“Leave it be, Braden,” one of the other lads said.
Braden. That was her protector’s name. Why couldn’t she have a man such as Braden, one who didn’t hit women in order to feel in-control?
Greer grabbed three meat pies and shoved two at her, then yanked her along behind him.
She glanced over her shoulder at Braden, wishing she had the nerve to mouth the word “help” to him, but she didn’t. The only one who would suffer from that action would be her.
***
Braden Grant had a difficult time controlling his temper. He memorized the bastard’s face and his plaid, though he didn’t recognize it. He’d find him. He’d find him and set the woman free. She didn’t have to ask for help for him to know that she needed it.
Braden yelled out, “Someone needs to teach you how to treat a lass, arsehole.” The man kept walking, ignoring his taunt. He scowled at his cousin Connor, who’d called him off. “You should have let me at him.”
Connor’s gaze followed the man out through the gates. “This is a celebration for our cousin’s wedding. There’s no need to disrupt it, but I wager we’ll see him again. I never forget a face.”
David wasn’t their cousin in truth, but he was related to the Ramsays, a clan so interwoven with the Grants, they were embraced as family.
Still, as happy as Braden was for David, all he could think about now was her. There had been something about the look in her eyes, the sadness and despair, that had called to him. She was a beautiful woman with golden hair plaited around soulful green eyes. Silky strands of her hair had escaped her plait, the gold surrounding her face in a halo effect against her strong cheekbones and pink lips that begged to be tasted. Women did not usually affect him so strongly, which made her presence even more alluring. He would have disrupted the festive gathering itself to save her. Of course, the obvious question was, would he just be doing more damage by meddling where he wasn’t invited? He seemed to have a talent for finding mistreated women, wanting to stand up for them, but he’d been around enough to learn some lasses willingly stayed with cruel men.
The first time he’d seen a man slap his wife—rather, the first time he’d been old enough to do something about it—he’d swung his fist in an attempt to protect her. Only she’d attacked him in return, shouting that he had no right to hurt her husband.
His cousins had teased him ever since, the same group of cousins who surrounded him now. Connor and Roddy, his closest friends.
Daniel Drummond, David’s brother, joined their circle noiselessly, catching him off guard.
Roddy grinned at him. “Since you’re as talented as a ghost, who was that? Were you close enough to see him?”
Daniel grinned back, looking quite proud of himself. “Aye, I’ve seen him before. Lamont. Blair or Greer. They’re brothers and they’re both nasty.”
“Greer. She called him Greer. You must be correct.” Braden’s gaze followed her through the courtyard. He noticed she was turning her head from side to side as if searching for something.
Or someone.
Daniel rolled his eyes at him, and Roddy said to Braden, “You doubted him?”
“What?” Hell, but the lass had distracted him. He’d missed part of their conversation.
Roddy pressed him. “Daniel. The one who knows everything and can travel anywhere undetected? You doubted him?”
He had to laugh. “Nay, Daniel. I’ll never doubt you. You sure know how to avoid attention when you’d like, Ghost.”
Braden watched the fool toss his wife up on a horse and then climb up on his own horse not far from hers.
He sensed something unsavory was afoot. This was not a normal couple, nor was the woman, Cairstine, with the man by choice. “Do you know where their castle is? I’m going to pay a visit to him on the morrow,” Braden said.
“Nay,” Daniel replied. “He used to live south of here, but they let their castle fall to ruin, so they left. Don’t know where they went. I heard a tale that they occupied Muir Castle, but my sire has gone there on a few occasions only to find it empty, though I’m not sure how long ago his last visit was.”
Roddy grinned, clasping Braden’s shoulder. “I think we’ll be hunting on the way home. Am I not correct, Braden?”
He whispered, “Not to worry. I’ll find him.”
Green. Her eyes were green like the newest buds in the spring. She’d glanced at him on the way out. But he’d also noticed something else.
