t give Dogface another opportunity to figure out who she was.
If only there was someone she could send. Someone who would help her…
Isobel.
Isobel would help her. She had said they were friends. But Isobel was probably still in the hall herself, so that wouldn’t help. Catriona bit her lip to keep herself from wailing out loud. There was no one else to help her.
There was no one else to help her.
If the bard wished to stay there a minute longer, he could face Dogface all he wanted. He deserved as much. If she had to continue on alone, she would do just that. She didn’t need him. She could do perfectly well on her own.
She would leave now while Dogface was sitting addle-brained in the hall with Tayg and Isobel. No one would discover she was missing until morning.
If anyone would miss her at all.
The bard certainly wouldn’t. She should have known the kisses they had shared hadn’t meant anything. It was abundantly clear where his interest lay. If he could convince Dogface that he knew nothing of her, he would be safe. Even if Dogface did discover the truth, Tayg would tell him ’twas all her doing. She was daft and difficult and no one he’d ever willingly travel with. He’d be extraordinarily happy to rid himself of her company, just like everyone else always was.
And Dogface would believe him. What choice would he have since Tayg clearly spoke the truth?
Very well. She’d go alone. Tayg could take care of himself. He didn’t need her and she didn’t need him. She didn’t need anyone.
Catriona wiped her hand impatiently across her cheek where one fat tear had escaped. Tears were useless. It wasn’t like she’d never been betrayed before. She would live. She had little choice.
Catriona yanked on her confining wimple to cover more of her chin, donned her heavy cloak, grabbed her travel sack, and slipped out of the chamber.
The passageways were empty save for the eerie flickering of torchlight scattered here and there along the way. Everyone must still be gathered round Tayg, listening to his stories, surely not his songs. She tried not to think about the grin he’d have on his face, the waver in his voice when he got to a tricky part of a song, or how, when he told a story, his words could wind around her like a lover’s embrace, warming her, transporting her away from herself.
She swiped another errant tear from her cheek and called Tayg every evil word she had ever heard her brothers utter. Somehow, it didn’t help.
She made her way down the tightly turning stair, not bothering to silence her muttering.
“Where are you off to?”
Catriona froze then squinted into the darkness at the bottom of the stair.
“Were you leaving without me?” Tayg’s voice, laced with teasing, but something sharper, too, washed over her.
Relief surged through her. He hadn’t abandoned her. Hadn’t betrayed her…or had he? She tried to press the relief back until she was sure why he was here.
“Why aren’t you entertaining? ’Tis early yet for a bard to leave his hosts.” Catriona let all of her anger and fear loose in those few words. She moved slowly toward the bottom of the steps, keeping out of his reach, but trying to get a clearer look at his shadowed face. If she could see his eyes, she could tell his intent. She was sure of it.
“It seems you are sought after,” he said.
“And yet you dallied?”
Tayg leaned against the door, his face deeper in the shadows cast by the flickering light of the torch. “I was detained.”
Catriona flinched at the anger in his voice.
“You’d do well not to return to the hall,” he said.
“I’ve no intention—Tayg!” She watched as Tayg slowly slid down the door. Catriona dropped her bag and rushed to him, dropping to her knees next to him. “What happened?” she whispered, trying to control the shaking that was starting in her voice and rapidly spreading once more to the rest of her body.
Catriona reached out and smoothed his hair away from his face. She gasped at the damage she found. “Did Dogface do this?”
“Nay, not your betrothed.”
“He’s not—”
“Your brothers did this.”
She sat hard on the stone floor. “My brothers?” she whispered.
“It seems there are many who seek your company.”
“But none who want me.” Damn. Why did she say that? She did not want to sound so pitiful. “They have found us, all of them.”
“They have not. They have only found me. They do not know you are here, at least not yet. Unless Dogface recognized you.”
“I do not think so.” She lightly touched his cheek where the clear outline of a set of knuckles showed. “Why?”
“Why did they do this?” he said, wincing when she once more reached toward his battered face. “They suspect you are traveling with me. For some reason they did not believe me when I said I did not know you.” Half a grin peeked out of his bloodied lips.
“How dare they!” Catriona got to her feet and hauled Tayg to his. “You wait here. I’ll teach them to hurt my bard.” Her statement quivered in the air between them. “You would think they’d know me well enough to see this is my fault,” she said quickly, hoping he’d not noticed her rash words.
Tayg held her shoulders and forced her to look into his brown eyes. “Nay, lass. You do not want to go after them. Dogface is out there as well. Even with your formidable temper, they have the advantage over us in numbers.”
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