“Or a servant managed to get her out and sent her off to a relative somewhere.”
“Possibly,” Alex murmured, still deep in thought.
“How old was the daughter?” Braden asked, a sick feeling roiling in his gut. “Do you recall her name? I think I heard her called Cairstine.”
Uncle Alex thought for a moment and said, “The son was nearly a man. The daughter was a year or two younger, but I don’t recall names. I remember the Muir talking about how his wife could no longer have bairns after the daughter. Both were hale and looked close in age when I visited him last. That must have been seven or eight years ago. I’d guess she would have been ten and three or four, the son near ten and five or six summers.”
“What coloring?” Braden asked, fearing he already knew the answer.
“Both were golden-haired. Why?” His uncle had to suspect what he would suggest next. He gave Braden his full attention, his gaze narrowed.
Fury burned a path through Braden. “What if the villains who attacked the castle killed the rest but kept the girl?”
“Why?” Uncle Robbie asked. “Was the lass you met golden-haired, Braden?”
“Aye, she was. Difficult to guess her age, but she had a son around four or five summers.”
Roddy answered without hesitation. “If you’d seen her, Papa, you wouldn’t ask why Braden cannot get her out of his mind. And she didn’t look overly pleased with her situation to me.”
Connor nodded in agreement.
“But this would have been five or six years ago,” Uncle Robbie added.
Uncle Alex rubbed his chin in thought. “This doesn’t make sense from what we know. Anyone who would kill that many would do so with the intent of taking over the castle. Muir had built a fine fortress. Where did the murderers go? How had they never been seen by anyone? My men asked many residing in the huts between here and Muir land, but the only answer they received was that the killers seemed to be ruthless and random in their intent. After the blood bath they left behind, the bastards moved on quickly to prevent their detection. All the neighbors were aware of the massacre and hid in caves, many said.”
Braden sighed. “That part doesn’t fit, does it?”
“Nay, but that doesn’t mean there’s naught to it,” Uncle Alex said. “When I send a patrol out, I’ll instruct them to travel to Muir Castle. I assumed ‘twas deserted. Our men had been there again two years after the massacre and only found reivers. I reported this to our king and told him it was nearly uninhabitable because of the damage done by the marauders. I was actually thinking of acquiring it, but ‘tis in a valley that is often flooded during the rains. The great hall has even flooded on occasion. Crops don’t grow well in what little boggy soil they had, and the Muirs were forced to find fields elsewhere because they lost so much of their harvest too late after realizing. No one who knows the area would want it.”
“Why are you interested, then, Alex?” Uncle Robbie asked.
“To keep reivers out of it. I should have done it long ago. I thought we could attempt to improve the land, build it up. ‘Twould take much work, but we need to work to keep Scotland strong. And if we occupy the castle, mayhap we may find clues as to who committed the atrocious act.
“For now, our focus should be finding the lass and the Lamonts. Hopefully, we’ll find out more about Muir Castle if we travel to that area. We have plenty of warriors to do both. If it weren’t for King Alexander and his grieving of late, he’d probably have awarded the land to someone long ago. Though some have called it worthless, I’d now like to determine that myself.”
Braden had a difficult time containing his excitement. “I’d like to go along, if you don’t mind, Uncle Alex.”
“Jamie and Jake are off on a different mission. Braden, I’ll put you in charge of the patrol, but don’t act rashly. Roddy and Connor will go with you, and you may choose your men.”
Shocked to be given the duty, he did his best to hide his pleasure at being trusted enough to lead. “I promise to make you proud, Uncle.” With that settled, Braden got up from the table and nodded to his family. “I’m going to visit Ronan’s family. I have some other business to attend to.”
“Braden, why not wait until the morrow?” his sire asked. “‘Twill not be a pleasant visit.”
“I know, Papa. ‘Tis why I’d like to get it over with. I’ll be heading to the Muirs on the morrow.” He stepped away and headed out of the great hall.
This was something he had best do alone. His uncles and his sire would have certainly checked on the family while he was gone.
