Chapter Fifteen
“She did what?”
Arianna fought down the urge to step back from all the fury Brett did nothing to hide. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her husband move to stand beside her and glare at Brett. The rage her cousin revealed interested her even as it made her uneasy. It confirmed her opinion that Brett felt far more than lust for Triona. No man could be so angry or afraid if the woman concerned was no more than a lover he could easily walk away from. She hoped he would be smart enough to understand what he could have with the woman if he would just find the courage to reach for it.
“She got word about where to meet Sir John and when,” Arianna replied. “She then went to meet him just as he asked.”
“I told her nay to give him what he wanted.”
“Aye, and ye should nay be so surprised that she didnae heed your command. The mon has her bairn, Cousin, and she cannae e’en fool herself into thinking he wouldnae hurt that wee lass if her mother ignores his orders. Considering all else the mon has done, the way he cared nothing for how his prisoners fared or how what he did here could have starved women and children, I didnae think he would hesitate to kill that bonnie child, either.”
“This will give him all he wanted, all of Banuilt in his grasp.” And Triona in his bed, his mind whispered, but Brett pushed that thought away, knowing it could easily drive him to do something rash.
“And just how long do ye think he would hold it? E’en if Triona or one of his people didnae end his miserable life, his own liege laird has condemned him. The mon just isnae thinking clearly if he feels his scheme will work. E’en if he gets her married to him before ye find him, that will nay change his liege laird’s mind, nay after all he has done.”
Brett tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling of the great hall as he took several deep breaths to calm himself. He knew some of his fury came from his inability to find Sir John and kill him. The hunt for the man had become a tedious, enraging, and futile waste of time. It was maddening that the man continued to be so successful at hiding. Brett had to believe that there was some cunning criminal past in the man’s life that explained Sir John’s uncommon skill. If he had not been so eager to kill the man, he would take the time to find out what that past was.
Although it was tenuous, Brett decided his grip on calm was strong enough to allow him to speak to Arianna again. “Did she tell ye where she was to go to meet him?”
“Nay. She dared nay. She feared it would put Ella in danger.” Arianna sighed. “I didnae press her because she asked me nay to and I kenned she wouldnae give me e’en the smallest of hints. She also reminded me that the mon has shown an uncanny ability to ken everything that is going on here. Something she intends to look into later. And she said it wouldnae matter anyway, as she verra much doubted it would be any more than a place to trade her for Ella, a trade that will be made by hirelings.”
“Just in case we are actually close enough to stop it, the mon would want to be as far out of our reach as possible. It would have given us a place to start, a place where we might find a trail to follow, however.”
“Then ye can ask the women she took with her when they return to Banuilt with Ella.”
“She took others with her?”
“Aye, three. They are to collect wee Ella and get her safely back home. The mon obviously had enough sense to realize such consideration for the child’s safe return would work to get Triona to do as he asked. She did wonder why he thought it needed three women to do that but decided it just revealed his ignorance about how one cares for a child.”
“True, they could help, but as we wait for the women to return, Sir John has time to get Triona far away from here,” he snapped. “I suspicion he had the sense to ken that, too.”
“Brett,” Brian warned, putting his arm around Arianna.
Brett held up his hands and then dragged them through his hair. “Pardon, Arianna. ’Tis just that the hunt for this mon has near to driven me mad. E’en Harcourt, who is as skilled a tracker as ye could e’er find, cannae sniff out a clear trail. Now Sir John has Triona, who has always been the prize he sought. And, aye, he cannae hold what he gains, as he is a condemned mon, nay better than the meanest of outlaws, but to take it back from him will cost blood, and Triona will be right in the middle of that danger.”
And the man would waste no time in consummating the forced marriage, Brett thought, and gritted his teeth against the urge to bellow out his fury. Triona was a lot stronger than even she realized, but no woman could survive that sort of violation without scars. He knew he had to push the thought of his Triona being hurt in such a way out of his mind, and keep it out of there, or he would be useless to her.
