Highland Retribution

by Keira Montclair

  Cairstine recalled the crying bairns. True, Greer had told her never to mention it again, but Hilda would never betray her to him. “Hilda, I heard bairns crying down the hall before I was hurt. Who were they?”

  Hilda jerked her gaze up to Cairstine, her surprise at the question quite obvious. Then she dropped her gaze again. “I cannot say, lass, and you do not want to know.” Her eyes misted with tears and she whispered, “I wish I didn’t. I must go.”

  With that, Hilda turned around and headed back down the passageway.

  What could she be talking about?

  Cairstine leaned her head against the wall but came up with no ideas. It just hurt too much to think. Footsteps echoed again in the passageway, and they grew louder. How she hoped this would be news about Steenie…

  But alas, it was Corc who approached her. “I’m only here for a moment, lass, but I’m hoping to ease your mind. I never know when the Lamonts will return, so I have to make this visit short.”

  “Have they found him?”

  “Nay, but I’m not worried.”

  “Why not? He’s just a wee laddie. He doesn’t know his way around out there.” She closed her eyes, so afraid for her son.

  “Lass, I’m telling you. Your son is stronger and braver than you think. He’s mighty worried about you because he’s seen evidence of Greer’s temper. He told me he was going to go to the Grants someday, so he could ask them to come show his father how to be nice to you.”

  “He did?” How she adored her son. He had such a natural sweetness about him. How she prayed he’d never lose it. “Do you think ‘tis where he went?”

  “I do. I think he went to Grant land to get help for you. He doesn’t like it when you’re in the cellars. I know it’s only been a couple of times, but it upsets him terribly.” Corc chewed on a blade of straw stuck in the corner of his mouth.

  “But what if he gets lost?” She rubbed her hands at the chill in the cellars, wishing she had another blanket. The one plaid wasn’t quite warm enough for her.

  The thought of Steenie out there alone made her ill, though she tried to think good thoughts. She said a quick prayer for the Lord to watch over her son. Many times, she thought her mother overheard her prayers. If she could, she and Cairstine’s sire would watch over Steenie, too.

  “Do you know how many patrols the Grants send out in a sennight? His men and his allies are all over Scotland. If not Alex Grant’s men, it could be Loki Grant’s warriors or Torrian Ramsay’s, or the Drummonds or the Menzies. None of them would harm a child. They’ll find him if he gets even close. Now, stop worrying your pretty head about him, and trust that the Lord will send the Grants out to find your son. I do.”

  “I think I recall the Grants visiting with Da. Would that have been Alex Grant?”

  “Aye, the same. He used to bring his daughter and carry her on his shoulders. He had twin lads that were a wee bit wild.”

  “Do you know Braden Grant?”

  “Nay, why do you ask?”

  She stared at her hands for a moment, but since Greer was gone, there was no reason to worry. She trusted Corc completely. “I met him out the back when the Grants were here before. ‘Tis why I’m down here. Greer thought we’d been speaking too close.”

  Corc stared off into space, scratching his head. “Alex’s brothers are Brodie and Robbie. Mayhap Braden is a son to one of them. Any Grant would be a good man. Trust him.”

  “They won’t hurt Steenie, will they?”

  “Alex Grant is the biggest man I know, but he’d never hurt a bairn. I see you still have a bump on your head. Rest up, lass. The Grants are the strongest and most honorable clan in the Highlands. You can trust them. Now that I’ve checked on you, I must go back to the stables in case the brothers from hell return. Not to tempt fate, but ‘tis finally time for things to change around here.” He turned around and padded back down the passageway.

  Chapter Twelve

  Braden didn’t tell anyone that he planned to be gone long before morning. He would wait until dark and head over to Lamont land alone. He’d found his way to the back entrance before, so he’d do the same again. Though he was well aware that he could run into the Lamont brothers if they were out searching for Steenie, his will was unassailable.

