Highland Thirst (8 page)

“Wheesht,
I think I have been looking for demons in the wrong place. ‘Tis certain Angus
and the laird have enough dark evil in them to be the devil’s men.”

Restricting
her response to that of simply a nod, Brona fetched Sir Heming a tankard of
wine. It pleased her to see him smoothly sit up and take it from her hand, to
drink without aid. She still found the idea of drinking blood a little
chilling, but could not subdue a touch of pride that her blood had done such a
fine job of bringing Sir Heming back from the brink of death.

“Where
are we exactly?” Heming asked.

“Deep
beneath Rosscurrach,” replied Brona. “This is where the women and children are
to hide if the walls of Rosscurrach are breached. I realized that my father ne’er
told Hervey about it and few of those who did ken about it are still alive. We
ne’er had to use it, ye ken, and so Hervey ne’er had to learn of it. I begin to
think my father didnae fully trust the mon he had to name as his heir.”

“It
would seem not. Why are we here and nay away from this place?”

“Because
we must leave on foot and I didnae think we would get far ere Hervey and his
men found us. Especially not with both ye and Peter so weak. I am hoping the
hunt for us will soon spread to places away from Rosscurrach and allow us a
chance to slip away.”

Heming
nodded and settled himself back down on the bed. He was feeling stronger and
could feel his wounds healing but he knew the danger of believing himself fully
cured. He had just looked death in the eye and had no interest in doing so
again for a very long time. Certainly not when he had not even been in a
battle. Nor did he wish to waste the gift Mistress Brona had given him.

“A
good plan, mistress,” he said. “‘Tis best if we try to keep as close a watch as
possible on Hervey and his men to see just when that search for us moves away
from this land. When the chance comes to flee this place, ‘tis wise if we do it
as swiftly as possible.”

Brona
sighed and looked around the large stone chamber they sheltered in. “Aye, verra
wise. As welcome as the safety of this place is, I dinnae wish to linger here
any longer than I must.” She smiled at him. “Do ye wish something to eat?”

“Aye,
I believe I would though it should probably be weak fare for now.”

After
Brona had him settled with a bowl of surprisingly tasty broth, she took Thor
for a walk through the passages. Heming finished his food, handed the wooden
bowl to Colin, and settled himself back down intending to have a rest. He
frowned at the opening Brona had left through as he began to wonder how she
would save herself from any consequences of her mercy.

“And
when we can flee this place, do any of ye ken where Mistress Brona intends to go?”
he asked the three men still watching him carefully.

Colin
scowled. “Nay, she hasnae said anything of her plans, but she must have some,
aye? She cannae stay here. The laird beats her for the smallest sin as it is.
He would kill her for this.”

Hervey
Kerr dearly needed killing, Heming thought but said only, “Then when the time
comes for us to leave here we will be sure she has a safe place to go ere we
all run off to our own chosen havens. Mistress Brona must ne’er fall into that
mon’s hands again.”

When
all three men grunted in agreement, Heming closed his eyes. He would find out
where Brona thought to go and hide and then convince her that his choice of
haven was far better. He had no intention of letting her go anywhere without
him. Mistress Brona Kerr may not know it yet, but she had done more than save
his life by giving him her blood, she had tied them together in ways she could
not even begin to understand.

Five

Heming
grabbed his sword at the sound of someone approaching. He calmed a little when
he noticed that the dog did no more than briefly cock his head before returning
to his nap and the cat did no more than twitch one ear. Even so he remained
tensed for battle until Colin, Fergus, and Peter strolled into the chamber.
They looked very pleased and, as Heming set his sword aside, he felt the thrill
of anticipation go through him. It appeared that they were returning from their
sortie outside the walls with good news. He hoped that after five days of
hiding in the ground beneath Rosscurrach, they would finally be able to leave
the cursed place. By the look upon Brona’s face, he could tell that she felt
the same.

