“Weel, few will say aught about me or Fergus,” said Colin. “I am nay sure that e’en Hervey would. We are just shepherds, aye? Hervey doesnae look down that far. Probably afraid he will fall off his horse.”
Jankyn laughed and shook his head. “If ye feel that sure ye willnae be in much danger if ye suddenly appear within the walls of Rosscurrach then ye must go. One mon may be enough if Fergus isnae wanting to slip inside that snake pit.”
“Oh, I go where Colin goes,” said Fergus. “If he gets me killed I will just follow him where’er he goes after and keep whining about how ‘tis all his fault my promising young life was cut so short.” He grunted when Colin rapped him on the head with his knuckles but then grinned. “Dinnae ye worry none, laird,” he said to Heming. “We will make verra sure that a lot of the fellows inside the keep’s walls find somewhere else to be when the fighting starts.”
“Are ye sure they will be so willing to let me slip in?” asked Heming. “Dinnae they think I am a soul-sucking demon?”
“Nay, most dinnae e’en ken ye were locked up down there,” said Colin. “Ye were the laird’s special prisoner and he was seeking secrets for his own use, aye? Nay e’en for his people, just for him. Nay, the men I be thinking of will be willing to join ye as long as I assure them that ye are hardworking and nay a cruel bastard who beats people just to see how the blood runs off their back when he is done.”
“Fair enough.”
“They will also do it to have the lass ruling aside ye.” Colin grinned widely when Heming gave him a mock glare.
“And that too is fair enough although I wouldnae go promising that as we dinnae ken if her father made any such command ere he died. No one seems to argue the fact that Hervey was the old laird’s heir. Could be because Hervey has hidden a few truths or could be because he really is the laird.”
Peter nodded. “True. He could be. But, I dinnae think anyone will complain about who is the laird so long as it isnae Hervey.” He then looked at Heming and his father. “How will ye make the journey? ‘Twas easy enough to find ye a place to tuck yourself away when the sun was high, but I dinnae think we can find that many hiding places if ye intend to bring such a large host of your kin.”
“Dinnae worry on that, Peter,” said Jankyn. “We ken how to do it. It may nay be the fastest way, but it will serve to get many of us there.” Jankyn looked at his son. “So, do we leave in an hour or do ye wish to wait until the morrow?”
“In an hour,” said Heming, even as he thought that was far too long to wait.
“I just had me a thought,” said Colin, blushing when everyone looked at him.
“Tell me, Colin,” Heming said when embarrassment apparently silenced the man. “Several times ye have seen something I have missed so I am interested in what ye have thought about.”
“Weel, I was just thinking on how ye fought Hervey and his men when they took Mistress Brona. I am thinking we had best tell the men that, if they dinnae want to die for Hervey Kerr, they had best get out of Rosscurrach and stay hidden for a wee while. If your kin fight as ye do, there are some who may turn on ye and yours in their fear.”
Heming stared at Colin for a moment before exchanging a look with his father. When Jankyn nodded faintly, Heming knew his father was thinking just what he was. Colin might appear to be a genial shepherd, a man with more brawn than wit, but there was obviously a sharp mind beneath that tangled hair and it would be a good idea to put such a man, such a loyal man, in a position of authority. If it turned out that Brona would become the heir if Hervey died and she married, Heming would certainly keep Colin out of the fields and set at his side.
The moment Jankyn left to finish a few preparations, Colin frowned at the door and then looked at Heming. “Is he really your father and the wee lass is really your mother?”
“Aye and aye,” replied Heming. “I told ye, Colin, we dinnae age verra fast.”
“Wheesht, it doesnae look like ye age at all. I thought ye said your mother and the laird’s wife were Outsiders.”
“Aye, they are. They are Callans. They do live long lives.”
“Mayhap they do, but I doubt they dinnae look a day o’er twenty when they are old enough to have sons your age.”