Braden’s close friend Ronan had taken his own life several moons ago. According to the tales he’d heard, the man had lost all hope after seeing Marta, the woman he had loved and planned to marry, with another. Mired in darkness, he’d ridden his horse to the steepest cliff in their area, dismounted, and thrown himself over the edge, leaving the horse munching grass. Braden, Roddy, and another friend had climbed all the way down to bring his body back up for his family. He’d hit so many rocks during the fall that he was nearly battered beyond recognition. They’d done the best they could, straightening bones out, fixing torn skin, but it had still been a ghastly sight.
Braden’s trip to work with his cousins had given him the chance to focus on something other than his friend’s death, which had been a profound relief.
Now he was back, and he would pay his respects again to his friend’s family, even though he’d already done so multiple times. The truth was that every time he stood on Grant land, he missed his dear friend. He couldn’t imagine how Ronan’s brothers and mother felt every day.
His steps slowed as he approached the family cottage in the outer bailey. Ronan’s father had added to the original hut, making it one of the nicer cottages on the grounds. He knocked on the door, a small part of him wishing no one would answer, but the door opened and Ronan’s mother stood back to allow him room to enter.
“Braden, you are home. Please come in. How were your travels?” she asked, offering him a chair at their table. She was alone, and he could tell she’d been crying. Her husband had died two years ago and Ronan’s two younger brothers, Keith and Moray, were probably at the lists practicing.
“It was a nice journey south. We attended a Drummond wedding, which was lovely.”
Her shoulders drooped and she sighed raggedly. “A wedding, something Ronan and Marta would have been celebrating in a few moons, if only…”
As much as it might upset her, he had to ask questions, the same ones that had been preying on his mind for the entire journey south. “Have you learned aught about that day? Has Marta revealed who she was speaking with?”
“Marta is saying verra little. She cries and carries on, so I do not ask her anymore.” Tears slid down her cheeks while she talked. “Mayhap go to the lists, talk to Ronan’s brothers. ‘Twas one of the lads who told me Marta was carrying on with another.” She paused to stare up at the ceiling, perplexed. “Or was it Ronan himself?”
Braden decided not to continue pestering the woman since all he seemed to do was bring back painful memories. “Is there something I can do for you? I know Ronan did many things to help out. Do you need wood chopped? May I get you some stew for dinner tonight? I’m sure Cook would have extra.”
“Braden, you are kind to think of an old woman, but I’ve been cooking to keep my mind off Ronan. His brothers have been cutting wood daily. I think it helps them to keep busy. Thank you, but we are not in need of anything. You are part of the laird’s family. You have more important duties to tend to.” She patted his hand and he decided to leave since he could think of nothing else to offer her in her grief. The only thing he could do to truly help was find more answers, and he would not stop until he was sure. He said goodbye and headed toward the lists, surprised to see the large number of guards there today. On the morrow, he’d be taking a few of these men to Muir land, his first mission that he’d be leading.
“Keith!” After several minutes of search
ing, he finally found Keith sparring with his younger brother, Moray. They both stopped when they saw Braden, stepping out of the practice area to speak with him.
“You fare well, Braden?” Keith asked, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Aye. How are you lads doing? I find I still miss Ronan.” He couldn’t hide the truth of the matter. Being away had helped him focus his thoughts elsewhere, but now that he was home, the wound left by his friend’s absence felt as fresh as it had on the day of Ronan’s death.
“We miss him, too.” Moray ran a hand down his face, wiping the sweat he’d accumulated from his brow.
“Any news?”
“About what?” Moray asked. “Ronan threw himself over the cliff because he thought Marta had found someone new. What else could there be? We’re done trying to find out why Ronan did what he did, Braden. As of late, we’ve rather been trying to find peace.”
Braden shuffled his feet. “Ronan’s death continues to perplex me. Has Marta revealed who the lad was? Is she seeing anyone now?”
