by Eliza Knight
Chapter 6
The corridor outside of Cora’s chamber at the tavern just across the English border, was as dark as Liam’s mind. Shadows danced in the corners, and though he’d remained calm since they’d made the tavern their camp, he was a slow-burning ember ready to ignite.
Ughtred, the Ross clan, and thoughts of Cora all swarmed inside his mind. He’d not been lying when he’d told her he’d intended to come for her. But it never seemed like the right time. A judgment he regretted now. If he’d known she wasn’t at the abbey, if he’d known she’d returned home… would that have changed things?
Liam let out a growl of frustration at himself. He was as much to blame for her injuries, for her suffering, as Ughtred and his men. All he could do now was make good on his vows and protect her from this day going forward.
With enough coin, and a few threats, he’d managed to convince the tavern owner to hand over the establishment until he and his men were able to get on the road again. Of course, this was the same village they’d passed through on their way to finding Ughtred to begin with. The one where it felt as if every pair of eyes were calculating and assessing their next move in order to report it to their enemies.
It had been right outside the village walls where they’d run into the wee messenger lad.
Coming back here was dangerous, especially with Ughtred in tow as their prisoner. Most of the people within this village had either been bought by traitorous Scots or by the English themselves, and those who hadn’t accepted coin were cowering in fear.
None of them were safe here. They needed to go, should have left the day before. But what choice did they have, save to stop? It was the closest village to the border—out of England. And they’d not have been able to travel far with Cora lying unconscious in his arms, and her injuries needing tending. Especially when she’d come down with a fever rather quickly. Thankfully, that had only lasted two days, and she seemed to be on the mend now.
She also seemed to be telling the truth. The fire in her eyes when she’d yelled at him had been both astonishing and the most incredible thing he’d ever seen. All that anger and pain focused on him. He’d felt her betrayal to his very marrow. Had wanted to take back everything he’d said. To drop to his knees and beg forgiveness, which was so unlike him. Liam didn’t beg, and he certainly didn’t drop to his knees—not for a woman.
But Cora wasn’t just any woman.
Och, but when he’d thought for a moment that Cora might be behind a plot to capture him, part of having lured him here under false pretenses, he’d seen red. He’d felt his heart rending from his chest, the sharp tip of steel piercing that soft organ. He didn’t know what made him angrier—that she could have done such a thing, or that it affected him so much. For, bloody’s sake, he’d been ready to burn this tavern to ashes to match what had been done to her castle.
He’d been angry for so many reasons. He’d imagined his men being slaughtered. His mission failing before he’d even begun. His king’s disappointment, and his father’s.
Mostly, his anger had stemmed from the idea that the woman he’d devoted his life to, even if from afar, could have betrayed him. For a moment, he’d believed himself a bloody fool, and she the murderer of his soul.
Liam’s chest throbbed where an arrow had been lodged years before. He pressed a hand over the spot, squeezed his eyes shut for half a breath and then blinked them open as he willed the pain away. The healer had warned he may feel residual pain after the arrow had been removed since it had damaged much of the area. And pain him it did, throbbing whenever his heart beat a little too fast, and making him fear he might just drop dead.
“Sir.”
Liam jerked his gaze from where it had settled on the shadows seeping between the floorboards. Tad stood before him.
“Is the perimeter secure?”
“Aye, sir. We’ve made certain the gates to the village are closed, and our guards are on the flimsy wall. All the village residents have been warned to stay within their homes for the night.”
Taking control of the village had been an easy task, as he’d assumed it would be when he’d been here before. The village had few fortifications, and those they had were flimsy at best. At least they would be safe tonight. And on the morrow, they would move on. Cora would have to ride with someone, given she didn’t have use of her hands. The obvious choice would be for her to ride with him, but he wasn’t certain he could risk exposing the way he felt. And yet the idea of her riding with another had him gritting his teeth with an emotion he refused to call jealousy.
