Highland Devotion (The Band of Cousins Book 7)

by Keira Montclair

  She squirmed in the pile of furs the men had put down for the two women, turning on her side. While the furs were better than lying directly on the hard ground, they couldn’t compare to the bed she’d shared with her sister at home. Heather-filled and fragrant, she could sink into it and fall asleep in an instant.

  Sleep eluded her this eve. She rolled onto her side facing Sela, accidentally brushing Sela’s hand with her own in the dark.

  That was a mistake.

  Sela bolted up from her spot, jumped out from under the furs, screaming and swinging her arms, yelling one word over and over again.

  “Spider, spider, kill the spiders. Someone, please.”

  The woman looked to be in a trance, still flailing her arms and bellowing about spiders as she stamped her feet. Finally, she covered her head and wailed, long and loud and full of pain.

  “Sela, there are no spiders. I can’t see any.” She looked at the covering and didn’t find anything at all.

  Her assurances didn’t help. The gut-wrenching screams continued, and Linet couldn’t stand listening to her in such pain. She yanked on her hand. “Sela!” She shook the other woman’s arm until ice-blue eyes met her gaze. “There are no spiders.”

  Sela’s hands came up to her face as though she needed to hide from everything. Linet reached for her shoulder, but the woman shoved her away. “I’m fine. Don’t touch me.”

  “Are you afraid of spiders? Did something happen in your past?”

  “Nay. Why ask me such a ridiculous question? I can squash a spider with my hands. I thought there was a snake in my furs.” She spun on her heel and headed into the forest.

  The woman couldn’t hide her uneven breathing from the fright she’d just had, but Linet wasn’t about to press her.

  One of the guards approached her and whispered, “’Tis not the first time, lass. Just ignore her. Go back to sleep. You’ll need your rest by tonight. We’ll be in Edinburgh by mid-afternoon.”

  His comment sent a bolt of fright through her.

  Why would she need her rest for their first night in Edinburgh?

  Chapter Five

  Gregor and Connor left for Edinburgh shortly after arriving at Ramsay land, taking a dozen guards with them. They stopped to tend their needs mid-day.

  “Do you think Maggie and Will have left yet?” Connor asked, chewing on mint leaves.

  “Nay, they were both hurt more than they confessed. Will especially had a great deal of pain in his legs. And I doubt Maggie would push her sire to travel before he was ready.”

  “Aye, Uncle Logan looked verra bad, but he did make it to Inverness from Grant land.”

  “True,” Gregor replied. “But he was driven by the powerful need to see we were all hale. Once he set eyes on Maggie and Gavin, I think he relaxed. During the battle, he willingly stayed back to protect Merewen. He needs time to recover—whether he’ll admit it is another matter.”

  They’d stopped near a burn to water the horses. Gregor listened to the sounds of the forest—the calming sound of running water, the rustling of the leaves not as strong as usual because autumn had come and gone. Pine trees swayed with the wind, but many animals had already gone into hibernation. They’d barely seen any squirrels, although a few scurried about to gather leaves to line their dens.

  It was a reminder that winter was around the corner. They’d do well to act quickly and crush the remnants of the Channel now. Otherwise, the cruel organization would have time to reorganize, something they did not want.

  There was a distinct lack of any sound of horses nearby. That pleased him as he wasn’t ready to test his new sword skills yet, since his shoulder muscles were still aching from his multiple practice sessions. Clouds hung low over the mountains they’d passed through, one of Gregor’s favorite sights in the Highlands. He loved to look back at the mountains from the vantage point of a wide meadow. He’d asked Connor to slow at one point on their trip back to Ramsay land, just so he could take a moment to soak in the wonders of Scotland.

  Connor settled onto a log, looking out at the water. “How long before Gavin convinces Merewen to follow us?”

  “You mean how long before Merewen convinces Gavin to follow us?” Gregor asked with a smirk.

  “True. I almost thought they would come along with us.”

  “Merewen is another one who hid her pain well. ’Twill be good for her to talk to her parents about Linet. When I spoke with them, neither one of them wanted to believe me.” The sense that he was missing something tickled at him. He agreed with his brother—Linet had chosen not to come back for a reason. They needed to find out why, and they needed to help her.

