Highland Brides 03 - On Bended Knee (6 page)

“I’m thinkin’ ye’d like to keep your tongue, Scot!” another of his lackeys said.

FitzSimon raised a hand to the man. “MacKinnon never left her side,” he said plaintively. “What would ye have me do? Walk up and wrench her from his arms?”

“You’re her da!” Cameron reminded him.

“Aye, but my daughter has lost her wits over this man. He steals her from my home and she somehow manages to lose her heart to him! Little fool! She would not see reason two months ago, why should she now? Nay, you must bring her to me, instead.”

Cameron screwed his face. “Me!” He pointed to himself incredulously. “Ye expect me to drag her out of my laird’s bed?”

FitzSimon narrowed his gaze. “You are a bright boy. You’ll find a way to lure her out from his sight.”

“Not me!” Cameron refused. It was one thing to make FitzSimon aware of Page’s whereabouts so that he might take her himself, and another entirely to take a hand in her abduction. Iain would skewer him through! “I’m no boy,” he said, casting daggers with his eyes, “and neither am I a fool!”

The man’s brows lifted. “Ho ho!” He walked forward and stood before Cameron. “Are we not?”

Cameron refused to be cowed though his gaze shifted nervously from one of FitzSimon’s men to another. All stood watching, grinning, their rotten teeth flashing. FitzSimon reached out for him suddenly, and he couldn’t help himself. He flinched. The men’s laughter rang in his ears.

Gently, he slapped Cameron’s face. “Soft as a maiden’s breast,” he remarked, and a chill passed through Cameron, despite his rising fury.

FitzSimon’s men laughed in unison.

Cameron shoved FitzSimon’s hand from his face.

“Tsk. Tsk. I should never have expected a boy to do a man’s job,” FitzSimon said, and shook his head. “Go home to your mother, Cameron.”

Cameron’s face and neck heated, though not so much in chagrin as in fury. He was not a boy, and he hadn’t had a mother in so long he’d forgotten what one was! No one gave him any respect! He was not stupid and he had a rotten feeling in his gut about FitzSimon and his daughter both. As far as he was concerned they could both go back to hell from whence they came!

“Dinna fash yourself… I’ll get her to ye!”

FitzSimon’s eyes glimmered suddenly. Satisfaction curled his lips.

“If you swear to take her—all o’ ye!” Cameron made a sweeping motion with his hand. “Back to your bloody Sassenach land and be done with us forever!”

“Of course.” FitzSimon nodded. “Ye’ve my word.”

Cameron spat upon the ground. “That’s what I think about the word of an Englishman!” he told FitzSimon.

“Why you!” FitzSimon’s man lunged forward, but FitzSimon placed himself between them, shielding Cameron. The man halted, casting Cameron malevolent glares. It was clear to Cameron what he would have liked to have done to him had he had the chance.

FitzSimon turned to him. “You’re not too quick-witted, boy, are ye?” He spat upon the ground after Cameron.

Cameron glowered at him. “I’ll get her to you, FitzSimon!” he swore, his feet planted firmly and his shoulders squared. “But then I want you out of here forevermore!”

The two of them stared at each other a long moment, and then FitzSimon nodded in agreement. “Get my daughter back to me… and aye, we’ll go.”

Cameron gave a nod. “’Tis done, then,” he agreed.

The older man smiled and reached out to grip one of Cameron’s shoulders.

Cameron shrugged away, giving him a malevolent glare. “Dinna ever again touch me!” he declared and spun on his heels, walking away.

“Let him go,” FitzSimon said when his men moved to stop him. He waited until Cameron was gone. “I want him dead once my daughter is returned,” he said casually.

“Aye, my lord,” said his captain.

“Arrogant little Scots bastard! No one—no one takes what is mine!”

Seana couldn’t stop Constance long enough to ask the child where Broc was. Her cheeks stained with dirt, the wee one was chasing chickens in Merry’s absence, laughing impishly as they protested when she managed to seize a feather.

Seana sighed, following behind the naked child.

“Constance, where is your brother?” she persisted.

Constance giggled, plucking another feather from a squawking hen. “I dunno,” she managed to reply, then tripped suddenly and fell upon her belly. “Ouch!” Her lips turned into a pout, but she held her prize feather in front of her, and the pout didn’t remain.

Seana fell to her knees beside the child. “Are you all right?”

Constance nodded and smiled.

“Good,” Seana declared. “Constance, where are your clothes?”

The child shook her head. “Dunno!”

“What do you mean, ye dunno,” Seana returned.

The child again shook her head.

Lord, didn’t anybody ever seem to notice she never wore clothes? People passed them by, hardly sparing the child a glance and Seana thought that when she wedded Broc, it would be her duty to give the child a proper home… and proper clothes.

Only the MacKinnon’s bride seemed to notice her lack. She came to where Seana and Constance were and said, “Constance where are your clothes, dearling?”

Constance peered up at Page and flapped her arms like a chicken. “I dunno!” the child persisted and Page reached down to scoop her up into her arms, smiling down at Seana.

Seana smiled back at her.

Page had never treated her unkindly, had always seemed pleased to see her. “I’ve not seen Broc at all this morning,” she informed Seana.

Did everyone notice her attention to Broc, except Broc? she wondered.

Sighing, Seana rose to her feet, dusting off her dress. “Oh, well,” she declared.

“Down!” Constance exclaimed. “Down!” And she wiggled out of Page’s arms, dropping to her feet. “Merry!” she shrieked.

Page let her go, shaking her head. “That child!” she proclaimed, and both of them watched as Constance ran after Merry who stopped suddenly, then turned and fled once more into the woods from whence she had come.

