Blair said, “Calm down, Greer. The men are practicing in the fields. The Grants never suspected any wrong of us many years ago, and they don’t now. We stayed away long enough after the attack to allay any suspicion that could be cast our way. They’ve got naught to be concerned about.”
Greer gave his brother a small nod. “You’re probably right, but check the cellars first. Then be out by the gates. I have a feeling this isn’t about being neighborly.”
Cairstine grabbed Steenie and hurried toward the back door. Her sire had always taught her and her brother to hide by the small entrance in the back wall of the castle. If fighting started, they were to take off. Of course, they hadn’t listened to his instructions when it mattered most and look what had transpired because of their mistake.
Greer bellowed, “Steenie, you’re coming with me. Time for you to learn how to be a man. You’ll stay with the guards on the wall. Cairstine, I care not what the hell you do, but stay out of the bailey.”
Her heart raced. She hated to be pulled away from her son, but she knew Greer would not allow anything different. Steenie hugged her leg, and she didn’t have the heart to push him away. “Greer, he’s only five winters. He could be hurt.”
“I said stop coddling him. Do you wish to keep arguing? Shall I thrash him again for you when this is done?”
Hell, how she hated the way he used Steenie to force her into submission. “Go with Papa. He’ll take care of you. Go.”
Fortunately, Steenie took off behind his sire and Blair, his mouth starting with his questions. “Is there to be a battle, Uncle Blair? Will it be a bad one?”
She loved how the lad could adjust to nearly every situation. He had to, or he’d never survive being a Lamont.
For herself, she was heading out the back, just as her sire had taught her.
***
Braden, Connor, and Roddy led the group of five and ten Grant warriors toward Muir land. They’d traveled all the way south to Buchan land and not found any evidence of the Lamonts or of Cairstine and her son. He prayed they’d find them soon. He’d seen women nearly beaten to death by men such as Greer Lamont.
“Have you been anywhere near here of late?” Braden asked his cousin.
“Nay,” Roddy replied, spitting off to the side of his horse. “Damn midges. Will they never quit?” He scratched his head in response to the annoying insects. “Not surprised you volunteered for this duty. You think she’ll be here?”
Braden hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. Hellfire, she had stirred him something fierce. “I wouldn’t be upset if I found her, but if she’s married to the bastard, there’s not much I can do.”
“Think you she could be Muir’s daughter? Once I gave that possibility serious consideration, I began to believe ‘tis exactly what we could find here. Would that change your mind?” Roddy asked, slapping at the midges again.
Braden sighed. “Aye, ‘twould probably give me a stronger drive to go after Lamont. If she’s a Muir, I doubt she went with them willingly.” Hell, he hoped not.
Connor said, “Never know. Women can be strange about things. How do you wish to do this since you’re in charge? Just go to the front gate? We don’t have enough men to attack if we do find the Lamonts are in residence. If that bastard is here with her, don’t go charging at him. We may not be able to back you up. We have no idea how many men are in his guard. ‘Tis one of the primary reasons we’re here—to uncover who occupies the castle and how many.”
“Why would you say that? I can control my temper.” True, he’d lost his temper on occasion, but he’d never hurt anyone without just cause. The issue at the Drummond’s hadn’t been that memorable, and the fool had deserved it. True, he’d gotten himself in trouble a few times, but he’d never hurt anyone but himself. And the only person he’d truly managed to pish off was his own da.
“I saw you at the Drummond keep, remember?” Roddy smirked, glancing at him.
“I’ll control myself.” His mind raced with a hundred different scenarios, but most of them ended the same way. He doubted he’d see the lass if they didn’t get past the gate, and if the Lamonts had taken the castle after all, he doubted he’d get inside. He wouldn’t be satisfied if the brothers came to the gates and sent them away. He’d know they were here, but what good would that do him if he could not learn aught about her?
He had to find out the truth. Was she here willingly?