  He prepared himself for the journey in early evening. He’d already left one of the strongest horses in the stables outside the gates after he took him for a ride through the meadow and tied him up in the trees. His saddlebag was already filled with oatcakes, a spare plaid, and any other items he may need.

  His sire caught up with him on one of his trips through the courtyard. “You look as though you’re planning something, son.”

  Braden caught his sire’s gaze, something different there than what he often saw—respect? Should he be honest with his sire?

  His father said, “Never mind. I recall being young and foolish, just as you are. I was driven to save a beautiful lass from being tortured. Naught could have stopped me. Sound familiar?”

  Braden nodded. “Aye, you saved Mama from a cruel Norseman.”

  “Aye. But I was lucky. With Nicol and Loki’s help, I was able to save her.” He paused for a moment, one eye closed, as he assessed Braden. Then he continued. “Learn from your sire and know that you cannot do it alone. Recognize when you must hold your tongue and your temper until you can get assistance. I couldn’t have rescued your mama by myself.”

  Braden said, “I’ll be traveling with Connor and Roddy on the morrow.”

  Brodie Grant chortled. “Will you, now? I know that look you have about you. I’ve seen it in the mirror before. Seen it on both of my brothers, and on my nephews. We Grants are impatient warriors. One more story for you, and I’ll leave you to do what you must.”

  Braden took in his sire with a different look. Perhaps he had some wisdom of his own to impart. He’d always looked to Uncle Alex, but his sire had been through the Battle of Largs and survived, brought Loki home and adopted him. He owed him a bit more respect than he’d given him before. “I’m listening, Papa.”

  “The most foolish thing I did was after the Battle of Largs. I had a serious leg injury that needed tending by my sister, not some sad healer found in Ayr. Alex sent me home with Nicol and Uncle Logan. In fact, when Brenna saw it, she said if I’d been another day, she’d have had to cut my leg off above my knee.”

  Braden glanced down to his sire’s legs. “But you got home in time. You still have it.” Where was he going with this story? He didn’t recall hearing this one before.

  “Aye. I was out cold when I left Ayr, so I don’t remember it, but I came to in the middle of the Highlands. I got up and promptly told Logan and Nicol I was going after Celestina, and they weren’t going to stop me. I was in love with your mother and didn’t wish to be without her.

  “My determination took over and I stalked over to my horse and did my best to leave with the intent of going back for your mother, which would have taken at least another sennight.”

  “What stopped you?”

  He smirked, dropping his head as the memories assailed him apparently. “For one thing, I couldn’t mount the horse because my leg was in such bad shape, but that didn’t stop me. I needed something a wee bit more forceful. Uncle Logan. I heard him say something about my sorry arse and then he punched me in the face, knocking me out. I never woke up until I was back at our keep. If not for those two, I’d only have one leg. So do your sire, your mother, and that young lady a favor and think before you let your stubbornness guide you. I wouldn’t have been the same with only a stump for a leg. Who knows if your mama would even have had me then.”

  “She wouldn’t have left you over losing your leg. Did you two not fall in love right away?”

  His sire grinned. “Aye, I saw her on a balcony. I thought she was about to jump off. When I finally met her up close, I knew she was the one for me. ‘Twas her scent and her eyes. I just couldn’t forget either one. Uncle Alex said I hardly knew her, but I knew enough.”


  Braden had to admit he was stunned. “I never thought falling for someone happened that quickly.”

  “It does when ‘tis right. ‘Tis all I can tell you about it. You’ll know. When you find yourself thinking of only one person and no one else and thoughts of having her in your arms overtake all other thoughts, ‘tis time to admit that you’ve found the one. However, ‘tis a dangerous situation to be in when you’re headed into battle. Keep your head about you, lad. Do not allow that stubborn head of yours to get in the way.”

  “You think I have a temper and I’m stubborn, too?”

  “Where do you think you get those qualities from?” His sire patted his shoulder and said, “Godspeed, wherever your journey takes you. Don’t make me give your mother bad news.” He walked away, a small smile still on his face.