“We will find her, Brett,” Arianna said. “And if he hurts her or that child, every mon, woman, and child at Banuilt will be his sworn enemy. I have seen that, despite their liege laird’s doubts, everyone here sees Triona as their laird, and she has their loyalty and love. As does that wee lass. And since Sir John has already turned near all of his own people against him, and his liege laird as weel, there is nowhere he can rest easy. Nay, nor can he hire enough swords to guard his back, for he is already a condemned mon. ’Tis little help, I ken it, but ’tis something to keep in mind, aye?”
“Aye, it is.” Brett kissed her cheek. “It may mean a lot of people are at the ready to kill him but, e’en more important, it means there will be a lot of people ready to aid Triona.” He sighed. “Now we can only wait until the women return with Ella.”
“We can do that in the village,” said Brian. “Harcourt and Callum may have found something by now.”
“Aye. It would be nice if luck was on our side for once.”
“This is madness,” muttered Joan as she rode her pony up next to Triona’s.
“This is for my bairn,” Triona said. “I have no other choice in this and I think ye ken it.”
“Och, I ken it weel enough. I would do the same.” Joan lightly brushed her hand over her belly. “I am thinking I will soon have a fuller knowledge of what ye are suffering now.”
“Joan? Ye are with child? Wheesht, how can ye tell so soon? Aiden hasnae been home all that long.”
“True, but weak as he was, he was capable of celebrating his freedom,” she drawled. “I am nay sure I am with child just yet, but everything within me says it is true. ’Tis a feeling in my heart and mind, one I truly believe my body will confirm within a fortnight.”
“Then ye shouldnae have come with me. This could be dangerous.”
“Nay, this is where I must be. And I dinnae think it will be dangerous for any of us. The mon doesnae want Ella. He doesnae want we women, either. He wants ye. He will think himself weel rid of the burden of the child when he hands her over to us. I have but one fear.”
“Oh, aye? What is it?” Triona could think of far too many things to fear at the moment, including the chance that she was leading three women straight into the heart of danger.
“How does the mon think to keep us women from telling anyone where we left ye?”
Fear surged through Triona’s body and she needed a few minutes to beat it down. “There are many ways. I doubt he means to stay in the place where this trade is going to be made. And I think he would have told me to come alone if he feared ye would be any threat to him. Nay, I believe he means to hand over Ella, grab me, and flee. He only told me to bring women to collect Ella because he kenned I would need that assurance of her safety, and he thinks us all too dimwitted and useless, save to serve men. Probably why he thinks it needs three of ye to take one wee lass home. He only sees a mon as a threat.”
Joan slowly nodded. “I suspicion ye said most of that to convince yourself, but I think ye are right all the same. The mon simply willnae worry that we poor foolish women could e’er be a threat to him.” She pointed to a small cairn that had marked the far northern edge of Banuilt land for more years than any knew. “And there is where we will discover if ye are right.”
They did not have to wait long. Triona suspected the five men who rode up to them had been watching for them. She saw no sign of her daughter or Sir John, but before she could demand to know where Ella was, four of the men rode up beside her and each of her women and thrust strips of dark cloth at them.
“Put them on and then we will go and fetch your whelp,” said the big, black-bearded man watching the others.
Silently cursing, Triona tied the cloth over her eyes, knowing her women were doing the same. Rough hands tugged at it as the man beside her made certain that she was truly blinded. She did not like this but could see no way to avoid it. The simple trade she had expected had suddenly become more complicated and dangerous. As a jerk on the reins started her pony moving, she prayed that she had not brought her women to their deaths.
It was no surprise to her that Sir John was not the first one she would meet, although she had hoped otherwise. The man would stay safely out of reach to be certain there was no one behind her ready to attack him. There was still a chance he would be where the trade would actually be made, but she was beginning to doubt that as well. He had revealed a marked preference for his own people and his hirelings to do most of the work and take most of the risks.
