Cairstine wasn’t a naïve lass either. At one point, she’d glanced over her shoulder at him and said, “I’m sorry. Would you like me to ride behind you?”
He’d chuckled and said, “Nay. I like you where you are. It gives me an ache that helps me forget the rest of my pain.”
There was one thing he had to tell her that might relax his need, so he plunged ahead. “Cairstine, I doubt you’ll find Greer’s body. I don’t know what you’d hoped for, but I’d guess that my uncle sent more men and had them bury the dead. He often sends another patrol out within a couple of hours of the first as a check system.”
She turned in front of him, enough so he could see the outline of her lovely face. “I hope he has been buried. I don’t wish to see his body or know what became of it. He’s out of my life and I prefer it that way. I have no cause for goodbyes. I don’t know how Steenie will react to the news when he knows all, but he’s young. I’ll help him deal with his loss. He did love his sire, even though he’d been disciplined more than he deserved. He struggled with that love, and now I fear this will be another challenge for him.”
“Losing someone is difficult. I’ve seen many of our clan pass on in the last few years. We all have faults. It doesn’t make losing someone any easier. I’d be happy to talk with him if you like. I lost someone dear to me not long ago, so I understand how difficult this will be for him.”
“You did? I’m so sorry. Who was it? Would you like to talk about it?” She squeezed his hand.
Braden sighed, thinking about Ronan. “I had a good friend who took his own life.”
“Oh, Braden, I’m so sorry.”
“His family said it was because he believed his beloved had been unfaithful, but I don’t understand. I don’t think ‘tis true. How I wish he’d talked to me before he did it. Sometimes I feel guilty because I didn’t notice that he was sad or angry about something, but he must have been. How could I have been so blind?”
“I’m sure it had naught to do with you, but I understand. What he did made you feel powerless.”
“In fact, I was so desperately guilty that I made a pact with God that I’d save two people’s lives to make up for not being there when Ronan needed me most.” He hadn’t shared that with anyone before, and saying the words out loud made him feel lighter. It also made him feel even closer to Cairstine.
“You’ve upheld your end of the bargain, so ‘tis time to let your guilt go.”
“What?” He gave her a peculiar look because he couldn’t follow her reasoning.
“You saved more than two. You saved me and Steenie and a whole group of lassies. You’ve paid your debt. Release your guilt.” She turned toward him and leaned in to kiss the underside of his chin, right where his small scar sat.
He hadn’t looked at it quite like that, but while it wasn’t solely on his shoulders, he had helped save the lassies. Did that absolve his guilt?
Nay, he hated to admit it, but it was still there.
“Tell me about your cousins. You never knew they survived?”
“Nay. The Lamonts kept me away from everything. I never spoke to anyone except the two of them. I knew the girls had been visiting Aunt Fina, but I never knew if the Lamonts killed everyone in the area. They were daft, all of them. ‘Struth is my life revolved around Steenie for the last five years. I knew of naught but him.”
“We need to make sure Maggie learns of their involvement in your aunt’s murder. Edith said that some of them were different men. Who knows where they traveled from there.”
“I pray Aunt Fina is still alive. Eva was traumatized from watching her mother die in front of her eyes. They are like me. They lost their parents and were then taken captive. That’s a sad thing to have in common, isn’t it? I never would have recognized Eva because she was so little the last time I saw her.”
“You did right by Edith. ‘Twas your voice calling her name that helped her focus. How did you recognize her if you have not seen her in six years?”
“Her sire taught all of us how to scream in a certain way to let our clan know if we were in trouble. In fact, ‘tis one of my fondest memories with them. We lassies would scream as loud as we could, then giggle terribly. He would make us repeat it until we had just the right screech to our voices. Now I understand how invaluable that lesson was. I recognized her immediately. I’m so pleased to have found both of them.”