  Connor grunted. “I wouldn’t want to accept that my child didn’t wish to return to our clan. Not surprising on their part. I just hope we can find Linet and Sela if they’re in Edinburgh. We’re nearly there, though, so we should discuss where to start.”

  “Back in the underground. That’s where we’ll find them.” Sela had run the underground operation in Inverness, after all—fighting rings of men and women.

  Connor got up and moved to the edge of the burn, bending over to grab another clump of mint leaves. As soon as he did, an object flew past him, exactly where he would have been standing had he not bent over. He stood up and turned toward the source. “What the hell?”

  Gregor stood and retrieved his bow with one hand and his sword with the other. “That was a sizable rock meant to knock you daft.” He waved to the dozen guards they’d brought along to move into the periphery in the hopes they could come up behind the group of reivers. He prayed there were less than five.

  Another rock landed with a large plop near the tree next to them. Gregor motioned for Connor to go closer to where it had landed, a plan in his mind.

  Their satchel of food was on the opposite side of the clearing. Could that be what they were after?

  He slid behind a tree not far from the food. Connor, catching on to his game, made loud comments as he turned about in a circle, trying to draw the fools’ attention toward him. In a move that surprised both of them, two lads dropped out of the trees and headed straight for the food.

  They threw handfuls of stones directly at Connor, who was forced to duck from the assault. Had they been men, he might have gone after them with his sword, but they were naught but laddies, and unarmed but for the stones.

  Gregor caught them by surprise when he jumped out from behind the tree, grabbing one by the waist after he’d picked up a bunch of oatcakes and apples.

  Connor had to chase the second one, but he caught him, herding him back to the clearing to face the inquest.

  One of their guards, Owen, came over and whistled. “Lad, you made a big mistake going after these two.”

  They had worn their black clothing since they’d be operating as the Band of Cousins, not in their capacities as members of Clan Ramsay and Clan Grant. The guards didn’t wear their plaids either.

  Connor’s captive—quite thin with dark, unkempt hair—swung his fists at him, kicking everything he could. The red-headed lad Gregor had caught fought nearly as hard as his companion, but he was a wee bit smaller.

  “What brought you here?” Connor asked, holding the wriggling lad tight around the waist. “Tell me the truth and I’ll let you go.”

  “Naught. We just wanted the loaf of bread you were eating.” Even as he said it, he tried to break free.

  The second lad said, “We’re hungry. Please?” Scruffy as he was, he did have an honest look about him.

  Gregor reached down and grabbed a loaf of bread out of the satchel still on the ground and held it out near the lad’s face. “This? This is all you want?” The look of sheer want on the lad’s face gave him his answer. It struck him that both boys were quite thin. He set the boy down.

  “When was the last time you ate, lad?”

  “Why?” Connor’s boy said with plenty of attitude. “Stop asking us questions. Just give us some food and we’ll leave you be. Share. ’Tis what our Lord says.
We should share with others.”

  Connor set him on his feet and held him by the scruff of his neck. “Where do you live?”

  “We live in Edinburgh,” Gregor’s lad said. “And we have not eaten in two days. Please, my lord?”

  Now he was yanking on something inside Gregor’s gut. Hellfire, but did they have to look so thin? “We’ll give you the bread and the oatcakes if you stay and answer a few questions. If not, we have nearly a dozen warriors who’ll chase you down.”

  Connor’s lad said, “You won’t turn us over to the sheriff?”

  Connor shook his head, rubbed his chin, then said, “Nay, I’ll not turn you over to the authorities. What’s your name?”

  “Thorn.”

  Connor took his hand off the lad and reached for two oatcakes. He held them out, “Thorn, aye? Son of Thor?”

  The lad couldn’t take his eyes off the oatcakes.

  “One more question. What clan?”

  Thorn locked gazes with Connor and said, “Clan Grant. Alexander Grant is my sire.”

  Chapter Six

  Gregor exchanged a glance with his cousin, now doing his best to hide his smirk. The lad had certainly lied, but why? He decided to push the issue a bit more.