“Are ye all right, sir?” Tad kept his face blank of emotion, but Liam could practically hear his thoughts.
“Fine.”
“Ye’re—” Tad cut himself off from speaking before Liam could do it for him.
“I said I’m fine. The lass wants to see her mother.”
“Did ye agree?” Tad sounded a little surprised, given that before the lass had fallen out of bed, Liam had just been telling the man he didn’t trust her.
“I dinna think they will conspire against me, if that is what has ye concerned, Tad.” He gritted his teeth. “I may have been wrong in my previous assumption.” He could still see her spitting fire at him.
Tad nodded curtly. “Aye.”
Liam cleared his throat, changing the subject, “Have ye supped?”
“Nay, not as yet.”
The scent of stew and baked bread had been percolating up the stairs. He was surprised how good it smelled. “I’ll take first watch of the ladies. Ye go and sup, and then ye can take watch.”
“Aye, sir.” Tad retreated down the hallway to the narrow stair.
Liam leaned against the wall, willing the dull ache in his chest to dissipate, then he took a few steps to the second room of the tavern where Cora’s mother rested. He knocked twice and waited for her to allow him entry, and when she did, he opened the door slowly.
The older woman glanced up at him. How very similar she and Cora looked. Just as his own mother looked so much like his older sister, Bella, and his youngest sister, Blair. Greer, the one closest to his age, resembled their father.
Lady Segrave studied him but said nothing.
Liam bowed, as was her due, even if she was English. “My lady, your daughter is awake and requesting to see ye.”
Lady Segrave fairly leapt from the place she’d been sitting before the hearth staring into the flames. The chair scuffled back a few inches but did not fall. She was frail in appearance, and not from being in a dungeon for a few days. Certainly, that hadn’t helped. Perhaps frail wasn’t the right word, but rather frightfully thin.
Even still, for as fragile as her body appeared, and through the skin on her face was parchment thin, she had a commanding tone. Narrow shoulders squared, she somehow managed to look down her nose at him, despite him being well over a foot taller.
“Send us supper in her chambers. I should like to dine with my daughter.”
Liam nodded, choosing not to argue with the older woman, who would likely only box his ears.
“This way, madam.” Liam held open the door for her, and she swept past him with all the regality of a queen.
She marched the few paces to her daughter’s door and tossed open the flimsy entry as though it were nothing but a sheet hung over the frame.
Frail but strong. He’d do well to remember that, because it was clear from only those few short minutes exactly where Cora gained her strength from.
“Mother!” Cora’s voice broke through his judgment of her mother, and when he saw her push up on her elbows, and reach for her mother, he felt a moment’s pang of jealousy.
It would have been nice if she’d felt the urge to wrap her arms around him when he’d first seen her.
But, honestly, what had he expected upon her waking? For her to toss herself into his arms and claim she’d missed him all these years? He wasn’t a fool. He would have to admit to being one if he were to even think such a thing.
Nay, he
barely knew the chit. Hell, all of a half hour ago, he’d been wondering if she was behind a ruse to see him cut down. And she still might be. For all her bluster, which was quite convincing, the truth was, he didn’t truly know Cora the way a man should know his wife. While she’d claimed to have made him a promise, too, he wasn’t certain he could trust her. Even if he wanted to.
Liam had previously been more disposed to trust women than his brother Strath, but after all the trouble with Ughtred’s wife, Ina Ross, he wasn’t putting anything past anyone, even if Cora did sport a pair of perky and perfect breasts, along with eyes that lighted an unnatural fire within him.
Ballocks. Liam closed the door, giving them the pretense of privacy, but he planned to listen in on every single word they said after he called down for supper to be brought up to them.
He’d barely stepped from the closed door when he heard Cora’s mother say in a muffled tone, “Does he know?”
“I did not tell him anything,” Cora replied.
Bloody ballocks in a boar’s jaws… What the hell were they talking about? Because it didn’t sound good, and it sent the hair on the back of his neck to standing on end. Does he know? And I did not tell him anything.