“Nay,” Keith said, grabbing a skin and taking a long swig. “She says she loved Ronan and I believe her. Och, she did say one thing. She said the only other lad she spoke with that day was you, Braden.”
Moray jerked his head around and gave Braden a strange look. “Do you recall speaking with her? Or anything unusual in her demeanor?”
Braden thought hard, almost ready to shake his head, but then something popped into his memory. “I wouldn’t exactly say we spoke that day, but I do recall passing her on the way to the lists. She dropped her basket and I helped her pick up the items and put them back. Mostly sewing things. But we barely spoke.”
“Do you think my brother could have misconstrued your conversation?” Keith suggested.
Braden snorted, his hands settling on his hips. “Nay. There was naught to be suspicious about. Is that what you’re thinking? That it was me who became entangled with Marta?”
Moray glanced at Keith, who shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll never know, will we?”
Braden ignored his suggestion. It was ridiculous and surely did not warrant further discussion. Ronan would never have resorted to such a desperate action over such a little thing. And had Ronan suspected him, he would have given him an earful, and probably a fistful, himself. They were practically brothers.
“That’s not what I came here to talk about. I came to ask if the two of you would like to go on a patrol with me on the morrow. We’re traveling southwest toward Buchan land and a few others to see if they have been inhabited by anyone. My uncle prefers to be aware of all neighbors. We may travel for a day or two, mayhap more. But before you agree, let it be said that if either of you don’t believe what I’ve told you about my involvement with Marta, then you don’t belong in my group.”
Moray sighed, then said, “Aye, I believe you, Braden. I know how close you were with Ronan. I just still get protective about him. Forgive me.”
Keith said, “Moray’s right. I trust you, and I’d be honored to go along with you.”
Moray nodded. “I’ll be there. My thanks, Braden. ‘Tis best to keep busy, I’ve found.”
“Accepted. Roddy and I will see you at dawn. I’ll gather another ten guards to come along with us.”
Keith clasped his shoulder and said, “My thanks. We’d better practice our sword skills a wee bit more.”
The two returned to the lists and Braden found himself thinking again about Ronan and Marta. He could not imagine committing such a rash act over a lass. Even so, he and Roddy and Connor were all of marriageable age, something he’d thought of often since his cousin David’s wedding. He’d never even considered marriage until then.
He couldn’t. He’d made a bargain with himself, and he intended to see it through. Had he been paying attention to Ronan, he would have noticed his depression, seen how much he was hurting or in need of someone to talk with. But he hadn’t. He’d been unable to save his friend, so he’d promised his Lord he’d make up for that failure.
He had to save two others. It did not matter who they were or why.
It was his new purpose for his life. Two for one.
Chapter Four
Cairstine placed a soft pillow on the bench for Steenie to sit on for the midday meal. It was a sennight after he’d gotten lost, and he’d angered Greer yet again. He was pouting, but she ignored him, patting the pillow for him to take a seat. The lad’s uncle came into the hall, whistling, but he stopped when he saw Steenie settling down gingerly. A wicked grin plastered across Blair’s face, and Cairstine wished she had the courage to slap it off.
“Steenie still have a sore arse? Has it not been quite a while since you had your arse whipped by my brother?”
Steenie fought his tears. “Nay.”
Blair reached for the pillow. “Och, ‘tis been long enough. Toss that pillow aside, act like a man.”
Steenie fought to keep the pillow. “Nay!”
Blair quirked his brow at Cairstine, his grin fading. “Another one?”
Cairstine gave him a wee nod, hoping Steenie wouldn’t see her. The lad had been through enough.
“What did you do this time?”
“Naught. Leave me be, Uncle Blair.” Steenie stared at the table, holding the pillow on both sides so it would not be pulled out from under him.
Cairstine thought Blair was the kinder of the two, when it came to brutal killers. Sometimes she wondered what their childhood had been like, what had made them the way they are. Apparently, their sire had been a cruel man, but Cairstine knew little about their past since both of their parents had passed on years ago. They never talked about their family, and she never willingly conversed with them about anything.
