Snow Raven (40 page)

“I suspect the Padons didn’t give a fig about Ran’s wedding an Englishwoman, either. But you did. You sent your men to exact revenge, disguised as a Maclean sept.”

Her gaze was direct and challenging. Sir Jasper stared back at her for a long moment and then chuckled.

“You’re a surprising wit, and a little hellcat, milady. A pity I did not have opportunity to discover how well we are suited.”

Merry refused to pursue that line of thought. “Where’s Ran?” she demanded.

“All in good time. I needed to be sure I could lure him here, as he appears to have a soft spot for you. Likewise, ’twould seem.”

Furious, Merry glared at him. Sir Jasper’s arrogance was maddening, as was his cool control of the situation, but more infuriating was his involvement in the Padon attack. She had always had suspicions about Wickham’s exact role in the slaughter, but there had been no proof until now. He used the fact in an attempt to either impress or frighten her.

“Come,” he said curtly, sweeping his arm to indicate a badly overgrown path through the forest. “’Tis far too cold by half, standing here. We’ve a camp just over the rise.”

For the first time, Merry glanced at the other silent figures flanking her. There were perhaps a dozen other men, she could make out that much, but their facial features were still streaked by shadows and half hidden in the gloom. Seeing no choice, Merry reluctantly followed Sir Jasper through the woods to the Englishman’s encampment. She didn’t see anything until she literally stumbled upon a bunch of twigs stacked beside a small, smoldering fire. Sheltered by the thick canopy of trees, their hideaway was nearly invisible. She could easily be killed and left here, her bones undiscovered for years. She shivered.

Sir Jasper seemed to read her mind. “You will be safe, milady,” he assured her, “as long as you obey, and Lindsay surrenders himself peaceably.”

“Why should he?” Merry demanded. “So you can trap and kill him like an animal?”

He suddenly turned on her with the full brunt of his rage. “Should not a mad wolf be put down, Lady Lindsay?” Sir Jasper sneered when she shrank back from his ranting, and he raised a hand as if to strike her. “You’re as much a whore as Blair,” he snarled. “You promised to wed with me, promised to be a true and faithful wife, yet the moment you met Lindsay, you lusted for the Earl of Crawford in your traitorous heart!”

“I love Ran,” Merry said, meeting his gaze despite her fear. Hearing the simple words spoken aloud only seemed to infuriate him more.

“Sweet Jesu, you women all come as cheaply as Lindsay’s maid,” he growled. “At least she’ll give me a son.”

Merry stared at him a moment in shock. Then she sketched him a mocking little bow. “Congratulations, sir.”

Wickham’s expression was still thunderous. “Shut up,” he muttered.

“Not only did you beat Lady Rich, your charming history includes rape and seducing a sixteen-year-old-girl, your own half-sister. I wonder what Her Majesty will make of all this?”

“I wouldn’t point any fingers, Lady Lindsay,” Sir Jasper retorted. “You’re presently wed to a traitor, and the queen’s men are hot on his trail.”

“My conscience is clear,” Merry said, and the meaning of her words was not lost on him. With an angry growl, he seized her arm and hurled her roughly to the damp earth. An icy rain fell now, and it pattered upon Merry’s face as she scowled up at him.

“’Twon’t work, you know,” she said.

“Silence, woman!”

“He’ll find me soon.”

“Shut up!” He opened his fist as if to backhand her.

“When Ran discovers what you’ve done, ’twill all be over,” she added as confidently as she could. “If Black Cullen doesn’t rend you to pieces first.”

“Tsk, tsk, are ye just going ta stand there and let the little Tudor bitch bark at you?” a second male voice inquired, and Merry gasped as a familiar figure stepped from the shadows. Hugo Sumner grinned at her as he folded his arms and struck a jaunty pose against a tree, folding his brawny arms. “Why, milady, dinna look so shocked. Surely ye ken Sir Jasper and I are of like mind. We hae a rare sort o’ acquaintance. We made a pact to bring The Wolf down together. ’Twas the perfect opportunity when ye were tossed into his lap. Another Achilles’ heel in the mighty wolf.”

Bile rose in Merry’s throat, nearly choking her. “Then ’twas you …” she began huskily.

“Duncan?” Hugo shrugged his massive shoulders. “Aye, the old man caught me plotting wi’ Wickham and confronted me. Unfortunately he had to be silenced.” He cracked his knuckles and Merry paled, realizing a simple squeeze of those huge hands on her throat would silence her forever.

Sir Jasper interrupted them with a low, silky laugh. “Oh, dear, I fear you’ve gone and frightened the lady, Hugo. She has gone so pale. Do apologize.”