Heming just stared at Colin and then looked toward the door his father had just walked out of, briefly considering chasing the man down and asking a few hard questions. “I ne’er gave it much thought,” he murmured, looking back at Colin, “but ye are right. It makes no sense. When she and her sister said they lived long lives, they meant ninety or a wee bit more, nay long-lived as we are. Weel, the moment this is settled, I will sit my mother down and try to find out what is going on. What made ye think on that?”
“I was thinking of the lass. She isnae a MacNachton and I suddenly worried about how she may feel kenning she will age when ye dinnae. Not a thing any woman can think about with ease, I be thinking.”
“How true. Weel, another problem to solve. Just remind me of it when this is all done and over. At the moment, I find it hard to recall anything except for the need to get my Brona away from Hervey and Angus.”
“Then we had best get moving. We wouldnae want your Brona to think ye arenae going to save her, would we.”
Watching the three snickering men who were fast becoming his very good friends walk out of the room, Heming had to fight to resist the strong urge to give each one a swift kick in the arse.
“These are verra clever things,” said Peter as he ran his hand over the side of one of the covered carts the MacNachtons used to travel in during the day.
“Aye,” agreed Heming, taking a drink from his wineskin and handing it to Peter. “One learns to be clever when one can only see the sun as poison.” Seeing how Peter very carefully took a sip of wine, Heming grinned. “‘Tis naught but pure wine, Peter. I wouldnae serve ye the other. I only drink it now and then as I dinnae have to have any blood for a fortnight or more after I feed. I can go longer, but it isnae always comfortable to do so.”
“Hurts does it? Like hunger pangs?”
“Nay. If one goes too long without, it can feel as if ye have a belly full of broken glass.”
“Ach, nasty.” He took a long drink of wine and smiled politely at Jankyn when Heming’s father joined them. “We made verra good time and I didnae think we would with the carts and all.”
Jankyn nodded. “They arenae as fast as one would like them to be, but they mean we can travel during the day as weel as the night. ‘Tis why we are in but a few miles of Rosscurrach. All one needs are men who can drive them during the day.”
“‘Tis hard, isnae it, nay being able to be out in the sun?” asked Peter and then he frowned and shook his head. “Pardon. That isnae any of my business.”
“‘Tis nay hard to guess the answer to that,” said Jankyn. “Aye, it can be hard, especially when one is wed to someone who loves the sun. But, when one has kenned no other way, one doesnae think about it too often. ‘Tis good, however, to see that our children begin to ease out from beneath the burden of that.”
“Mayhap whate’er bairns Brona and I have will be able to endure e’en more of it than I can.” Heming grimaced. “I can see the good in losing some of what makes us MacNachtons, but I do worry about losing some of the other things.”
“Like being able to pick grown men up like they are naught but thistledown and toss them about?” asked Peter with a grin. “Me, Fergus, and Colin near forgot to keep fighting just to watch that.”
“Aye, things like that.” Heming looked toward Rosscurrach and felt his belly knot with fear for Brona. “Berawald should be returning soon, shouldnae he?”
Jankyn patted Heming on the shoulder. “Aye, he will return soon and then we shall go and fetch your mate. Dinnae let her fate prey on your mind so. Think only of how ye will soon have her back.”
“‘Tisnae easy. She is terrified of her cousin and Angus. They are both brutal men and they think she has betrayed them. Angus also lusts after her. Lust and anger mak
e a verra dangerous brew.”
“We arenae so verra far behind them, son. And dinnae forget, the lass had the wit to get ye all out of her cousin’s dungeons, hide ye away, and then get ye out of the keep. They must also ken that ye will be coming with an army and they will be too busy readying for that to do much with her.”
“True. I will try to remember that.” He tensed as he watched a tall, slim man ride into the camp. “Berawald.”
It was not easy, but Heming stood silently as Berawald joined them and had a drink of wine to clear the dust from his throat. Berawald was a slender, almost beautiful man, with long flowing black hair and deep blue eyes. He always looked distracted and one quickly learned that was because, to him, the veil between the living and the dead did not exist. His world was filled with the spirits of the dead. Heming sometimes wondered if there was something about the man that attracted those spirits.
When Berawald fixed his dreamy gaze on Heming, Heming asked, “What did ye find out?”