“If ‘tis possible that she is there, with the Lamonts, I’d like the chance to come in through the back, see how they are living. How are they supporting themselves? Feeding their people?”
“If there is a back entrance.”
“Allow me to approach the castle from the back. If there’s no door in the curtain wall, I’ll sneak in from behind while their guards are up front. I can’t explain myself, but something was not right between those two. I need to see how they really live.” Braden had wanted to beat the man to a pulp, and not for disrespecting him. “The people in the huts south of here think this place is occupied, and we’ve found no evidence of the Lamonts elsewhere. They have to be living here. None of the people we visited wished to talk about Muir Castle, as if ‘tis haunted. Mayhap ‘tis not inhabited by ghosts but by vicious men.”
Roddy asked, “And you think you can come between Lamont and his lass? Many men mistreat their wives. My da says my mama was grossly mistreated when he found her. You know about Aunt Maddie and your mother. ‘Tis common outside Grant walls.”
Braden snorted. “And all three of those men are now dead. Cruelty doesn’t happen on our land. And I’d be glad to make the Lamonts another example of that rule.”
Roddy thought on that for a moment and nodded. “Agreed. If you want to come in through the back, ‘tis fine with me. We’ll approach the front gates. Do you want any men with you?”
“Nay. I’ll be quick about it. If they are there, I’ll get inside, do a wee bit of spy business and be on my way.” Even if he saw her, would he be able to speak with her? “I only ask that you question them at the gates as to how long they’ve been living in Muir Castle.”
Connor said, “They won’t admit they know it’s Muir Castle if they are guilty of massacring the clan.”
“But ask. Someone standing at the gates may give away a truth without realizing it. Be subtle.”
“Aye, we’ll see it done the way you want,” Roddy replied.
Braden was glad he had Roddy’s agreement. Uncle Alex had put him in charge of this scouting mission, so he didn’t need his cousins’ permission, but he was grateful to have it. It confirmed his was a sound plan, not just driven by his need to see the lass.
He did his best to convince himself of that. He simply couldn’t get this close without finding out the truth of the matter.
“Suits me.”
Braden pulled away from the group before the gates came into view.
He found a place to tie off his horse, dismounted, and crept toward the back of the curtain wall. The castle was much smaller than Grant Castle, and though it was well built, it clearly was not well cared for. There were three towers, one with living quarters, and a sound curtain wall for protection. The first thing he noticed was the smell of meat cooking. The kitchens were in use. That could only mean one thing.
Someone was living here. How he hoped it was the Lamonts.
And Cairstine.
Chapter Five
Tears threatened to flood Cairstine’s cheeks. The old fear of an attack clawed at her throat. Six years ago, she’d lived it. She remembered the fear she’d heard in her mother’s voice, the trembling of her sire’s hand on her back as he urged her and her brother to hide upstairs instead of going out the back while he fought bravely alongside warriors.
Massacred, all of them.
Would this be another massacre? A part of her could wish for retribution for her clan, but her focus was on her son. She said a quick prayer to protect her wee lad. The man she’d met near Drummond land had said he was a Grant. Were
they coming to find her? In all the four years since the Lamonts had returned to her home they’d done their best to destroy, no one had thought to inquire on the property to her knowledge. Why would they now?
She fought the dread deep in her heart over what was about to happen, rubbing her forehead in the hopes of pulling something from the depths of her memory about the Grants. She would cling to the small hope that this could be good, just as Corc had predicted. The Grants, or at least the ones in the red plaids the other night, seemed honorable. When her sire was alive, he often talked about the strongest clans, and the Grants were among them.
A fleeting glimpse popped into her mind, of a very tall man in a red plaid carrying his daughter up on his shoulders while she giggled. He had dark hair and looked much like two of the warriors she’d seen on Drummond land.
The man that had followed her outside the Drummond gates had a similar appearance. Had that been his sire?