Those green eyes were full of pain, and he vowed to fix that, whatever it took.
He left his cousins and went off in search of his uncle Micheil, who he guessed would have more information about the Lamonts and where to find them.
He found his uncle gathered around the hearth with two others, chatting.
Uncle Micheil said, “Braden, are you enjoying yourself? Getting enough to eat?”
He nodded, not wishing to be rude. “‘Tis an impressive feast, Uncle Micheil. But there’s one thing spoiling my appetite. If you don’t mind, I have a question for you.”
“What is it?” his uncle asked, giving him his full attention.
“Do you know the Lamont brothers, Greer or Blair?”
“Aye, stay away from them,” Uncle Micheil said. “What’s brought this up?”
“I just had a wee run-in with Greer, I believe.”
“Here?” his uncle asked, standing tall and leaning toward him. He guessed from his posture that he was quite familiar with the Lamonts.
“Aye,” Braden replied. “He didn’t think I was moving quickly enough at the food table. I also didn’t care for the way he treated the lass he had with him.”
Uncle Micheil quirked an eyebrow at him. “The Lamont brothers ran their castle into ruin and then abandoned it a long time ago. I heard they’d found another castle not far from here, probably just a bit farther north from our land, but I’ve not seen them. Not like I’ve been looking of late. It’s been several years since they disappeared. If they’re surfacing again, it’s a blight Scotland doesn’t need. I’d hoped they’d left for Norse lands or even England.”
“Well, according to Daniel, one of them was just here. He tried to shove me a few times, but I straightened him out.”
“The old Greer Lamont would not have backed down unless he was alone, and even then, I’m not sure he’d be wise enough. Bullheaded without a doubt.” Uncle Micheil gave him an odd look. “Be careful with him. You don’t want to be caught alone with the two brothers. They can be brutal.”
“He wasn’t with his brother. He had a woman with him. He grabbed a few meat pies and left, dragging her behind him.”
“And what are you asking me? If you’ve a mind to go after him, don’t waste your time,” Uncle Micheil said.
“Even though he mistreats women? I’m quite sure he slapped her face behind my back, and I’d like to teach him a lesson.”
“Braden,” Uncle Micheil said, “I applaud your honor, but I’ll give you a warning. If you wish to teach him a lesson, wait until you can bring a large number of Grant warriors with you. The Lamonts love to fight. ‘Tis all I remember about them. We were all glad to hear they’d moved north.”
Braden nodded. “My thanks, Uncle. I guess we have some business to attend to when the festivities have ended.”
Uncle Micheil clapped him on the back. “If you find aught unusual, call on your Band of Cousins. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out the Lamonts are involved in something devious. They’ve never been the sort to believe in honest, hard work.”
The Band of Cousins consisted of Braden, Connor, Roddy, and six others, all dedicated to stopping a terrible blight that had been uncovered by Micheil’s niece Maggie and her husband, Will. They’d located a hidden network that sold women and children, mostly across the waters to foreign lands. Maggie had stopped an earl who’d tried to sell three bairns under the age of ten, and David’s new bride narrowly escaped another group of traders. According to what they’d heard most recently, however, the netwo
rk threaded throughout Scotland. It was, quite appropriately, known as the Channel of Dubh, the dark channel. His uncle Logan, Micheil’s brother, also worked for the Scottish Crown and was doing all he could to stop this atrocity from continuing.
“Aye, we’ll contact Will and Maggie if we discover aught. But I wouldn’t be surprised if ‘tis true. I could tell the man had no honor at all.”
What he didn’t say was that he had to find Greer Lamont, or he’d be haunted by the pain in that lass’s gaze for the rest of his life. He’d wait for his cousins or his clan’s warriors to launch a full-scale attack, but what could it hurt to wander on his own this eve while the others drank their ale? Following their trail before the weather erased it could be paramount to him achieving his goal, one he wasn’t about to let go.
Whatever it took, he’d find her and do his best to keep her safe.