  He grabbed the lad near him and asked, “And your name?”

  “Nari. Son of Loki.”

  Gregor was so shocked he couldn’t speak for a moment. Then he said, “Son of Loki. Hmmm…Loki Grant is your sire?”

  Nari looked at him as if he were a fool. “Nay, son of Loki the Norse god. I’m from Clan Ramsay.” He nodded emphatically as if it would convince them to believe his lie.

  This could prove entertaining.

  Owen came up from behind the group, a shocked expression on his face. “Did I just hear him say he’s from Clan Ramsay?”

  Gregor held his hand up to Owen, letting him know he was not to correct the lad. He glanced at Connor and had to look away lest he give up the jest—his cousin was covering his mouth, barely holding in his laughter.

  Gregor spoke first, careful to hide his amusement by pursing his lips and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “So, one of you is from Clan Grant and the other from Clan Ramsay, yet you travel together? Why are you not with your respective clans?”

  Thorn lifted his chin and said, “My sire sent me out to see what was happening in Edinburgh. I’m to report back soon. We’re headed in that direction now.” He crossed his arms, imitating Gregor, and even pursed his lips in the same fashion.

  Nari moved closer to his friend, as if to borrow his confidence. He was clearly younger and not as quick with the lies as Thorn.

  “You lie. Both of you,” Connor said, crossing his arms in imitation of everyone else.

  He couldn’t have expected the reaction he got. “Nay, I’m not a liar!” Thorn came at him swinging his fist.

  Connor caught him before he could inflict a single blow. “Whoa, lad. Don’t hit me or you’ll regret it. You are lying.”

  “Nay, I am from Clan Grant. You lie.”

  Gregor glanced at the lads’ dirty faces, their threadbare clothing, their thin builds, and Loki Grant jumped into his mind. Before he was adopted into Clan Grant, Loki had lived on the streets in Ayrshire. His adopted son, Kenzie, had also lived on the streets. Both of them had been forced to act tougher than their years to survive. Perhaps they’d gone about this the wrong way. He ran a hand down his face, wondering how he could make things easier on the two urchins. Wouldn’t he lie to feed an empty belly, especially if he were their age?

  Gregor glanced at his cousin and mumbled one word to Connor, “Kenzie.”

  Neither boy understood him, but the word had been spoken for Connor, whose entire countenance softened. Nevertheless, he pushed along. “You’re not wearing a Grant plaid, lad.”

  “This is an old Grant plaid, but ’tis faded.”

  “You’re wearing a green plaid. ’Tis not a Grant plaid.”

  Thorn didn’t lack in bravery. He took a step closer to Connor, likely the tallest man he’d ever seen, and tipped his head back to bellow at him. “How the hell would you know? You think you know so much? Wise arse comes into the burgh and thinks he’s wiser than the rest of us.” He then crossed his arms and stood in front of Connor, not willing to give in to him.

  Connor strolled over to his horse, then led the beast over to the lads so they could see the size of his destrier, far taller than any horses in Edinburgh.

  “Hell’s bones, where did you find that horse?” Nari whispered, staring up at the snorting beast.

  “My sire gave him to me.” Connor reached into his satchel at the back of his saddle. He tugged out a length of fabric and held it up in front of the two lads. “This is a Grant plaid, lad. Not what you have on.”

  Thorn did all he could not to show his fear, but Nari showed enough for both of them, his eyebrows nearly touching his hairline. His gaze lingered on Connor’s huge sword. “Thorn, you’ve crossed a Grant warrior. Please don’t kill us, my lord.”

  “We’ll not hurt you,” Connor said. He held the loaf of bread out to Thorn and said, “’Tis yours but you must sit on the log and tell us where you are truly from. No more lies.”

  Thorn peered over his shoulder at Nari, who quickly answered, “I’ll tell you all I know if I can have some bread. Please?”

  The two sat on the log, and Connor and Gregor perched on a couple of rocks across from them.

  Gregor waited until they’d had two bites each of the bread, just because it was so painful to see their hunger. How could one think when they were that hungry?