If this turned out to be Braden Grant’s clan, it could be a blessing.
But the Lamonts would fight the Grants if provoked. She hoped they brought enough reinforcements if their intentions were good.
Please, God, keep Steenie out of harm’s way. Spare him. He’s a good boy.
Tears pricked her eyes. What reason would she have to live if she lost her son? How she prayed she would never be forced to experience such a tragedy. After she opened the hidden door in the curtain wall, she peered out before she progressed down the path, swinging at all the brush falling in her face. Her sire had always kept the path trimmed just in case they needed to run, but Greer and Blair couldn’t be bothered with such things. Once she had volunteered to clear the path herself, but she’d been promptly reminded she was not to step outside the curtain wall alone.
She didn’t hear any loud shouts or war whoops, but her fear made her less than cautious, so much so that she hurried down a fork in the path without noticing the man standing in the large oak trees until he reached out and grabbed her, pulling her close.
She swung her fists, frustrated that she’d been so careless. “Leave me be. You have no right to touch me.” In her mind, he was Greer, and this was the day he’d caught her running six years ago.
“Lass, I’ll not hurt you. Stop, please. I’ll set you free if you promise not to scream.” His voice stayed her because it sounded warm and familiar.
It occurred to her that although the man held her tight in his muscular arms, he possessed a gentleness she’d never experienced with Greer. Whereas her captor had a brutal, punishing grip, this man made her instantly melt to his form and feel that she’d be safe. Once that realization struck her, she stopped fighting and lifted her gaze to his.
She released a little gasp. This was Braden Grant, the one who she’d begged with her eyes to find her again.
He’d followed her once already to see if she was hale, knowing Greer had slapped her. And now here he was again, though she wasn’t sure what his intentions were this time. She’d learned a long time ago not to hold out hope or trust the greedy nature of men.
She stared into Braden’s eyes, neither of them speaking as they took each other’s measure. Her muscles loosened against him, and she felt strangely comforted by his arms instead of threatened by them. But she wouldn’t completely let herself relent yet; she had her laddie to protect. “What do you want this time?”
His eyes were the color of chestnuts, a warm brown that drew her in, and he looked even more handsome than he had that day at the festival. A strong jawline with a bit of dark stubble, just enough to tempt her to touch his cheek. His long hair curled at his neck, a beautiful shade of light brown she’d not seen before. If he stood in the sun, she guessed she’d see gold strands threaded through the brown. A small scar on his chin did not detract from his looks at all, but rather, gave him a look of rugged boyishness.
“Who are you?” his husky voice sent a strange feeling through her middle, almost a shiver, but that made no sense.
The only men she’d trusted had belonged to Clan Muir. She wouldn’t tell him anything until she could be sure of her safety. “I’ll have your answer first. You’re on my clan’s land.” She lifted her chin a notch. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here in the name of my laird, Alexander Grant. Are you saying you’re a surviving member of the Muir clan?”
He was correct in his assumption. This was Muir land, not Lamont land. And if she could find a way to reclaim it for the Muirs, she would do so without fail to make her sire proud. Indeed, she’d thought of nothing but vengeance immediately after her capture, but the thoughts had since slipped away. What a foolish idea to think one lass could go up against the Lamont brothers. Hadn’t she learned the truth the day she’d tried to run away with Steenie?
As Braden turned his head for a moment, she caught sight of his eyelashes, the thickest and longest she’d ever seen on a man. And his eyes held the promise of respect. Was it possible that he could assist her?
She pushed against his chest, surprised by how hard and powerful it felt. Her inclination was to trust him. To tell him everything, but she knew that was foolish because she couldn’t risk the one thing that mattered to her.
Steenie.
A summer ago, she’d tried to run away, sneaking out the back with Steenie when he’d been asleep in her arms. Corc had left a horse for her at the back, and she’d crept out in the middle of the night, leading her horse away as fast as she could.