Liam wanted to punch the wall. To ram his body against the door, splintering the planks as he marched into the chamber and demanded she tell him what she was hiding.
He’d been right about calling her a liar. But perhaps for the wrong reasons. She couldn’t have lured him to the castle under the pretense of an ambush, not with her being in dungeon, and the castle around her on fire. If he’d been in the Highlands, he wouldn’t have made it to her family’s keep until the ashes had turned cold. That didn’t mean she wasn’t hiding something else though.
What a bloody idiot he’d been to think he could trust her. King Robert would believe him a damn fool. His chest ached, and he drew in a deep breath to try to calm its rapid beating. Every beat was a reminder of the ways in which he’d failed to be a good subject to his king. The wayward arrow had caught him by surprise, an ambush on the road near the border when he’d veered off course toward Cora’s abbey, rather than obeying orders from his king.
“Good,” Lady Segrave continued, “we cannot risk anyone else finding out.”
“Do you not think that Ughtred will say something?”
“And risk losing it?”
There was a rustling of fabric, and a murmur Liam couldn’t make out.
Losing what? Find out what?
Liam’s lip curled in derision. His hands fisted at his sides. This time, when the pain slammed into his chest, he knew it wasn’t the pesky arrow remnant, but rather betrayal. He shoved away from the door, recalling just before he stomped away that he was supposed to be quiet. He made his way softly down the stairs, ordered the ladies’ supper and himself a whisky from the skittish maid in the tavern dining area.
The tavern was lit dimly by torches along the wall and candles placed on the tables. The hearth was banked, and what little embers burned let off more smoke than they should have if the chimney were properly cleaned. His men who weren’t on watch lounged on the benches on either side of two trestle tables in the center of the tavern. They ate, drank and played games of cards and bones, quietly talking amongst themselves. Soon, they’d relieve those on watch, and those men would come in and take their places around these tables.
Tad rose from where he was seated eating a leg of fowl and crust of bread when he got a look at the scowl on Liam’s face. A flash of concern etched Tad’s brow as he tossed his half-eaten meat and bread onto his trencher and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“What’s happened?” he asked quietly when he reached Liam’s side, and then more loudly shouted, “A drink for our mighty leader!”
It was a trick they often played, making everyone think all was well, while underneath they had to plot in quiet or share news that need not alarm the others. They would carry on two conversations. The quiet, private one, and a louder one for the men’s benefit.
“They are hiding something,” Liam grumbled. He took the mug offered him by one of the men, and said loudly, “’Tis our last night on the border. Ye’ve all done good work. Soon we’ll ride for Stirling!”
Cheers went up around the small tavern dining room.
“The ladies?” Tad asked around the rim of his mug.
“Aye.”
“Any guess what it is?”
Liam raised his glass again to the men, then turned his back, nodding for Tad to follow him to the corner of the room. “Nay, I’ve got to question Ughtred.”
“I’ll go keep an eye on them.”
Liam took a long swallow of the lukewarm ale, trying not to shudder at the sour taste. Good God, he couldn’t wait to get back to the Highlands where ale tasted like ale and not day-old piss. “Dinna enter, save to serve them their meal. Once they are served, wish them well and then listen from outside the door.” Liam drained his ale and chased it with a dram of whisky. He threw the spirits down the back of his throat, relishing the burn, and then slammed the cup back on the table. “I’m going to have a word with our prisoner.”
Tad grinned. “I’d tell ye to go easy on him, but what would be the fun in that?”
Liam managed a gruff laugh, then swiped a jug of whisky and went through the kitchen and down the narrow dirt-packed stairs into the cellar where they’d left Ughtred. The ceiling was barely tall enough for a grown woman to stand in, let alone someone his height, and so he walked with his head to the side, feeling the cobwebs dangling from the exposed joists of the unfinished ceiling. Swiping away the webs, he knelt before Ughtred where he lay bound at the ankles and wrists, a gag in his disgusting mouth.