The ride was rough, and she was forced to cling tightly to her pony’s mane to stay in the saddle. It was mercifully short, however. Just about the time she thought she would cry out if her bottom bounced on the saddle one more time, the journey ended. When the horses stopped and the cloth was taken from her eyes, she had to blink several times before she could see clearly. Her heart sank when she did not recognize the place. Nor did she see Sir John, only two more men as rough as the ones leading the ponies.
“Mama!”
Ignoring the curses of the man holding her pony’s reins, Triona dismounted and ran to catch her daughter up in her arms when the child darted out from behind one of the men. She then kneeled down and looked the child all over, and much of her fear eased when she found no wounds. There was a red mark on Ella’s cheek, which told her someone had slapped the little girl, however. It took Triona a moment to quell her anger over that, knowing it would serve no purpose to let it show. She kissed Ella’s bruised cheek.
“Have ye come to take me home?” asked Ella, glancing warily at the five men guarding them. “I didnae like being taken away. It was my turn to be the scary monster.”
“I ken it, love. Ye can play the game the next time we go to the fields.”
“Give her over to the women now,” ordered the bearded man. “We cannae sit here any longer.”
Those words made Triona determined to eke out every minute she could, even as she doubted it would be much more than a few. If the men feared pursuit, she wished to give those hunting for her as much of an advantage as she could. Standing up, she picked Ella up and walked over to Joan.
“I didnae like the mon who came before ye did, Mama,” said Ella as Triona settled her in the saddle in front of Joan. “It was Sir John Grant, and he gave me that mean look again. I told him ye were going to come and cut him into wee pieces and feed him to the ravens, and he slapped me.”
“I will remember that, loving,” Triona said, and idly wondered where her little girl had learned such bloodthirsty talk. “Have nay fear.”
“Ye havenae got on your pony so I can ride with ye.” She glanced over her shoulder at Joan. “I love ye, Joan, but I want to ride with my mother now.”
“Joan is going to take ye home, love,” Triona said. “I must go and speak to the mon who slapped ye. He needs to be told to ne’er do it again.”
“And then ye will come home?”
“Aye, love.” Triona turned to face the men, noticing how nervously the other six watched the area all around them while the bearded man glared at her. “Ye need to tell my women how to get back on the path to Banuilt.”
“They can find their own way,” the bearded man snapped and pointed at her pony. Get back on the pony. We must leave now!”
“It could be verra dangerous if they got lost.”
“If they get lost I am certain someone will be able to set them on the right path. Get on the pony.”
She was tempted to run but then saw how the other men moved closer to the three women and Ella, their hands on their swords. “Such brave men to be afraid of women,” she grumbled as she mounted the pony. “’Tis nay as if they are any threat to ye.”
“Go,” the bearded man ordered Joan and the others.
Triona saw the women hesitate and nodded. “Go on, Joan. Get wee Ella home.”
“M’lady—” began Joan.
“Nay. This is how it must be. Take Ella to safety.”
She was watching the women ride off when the bearded man yanked on her reins and they were riding hard in the opposite direction. Triona suspected she was on Gormfeurach land, but she could not be sure. She rode the boundaries of Banuilt every year but never ventured inside the Gormfeurach land on her western border. If she was gifted with some miracle and got away from these men, she would be thoroughly lost within a very short time. She had to wonder if that was Sir John’s intent.
Fear tried to rear up and tie knots in her belly, but she fought it down. Her child was safe now, and that was all that mattered. Sir John did not intend to kill her, just marry her. He would have to keep her alive for a while after that, as well, if only to prove he did have a wife who gave him rights to Banuilt. There was time for her to try to escape. She just prayed it would be before Sir John forced her to consummate their marriage.
The thought of such a thing made her stomach roil. It would be rape, for she would never willingly accept that man into her body. Triona was not sure how well she would survive such an assault. Worse, she feared what it would do to her memories of her time with Brett. She doubted that, if he rescued her, she would be falling back into bed with him anytime soon, not even for one more night before he left Banuilt. Her husband had been cold, giving her no pleasure at all, but she had accepted it as her wifely duty; but she knew she would never be able to accept Sir John if he dragged her to his bed.