Hugo grinned, his teeth flashing white in the gloom. “As ye wish, Sir Jasper.”

Merry still stared at Hugo. “How could you,” she whispered. “Ran trusts you, Gil adores you, Nell loves you! What of honor?”

Hugo’s grin faded to a sneer. “What would ye ken o’ honor, milady? Yer a woman.” Ignoring Wickham’s scowl, he continued coldly. “What honor or respect does a bastard get, milady? None, be they English or Scots. I’m a Sumner by name, a Lindsay by birth!

“Aye, milady, but for the flip o’ the blanket, I could rule Auchmull now. I’m the poor bastard, the charity case o’ Lady Darra, Lord Ran’s dirty secret. Gil dinna ken I’m his half-brother, and his blind devotion sickens me. So many times I wanted ta kill the little rotter, or tell him the truth, but suffered in silence for the good o’ the clan. Until now, silence was the right thing. I gave in to rage but once, and Ran found evidence of that, a
sgian dubh
buried ta the hilt in his pillow. I did my best ta destroy The Wolf three months ago. As ’tis, I’ll just hae ta kill him now.”

“Nay!” Merry’s protesting cry emerged loud and sharp. It echoed throughout the forest. Sir Jasper looked annoyed.

“I’ll gag you, milady, if I must. Lindsay mustn’t have any warning when he rides to your rescue.”

“He’s not foolish enough to come alone,” Merry said desperately. “He has his loyal men, Lindsays by blood or birth, all of them—”

“Minus one,” Hugo added.

Merry felt a wave of stark fear wash over her when she glanced across the pit of glowing embers and saw Hugo’s cold blue eyes glinting by firelight. He crouched down on his heels and smiled mock-congenially across the fire at her.

“Some of us are nae content to wait for our rightful titles,” he said.

“Swine,” Merry railed angrily.

Hugo chuckled. “Macleans or their ilk will take all o’ the blame for The Wolf’s death, thanks ta Wickham here,” he said. “’Twill be easy enough to plant the evidence on Cullen or one of the others. When they are charged wi’ the crime, surely good King Jamie will see fit ta return the lands o’ Badanloch ta the last surviving Lindsay heir. Me.” He grinned.

“What of Gilbert? Darra’s boys? Sweet Jesu, Hugo, you can’t kill them all,” Merry cried. “’Tis utter madness!”

Hugo glanced at Sir Jasper, and the two men shared a look that made her blood run cold.

“Nay, I don’t believe it,” Merry said faintly. She stared at Hugo, saw he wouldn’t meet her eyes. She felt the nausea rising in her throat. “You would kill innocents. Your own relations. For lust of a meaningless title. Unbelievable!” Her accusing gaze swiveled on Wickham. “While you … you murdered Blair,” she accused him in a ragged voice. “I don’t know how, but I know you did.”

“I loved Blair,” Sir Jasper growled under his breath. “You understand nothing.”

“Oh, but I do know one thing. You’re lower than snakes, both of you.”

Her gaze shifted back to Hugo. “You—are far worse, I think. A disgusting traitor. When you know how the Lindsays love and trust you.”

Hugo’s lip curled. “Love? What’s love compared to rightful inheritance?” His face mottled with rage. “Or the way a bastard bairn is scorned? Ye silly little Tudor bitch, ye ken nothing o’ our ways, all ye can do is sigh and moon over the enemy! Brave men and women hae died o’er the centuries for love o’ the clan, but yer so hot for Ran ye canna see past the man to the true cause.

“Lindsays can be restored ta their rightful power in the Highlands, but only wi’ the help of yer countrymen. I see this, I ken Ran clings ta old ways, old days, but The Wolf’s hour has run its course.” Hugo’s icy blue eyes hardened on her. “Ye can still help us, milady, lead the Lindsays into the future. Gie us yer loyalties now, help put Ran into the purgatory o’ the past wi’ the rest of them.”

Merry shook her head, and felt a tear trickle down her face. “Never,” she whispered fiercely. “Never.”

“Then you may sit there and watch him die,” Sir Jasper said flatly. “I’ve no more patience for coaxing.” He motioned to Hugo. “Go and set a watch for your beloved half-brother, Hugo. We daren’t be taken by surprise.”

* * *

THE NIGHT PASSED IN a slow blur of cold and misery for Merry, as she huddled beneath the extra cloak Sir Jasper had carelessly tossed at her. He dared attempt to share her warmth, dropping down beside her as the fire died, and inching gradually closer as the wind picked up. When he tried to sling his arm around her, Merry lashed out with her fist, catching him squarely on the jaw. Sir Jasper sprang to his feet and cursed, then stalked off into the darkness. She heard Hugo snigger softly in the shadows.

