Читать книгу Highlanders Collection - Бренда Джойс, Ann Lethbridge - Страница 18

Bram remained in the shadows, watching the English soldiers who patrolled the garrison. He knew their faces, especially the men who had guarded the prisoners. Some had been impassive, merely obeying orders. Others had enjoyed tormenting those in chains.

He gripped the crossbow Alex had given him. Though he would have preferred hand-to-hand combat, given his physical weakness it was likely the better choice to remain here.

He’d led Alex and Ross to the loose section of the palisade wall near the back of the fortress. Vines and underbrush had grown over the wall, and the greenery kept the loose stones hidden from the rest of the soldiers. They’d spent the last half-hour removing the stones in silence, until the opening was large enough for a man to fit through.

Bram chose his position behind the veil of vines, keeping his crossbow loaded. With any luck, they could free all of the prisoners and get Callum out, using the chaos to make their escape.

As his brother and Ross entered the fortress with stealth, time crept onwards. Bram stared at the limestone, remembering how, day after day, he’d stacked the stones atop one another. The backbreaking work was done in silence, occasionally interrupted by a soldier issuing a command or smashing a quarterstaff against a captive’s shoulders.

He lost sight of Alex and Ross as they disappeared with the others, keeping to the shadows. The remnants of a stone wall lay unfinished near the inner curtain. The Earl had several garrisons across Scotland, and Bram had worked upon many of the structures before they’d been moved to Cairnross.

Had they arrived a few hours earlier, the prisoners might have been working on the wall. As it was, the men were likely belowground, trying to steal an hour or two of sleep. The underground cellar wasn’t tall enough to stand in, and remembering the interior brought a phantom ache to his neck and shoulders.

Bram’s gaze grew fixated upon the opening within the ground; it was as if he were looking through water, with blurred images and muffled sounds. Though he kept a bolt fitted to the crossbow, he felt himself slipping away from the present into the past.

The scars upon his neck itched, a bead of sweat rolling down to his collarbone. The scents of the garrison stung, bringing him back to the years of imprisonment. When a soldier passed by him, he held his breath.

He could almost feel the slash of the dagger against his flesh once again. Taste the blood in his mouth from where they’d struck him across the jaw, yelling taunts about his weakness.

Where was Callum? He craned his neck, searching for a glimpse of his brother. Right now, he wanted to leave his position, to free the others from captivity and bring his brother out of the darkness.

Broken memories assaulted him, and as minutes transformed into an hour, there was still no sign of Callum. It was as if he’d vanished. Bram’s fingers trembled upon the trigger of the crossbow. With the slightest pressure, he could kill one of the English soldiers who’d threatened them.

One of the soldiers lifted a torch and headed to the underground entrance where the prisoners were held. What was he planning to do?

Without waiting to find out, Bram released the bolt. It struck the stone wall beside the soldier, bouncing away in a clear miss. Seconds later, the man dropped the torch. He unsheathed his sword and charged at Bram, his voice crying out a warning to the others.

The crossbow fell from his fingers onto the ground. Bram reached for the claymore he’d worn strapped to his back, but his hands froze upon the hilt. His arms felt as though they were weighted down with stones, unable to move.

He saw the eyes of the man who had tortured his brother and himself. Nausea swam in his stomach, and when the soldier’s blade raised high for the killing blow Bram managed to unsheathe his weapon. He barely defended the blow that slashed at him, stumbling like a child.

His mind roared at him to strike back, to fight for his brother’s life. But his arms moved too slowly, his body broken down. It infuriated him that he’d come so far, only to lose his strength.

Move, damn you, he ordered himself. But his strength wasn’t enough to counter his lack of co-ordination. He’d truly fallen hard. God above, what had happened to him? After all this time, his fighting had worsened. Shame burned through him when Alex stepped in to cut down the soldier.

His brother stared at him, as if he no longer knew him. ‘It was a mistake for you to come.’

Bram knew it, though he said nothing. He locked glances with Alex, furious with himself for his weakness. He’d foolishly believed that his anger would carry him when raw skill would not.

He reached for his crossbow, but Alex stopped him, handing him a shield instead. ‘Get back to the horses and wait for us. Ross went below to free the others, but Callum wasn’t there. He’s gone.’