She’d been frightened by the sounds of wolves, by the wild boar she’d seen in the distance, but she’d moved on, hopeful that if she could get to one of her neighbors, they would protect her.
Her horse had tired and they’d never made it off Muir land. How Greer had discovered her absence, she’d never know. When he’d caught up with them, he’d pulled her from her horse and beaten her while Steenie cried. When he’d finished with her, leaving her sore and collapsed on the ground in a huddled mess, he’d held Steenie up in front of her.
“Shall I beat him while you watch, Cairstine? And I don’t mean thrash him. I’ll use my fists this time.” The fury she’d seen on his face had frightened her more than anything.
“Nay, please, Greer. I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt him. He’s only four.” She’d fought to stand but had crumpled on a bruised ankle.
“You try to leave me again, and I’ll beat him until he’s a bloody pulp. Do you hear me, wench?”
“Aye. I promise! Please don’t beat him.” She’d made it up on her knees, sobbing and begging Greer to leave the lad alone.
Then he’d handed Steenie over to Blair and tossed her over his horse, mounting behind her.
He had never said another word to her until he put her in the locked room in the cellar. Before he left, he turned to her and said, “Next time, I’ll kill you, but not before I beat Steenie while you watch. Then I’ll sell him across the waters to live the life of a servant.”
She’d vowed never to run away again. While dying didn’t matter to her—in fact, it might be a relief from her dark life—watching her son beaten did, and the thought of him being sold frightened her more than anything. Where would he end up?
To her disappointment, Braden loosened his grip on her. His finger reached for her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “I see the pain in your eyes, and I swear to banish that look forever if you’d trust me.”
Partly in shock from his words, she stepped away. No one but Corc had shown her an ounce of care or compassion over the last six years. She did her best to quell the hope that bloomed in her heart at the possibility that his words were true.
He surprised her even more when he said, “You needn’t move away. I quite like you there, and I won’t allow him to slap you again like he did on Drummond land. You’re the reason I’m here. I came looking for you.”
Her gaze darted to his. Ah, so he did remember her. Could he be telling the truth? Would he have come here just for her? Confusion clouded her mind. Men in battle didn’t think about women.
“Men do
not hit women in my clan.” Braden Grant persisted. “Tell me, lass, is Greer Lamont your husband?”
“Nay!” Her quick reply almost came out in a shout, but she squelched it in time. “Nay,” she whispered, “we are not married.”
Braden let out a breath he’d been holding. He hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted her not to be married to a Lamont. “Your name?”
“Cairstine.”
“Are you his sister?” She was more beautiful than she’d appeared at the Drummonds. The thick golden plait of her hair fell forward over her shoulder nearly to her waist, and a few freckles dotted the bridge of her nose. And yet her green eyes were wells of fear. While she had every right to be wary of him, he wished to convince her that he was trustworthy, that there were honorable men in the world. “Or are you a Muir?”
Being this close to her, taking in her sweet floral scent, stirred his loins in a way he wished to control. This was not the time. He’d enjoyed holding her in his arms, her soft breasts touching his chest in a way that would undoubtedly haunt his dreams in the nights to come, but perhaps it was better that they now had distance between them. It allowed him to think, something he couldn’t do with her rosy lips just a touch beneath his own.
Perhaps it would be better to leave her be, but he couldn’t. He repeated his question because she’d given him a blank stare as though she had to think about her answer. “Are you his sister?”
“Nay,” she shook her head, a look of confusion crossing her face.
He waited for her to give him more information about why she was with the Lamonts, but she said nothing, so he pushed her. “Are you the surviving daughter of the Muir? Were you taken captive by the Lamonts several years ago?”
She blushed and nodded. “Aye. How I wish the answer were different.”
“Why do you stay?” He’d take her with him now, get her safely away from the brute; if that’s what she wanted, that was. He cared not if the Lamont men did not like it. He’d fight them for her.
Highland Retribution Page 5