  With his sire’s words fresh in his mind, he made his way out toward the gates, making sure to act normally and not draw any attention to himself. It would be dark in less than an hour, and he needed to be on his way by then. He did stop once to pause and glance back over his shoulder at his sire. If he really wanted to prevent Braden from leaving, he would have. Instead he was leaving the choice in his hands.

  He ran into Steenie in the courtyard. The lad looked to have a similar intention as he had.

  “Can we not leave now to free my mama?” The laddie looked up at him with such admiration and hope. How he wished to tell him that he planned to go after Cairstine himself and not wait until the morrow, but he couldn’t.

  “Trust the Grants to get your mama out. You’ll want to be here to see the swarm of Highland warriors leaving for Lamont land. We’ll have so many horses…”

  “And swords.” The boy yanked his own sword out and swung it around him a few times, not stopping until a voice called out to him.

  “You need better training, Steenie,” Kenzie said, his hands on his hips. “Come, I’ll take you to our practice spot in the corner of the bailey. I’ll show you how to fight like a Grant.”

  The two took off, Steenie’s short legs going as fast as possible in his attempt to keep up with the older lad. It was nearly dark. Braden’s patience was waning, so he decided to wait no longer. He walked straight across the courtyard and through the gates without being stopped. He was ready to leave.

  He found his horse quietly munching on a rare group of thick grasses. He patted his flank just before he mounted. “We’re off, my friend. You’ll not fail me this night. We must save a lassie from a cruel overlord.”

  At one point on his journey, he was forced to hide in a copse of trees to elude several horses headed his way. He climbed a tree to get a better visual and was surprised to see both Lamont brothers traveling a distance away, headed in the opposite direction.

  If he had to guess, he would say they were searching for a wee lad around five summers. He couldn’t have planned it better. That would make it easy for him to enter the Muir Castle since there would be a reduced number of guards on duty. He doubted that was the only patrol out searching for Steenie.

  Once the men were out of sight, he mounted and sent his horse into a gallop, heading straight for the back of the Lamont holding. That entrance was probably deserted, or so he hoped.

  Sure enough, it was unguarded. Moving as quietly as possible, he slipped into the back entrance of the keep, made his way down the stairs, and began to search the cellars. He vowed not to stop until he found Cairstine.

  Once he made it to the bottom of the stairs, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. There was only one torchlight in the passageway, so he headed in that direction, guessing it was near her cell.

  He stopped outside the second door because he knew she was inside. He could sense her presence. There was something about the lass that would never leave him. Creeping over to the window in the door, he peeked inside and found her sitting on the pallet, her head in her hands. He located the key ring on the wall not far away and carefully removed the keys, not wanting the sharp jingling of metal to alert anyone to what he was doing. All was quiet in the hall above, so he guessed the remaining guards were either imbibing or patrolling the curtain wall and protecting the gates.

  ***

  Cairstine jumped off the bed as soon as she heard the key in the lock, wondering who she would see on the other side. Greer had said he was off to search for Steenie, and he hadn’t been gone long.

  Or at least she didn’t think so.

  Instead, Braden Grant stood in front of her just inside the doorway. She couldn’t have been more shocked to see him.

  “My lady.” He nodded to her but otherwise stayed put.

  She had no idea what to say to him. “I’m no lady,” was the only thing that popped into her mind.

  “You are the daughter of the Muir. Thus, you are a lady, whether you wish to deny it or not.”

  “I don’t deny he was my sire,” she managed to get out before the tears flooded her cheeks. “But I’m no longer a lady. I am an unmarried woman with a child. A wench.”

  Braden took two slow steps toward her until he stood an arm’s length away. “Nay. Wench is not the word for you at all. Victim or captive comes to mind. Did you request to stay with the Lamonts after they massacred your family?”

  “How could you even suggest such a thing?” she whispered. She’d tried so hard to block out memories of that night, but it always returned.