The words took the air from his lungs. Had they been too late? Was his brother already dead?

The roar of the other prisoners resounded in the night air as they fought for their freedom. One seized a torch and used it to set a shelter on fire. Flames and black smoke soared into the sky, while they ran for the gates, some with their hands and ankles still chained.

On the opposite end of the garrison, Bram saw a woman huddled against the other end, cowering against the wall. If she didn’t move, she’d be caught in the violence. All around her, prisoners cut down their captors, slaughtering the English with any weapons they could find.

Seeing her fear reminded Bram of his wife. He couldn’t leave this woman here, any more than he’d want Nairna to be trapped in such a place. As he crossed the garrison, slipping through the shadows, his thoughts drifted back to her. Though he supposed his wife was safe enough at Glen Arrin, he hadn’t liked leaving her behind.

It reminded him too much of the night he’d left her after their wedding. He’d kissed her goodbye, never realising that it would be the last touch between them for seven years.

And tonight, if he didn’t get out of this burning fortress, it might well be the last time he saw his wife.

Bram stared at the woman, who kept her face to the stones, quaking with fear. Interfering with her fate was a mistake. He knew it, yet he couldn’t stop himself from approaching her.

He avoided the men around him, keeping his shield up, until he reached her side. ‘Are you a hostage?’ he demanded.

She gripped her arms, as if she hadn’t heard him. Lowering her hood, he realised that she was only a little younger than Nairna. With veiled hair and terrified eyes, her gaze darted about as if she didn’t know where to flee.

‘If you want to leave this place, my brother can grant you sanctuary,’ Bram offered. ‘My wife will look after you, and I promise, you’ll face no harm.’

The woman stared at him as if fighting her own indecision. There was distrust on her face, but an even greater fear of staying behind. In the end, she picked up her skirts and ran towards him. ‘Please,’ she begged, in heavily accented Gaelic, ‘help me get home to my father.’

Bram caught her hand and drew her outside the broken wall. He spied Alex and Ross starting to make their own escape and he led the woman to their horses.

When Alex and Ross arrived with the others, the chief lost his temper. ‘Bram, what in God’s name have you done? She’s not coming with us.’

‘We can’t leave her there,’ he argued.

‘She’s one of them,’ Alex snapped. ‘And if you bring her, Cairnross’s men will follow her to Glen Arrin.’

‘No,’ the woman interrupted. ‘If you send word to my father, he’ll come for me and you will be rewarded.’

‘And just who is your father?’ Alex demanded.

The woman’s face turned cool. ‘Guy de Montpierre, the Duc D’Avignois.’

Alex’s face grew intrigued. Bram could read his brother’s thoughts without words. Rescuing the daughter of a French duke might result in a reward for their clan.

‘I am Marguerite de Montpierre,’ the woman continued, offering them a regal nod. ‘I was betrothed to Lord Cairnross.’ From the distaste upon her face, it was evident that she had not wanted to marry the man.

Bram wasn’t certain why the duke would want his daughter to wed an English lord instead of a French nobleman, but he didn’t ask. Perhaps she was a bastard.

‘You may have our protection until your father arrives,’ Alex agreed. ‘But you’d best pray that Cairnross doesn’t find you.’

The woman pulled the hood of her cloak over her veil and Bram boosted her onto the saddle. In the distance, the garrison was in flames and he saw it crumbling to the ground.

‘I’m glad to see it destroyed,’ Marguerite remarked.

‘How long were you there?’ Bram asked, as he climbed up behind her, urging the horse faster.

‘Only a sennight. But the prisoners …’ She shuddered at the memory.

Bram said nothing, not wanting to know what had happened since he’d escaped. He knew well enough the sorts of tortures that the soldiers used. His chest tightened at the memory.

‘Did you ever see a man called Callum MacKinloch?’ Bram asked, though it was likely a fruitless hope. ‘Younger than me, one of our brothers?’

‘He was sent away a few days ago,’ Lady Marguerite admitted. ‘Oui, I saw him.’

‘Where?’

She shook her head, keeping her gaze fixed forwards. ‘To the south. That’s all I know.’