Chapter Two
Cairstine feared the absolute worst. Had Steenie been caught by a boar or a wolf? They’d traveled for two hours in different directions, trying to cover any possible path the lad could have taken on foot, but they’d found no evidence of her son. They trekked by moonlight on a well-trodden path back to their castle, and they were nearly there. Steenie had never wandered that far before. Their original ride had only been to the edge of their land, yet they’d searched beyond that and not found any evidence of the lad.
Her stomach rumbled and she wished she could stop it. She’d eaten one of the meat pies, one of the best she’d ever had, but Greer had gobbled up the other four, taking one of hers. She’d learned a long time ago to eat when something was put in her hand, or else he would finish it and leave her with nothing.
Her horse was tiring. She’d fallen a distance behind Greer so that he was far outside her line of sight, and she feared they wouldn’t be able to catch up to him. With wolves and other wild animals around, she didn’t wish to ride alone.
A child’s screams echoed to her from afar, so she encouraged her horse to gather the last reserves of its energy and race toward the sound, praying it was Steenie.
Greer’s horse stood munching on grass, so he had to be afoot. After scanning the area, she finally noticed him off to the right, crouched over something. She dismounted and ran toward him.
“Did you find him?”
“Aye, I found him,” Greer yelled, after the sound of three loud thwacks carried to her, followed by her son’s pained wails. “And I’m beating his arse for taking off.”
Cairstine closed her eyes, unable to watch her son’s thrashing. How she wished he were still a babe in her arms, the only place he’d ever been safe. Tears misted her eyes as she listened to Steenie taking his punishment.
“But Papa, I was looking for food for us,” he cried out. “Here, I brought you some hazelnuts.”
She opened her eyes in time to see Greer take the proffered treat and throw it on the ground before he tossed the lad back over his knee to thrash him a few more times.
The sound of a wolf finally stayed Greer’s hand. He stopped to listen for the proximity of the animal, then tossed Steenie toward her.
“Close your mouth. Stopping crying like a wee bairn and act like a man.”
“He’s not a man, he’s a verra young lad, Greer.” She held her arms out to Steenie as he flew into them, hugging her around the waist so he could bury his face in her brat to hide his tears.
“Get on your horse.” He gave curt instructions that she was expected to follow without question. Her thoughts were never asked for or appreciated. “That wolf isn’t far. We need to get home.” He raced ahead of her to his horse, not attempting to assist her at all, and before she could blink he’d already taken off. He never even glanced back to make sure that she had mounted or gotten safely on her way.
Bastart! How could he leave the two of them out here alone with a wolf not far away?
She picked Steenie up, though he was getting too heavy for her, and hurried back to her horse. Glancing over her shoulder, she was assailed by the vision of a wolf closing in on her with its razor-sharp jaws open and ready. She shook her head to rid the image from her mind. There were no wolves in front of her, just her imagination playing with her fears again. She made haste and lifted her son up onto the horse and then led the animal to a nearby rock so she could mount behind him since the bastart was already long gone.
Steenie hugged her middle as soon as they took off, angling his body so his backside didn’t bear the brunt of the galloping horse.
“Steenie, are you hurt anywhere else? Where did you go?” She tugged him in close while he sobbed, doing her best to keep on the path behind Greer.
“I…I wandered away because after I pished in the bushes I saw a rabbit. I wanted to kill it with my sword to make Da proud of me, but it got away and I couldn’t find either of you. Why did it take so long for you to find me?” His wails continued, though she guessed his bottom was quite sore at the moment. Greer often thrashed Steenie, but he refused to discuss it with her, saying she coddled the lad.
She remembered his exact words. “I’ll make him into a man, just like my sire did with Blair and me. One day, you’ll thank me that he didn’t turn into a helpless creature like his mother. For now, you need to stop protecting him. You have no say over my actions, and I’ll do as I wish with the lad.” That was the only order he’d ever given her that she refused to follow, simply because it was impossible for her not to protect him.