Merry rolled herself snugly in both cloaks and turned her back on her captors. Her thoughts whirled wildly with fear for Ran and the frightened clans folk at Auchmull and Edzell, and she was sure she couldn’t sleep. Stress had taken its toll, however, and despite her best efforts, her eyelashes slowly drifted shut. In the wee hours of the early morning, she awoke feeling stiff and cramped with cold. The damp of the ground had seeped through her layers of clothing, and she shivered as she sat upright and tried to work the kinks out of her neck and back. Balefully she regarded the snoring lump of Sir Jasper across the cold remains of the fire. Hugo had taken last watch. He glanced at her from his position by the trees as she stretched and stirred.

Merry was hungry, but determined not to lower herself to begging for anything from these animals. Nature, however, impressed a call of a different sort now that she couldn’t ignore. She got to her feet, hugging the loose cloak about her like a blanket, and approached Ran’s half-brother.

Immediately Hugo struck an aggressive pose. “Stay put,” he ordered her. “Yer nae allowed ta wander about.”

“I have to find some bushes,” Merry said, avoiding his eyes, her meaning clear enough. He shifted uncomfortably on the balls of his feet. A second later, he jerked his head sharply to the left.

“Right there,” he said grudgingly. “Where I can keep an eye on ye.”

She flushed with humiliation. “Nay, I cannot.”

He smirked. “Then ye’ll hae ta hold it, milady.”

Merry bit her lower lip. “Please. I won’t go far. Just behind those bushes there.” She pointed to a nearby clump of bracken. She tried to convey a sense of urgency by jiggling up and down.

At last, Hugo impatiently waved a hand. “Be quick about it. If ye tarry, I’ll drag ye out wi’ yer breeches still down.”

Merry nodded and hurried off into the edge of the woods. She was aware of him watching her closely, so she stopped and took care of necessities the moment he was out of view. When finished, she stayed in a crouch and looked furtively about. She hadn’t intended to run, but the temptation was too great. Sir Jasper was still asleep, as were most of his men. There was only Hugo to worry about with any distance; mayhap she could elude him long enough to find her way back to Auchmull.

The horses were secured on the other side of the camp, so she would have to flee on foot. Quickly Merry untied and shed both wool cloaks, to make her flight easier. It was chilly without any protection from the elements, and a light drizzle was starting again. Not cold enough for snow, but that might change. She heard a rustle of brush and then Hugo’s low, impatient voice spoke nearby.

“Milady?”

Merry sprang from the bushes and ran. She heard Hugo swear, then the crash of his big body as he came flying through the bracken after her. The trees were thick enough she was able to evade his clutches and dart off between them, her smaller frame more nimble than his. Her breathing sawed harshly in her throat as she scrambled over an endless obstacle course of fallen logs and cut an erratic, weaving path through the woods. Merry panicked she might be going deeper into the forest. Then she spied the black sparkle of Badanloch and stumbled, gasping, into the clearing where she had been captured the night before.

Hugo was not far behind. His shouts had roused Sir Jasper and the other men, and she heard them stumbling and running for their mounts. Horses whinnied and loud curses sliced the early-morning air as the men set out in pursuit of Merry on horseback.

Spying the overgrown path she had taken last night, where Orlaith had trampled down the new bracken, Merry lurched across the clearing in a westerly direction. Behind her, Hugo emerged from the trees and hoarsely ordered her to stop. She heard a strange “thunking” sound and glanced back in time to see the big man cocking a deadly crossbow with his foot. He swung the wooden stock to his shoulder as if to fire.

“Nay!” The shout came from Sir Jasper, who hurled himself from the back of a galloping bay and knocked Hugo sideways to the ground.

Surprised Sir Jasper intervened, Merry nevertheless turned and hurried on down the path. The brush closed behind her as she heard Sir Jasper shout at Hugo, “Idiot! Without the woman, there is no bait for the wolf trap.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

THE SIMPLE KEEP OF Invermark, smallest and most remote of the Lindsay possessions, had not been used since the death of Ran’s grandfather, the ninth Earl of Crawford, in 1558. Since then, the castle had deteriorated, and the wild heather and bracken had crept up through the glens, effectively blending the rough stone into the background.

The roof, such as it was, had half caved in, and birds nested in the cavern of what had once been the great kitchen. Once Invermark had commanded the outpost against the invading Caterans, the later castle evolved from a fourteenth-century fortress. The huge drawbridge and massive iron gate still remained operable, however, and made for strategic defense with the torrent of the Mark keeping any harriers at bay.