‘But he was alive and unharmed?’

‘Alive, yes.’

But she didn’t say unharmed. Within her voice he heard a note of worry and wondered what they’d done to his brother.

Don’t think of it now, he urged himself. At least he had a place to begin searching. And in the meantime, until they found his brother, he would spend every minute training.

Never again would he find himself too frozen to move, letting the nightmares of the past dominate him. He would rebuild the skills he’d lost over the years, no matter how long it took.

And he wouldn’t give up until Callum was found.

Four days later

‘You’ve gone brainless,’ Dougal told Nairna.

She shrugged. ‘If you’re too frightened to escort me, I’ll find someone else.’

Her barb struck its mark and Dougal stiffened. ‘And what if I don’t want to? I don’t even like you.’

Nairna tilted her head as though it were no matter. ‘I’m leaving for Locharr now. Monroe is going with me. I suspect he’s strong enough to protect me.’

‘Monroe is afraid of horses.’ Dougal sent a disgusted look towards the adolescent, who was indeed looking nervous about the prospect of riding.

Nairna rested her hands on her hips. ‘He’ll do well enough, if you won’t help.’ She’d not received an offer of any additional escorts from the MacKinloch men. They’d claimed that they couldn’t leave Glen Arrin unattended. Since it was only a few hours’ ride, she saw no choice but to use Monroe and Dougal as her guides. At least there was no need to bring supplies or food. They could return tonight, if the women agreed to it.

She confronted Dougal and demanded, ‘Are you coming or not?’

He mounted the horse Monroe gave him and started off through the valley. Though he kept a sour expression on his face, his posture showed his eagerness for an escape from Glen Arrin.

Nairna reached for her riding gloves, but her right palm wouldn’t slide into the leather. When she reached inside the glove, she found a scrap of linen. She unfolded it and found a dried sprig of purple heather inside.

It must have been from Bram. Nairna blinked, for it had been over a sennight since she’d seen her husband last. The simple gift caught at her heart, and in that moment, the loneliness swelled up inside.

Last night when she’d slept alone, the mattress had seemed larger, the space empty. She’d touched the space where he’d laid his head, praying for his safe return.

It was easier to sleep with his warm body pressed against hers. She wondered what it would be like to roll over and feel his kiss claiming her mouth, his hands moving over her skin.

Nairna stroked the heather, closing her eyes for a moment. Bram had conjured up the past with a single flower, of the days when they’d exchanged gifts with one another. As she tucked the flower away, the shaky emotions started to well up.

Quickly she pretended to check the bridle to hide the foolish tears pricking at her eyes. Despite all the years between them, she still cared about Bram. She touched the heather, promising herself that if he returned, she would be a good wife to him.

As she spurred her mare onwards to catch up to Dougal, Monroe hung behind. Though his own mount seemed gentle enough, the boy’s face had gone white as he gripped the horse’s mane for balance.

Once she was certain he wouldn’t fall, Nairna rode up beside Dougal. He rode as if he’d been born a part of the horse. The natural gait seemed to flow between them and he appeared to revel in the freedom. No longer was he the angry, frustrated young man. Instead, there was a peace upon his expression.

‘Is this your horse?’ she prompted, trying to open a conversation. ‘He’s beautiful.’

‘He belongs to Alex,’ Dougal said. But his hand passed over the stallion’s neck with an air of possession. He quickened his pace, as if to avoid further conversation.

Nairna rode faster, determined not to be left behind. The wind slashed at her face, her hair whipping free of its braid. When he saw that she’d kept up with his pace, surprise transformed his mood. On impulse, Nairna smiled at him. ‘Want to race?’ Without waiting for his reply, she urged her mare into a full gallop.

‘You don’t know where you’re going!’ Dougal shouted.

‘Then you’d best keep up and show me!’ she called back. It had been years since she’d ridden so fast and the exhilaration of speed intensified her enjoyment of the ride.

As she’d predicted, Dougal caught up and overtook her. Nairna tried to increase her mare’s gait, but she knew that the animal would tire too soon. Instead, she kept a slight pace back, letting Dougal have the advantage. He led them towards an enormous castle in the distance, one she’d never seen before. Tall square towers were surrounded by strong walls, perhaps eight feet high.