She ran her hand through his long golden locks, massaging his scalp the way he liked. “You must have gone too far when you looked for a place to pish. We couldn’t find you. Next time don’t stray so far away.”
He hitched and hitched. She pushed his hair back from his face, wishing she could peer into his green eyes. She was so grateful Steenie looked more like her than Greer, but she couldn’t help but wonder if that was one of the reasons the man was so brutal to his own flesh and blood.
“Take some deep breaths or you’ll fall off the horse, lad. Did you get hurt at all?”
“Nay,” he took a deep breath and sighed. “Why must Papa thrash me so? I just want to make him proud of me. Sometimes I don’t like him.”
Cairstine didn’t even attempt an answer. The relationship between a sire and a son should be special. She knew that from watching her brother and her sire. For some odd reason, no matter how many thrashings he received, her son still adored his sire and would do anything the man asked of him.
It was something she didn’t understand. How she wished it were different.
“Papa is trying to teach you to be more thoughtful of your actions. ‘Tis all. Don’t take the thrashings to mean he doesn’t love you.” She did her best to stay far enough away from the bastart so he wouldn’t overhear their conversation. Although he was no longer in her line of sight, she’d learned to always have an eye out for Greer Lamont. He was often unpredictable.
“He doesn’t love me. He never says so, and you always tell me you love me.” He peeked up at her, swiping the tears from his face and his runny nose.
“Aye, he loves you. ‘Tis different for men. They don’t oft speak of love.”
“When I have a lad of my own, I’ll love him so and I won’t ever thrash him.”
She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her son of five winters all grown up with a lad of his own.
But a different thought surfaced in her mind. Greer was not part of that happy picture she envisioned for her and Steenie. How she hoped to be far away from the Lamonts by then, long before their brutality would be able to cloud Steenie’s sunny vision for his future.
For a long time, she’d dreamed of a Highland warrior coming for her, fighting Greer and his brother, and reclaiming the castle in the name of her clan. Her mother had told her stories of powerful warriors, even English knights who jousted in tournaments, who would go to battle over a woman, either to protect her or to ask for her hand in marriage. Her mother had claimed a wonderful, honorable man would come to ask her sire for her hand one day. Bu
t those were just childish fairytales to her now and did her no good to hold onto.
For the first year after the attack, she was certain someone would come and save her, realize that she’d been kidnapped and kept against her will. But that someone had never come, probably because the Lamonts had been wise enough to keep moving through caves and abandoned huts for nearly two years before returning to recapture Muir Castle. They’d had enough of an army to take it back from the reivers they’d found inside.
Her childhood home had been reduced to ruins after the battle and whatever had been done by the reivers. The keep still stood because her sire had built such a strong castle, but the beautifully crafted furniture and the fine touches her mother had added had mostly been destroyed. Even the few fields her sire had built up to be used for crops had been destroyed. Little remained to remind her of her parents and their beloved home.
Once they felt it safe, the Lamonts had moved into Muir Castle, claiming it as their own. They’d built their army of guards up and were planning some new venture, though Cairstine had little knowledge of what the venture was other than that it promised lots of coin.
Unfortunately, if anyone had inquired, the Lamonts lied about how they’d come to live here and been left alone, or so she’d been told. Their claims were apparently unchallenged, even by their king. Her hope of being rescued had diminished with every passing moon.
Even though her parents had led her to believe differently, life wasn’t always a happy story.
At least she still had Steenie. She kissed the top of his head after he fell asleep against her soft bosom, his favorite place. She plunged ahead, hoping Greer would be too exhausted when they arrived at home to take notice of them. She’d sneak Steenie into her chamber and the two of them could snuggle together in the cool night.
The sound of a horse behind her stilled her. Thankful that Steenie was asleep, she glanced over her shoulder, fear prickling the back of her neck as she twisted her head around.
Highland Retribution Page 2
