Authors: Julia Keaton
“How did you know
me?” she asked suddenly.
He chuckled, his
eyes crinkling with mirth. “’Twas my brother, your Uncle Argyle that saw you
on a raid. He told us you had the bonny look of Heather, despite your guise.
‘Twas not until your King Henry’s messenger arrived, however, that we learned
your true identity. By my troth, he knows more of you, a stranger, than we,
yer kin.”
Fear turned her
blood to ice. The king—he’d found her! “What was his message?” she asked,
amazed the king hadn’t come crashing down upon her before now. The hunted
feeling from before came again, closing her throat, clutching her gut. Her
aches and pains diminished in the dread assaulting her.
“I do not remember
it to the letter. He only told me of his search for you, that you need to make
haste to his court, for he has a special engagement awaiting yer arrival.”
Saints above! She
knew what that cryptic message meant. She was not ready to be a wife. She’d
learned nothing of their ways, knew not how to run a household and perform
other wifely duties. All she knew were carnal pleasures, she realized with a blush.
“I gather from yer
expression, this isn’t fair news?”
Alex choked down
her embarrassment, fighting back heated remembrances. “Nay ‘tis not.”
“I hate to give you
up when we’ve only just found you, lass. Ye must know, we won’t force you ta
leave.”
“I thank you,” she
murmured, falling into a comfortable silence as they journeyed on to Scotland.
It warmed her to have family again, someone to protect her, someone she could
call her own. She knew her duty, however. She would prepare for travel at the
McPherson household, and then she would go to the king, no matter the discourse
of her mind.
* * * *
Hours passed before
the Blackmores located Bronson. They found him bound and gagged, lying on the
ground with his horse tied to a nearby tree.
He was livid.
As soon as his
bonds were cut, he was on his feet, steaming with silent fury. “They’ve taken
her. Those damned devil’s have taken her!”
Their father
exchanged a look with Gray and Rafael. Gray shrugged. Rafael just looked
embarrassed and confused.
Constance, who’d
come to help search, laid a tentative hand on his arm, calming him enough he
could speak with reason. “Who Bronson?”
“Alex!” he said,
running his hands through his hair, throwing his head back to yell up at the
sky.
Constance’s eyes
widened. “Who has taken her?” she asked again, catching his chin, forcing him
to meet her eyes.
He gave her a
thunderous look, his nostrils flaring with his heaving breath. Slowly, a
weariness settled on him, making his tense shoulders slump with weight. “Her
cousins, the McPhersons.”
“What is this
she
business, son?” Father demanded gruffly.
“Alex is a woman,
Father,” Constance explained. All turned stunned eyes on her. She didn’t
smile though she should have been amused at their naiveté.
“What?” Father roared,
leaning weakly on his horse. Gray hugged is shoulder, looking ill himself.
“How did you know?”
Bronson asked, surprise etched on his hard face.
“In the stables. I
came to realize it afterwards, how odd his behavior. I’ve known for several
days now. I’m surprised neither Gray or Rafael discovered this as well.”
“Damn. But …
damn,” Rafael murmured, sitting on the ground, propping his hands on his knees.
“I don’t see how
this could have happened,” Father mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “I was fond of
the boy. He—she was a good lad. So honest. Why would she deceive us?”
“I aim to find
out,” Bronson vowed.
“How so?” Gray
asked, Constance echoing his words.
“I mean to steal
into the McPherson’s lair and take her back.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Alex was amazed by
the size of her newfound family. Uncle Hugh ushered her into the ancient
castle and into the midst of them. The men were fair-haired and broad, as tall
as the Blackmores, but as different in appearance as night and day. Uncle
Argyle she had ‘met’ before, as she sat in a cow patty during the raid.
He grinned at her.
“I don’ bite, lass. C’mon, get you inside to the rest of us. They’re eager to
lay kisses on yer cheeks.”
Alex chuckled,
breathless as each cousin hugged her in turn. Argyle had never married, but
Hugh seemed to have made up for the loss by having many, many children. Her
eldest cousin, Callum had a wild look to him, and he was far more quiet than
his rowdy brothers. Next came Flynn and Hunter, the twins. There was Jamie
and Wren, and lastly, she met the only female of the bunch—Kiara. Kiara’s hair
was darker than her own, perfectly straight, but her build was the same as her
own, and she looked more sister to her than distant relative.
“I’ll get ye away
from these brutes so you can rest, cousin. Ye’ve had a tryin’ day, I’m sure,”
she said with a laugh, pulling Alex free from the hugging bustle.
Alex grinned,
tripping along beside her, giddy and happy. Her troubles seemed faraway now,
and she didn’t want to worry herself over matters out of her control. For now,
she planned to enjoy her family.
Kiara led her
upstairs to her solar, collapsing on a chair and gesturing Alex toward one.
Kiara breathed a
sigh. “Whew, ‘twas a job gettin’ away from that brood. Tell me, how like you
the family?”
Alex grinned. “I
think I shall like you all very much.”
Kiara returned her
smile, then abruptly grew serious. Her voice full of concern, she asked, “Did
you come to harm at Derwin Hall? If it’s so, I’ll take my blade to the lot of
them.”
Alex sighed,
rubbing a hand along her cheek and jaw. “Nay, ‘twas not so bad I am mortally
wounded.”