It
had been almost a fortnight since he and Tearlach had been taken from the inn
and he did not know his cousin’s fate. Despite knowing he had had no choice,
had been a prisoner, had then needed to heal from days of torture, and had had
to wait for the right moment to escape the keep, Heming could not fully dismiss
a sense of guilt. He dared not think what his cousin had suffered or was still
suffering. That way lay madness. He could only hope that Tearlach had also
found someone with too kind a heart to allow such abuse.

“They
have ridden away at last, mistress,” Colin told Brona.

Brona
stood up from the pallet she had been sitting on. “For but a short hunt or a
long one?” she asked as she began to put away the chess pieces she and Heming
had been playing with.

“Long
one,” replied Peter as he moved to his pallet and sat down. “A large force
left, but they split apart soon after they were out of the gates. Some ride to
your aunt’s, mistress, to be sure she didnae lie when she said ye werenae
there, or to see if ye have arrived there since last they went. Some go to a
place just o’er the border into England. Although what possesses the fools to
do that, I dinnae ken.”

“They
probably return to the place I was taken from,” said Heming. “Was Hervey with
that group?”

“Aye,
him and that swine Angus,” replied Peter.

“I
suspicion they ride to the village where I and my cousin were taken prisoner.
My cousin is being held near there by a mon called Carbonnel.”

“Weel,
ye will need help rescuing him from that Carbonnel fellow for the mon will soon
have some hard fighters added to whate’er men he already had guarding his
lands.”

“Then
I had best go to Cambrun first and tell my kinsmen what has happened.”

Colin
frowned. “Are they all like ye are?”

Heming
sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. He had hesitated to tell his
companions much about himself or his kinsmen and they had asked few questions.
Yet, after spending five days with Brona Kerr, he was beginning to think she
was his mate. He ached for her and the heady taste of her was still a strong,
sweet memory. Everything about her held his interest, even when she argued with
him. He knew that if they had not been sharing their quarters with these men,
he would have been doing his utmost to make sure she was not sleeping alone. He
would have been heartily feeding that hunger she stirred within him.

These
three men were
her
men, loyal unto death. They had also accepted his
having that taste of Brona. Since he had a growing hope of keeping his little
savior by his side, it was probably time that he ceased to hold so tightly to
all of his secrets.

“Aye
and nay,” he replied. “I am what is referred to as a Halfling. Nay a kind term
as ye may be able to guess. Full-blooded MacNachtons are called Purebloods and
can be a little arrogant about it. My father is nearly a Pureblood, having only
a wee drop or two of Outsider blood, and my mother is an Outsider, a woman of
the Callan clan. Ere I was born our laird decided that we needed to marry
Outsiders for we were finding it difficult to remain hidden from the world and
we had ceased to breed. My father was the first child born to them in forty
years and he had but one child with an Outsider. We were slowly dying, like
some mythical creatures.”

“We
are what ye are calling Outsiders, arenae we?” asked Brona, getting the
distinct feeling that with at least some of his clan that was a grave insult.

“Aye,
and up until our laird made that decision we had as little to do with ye as
possible,” Heming said. “My mother’s clan has its own secrets. They are
descended from a druid shape-shifter, a woman who could become a cat. If ye met
her and her clan ye wouldnae finds that so hard to believe e’en though they
dinnae change anymore. Those qualities havenae all been bred out. We now think
that there will always be a bit of both in a Callan and MacNachton child, and
that all of what makes us MacNachtons willnae e’er disappear completely.”

“And
do ye really live forever?”

“Nay,
but we do live a verra, verra long time. We are nay sure just how long for too
many of our Elders eventually grow weary of life and make an end to it. The
laird’s father courted death at every turning after his Outsider mate died and
it finally embraced him. We can be killed, as ye have seen, for I was verra
close to that fate. I had lost too much blood and ‘tis near impossible for a
MacNachton to recover from that. Unlike Outsiders, though, we can count the ways
we can be killed. The grave loss of blood, as weel as beheading, fire, and the
sun.”