Forcing all thoughts of that aside, Triona tried to convince herself that there was a chance she would be rescued before a marriage could happen. She refused to allow herself to recall all the times Brett and the others had not been able to catch Sir John; rather she chose to remember the time they had rescued her before and had rescued her garrison. It gave her the small thread of hope she needed as they rode into a small camp and she saw Sir John standing there.
When he strode over and pulled her out of the saddle, she struggled to keep on her feet. That struggle ended after he dragged her before a tall, gaunt man and shoved her down onto the ground. When she attempted to rise he held her there so that she could only get up on her knees.
“Lady Triona, meet Father Mure,” said Sir John. “He is about to marry us.”
Triona took one look into the priest’s eyes and knew she would find no ally there.
“I cannae believe no one saw four women ride out on ponies,” said Brett as he and the others followed the trail Harcourt had found.
“Women can be verra stealthy when they have good reason to be,” said Brian. “Saving her child would be seen as a good reason.”
Brett cursed, for Brian was right. From what little Triona had told him of her father and her husband, he also suspected she had learned young how to be stealthy. A child who has a parent with a heavy fist either crumbles beneath the weight of it or learns ways to escape it until old enough to walk away. She had walked away into a cold marriage, but he suspected most days she found that preferable. And she had called Ella her bright light in that marriage. Sir John had threatened that bright light, and Brett knew Triona would do anything to retrieve Ella and get the child to safety.
“And there are the women,” said Callum pointing off into the distance in front of them.
“Jesu, the mon has eyes like a hawk,” grumbled Brian.
It took a moment before Brett could see what Callum did, and he had to agree with Brian. Riding toward them were three women on little sturdy ponies. In front of one of the women was a small child with hair bright enough to be seen from such a distance. He nudged his mount into a trot along with the others, and they quickly closed the distance between them and the women.
“Och, thank ye, God,” said Joan. “I feared we were going in the wrong direction.”
“Nay, I told ye we had to go this way,” said Ella, and then she smiled and waved her fingers at Brett. “Greetings, Sir Brett. Have ye come to lead us home?”
“Nay, lass, but there are a few Banuilt men here that will do so,” he said, and nodded at the three young men who moved to flank the women. “We need to go and find your mother.”
“Then ye must go back the way we came. I can show ye, if ye like.”
“Nay, lass, it would be best if ye stay with Joan. We may have to do a wee bit of fighting when we get to where your mother is.”
“Are ye going to cut up the mon who hit me and feed him to the ravens?” She touched a bruise on her cheek.
“Mayhap I will. So, ye be a good wee lass and we will bring your mother home soon.”
“Just go back the way we came,” she said. “Follow my wee rocks.”
Brett joined Joan in staring at the child. “Your wee rocks?”
“Aye. When they took me I had my pockets full of them, so I dropped them as we rode away from my mother. She taught me that. She said it would help me find my way home if I got lost. She showed me how to see things right and clear, like trees and cairns, so I could see the path home, and told me to mark it if I wanted. So I marked it. With my wee stones. I didnae want the hairy men to get me lost.”
“Ye saw Sir John Grant? Met with him somewhere?”
“Aye. The hairy men took me to him and he was under the big crooked tree with the eagle’s nest. He hit me because I told him my mother would cut him into pieces and feed him to the ravens.” She glanced up at Joan. “That is what Angus says ye do to bad men.” She looked back at Brett. “Then he made the hairy men take me away and I thought we were going back home, but then they stopped and we waited and then my mother came, but she gave me to Joan and rode away with the bad men. I hope they didnae ride on my stones.” She frowned. “I liked my stones, but now I lost them.”
Brett watched Callum ride up next to Joan, lean down, and, turning Ella’s face up to his, kiss her bruised cheek and smile at her. “Ye will have more stones soon, lass. Ye are a verra clever wee lass and should have all the wee stones ye want.”