  “So tell us who you are truly, and tell us why you are on the outskirts of Edinburgh and not inside,” Connor said.

  Thorn looked at his friend and muttered, “I’ll tell them, Nari. Keep eating.”

  Gregor arched his brow at Connor. The lad was protective of his friend, an admirable quality.

  “My mama died birthing me,” Thorn continued. “Papa went off to sea. Said I could stay with Nari’s father until he returned.”

  Nari butted in to finish the tale. “’Cept he’s not coming back. Papa said his ship went under. He was one of the Dubh men.”

  Connor started to speak, but Gregor signaled for him to allow the lads to finish. He didn’t wish to shut down this conversation. Any lad whose sire was in the Channel of Dubh might just have knowledge to share.

  “My papa got mad because he and Thorn’s papa were friends, so he went to the Dubh men and never came back.”

  “How long ago was that, lad?” Gregor asked.

  “Two moons ago.”

  Thorn said, “We heard he was killed by a boar, but I don’t believe them. Nari’s sire could have killed a boar with his bare hands and he always had his sword.” The lad stared at the ground, chewing silently. “They lied to us. Everyone lies to us.”

  “Where’s your mama, Nari?”

  “I never knew my mama. I always lived with Papa.”

  “How many winters are you?” Gregor asked him.

  “I’m seven summers and Thorn is eight winters. He’s older than me.”

  The lads continued to eat, not offering any more information, so Gregor decided it was time to press them. Had the lads truly stayed out here on their own for two moons? The two could have been trampled, gored, and chewed up for dinner by any number of boars. “Look, I believe your answers, but why are you not in Edinburgh? Could you not live behind an inn, or work at the stables for a place to sleep? Wouldn’t it be safer?”

  They both shook their head violently, their eyes wide with fear. Even Thorn had dropped the tough act. “What are you afraid of?”

  Nari glanced at Thorn, who gave him a nearly imperceptible nod. “The Dubh men,” Nari whispered, his voice now trembling.

  “From the Channel of Dubh?” Connor asked.

  “Aye. They killed our sires, and they’re selling lads now. They almost got Nari, so I stole him back. Now we live out here in the forest. There’s a cave we sleep in over yonder.” Still p
rotective of his friend, he didn’t motion in that direction. No doubt he wished to keep it secret should they need to escape.

  Nari said, “But ’tis cold and hard, and we’re often hungry. Can we travel with you?”

  His hopeful gaze was like a stab in his gut. The Channel had harmed so many children. Too many to count. Kenzie and Steenie had nearly been sold along with many lasses. He couldn’t allow these two lads to risk their lives any longer.

  He tried to meet Connor’s eye, only to find his cousin was already looking at him. There was no need to ask him his thoughts. He nodded once, the movement precise.

  “Well, we don’t usually use them, but I’m in need of a squire,” Connor said. “We may have to travel into England after Edinburgh, so I could use an extra hand with my horse and other things.”

  Gregor decided to go along with Connor’s idea. It was the perfect way to help the lads without wounding their pride. “Nari, do you think you could act as my squire, and Thorn can be Connor’s? We’ll see you fed and find you a pallet at night. You have to be willing to travel, though, and you might have to split up for a short time.”

  “We’ll do it,” Thorn announced, not waiting for his friend to answer.

  “Now, before you give us your answer, you would also have to help us ferret out information about this Channel of Dubh,” Gregor said. “You’re both small enough to enter places we cannot.”

  Nari’s face lit up. “You mean spy on people?”

  “Aye, in some situations. Spy on bad people. Do you think you could do that?”

  Thorn nodded. “I can spy better than Nari, and we already know about the Channel.”

  “Do you know who’s in charge?”

  “I don’t know his name,” Thorn said, “but I’ve seen him before. And we can take you to one of their locations. They have two or three in Edinburgh.”

  Gregor smiled. “You lads have a deal. Lead us into the royal burgh.”

  Excitement transformed the lads—they looked more their age as they clapped each other’s backs in excitement. “Now we really are Grant warriors,” Thorn said. The two lads whooped.