When they finally arrived at Muir Castle, the gates were wide open, so Braden dismounted and helped her down. There was no one in the stables, though a few horses remained in their stalls. It had been several hours since their battle, and other than the random blood spatters, there was no other indication of the fight. He took her hand and headed toward the keep, his gaze scanning the area for any signs of life. There were none. Blood spatters could be seen, but the bodies had all been removed.
Cairstine’s grip tightened on his hand, and her steps slowed as they moved across the courtyard. The silence was eerie, so he understood her hesitation. After all they’d been through, he expected someone to jump out at them at any moment. Muir Castle had a bloody history.
“Are you sure you wish to do this, sweeting? If you give me directions, I’ll search your chamber, look for anything at all. Just tell me.”
She shook her head, and he could tell she was doing her best to keep the tears at bay. He reached up and brushed a lone drop away with his thumb. “If you need to cry, go ahead. No reason to keep it all inside of you. No one will hear you but me.”
“And the ghosts…” She stared up at the sky and closed her eyes, taking two deep breaths before she opened them again. “I need to go into my parents’ bedchamber. Greer took that chamber, and I was never allowed in it. I was given one at the end of the passageway, one of our guest chambers. Greer had his men burn all my possessions except for a few wool gowns so there’s naught there for me. But I’d like to see if anything of my parents’ possessions remain.”
“I’ll check first if you’d like.”
“Nay. I would prefer to go with you if you don’t mind.”
Holding her hand, he led her inside the darkened hall and up the stairs. She pointed out her parents’ chamber and they moved down the passageway, but she stopped just outside the door. Lifting her gaze to his, she whispered, “I so wish to find something, anything, of theirs. Just a small token of their lives together, some keepsake that will always remind me of them. I searched all the years I was here, but never found anything. This is my last chance.”
He leaned down to kiss her cheek and pushed the door open.
***
Cairstine fought to hold the bile in her throat back. Her parents’ bedchamber was an absolute mess. Her mother would faint if she ever saw it in such a condition.
“Unbelievable that anyone could live in this. He was a swine, but I didn’t realize that he literally preferred a sty. I’m so sorry, Cairstine.” He moved ahead of her, kicking items away, moving them to the side.
“Are you looking for something in particular, Braden?”
“I just wish to make sure there are no critters in here. I’ll leave the door open so they can run away, if so.”
Cairstine couldn’t stop the revulsion from showing on her face. The coverlet on the bed had been carefully stitched by her mother. Now it was covered with dirt and blood stains and unnamed bodily fluids. “The smell is so bad, I know not how long I can tolerate it. If we look through the chests and find naught, I’ll be satisfied.”
Braden pointed to one. “You go through that one, I’ll go through this one on the floor. ‘Tis more than likely to hold weapons. Be watchful for sharp items. I doubt he cared for his swords and daggers any better than he did his chamber.”
Cairstine opened the doors on the chest, surprised to find a few neatly folded tunics inside along with some daggers. She was almost ready to give up when her hand reached into the far corner and discovered a box. Pulling it out, she gasped when she saw the top of it.
“Did you find something? I
hope so, because there’s naught in here but weapons. I’ll put out the engraved ones in case they belonged to your sire or brother.” Braden cleared an area on the bed and laid several items down.
She glanced quickly at the weapons but shook her head. “None belonged to my sire or my brother. But this box is familiar to me.” She returned her attention to the box she’d found in the back of the chest. “My mother kept some of her jewelry in here. She did not have much, but she had a pearl necklace and a large emerald ring. She never wore them, only the ring given to her when they married.” She held her breath and undid the clasp, lifting the wooden lid completely.
It was empty.
She wouldn’t cry, she would not cry.
“I am so sorry, sweeting. You will keep the box? ‘Twas something of your mother’s.” He wrapped his arms around her, and she rested her head against his chest, her hands still holding the cherished box.
“Aye, I have the box. ‘Tis all I have, but ‘tis something. I doubt there is aught else in this mess. They must have sold everything. Mama used to talk about a secret hiding place, but she never said where it was.”