“Your lady is alive,” Berawald said, his voice soft, deep, and almost musical.
Heming went weak at the knees at the news but struggled to quickly regain his composure. “The keep is weel fortified?”
“Aye and nay. There are many men on the walls but verra few wish to be there. Fergus and Colin have already slipped inside and I believe that verra soon the number of men on the walls will greatly lessen. ‘Tis a verra haunted place, which may be something ye shouldnae tell your mate.”
“I wish ye hadnae told me,” Peter muttered, and smiled faintly when Jankyn grinned at him.
“I think many of them will move on when Hervey is killed. There are some with a lot of hatred toward that mon for he is responsible for their deaths. I told them that men are coming to send the mon to hell so I dinnae think there will be any trouble from them. Your way in is clear. It hasnae been discovered. Once the number of men upon the walls thins out, I think ye can slip in unseen.” He frowned. “I fear Colin and Fergus werenae verra pleased with my methods of discovering if the way in was safe for them. Colin feels that spirits ought not to be troubling the living and he didnae want me to tell him who they were as he said he knew some of the ones who had died in the keep and he didnae want to ken that they were still lurking about. Said it would make him nervous. Trying to see him naked or something like that.” Berawald smiled when the men laughed and then shrugged. “‘Tis safe to go in the way ye came out and that is all that matters, aye?”
“Aye.” Heming looked at his father. “How long do ye think we should wait ere we start to go inside?”
“Give Colin and Fergus a half an hour and then we will start toward Rosscurrach. It isnae that easy to convince men to give up their posts and mayhap e’en betray an oath made to the laird. Thank ye, Berawald. Do ye arm yourself and join us or has surveying the keep taken too much of your strength?”
“Nay, I shall go with ye.” Berawald hurried off to arm himself.
Peter nodded and said, “Best I make sure I am readied for battle as weel.”
The moment the men were gone, Jankyn looked at Heming. “I ken ye have said Brona Kerr is your mate, but do ye love the lass, son?”
“Are they nay one and the same?” asked Heming.
“Nay always. Sometimes the mating comes first and the love must be nurtured and grown.”
“Mine is full grown.”
“Good. I used to scoff at love until I met your mother. I felt the mating urge ere I admitted that it was more, much more. I but wished to be sure that ye had passed beyond the She is mine part of it all. When ye do speak to her of marriage I suggest ye use the love word and dinnae speak only of mates and mating. Women dinnae see that often, in a mon’s eyes, ‘tis the same. To them the word mate reeks too much of the word breeder.”
Heming nodded. “I can see that. Weel, I believe I am all prepared to go, but I think I, too, will take a moment to be sure. And then we shall go and get my Brona back so that I can stumble my way into getting her to agree to marry me.”
Nine
Brona heard someone groan and a moment later realized it was coming from her. She slowly opened her eyes and looked around. It took a little while for her vision to clear enough for her to know where she was, as her head was throbbing so hard she felt as if she would empty her belly at any moment. When she realized she was in her own bedchamber at Rosscurrach she nearly wept. This was the very last place she wanted to be.
Memories flooded her mind. Angus had yanked her out of her hiding place amongst the brambles. She had tried to fight him but there had been no breaking his grasp. As he had thrown her over the saddle of his horse, she had seen a bloodied Heming fighting to get to her. Her attempts to get free to go to him or at least run away and let him put all of his attention back onto the battle for his life had ended with a hard punch to the head. If she had become conscious at any time between then and now she could not remember it.
Was Heming still alive? She felt her heart twist painfully at the mere thought that that brief moment when she had seen him fighting to reach her would be the very last time she ever saw him. A part of her tried to tell her that it was all her fault he was dead or severely injured but she knew that was just the shock and fear talking. She had done exactly as he had asked and she had been attacked from behind. Nor was there any way she could have gotten away from a man the size of Angus.