It must have been built by the Normans, she guessed. Possibly twenty years earlier. It must have taken thousands of pounds to build such a place. Along one of the towers, she saw climbing vines, trailing up the stones.

A small stream flowed across the land ahead, and Dougal slowed his mount in front of it. Nairna judged the distance, took careful aim and jumped the stream with her mare. They landed safely and she turned to smile at Dougal. ‘I win.’

‘You shouldn’t have jumped her,’ the young man argued. ‘She’s not used to jumping. She might have broken her leg.’ Dougal dismounted and sloshed through the stream, moving forwards to inspect the mare.

Nairna dismounted to allow him a better look, then asked gently, ‘It was a good race, Dougal. You’re one of the best riders I’ve ever seen.’

He flushed, but he didn’t acknowledge the praise. ‘She’ll be all right. But don’t jump her again.’

Nairna rubbed the mare’s back. ‘Do your brothers know you ride this well?’

He shook his head. ‘All they care about is teaching me to fight.’

‘How did you learn?’

Dougal returned to his own stallion, inspecting the animal and speaking softly to him. ‘I sneaked out at dawn and taught myself.’

‘Why wouldn’t you ask your brother for a horse of your own?’ she began. ‘Alex might—’

‘He won’t.’ Dougal cut off the conversation and nodded towards the castle. ‘Now, if you’re wanting to talk to Grizel, you’ll find her inside.’

Not ‘my mother,’ but ‘Grizel,’ as if the woman were a stranger. Casting her gaze back to Monroe, who had finally caught up, Nairna suddenly spied several riders behind him. The sun hid their faces from view, and when Dougal saw the direction of her gaze, he drew closer to her, resting his hand upon the hilt of his dirk.

‘Who are they?’ Nairna murmured, half-afraid to wonder. Her question was answered a moment later, when Bram came riding over the crest of the hill.

Bram hung on to his horse, the green hills blurring as he raced towards his wife. Though he’d longed to see Nairna again, he’d never expected to find her at Locharr. He didn’t know what had driven his wife to come here, but he intended to find out.

When he pulled his horse up short, he directed the worst of his anger at Dougal. ‘Why in the name of the bloody saints would you bring Nairna here?’

Fury incensed him, at the thought of the horse stumbling and throwing Nairna off to break her neck. The race had been reckless and dangerous. But before he could speak another word, Nairna moved close to him and threw her arms around his waist.

He gripped her hard, as if he could bring her within his skin. Even when her hands relaxed around his neck, he wouldn’t release his tight grip. She smelled earthy, of wildflowers and herbs, and, God above, he’d missed her.

‘I asked Dougal to bring me here,’ she explained. Lifting her face to his, she said, ‘I’m glad you made it home safely. Did you find Callum?’

‘No. They moved him to one of the other garrisons.’ He drank in the sight of her, from her tangled brown hair to the soft green of her eyes. When his gaze settled upon her mouth, he considered whether or not to kiss her.

‘Was anyone hurt?’ she asked.

‘None of our men. And we freed the remaining prisoners.’

She gave a nod, but her face appeared troubled. ‘What will you do now?’

‘We need to find Callum while he’s still alive.’ Bram released her, striding towards the horses. Though he’d wanted to pursue Callum immediately, Alex had refused. Instead, his brother planned to send clansmen to each of the outlying fortresses until they discovered which one held Callum.

He understood that his brother’s calm, rational plan would work. But it didn’t diminish his need to see this through. Remaining behind, waiting for someone to find Callum, made him feel helpless. Useless.

‘Alex sent men to search the other garrisons. When they’ve found Callum, I’ll go after him.’ His gaze flicked over the large stone wall in the distance surrounding Locharr. ‘We brought back a woman from Cairnross. I left her with Alex.’

‘A woman?’

He saw his wife blink at his pronouncement, as though she weren’t certain what to think. ‘Why was she there? What happened to her?’

Bram shrugged. ‘She was betrothed to Lord Cairnross. I wasn’t about to leave her there.’

Nairna stepped back, staring at him with dismay. ‘You stole Lord Cairnross’s betrothed?’