“I saw you, you
know. As that lout, Bronson bathed and forced you to watch. I came in and
saved you. Remember the maid with the linens?” She gave a little laugh. “You
looked terrified. Not that I blame you. ‘Twas understandable.”
She swallowed,
vividly remembering the first time she’d seen him bathing. Her body flushed
with heat. She patted her hot cheeks. “I was not forced to do anything I did
not want to do.”
Kiara gave her a
look. “I know the ways of their men. I gave one my mark for his trespass.”
Alex sat up
straight in her chair, intrigued. “Oh? Which one?”
Kiara waved her
hand, looking disinterested. “The one who’s name is akin to mud.”
Alex laughed.
“Gray?” she asked, astounded. She’d been certain a while there, he was going
to beat her for attempting to seduce his brother. She could just imagine what
her cousin had done to him. “What did you do?”
“’Tis of no importance.”
She grinned suddenly. “Marry, I warrant he does not forget me,” she said with
a laugh, wiping tears from her eyes before straightening her face. “You’d do
well to learn to protect yerself from men. Clinker me if they don’t seem an
entirely different species. You mark my words, no matter what father says,
when the time comes, you run from the marriage bed. I’ve seen too many an
unhappy bride even amongst our own clansmen.”
“Aye,” Alex agreed,
nodding.
“So God mend me, I
do go on. I fear I set you in a spell with my glum words.”
“Nay, I enjoy your
talk.”
“I see yer sad.
Come, let’s join the others and be merry. I warrant they’ve scattered by now.
One or two should not be so overwhelming,” she said with a grin, standing and
offering her hand to Alex. “I am glad yer here, cousin. It can be lonesome
being surrounded by so many clods.”
* * * *
Bronson, Gray, and
Rafael ignored the warnings of their father and Constance’s pleading. Bronson
had made up his mind, and it would not be changed. Gray and Rafael vowed to go
if only to protect Bronson from irreversible folly.
They waited through
the following day until night fell. The moon cast almost no light in the pitch
dark, and the stars shed more than the pale sliver peeping through wispy cloud
cover.
It took hours to
reach the McPherson castle, for they had to leave their horses behind when they
neared and walk the remaining distance. Fires glowed on the ramparts as clansmen
kept watch in the frigid night air.
The three men
studied the guards, following the patterns of their watch. They’d been to the
castle once, long ago when they were unruly children intent on playing pranks
on their neighbors. Bronson knew their only chance was the entrance they’d
taken then, but he feared that it had come to ruin in the intervening years.
If the tree had been trimmed, there would be no gaining access, and they would
be caught in the open with no chance to escape.
He didn’t believe
they would be killed, but if the Scotsmen caught him trying to take back their
kin, he honestly couldn’t fathom how they would react.
“You mean to take
the old oak?” Gray asked, whispering.
Rafael punched him
on the shoulder. “They cannot hear us at this distance, airling.”
Gray scowled.
“’Tis a good measure to take, no matter our distance.”
“Hold you two,”
Bronson said. “Aye, I take the route by the tree. Unless they’ve boarded the
window or a storm as felled its branches, we should be able to gain entrance.”
Gray rubbed his
chin, looking at the castle. They couldn’t see the tree, for it was in the
back, shielding the garden that had once grown there when the lady of the manor
still lived. “’Twas ancient at the time and we young boys. I’ve my doubts
they’d let it stand so long.”
“I warrant the old
man kept it for sentimental reasons.”
“What are we
waiting for then,” Rafael asked.
Bronson tensed,
crouching on the small rise. “By the next pass of yonder guard, we go down the
hill to that ridge. From there, round the back.” He gave his brothers a
look. “You’ll have to keep up.”
Gray snorted. “I
can beat you in a race any day, old man.”
“We shall see,”
Bronson said, readying himself. He had a prize to claim this night—Gray and
Rafael had not the incentive he possessed.
The guard walked as
he’d done every other time, rounding the ramparts and heading to the far side,
turning his back toward them.
Bronson lunged
forward, racing down the rise, jumping the ragged terrain at its bottom as he
headed for the castle. Gray and Rafael trailed him by a hair, moving silently.
Within heartbeats,
they hit the castle, hugging their bodies tight against it. Bronson breathed
through his teeth, listening for sounds of alarm. None came to his ears, and
he edged quickly along the wall, moving round to the back.
He breathed in
relief to see the ancient oak, unaware he’d held his breath as he moved around
the corner tower. He looked up toward the window. A skin scraped to paper
thinness covered it, but he could see no light inside the hallway that lay
there.
Bronson moved to
the tree, getting a grip on the rough wood, finding a handhold to haul himself
up. He grunted as the bark scraped the flesh off his knuckles, but ignored it
as he climbed his way up the branches.
One thick limb
stretched toward the window like an arm. Bronson stood, listening a moment to
his brothers grunt as they climbed the great trunk, and then he placed a foot
on the limb. It seemed steady enough.
He held his arms
out for balance, trusting the branch with his weight. Slowly, he walked. As
he crossed half the distance, however, the limb groaned loudly, and wood
snapped.
Bronson froze
instantly, sweat beading his lip as he waited to go crashing down. He glanced
over his shoulder at his brothers, who waited at its edge. “I fear it will not
survive many trips,” he whispered. “You must stay here.”
“Nay, we go with
you,” Gray whispered loudly.
“I do not trust
that it would survive more than this trip and my return. I go alone. You two
wait for me here. If I do not return, know that they’ve taken me prisoner.”