Braden stepped away from her, looking up at the ceiling. “Highlanders are well known for stashing valuables in case of a raid. My Grant ancestors built many hiding places inside our keep. Mayhap we need to look at it a wee bit differently. If your parents used a hidden place, Greer may never have seen it through this mess. Let’s look at the floor.”
They spent nearly an hour pushing the discarded clothing and weaponry aside so they could study the floor, but they found naught. She was sure she’d gotten her hopes up over nothing.
“Mayhap ‘tis in the great hall or in the ceiling,” he offered. He scratched his head and then stared up at the ceiling again. There was no sign of an opening or a loose area or anything that did not belong. “Or in the cellars.”
When he dropped his gaze, he saw something unusual.
“What is it?” She followed his gaze and stared at the stone wall behind the bed, but nothing stood out to her.
“There,” he pointed to a spot above the bed, nearly to the ceiling. “There’s no packing around that stone. It could be just loose, but it could be…” He climbed up on top of the bed and moved carefully over to the wall. He wasn’t as tall as many of his cousins, but he was still a tall man by Muir standards. The ceiling was so high that it was almost out of his reach, but he managed to wiggle the stone.
It scraped and moved easily, though it was bulky and looked heavy. He dropped it onto the bed and tried to peer inside the cavity it had protected.
Cairstine’s stomach clenched when he turned around to smile at her. “There’s something in there. I cannot tell what. Give me a few moments.” He did his best to reach inside the spot, but she could tell he was struggling to achieve the right angle. What could be in there?
He hopped off the bed and said, “I’m going to put the chest in front. Help me move the bed back and I’ll climb up.”
Once they rearranged the furniture, Braden climbed atop of the chest and stuck his hand inside the opening. He hit soft wool first, so he tugged it out and held it up for Cairstine to see.
“My sire’s dress plaid!” she squealed with delight.
He handed it to her and she smiled, running her hand across the finely woven silver threads and blue and green wool before bringing the garment up to rub it against her cheek.
“Mama insisted on sewing the silver threads herself. They were so proud of our heritage. I can see her hands in this, she worked tirelessly and diligently each time she made him a new one.” She could remember seeing her sire in it whenever they had a special festival or a visit by the king. He had looked so regal and handsome, especially when he sat atop his warhorse. The memory brought a tear to her eye. Then she noticed something else. “Oh, Braden, it smells just like Papa did. He always reminded me of the outdoors—the horses, the pine trees. ‘Tis almost like he’s standing next to me again.” She couldn’t stop the tears, but these were tears of joy. For the first time in so long.
Braden reached up again, but this time he needed both of his hands to heft something out of the hole. The hilt of a sword. “Is this your sire’s?”
“Aye. If there is engraving on the hilt.”
“I believe there is, but ‘tis well worn.” He set it on the bed. “A fine weapon meant for a son. I think there is one more item.” He reached in and pulled out a small box and handed it to her.
She didn’t recognize the box, so she opened it and gasped. Her mother’s wedding ring. Her hand shook when she pulled out the golden ring, a large rectangular blue sapphire set in the middle. She put it on her finger and smiled. “It fits perfectly.”
“I’m sure your mother would want you to wear it. ‘Tis quite beautiful. Let me check to see if there is aught else.” He reached inside again, but this time came back with nothing. “I’m afraid we’ve reached the end of it.” He lifted the stone that he’d dropped on top of the bed, and it made a strange sound. “Huh. This stone strikes me as unusual. I didn’t notice that when I took it out.” He climbed down from the bed and held out the stone for Cairstine’s appraisal.
“I think these are hinges on the back, well-hidden.” She scratched about with her finger and found a hidden latch.
“The stone is hollow. I wonder where they found it,” she said as she peered inside.
“My guess is your sire had it built that way. What’s inside?”