‘No. It was her choice to come.’ He didn’t regret it for a moment and his temper started to push at the edges of his control. ‘I wouldn’t have left a dog with Cairnross, Nairna. Much less a woman.’ He reached the horses, adding, ‘Her father is a French duke.’

‘Duke or not, Cairnross will bring an army to attack us.’ She rubbed at her arms, as if she’d grown cold thinking of it. ‘Couldn’t you have taken her to the kirk for sanctuary?’

‘There wasn’t time. And she’ll be safe enough for now.’ At least until they sent word to her father. He’d leave that in Alex’s hands.

‘Or Lord Cairnross will burn Glen Arrin to the ground because we took her,’ Nairna dared to say.

He didn’t deny that the English would retaliate. ‘We can defend ourselves.’

‘Not well enough.’

He bit back the urge to argue, for words wouldn’t demonstrate anything. ‘We should go back to Glen Arrin,’ he said, guiding her by the arm. He didn’t know why she’d come to Locharr, but he didn’t want her to join the other women here. An emptiness centred through him as he wondered whether she’d planned to leave him.

‘I can’t go back until I’ve finished what I came here to do.’ She withdrew her arm from his, trying to walk back to the castle. ‘I want to talk with your mother and the women. You should visit her, now that you’re here.’

He’d rather be eaten alive by insects than spend an hour with Grizel MacKinloch. ‘I’d rather not.’ He kept his tone emotionless, for she didn’t understand what she was suggesting.

He supposed that Nairna was missing her own mother, who had died years ago. But Grizel wasn’t at all gentle or kind.

‘All right. If you want to return to Glen Arrin, go on without me. I’ll see her for myself.’ The glint in her eyes told him that she wasn’t about to abandon this idea.

‘Grizel hasn’t changed, Bram,’ came Dougal’s voice.

The young man drew closer, leading the stallion alongside him. Beneath his tone, there was still resentment and Bram couldn’t blame him for it.

‘I don’t suppose she’s forgiven me.’ Bram came up beside his brother, wanting to make amends. ‘And I doubt that you have, either.’ He rested his hand on Dougal’s shoulder. ‘I know you’re angry that I ordered you bound when we left. But I didn’t want you hurt.’

‘I’m old enough to fight,’ his younger brother insisted. In his eyes, Bram saw the frustration of being left behind. Dougal leaned his cheek against the stallion’s face and the animal gave a light nicker.

It was like looking at a younger version of himself, when he’d claimed to his father that he was old enough to defend the clan. Nothing he said would make any difference to Dougal. The only thing that would help his brother was the right preparation.

‘Train with me,’ Bram suggested, ‘and when we’ve located Callum, we’ll make the decision then. If you’re strong enough.’

The light of determination blazed across the boy’s face, but he gave a silent nod.

‘You’ll have to prove yourself,’ Bram said. ‘But if you’re not ready to travel with us, there’s no shame in defending our home.’

His brother’s brown eyes met his own. Though it was clear Dougal was itching to voice all the protests rising inside, he held his tongue.

‘Shall we go inside?’ Nairna ventured, nodding towards the castle walls. His wife appeared anxious, despite her outward eagerness.

‘If you want to visit the other women, I’ll take you to the gates.’ And perhaps, once she’d met Grizel, she would be satisfied to leave his mother where she was.

‘I want to bring them home,’ Nairna said. ‘It’s not right for them to be living within these walls, not when they could be home with their husbands.’

Dougal and Bram exchanged looks. ‘One night,’ Bram said, meeting his brother’s gaze. ‘No more.’

‘Even that might be too long.’ Dougal winced.

His wife eyed them as though she thought they were being unreasonable. ‘No one could be that bad, Bram.’

She let him assist her onto her mare and he let his hand linger upon her calf. Her bare skin was warm and when she held still, he envisioned sliding his palm up her leg. He wanted to take her off the horse, pulling her to him, to show her how much he’d missed her.

Her hand touched his and she leaned down. ‘Thank you for the flower,’ she said, raising her gloved hand. There was a softness in her face, as if he’d done something right.

Bram mounted his own horse and took the lead. ‘Let’s get this over with.’