The door flew open again and Greer entered. A grin grew on his face as soon as his gaze landed on Steenie.
“Good day to you, Papa,” Steenie said quietly.
“You still sitting on that pillow?” his father said as a greeting. How Cairstine hated his cruelty to the wee lad.
“What did you do to him this time, Greer?” Blair asked. “He’s in a mood as if he just took a beating.”
“I whipped his arse for sitting on that pillow for too long. I told him if he needed the pillow so badly, I’d give him a reason to need it.”
Steenie fought his tears. “Papa, I’ve been good.”
Greer moved over and grabbed the pillow out from under him. Steenie gave a brief howl, but he immediately quieted himself, staring at his sire with a fear that wrenched Cairstine’s heart. “Sit without a pillow. Your mother needs to stop coddling you. Or do you need another arse whipping?”
“Nay, I’ll sit without it.” Steenie said, his voice higher pitched than usual because of the pain he was bearing.
Cairstine decided it was time to speak her mind. Greer was often tamed a bit by his brother’s presence. “Why must you be so cruel, Greer? He’s only a lad.”
Greer reached over and grabbed her plait, yanking her off the bench. “I’ll do as I like, and you’ll keep your mouth shut.”
“I’d take better care of you, Cairstine. Leave him and be mine.” Blair gave her a bright smile, his eyes gleaming the way they always did whenever he taunted his older brother. Greer was two years older than Blair. He waggled his eyebrows at her, but she didn’t answer.
As if she’d be with either of them by choice.
“Papa, leave Mama be. I’ll take her punishment,” Steenie said bravely.
“Laddie, nay,” Cairstine whispered, her feet nearly leaving the ground because of the pain shooting through her head. Greer still had not released her hair.
“Then bend yourself over the bench, Steenie,” the bastart scoffed. “I’ll be happy to give you her punishment. Maybe you’ll stop acting like such a lassie.”
To her surprise, Blair did something he’d never done before. He defended them. “Let her go and leave your wee son alone.”
Greer released her hair and stepped close enough to his brother to spit in his face. When t
hey stood nose to nose, he ground out, “What did you say?”
Blair didn’t budge. “I said leave them be. You’ve hurt both of them enough for this moon. I’m tired of watching your cruelty.”
“My cruelty? This pronouncement from the lad who cuts his enemies down without a care? Your blood is far colder than mine, brother, and well you know it.”
Blair shook his head. “Don’t compare yourself to me. I don’t hurt women the way you do. I appreciate their finer qualities. And if I had a son, I’d take better care of him, too. I wish I had someone to take care of me when I grow old. But the way you treat them, they’ll leave you as soon as they’re able.”
Cairstine had never heard such a conversation between the brothers. She sat down next to Steenie, and he leaned into her to hide his tears.
“You want them both?”
The two stared at each other, and you could have heard the drop of a needle in the hall. The servants and the guards who’d just entered all froze, waiting to see what would happen.
This was a new event for all of them.
Cairstine held her breath, unable to believe Greer had just offered her and Steenie to his brother.
The door burst open and two more guards flew across the floor to stand opposite the brothers, their eyes widening when they noticed the tense situation between the two men.
“What is it?” Greer asked, not moving a muscle beyond the ones in his jaw. “And it needs to be mighty important or I’ll beat you both until you’ll not swive for days.”
“Problem, my lord. There’s a group of Grant warriors headed our way.”
The brothers broke their silent standoff to turn toward the guards.
“What?” Blair asked in surprise.
Greer acted as though he’d been hit by the blade of a sword, jumping and moving away from his brother. “How many? And how do you know they’re Grants?”
“They’re wearing the Grant plaid and carrying the Grant banner. Less than twenty, but more than a dozen.”
Greer headed out the door and shouted. “All guards are to take up posts near the gates.” The dozen or so in the hall bolted out of their seats to follow him. Then he mumbled, “What the hell could they want? They’ve never bothered us before. And where the hell are the rest of our men?”
Highland Retribution Page 4