Ughtred glared at him with much fury. Liam couldn’t even fault him that. Being tied up like a boar caught in the woods was painful, and he was a prisoner to boot. If he were in that situation, he’d be just as angry. Too bad Liam didn’t care. The bastard deserved worse.
“I’m going to take out the gag and ask ye a few questions. If ye give me what I want, I’ll give ye whisky.” He lifted the jug, showing he had the goods on hand should Ughtred listen.
The man nodded, though his eyes still looked spitting mad. Liam pulled out the soggy gag and dropped it in the dirt beside the man’s head.
The cellar was damp, cold, and stored wheels of cheese, root vegetables, barrels and jugs of who knew what, and sacks of oats and other supplies. A typical cellar, if not for the prisoner lying in his own filth.
“Why did ye take the castle?”
The man started to laugh, not merely a chuckle, but a deep laugh from the gut, and then just as abruptly, he stopped. Not only was it startling, but quite peculiar, too. “It’s not worth your filthy whisky.”
Liam shrugged, sat back on his heels and took a long, leisurely sip. “Suit yourself, but I promise we dinna drink filthy whisky.” Liam dangled the jug before the man’s eyes. “Did ye kill Baron Segrave?”
Ughtred tsked. “Did the man die? Such a shame. My king will mourn the loss of one of his own.”
So, the man was going to play games. Liam would be lucky to get any answers today, but that didn’t mean he was through yet. “Why did ye marry a wretched Scot?”
Ughtred growled at that. “You leave her out of this.”
“Do ye even know where your wife is?” Liam taunted, taking another sip.
Ina had been captured by none other than Liam’s own sister, sweet Greer. Who would have thought she had it in her to fight and take down the Medusa that was Ina Ross? He was impressed to say the least, and now Ina languished in the dungeons of Stirling Castle. He recalled fondly, and with pride, watching his sister tie up the shameful woman.
“I’ve an idea,” Ughtred gritted out.
“I hope ye guessed buried deep.” Let the man think it was a grave. Perhaps a bit of torment on his soul would get his tongue wagging.
“Is that supposed to make me answer? Knowing that ye and your bastard kin killed my wife?”
&
nbsp; Ah, so he took it as a grave. Liam shrugged, no point in correcting him just yet. “My kin?”
“All you Scots have been inbreeding for centuries. Worthless filth.”
“Ye speak ill of the dead. I’m sure your wife wouldna appreciate that.”
“She was a means to an end.” Spittle flew from the man’s mouth. “Her lands are mine. I made sure of it in our contract.”
Liam grunted. Still no need to correct him on the state of his wife’s heartbeat. For all Liam knew, she could be dead now, though he doubted it. Ina was the Devil incarnate, and demons never died. That said, he was gaining more information than Ughtred might realize, such as his motivation behind marrying Ina Ross to begin with.
“Pity I’ve got ye tied up in this cellar without a soul knowing where ye are.” Liam baited him now, wanting to see if he’d mention Cora or her mother.
“The lot of you know, and so does everyone in this godforsaken village. Someone will spill to the English, and they’ll bring their swords down upon your neck.”
“I doubt everything ye’ve just said.” Liam shrugged casually and took another sip of whisky. “Are ye certain ye dinna want any? ’Tis mighty cold down here, not to mention ye must be awfully uncomfortable. Whisky can help with both.”
“Go to hell, you bastard.”
Liam grinned. “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that. Come now, ye can do better than that. Tell me how filthy and inbred I am again. Tell me how ye feel. I need a bit more stoking afore I can beat ye senseless.”
“I’d rather a rat crawled down my throat and ate me from the inside,” Ughtred seethed.
Liam glanced from right to left. “Ye ken that can be arranged, aye? I see a few of them scurrying about, and guts sound a lot more appetizing to a wee devil than the dried bannocks they’ll find on the shelves.”
“Do it.” Ughtred jutted his chin forward in defiance.