  “Your sire was the laird of the Muirs, your mother lived in this keep along with you and your brother. The Lamonts came along and took your sire by surprise, murdering all but you because one of them, I’m guessing Greer, wished to use you for his own pleasures. Am I correct?”

  She turned her head away as the tears came out in a torrent. Unable to speak, all she could do was nod, acknowledging that he’d added up the pieces correctly. She hung her head in shame.

  He took two steps closer and placed his finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to meet his, even as sobs wracked her body. “You are a lady, Cairstine Muir. You have survived rape, brutal torture, and you’ve kept your son alive. To me, that speaks of a verra strong woman, not a wench.”

  “What do you want? You know I cannot go with you. My son will be brought back here. At least I hope so.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, as though hugging herself would make the pain go away.

  “Nay, he won’t. He’s safely on Grant land. He found his way out of here on his own, and my brother Loki brought him to Grant Castle. Greer and Blair are out searching for him, so there could be no better time for you to leave.”

  “He’s free? Truly free? He’s with the Grants and you’ll protect him from Greer Lamont?” She could hardly grasp the reality of what he was saying. Could the two of them get away and live a normal life together—away from the Lamonts?

  “Aye, we will.”

  “But Greer is his sire. Does that not carry rights to all? Can he not go claim Steenie?”

  “Trust me, my brother Loki will not return him after all your son told us. Loki is the protector of all bairns in the Highlands. He’ll protect Steenie with his life.”

  Hope sparked in her heart, golden and precious and new, but hope was a dangerous thing. What if he was toying with her? Could she believe him? What if he was lying about Steenie?

  She shook her head and took a step back, though the tears fell unencumbered down her cheeks and onto her gown.

  “You call me a lady. Do ladies wear gowns like this?” she asked, holding the coarse wool out for him to see. “Do ladies sleep in chambers such as this one? Are ladies kept away from their sons? Are they kept hidden so they have no idea where their lads are?”

  How could she possibly trust this man?

  Because he held you once and never hurt you. Because he’s come for you again. For some reason the thought popped into her mind in the voice of her mother.

  How she wished her mother could truly send her advice. I don’t know what to do, Mama. I miss you so much.

  “May I beg you to trust me for one minute?” he asked
without moving any closer.

  “Nay.” She shook her head vehemently and swiped at the tears still drenching her cheeks. “You’ll want to rut on me just like the bastards who killed my clan. No more. And how can I trust what you say about Steenie?”

  Nay, he’ll not, child. Trust him. Her mother’s voice called to her again, the sweetness of the timbre causing an ache in her heart, yet she begged to hear it again. A lump formed in her throat that she couldn’t clear.

  We chose him for you, Cairie.

  She sobbed and gasped at the memory of her mother’s favorite name for her when she was just a wee lass. No one else ever called her that. Was it possible that her mother could be speaking to her now?

  He took a step toward her. “I’m sorry for all the troubles fate has dealt you. If I have my way, Greer Lamont will pay for what he did to you and your clan. Can you please trust me for just one minute? I know what I’m asking of you.”

  She thought of her mother’s words and nodded. How she wanted to be able to trust this man, to believe that he would take her away and bring her to her dear son. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t stop the tears. What could he possibly do in one minute? “Go ahead,” she hitched. “One minute.” She stiffened in fear but vowed to give him a chance.

  His hand reached out and his thumb swiped a tear away with the softest touch she’d ever felt.

  His dark gaze locked on hers, those soulful eyes that called to her. “The problem is you were taken captive at such a young age that you’ve not been around many good men. I’m not about hurting women. My sire raised me to respect women—in fact, ‘tis important to all the Grants.” The back of his fingers brushed against her cheek, then down her neck and arm until he reached her hand. His hand wrapped around hers and he cocooned his hands around hers, lifting her fingers to his lips before he proceeded to kiss each finger. Gently releasing her hand, he cradled her cheek with his palm. He caught one of her tears and brought it to his own lips, tasting the drop of liquid with his tongue.