Cairstine pulled out a heavy red velvet pouch with golden ribbon cinching it closed at the top. She loosened the ribbon and peeked inside, then lowered herself onto the bed and positioned her skirt just so. When she tipped the pouch upside down, a seemingly endless cascade of coins fell into her lap.
“Oh my, Braden. How much do you think this is worth? I know naught about coins.” She picked up a few and let them trickle through her fingers.
He picked up two gold coins, taking a moment to examine them. “Good news. I’m quite sure you’ll be able to restore this castle to exactly the way it was before the Lamonts arrived to do their damage.”
Her eyes lit up and she nearly threw herself at him, but first she replaced the coins in the pouch and pulled the drawstring tight. The last thing she wished to do was to add to the mess Greer had left.
They gathered their items together and left the chamber, but Braden came to a sudden stop. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to replace that stone in the wall. It seems like bad luck to leave it that way. I think your sire would want it put back to rights.”
She was only alone for a moment, but a breeze came down the passageway, lightly blowing through her hair. She turned around and lifted her face to the ceiling because her sire’s familiar aroma drifted past her again. Smiling, she closed her eyes. To her shock, it felt as if a hand cupped the back of her head, something her sire he had done so many times to her when she was young. A deep voice that wrapped her in a warmth that was only her sire’s whispered, “He’s the one, my wee flower.”
She opened her eyes with a start and turned her head back toward her parents’ bedchamber. Her sire had often called her that—his wee flower. The breeze stopped, and his presence drifted away. She whispered, “I know, Papa. Thank you for bringing him to me.”
Her heart nearly burst when Braden came back into the passageway. It felt as if her father had just validated what her heart already knew.
“Is everything all right?” he asked. “Were you talking to someone?”
“Nay, ‘twas naught.”
He kissed her head and took her hand, leading her down the staircase. While she trusted him completely, she would keep the moment she’d shared with her sire to herself. It hardly mattered whether it was real or not. To her, her sire had just spoken to her—and he’d let her know that her life was about to change for the better.
When they arrived in the great hall, they paused to sit at the trestle tables in the hall. She peered up at the bare walls and said, “I can have another tapestry hung t
here. My mother had made a beautiful one of Muir Castle in winter. Or mayhap I’ll hang my sire’s plaid there and have his sword hung above it as a remembrance.
Another breeze blew through her hair and she smiled, as if her sire had just nodded his approval.
Braden glanced over his shoulder. “Did you just feel a warm breeze?”
She nodded, unable to speak for fear she would tear up.
“The door is closed. Where would it come from?”
She reached for his cheek and gently turned his face back toward her. “It does not matter. What matters is you and I are here together. Will you return with me someday and help me hang my sire’s sword on that wall?”
“Absolutely. ‘Tis a fine place for it. I’m sure that would please your parents. Is there aught else you’d like to do while we’re here?”
“Aye,” she said, looking suddenly shy.
He quirked his brow at her, but he waited for her to explain.
“I’d love a bath. There’s a tub in the kitchens. If you do not mind waiting, I’d like to wash all this grime from my skin and wash my hair. I want to start fresh. Do I sound daft?”
“You’re sure you’d like to do it here? My aunt has a wonderful bathing chamber in the Grant keep. Will the memories be too much for you here?”
She squared her shoulders, thinking of her parents, her clanmates, all those who had perished here because of greed. “Nay. ‘Tis time to take Muir Castle back. I am my sire’s daughter, and this was my home, and I hope to make it thrive again someday. That starts now. I’ll not cower to the Lamonts again.”
“Your sire would be proud,” he said, leaning over to take her lips with his. She parted her lips with a sigh, enjoying the closeness, the feeling of their tongues dueling. How she admired this man. He was everything she could ever want. He teased her with his tongue and she responded, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more from him. After all the horrid kisses Greer had given her, she wanted to erase the memory of him and fill her mind with new memories, memories of Braden Grant. She pulled back, panting, blushing at the strength of her ardor, though she was pleased to see his breathing matched hers.
Highland Retribution Page 17