“Wheesht, the mon can charm e’en the wee ones,” Brian said as Ella looked up at Callum through her lashes and blushed.
If he had not been so concerned for Triona’s safety, Brett knew he would have laughed. Instead he studied the little girl who so blithely told them she had left them a trail that would lead them straight to Sir John. She was not his child, and yet his heart swelled with pride.
“Thank ye for your help, Ella,” he said. “Ye have made it much easier for us to find your mother and bring her home.”
“I did?” She sat up straight and looked from Callum to Brett and back again. “I helped?”
“Aye, lass, ye helped a lot. Now, go with Joan and we will bring your mother home soon. I promise ye that.”
“If I have been so helpful, can I have a kitten?”
It surprised him but he actually had to swallow a laugh. “Best ye wait and ask your mother.” He pretended not to see her slump and push her bottom lip out in a pout.
A moment later the women were riding off with the three young men from Banuilt. Ella peered around Joan and waved at him. Brett waved back and then turned his attention to Callum, who was slowly riding back the way the women had come, his gaze fixed upon the ground.
“Wee stones?” Brett asked as he rode up beside Callum.
“Aye, and spaced just right.” He briefly grinned at Brett before returning his gaze to the ground. “She was verra careful in dropping them as they rode, just to be sure she could find the path home. Verra clever wee lass.”
“I am nay sure I wish to ken why her mother felt a need to teach her such a trick.”
“Nay, although it was a verra wise thing to do, even if nothing bad prompted the lesson. That child has a natural instinct for it, for following a trail and marking one. She will ne’er get lost. And did ye nay hear how she marked where Sir John is?”
Brett slowly smiled. “Aye, I did. A big crooked tree with an eagle’s nest atop it. A keen eye on the lass. To see something like that she truly had to be studying everything around her as they rode. And Sir John’s men wouldnae have kenned it, would ne’er have thought it necessary to cover a child’s eyes to hide where they were going.”
“Their ignorance becomes our good luck.”
For the first time since he discovered that Triona had gone to meet with Sir John, Brett felt the soothing touch of hope. Not only did they now have the means to find her but also a very good chance of finding her before she was wed to the man. Even if they could not stop the wedding, he was confident they could stop it from being consummated.
“We will find Lady Triona, Brett, and we will kill that bastard Grant,” said Callum. “For all wee Ella’s smiles and cleverness, I could see that he put a touch of fear in that child’s eyes. When she spoke of the slap, it flickered there for a moment. With but a moment or two of his time, he bruised her wonderful happiness and sense of being loved and safe. For that alone I want him dead.”
“I, too, want him dead. I saw what ye saw, even though I was rather stunned at the moment by how easily she spoke, giving us just what we needed to find her mother. Aye, and I want him dead for how he has treated the people of Banuilt, what he did to all those Banuilt men he tossed into that peel tower and forgot about, and even for how he has crushed the hearts of the people on his own lands and left them so uncertain of their future. And for what?” he asked as he and Callum continued to follow the trail. “A piece of land his forefathers lost through utter stupidity.”
Just thinking on all of Sir John’s crimes stirred Brett’s fury to life. The man had become a poison to what had been a peaceful area in a country that too often knew little peace. While it was true that the people of Banuilt and Gormfeurach were not clans as his family kenned clans, they were close enough. They were certainly bonded to each other as those in a clan would be, save by blood. The knights who had founded each place had chosen well, and the lairds that had come before Sir John and Sir Boyd had been open to accepting anyone who wished to join, to help build and help protect the place. They had also chosen a place that was remote enough that it had known more years of peace than war.
And he loved it all almost as much as he loved Triona McKee. Brett nearly smiled as he felt the acceptance of that truth flow through him. He would end the threat of Sir John, get Triona safely home, and then he would find some way to return to her and Banuilt. He now knew that it was the only way he could ever be truly happy.