“Ye
cannae go out into the day?” Fergus asked.

Heming
could see that Fergus was thinking of demons again. “A Pureblood cannae. We
Halflings are nay so troubled as they are, or most of us arenae. I cannae go
out in the full of the day when the sun is at its strongest, shining brightly. ‘Tis
as if it sucks all the life right out of me. Long enough beneath its light and
a MacNachton
will
die, the more pure of blood they are, the faster it
happens. We dinnae ken why God made us so, but it isnae such a bad thing. What
we are
not
are creatures who take souls or devour bairns or any of that.
Aye, in the olden times we werenae so verra weel behaved but it was a brutal
time for all, aye? All I can do is swear that we dinnae take souls and we
dinnae treat all who live about Cambrun as cattle for the slaughter.” He
shrugged. “We are different. That is all.”

“As
Mistress Brona is different,” said Fergus.

Brona
tensed and stared at Fergus. “What do ye mean?”

“That
gift that ye have with animals. ‘Tis as if ye speak to them and them to ye. As
Old Annie is different, aye? She can see things the rest of us cannae, such as
what will happen.”

Deciding
the safest thing to do was to simply not argue with that and change the
subject, Brona turned to Colin and asked, “So ye think we can get out of
Rosscurrach tonight?”

“Aye,”
replied Colin. “The laird has left the keep verra lightly guarded, the fool.
And, I promise ye, now that the laird’s gone, the guard upon the walls willnae
be so vigilant.”

“Then
we go tonight. Do ye take your family away from here?”

“Nay.
We have seen our mother and she says they are all safe enough. Fergus and I
will go with ye, mistress. Ye shouldnae travel alone.”

“I
shall go with ye as weel,” said Peter. “Exactly where do ye mean to go?”

“Weel,
I had thought to go to my aunt’s,” Brona said quietly, a little alarmed that
she had not yet made a clear plan for what to do once she left Rosscurrach.

It
was foolish not to have a clear plan for her own escape, but Brona knew that
was not completely her fault. She had lived a very secluded life. Her parents
had kept her close out of fear of losing their only surviving child and Hervey
simply had no interest in taking her anywhere. Brona now wondered if that was
because her cousin had always planned to have her marry Angus. The result of
all that seclusion meant she had very few people she could turn to for help and
she also had very little idea of how to travel to them.

“Weel,
ye cannae do that now as they have gone searching for ye there. So, where else
can ye go?”

Brona
frantically searched her mind for an answer but she could not find one. She
could not even think of a clever lie that would soothe their obvious concern
for her. All four men stared at her, waiting for an answer that would not come.
It did not surprise her when they all slowly began to scowl at her.

“Ye
dinnae have another plan, do ye, Brona,” said Heming.

She
sighed, seeing no hope in making him believe some lie even if she could think
of one. “Nay, I fear not. If naught else, I simply dinnae ken verra many people
outside of Rosscurrach. I am sure I can find some place to hide, however.”

“Ye
will come to Cambrun with me.”

“Och,
nay, I couldnae do that.”

“Afraid
ye will become a meal, are ye?”

“Nay,
of course not. ‘Tis just that ye and your clan have enough trouble to deal
with. Ye dinnae need to have to worry about me as weel. And I might weel bring
Hervey kicking at your door.”

“Let
him. ‘Twill save me the trouble of hunting him down. Ye
will
come to
Cambrun.”

She
opened her mouth to argue with him and quickly closed it again. There really
was no argument to be made. She could go with him or she could wander about the
countryside trying to find some place safe to hide until Hervey was no longer
murderously angry at her and Angus had left Rosscurrach or died so that he was
no longer a threat. She did not think the men frowning at her right now would
see the latter as a very sound plan. The tone of command in Heming’s voice,
however, made her feel compelled to disagree and she knew she was scowling at
him.