What she needed to do now was push all thought and concern about Heming to the back of her mind. She was back in Rosscurrach and that meant she was in the hands of her cousin and Angus. Her cousin probably wanted her dead or beaten to within an inch of her life and Angus wanted to marry her and bed her. Angus was probably not very concerned about which came first. The mere thought of that man touching her made her shiver with revulsion. Brona did not even want to consider what the man would do to her when he discovered she was no longer a virgin. Thinking of such things would only make her panic and she knew she had to clear her thoughts of everything except a way to escape.
Feeling horribly thirsty, she attempted to slowly get up only to discover that she was tied very securely to her bed. She could think about escape all she wanted to but she was not going anywhere. With her wrists secured to the posts at the head of her bed and her ankles secured to the posts at the bottom, she could not even move enough to reach the knots securing her. Brona supposed she should not be surprised. She had escaped them once and they were not complete fools. She also doubted anyone would feel merciful enough to slip into her room and cut her loose. Most of the people at Rosscurrach were terrified of making Hervey or Angus angry.
Closing her eyes and fighting the urge to just lie there and weep until she lost consciousness, Brona tried to make a plan. Any plan would do. The chances of any plan she came up with working were undoubtedly very small but she needed something to cling to in order to maintain her sanity. Then again, perhaps Angus would no longer want her if he thought she had lost her mind. She inwardly shook her head over the idiocy of that thought. Angus wanted something and felt he could get it by marrying her. She could become a drooling, babbling idiot and he would still drag her before a priest. He would just lock her securely away after the wedding.
There was nothing she could do, she thought, and felt a huge wave of utter despair wash over her and try to drag her down. She did not have any way to free herself. Her only friends were either dead or wounded and unable to come after her. No one else would know where she was, not even her aunt, who might care enough to try and help her. It was no use thinking of how to escape or hoping for someone to help her escape. Brona took a deep breath to try and steady herself. What she had to do was try to think of some way to protect herself from Angus and Hervey. She had done it before, although not perfectly. Surely she could think of ways to do it again, at least until she found some way to flee them all over again.
“I am nay sure all of this preparation for war is necessary, Angus,” said Hervey as he sat down at the head table and poured himself some wine.
&
nbsp; “It may prove to be a waste of time, but I would rather have the men taking useless watches than have the MacNachtons sneak up on us in the night,” said Angus as he sat down on Hervey’s right and helped himself to some wine. He finished off one tankard in several deep gulps and then poured himself another. “We tortured and humiliated one of their own and are a threat to their clan. I think that is enough to make them attack us unless they are all craven cowards, and I didnae get that feeling from Sir Heming when he was our guest.”
Hervey cursed and thumped his fist on the table. “Damn my cousin for this. What possessed her to set the mon free? He certainly wasnae verra handsome when we were done with him, so it cannae be that she was lured into helping him because of his bonnie face.”
“She probably just felt sorry for the mon. Look at that ugly dog she took in and treats like a child. Aye and that useless cat of hers. She probably saw him as just another poor animal that needed to be rescued.” He shook his head. “She has too soft a heart and he used that to make her help him.”
“The mon was nearly dead. I cannae believe he could e’en have talked to her. I also dinnae understand why she let Peter free or those two idiot brothers.”
“Probably to help her with a mon who was nearly dead.”
“Probably. There is one thing we must certainly get her to tell us and that is how she got everyone out of here.”
Angus looked at Hervey and inwardly shook his head. The man pouted like a bairn when he did not get his way. Although Hervey had an admirable cruel streak and excelled at terrifying and torturing a man once that man was securely tied, chained, or imprisoned, he was almost useless at planning for a war that Angus was sure was coming their way. And this would be a war with people who were said to have some very strange and deadly powers. Angus could not understand how Hervey could doubt for one minute that the MacNachtons would be coming to get revenge for what they had done to Sir Heming MacNachton. After seeing the way the man fought, Angus wished he had ways to make the keep even more secure. Any man who could toss grown men around as if they weighed no more than a bairn made a formidable foe and was not someone who could be shrugged aside. The very last thing he wished to be was a meal for a MacNachton. His soul might be black as a moonless night but it was his and he wanted to keep it.
Highland Thirst Page 10