“There he is!” Page announced, and Seana’s heart began to pound. She had come to see him, but she suddenly felt like fleeing with Merry into the woods.

Constance ran giggling after the poor dog, and Page and Seana both turned to one another, laughing at the sight of her running naked as the day she was born. Page shook her head, then said, smiling, “I’ll leave you two to talk.”

Seana returned a shy smile. By the time Broc reached her, Page had gone, and she stood, feeling like a fool.

“Seana!” Broc exclaimed, and reached out to hug her fiercely, though his gaze was still upon MacKinnon’s bride. He swept Seana from her feet, and twirled her about, setting her down afterwards and patting her upon the head like he were patting his dog. “What are ye doin’ here, lass?”

Seana shrugged. It would seem to her that the answer was obvious, but Broc never seemed to figure it out.

Tongue-tied, she sighed.

Even as long as they had known each other, there was lately an uncomfortable silence between them. Seana thought mayhap it was her fault. She never seemed to know what to say to him anymore. Broc’s gaze sought Page once more, and Seana wished she were more like Page or Meghan. Neither of them ever seemed to starve for attention, though neither of them ever sought it.

He cocked his head in apology. “I need to speak with my laird’s wife, Seana. Will you be around later?”

Seana shrugged.

“’Tis about Cameron,” he explained, and Seana knew he was concerned about his cousin.

“Don’t be silly!” She waved him away. “Go on with ye now, and I shall speak with ye another time. I need to go and see to my da, anyhow.”

He reached out, seizing her head and embraced it. He kissed the pate of her head and released her. “I knew you’d understand,’ he said. “I’ll talk to you later, sweet one!”

Seana nodded as she watched him go, and sighed once more, wishing she knew what to do to make him understand.

Much as she loathed the thought, Colin Mac Brodie seemed her only chance and for her sake and her father’s, she mustn’t put it off any longer. She didn’t have to like him, she told herself. But she did need to speak with him, and bolstering her courage, she went in search of Colin Mac Brodie, determined to enlist his help once and for all.

“Eat, Da,” Seana commanded her father. “Leave the cat and feed yourself!”

Instead of going to Colin, she had come directly back to the cairn, telling herself that she would go find Colin just as soon as she cared for her da… and checked the
uisge
, of course… and fed the cat.

She couldn’t very well go to tend to her own business until she knew her da was cared for—at least that’s what she told herself.

But the truth was that she was a bloody chicken heart and deep down she realized that if she didn’t just go, she might never.

Her da coughed deeply, and Seana watched helplessly. She wanted to help him but didn’t know how. In the last few weeks, his condition had worsened, she thought, and he seemed to lack the energy to rise from his pallet.

His
uisge
had helped him before, but it no longer seemed to have any effect. She was at her wit’s end as to what to do and was beginning to feel a sense of urgency to get him away from this cold, damp place they rested their heads each night.

She eyed him impatiently as he continued to play with the cat who by the by never deigned to acknowledge her.

Och, but she loathed that cat!

At least she told herself she did.

In truth, she couldn’t hate anyone or anything… not even Colin Mac Brodie.

As though it had read her mind, the animal raised its gaze to stare at her, golden eyes gleaming from the deepest shadows of the ancient cairn. Her da seemed to like it there best, hidden in the shadows… where it was coldest, Seana thought peevishly.

Seizing up her own blanket, she took it to him. The cat scurried at her approach. Dropping the blanket down upon her da’s legs, she stooped to tuck him in. My Love mewed in what seemed like protest over her presence so near to her father.

“Rotten cat.”

“Nay, Seana!” her da protested. “My Love is sweet, child!”

“She willna even let me near her, Da!” Seana said plaintively.

She prided herself in her ability to charm the woodland creatures. They, after all, had been her only friends when people had all but forsaken her, but
that
cat was impossible!

“She spies on me, too—I swear to Jacob’s stone!”

“Aye,” her da replied with a weak nod. “For me!”

Och, he didn’t really believe that, did he?

His fervent declaration lifted her brows. She peered into his face, trying to gauge his expression.

His face betrayed not a trace of humor. He was serious, she realized. He faced her, though he didn’t quite meet her gaze—couldn’t make her out well enough lately to do so—and the darkness of the cave didn’t help matters much at all.

He placed a finger to his lips, shushing her, and his gesture made her look about, though she hadn’t heard a sound. “It’s your minny!” he announced in whisper. “Come to look after ye once I’m gone.”

Seana scrunched her nose at him. “Och, Papa!”

“I wasna going to say, Seana, but aye! ‘Tis my dearest love come back to me!” He seemed to believe it truly.

Seana’s face screwed, not quite understanding, not quite wanting to.

She raised a brow. “That cat is my mother?”

“Aye! My Love!”

Seana rolled her eyes. “Och, Papa!”

“’Tis true, Seana!” he maintained. “This cat is no ordinary cat!”

Seana rose and peered down at her da. He looked so small to her lying there beneath his blankets now, but his face was aglow with his conviction. He believed it, no matter how ridiculous it sounded to her.

She wanted more than anything to get him out of this cold cavernous place, to take him somewhere he could talk to people instead of ornery old beasts.

“She watches o’er ye now that I canna!”

Seana refused to believe that moody cat was her mother! Och, but his wits were going as well!

Her eyes misted and she swallowed her grief.

It seemed to her that he was fading much too quickly these days. His cough had grown deep and his skin had grown pale. He would no longer even allow her to bring him into the sun to enjoy the day.