Kate Wingo - Highland Mist 01 (29 page)

“Aye, leave it to a
brave
English knight to kill a man for telling the truth!”

Hoping to forestall further insult, Yvette turned to Laoghaire and hissed,
“Sir Galen’s uncle is a Scottish earl.”

“
And more than likely ashamed the mongrel shares his name!”

“Silence!
Both of you!” Yvette ordered, determined to put an end to Laoghaire and Galen’s vitriolic squabbling as she knew it would only worsen an already taut confrontation. “I will have you know, Sir Galen, that we are well-armed and fully prepared to repel any attack that may be launched against us.”

“You lie, fai
r lady,” Galen flatly accused. “For I know that the lord of the castle and most of his men-at-arms left of a sudden. And I know this because I
am the one who had the fiery cross set atop the mountain.”

Yvette inhaled sharp
ly, stunned by the revelation. As was everyone else on the battlements, Sir Galen’s announcement inciting a host of angry snarls, muttered oaths, and vehement threats of revenge.

“I have been in this godforsaken country long enough to know that a fiery cross is used by these heathen Highlanders to summon the clans
to war,” the knight continued. Then, his voice fair dripping with triumphant glee, Galen said, “’Twas naught but child’s play to pay a rival clan to set the cross ablaze. That is another thing I have learned during my northern exile . . . a Scotsman will do
anything
for a bit of coin. Most clever of me, was it not?”

“
Yea,” Yvette readily agreed. “But it was also a dishonorable act, unworthy of one who has been knighted.”

Lifting
a mail-clad shoulder, Galen shrugged dismissively and said, “I have fought enough battles to know that the virtuous knight all too frequently ends up a dead knight. I do not intend such a fate.”

“But others wish it
upon ye, rest assured,” Laoghaire hissed.

Sir Gal
en made no reply. He had no need to, his wintry stare speaking far more eloquently than any insult.

“I grow weary of this pointless banter,” the knight
declared, directing his remark to Yvette. “Your father, the Earl of Lyndhurst, in good faith agreed to pay a hefty ransom for your return. I am here to give you safe escort to Glencova. Gather your belongings, Lady Yvette. I am anxious to depart these environs.”

Taken aback by
the sheer arrogance of the man, Yvette said, “My father
refused
to pay the ransom, as well you know.”

“I know that the truth has been kept from you
,” Sir Galen retorted with narrowed gaze. “Although to what purpose, I cannot rightly say.”

“Your words ring false!”
Yvette accused, refusing to fall prey to Sir Galen’s well-crafted subterfuge.

As though
he’d been waiting for those very words to fall from her lips, Galen calmly raised a gauntleted hand.

W
ith perfect martial precision, the line of mounted horsemen parted in the middle. Through the opening, a young page drove a small wheeled cart. Along with everyone else gathered on the battlements, Yvette watched with heightened curiosity as two of the horsemen dismounted. Striding over to the cart, they hefted a carved chest from the back of the conveyance.

Dismounting his destrier, Galen gestured for the two men to bring the
chest over to where he stood. Then, his lips curved in a mocking sneer, he flung open the lid of the elaborately carved chest.

As he scooped a handful of gold coins in his gloved hand, Sir Galen said,
“Behold with your own eyes, Lady Yvette. Along with the two thousand pieces of gold, your father sends his well wishes for your safe return to Glencova.”

Dumbfounded, Yvette
stared at the glittering fistful of coins as they slowly slipped through Sir Galen’s fingers, each of them falling into the chest with a dull clink.

“This is trick!” she exclaimed,
refusing to trust Sir Galen. By his own admission, the man deemed virtue a worthless commodity. “Why would the laird refuse to take possession of the very ransom he demanded to be paid?”

“’Twas a ploy to swindle
Lyndhurst out of an even greater amount of gold coin,” the knight informed her as he slammed the chest shut. “In the coming months, Robert the Bruce will have need of gold. Those of his vassals who can fill his bankrupt treasury stand to gain titles and lands.”

Although
she didn’t trust the knight, Sir Galen’s ready reply had about it a truthful ring. Were it not for the fact that Iain had insisted they handfast, she might have been tempted to credence the knight with speaking the truth.

“
It matters naught that the laird of Clan MacKinnon forfeited the ransom,” Sir Galen continued. “For I have come for you.”

Yvette’s mouth tightened,
the gall of the man infuriating.

That
assessment was evidently widespread, more than a few of Iain’s kinsmen muttering unflattering insults under their breaths regarding the arrogant knight’s questionable lineage. Mercifully, Laoghaire kept her opinions to herself; although the Scotswoman observed the proceedings with keen interest.

“I can not leave with you, Sir Galen
. I am handfasted to the laird of Clan MacKinnon. And have been for the fortnight just past.”

At hearing Yvette’s announcement,
Sir Galen’s right brow instantly slanted upward. “A fortnight, you say? The scheming bastard didn’t waste so much as a day, did he? Be that as it may, my uncle would still have you for his wife.”

“
Yea, because the earl greatly covets my lands and dower,” Yvette retorted, uncaring if she caused offense. Then, determined to send the knight on his way, she said in a clear tone of voice, “Listen well, Sir Galen, for I will say this only one more time . . . I am
already
wed.”

“If you think th
usly, you are greatly misinformed,” the knight countered. “Words uttered in front of MacKinnon’s barefoot vassals and his shrew of a sister mean naught in an English court.”

On the verge of informing Sir Galen that the vows he was so quick to denigrate had been
witnessed by no less a personage than the king of Scotland, Yvette held her tongue. The last thing she wanted was for the knight to learn that King Robert had recently taken refuge at Castle Maoil.

“
I will have you know that a consummated handfast is legally binding in Scotland,” Yvette insisted.

“
Have you forgotten that a betrothal contract was signed? A contract that is legally binding in both Scotland
and
England.”

“Mayhap that is true, but
—”

“We are nibbling all around
the edges, but have yet to get to the marrow,” Sir Galen curtly interjected. “Moreover, I do not care for all this yelling back and forth as if we were haggling over the price of butchered meat. If you will grant me a word in private, Lady Yvette, I am certain that we can resolve this matter to our mutual satisfaction.”

Yvette
was also disinclined to have so private a matter discussed in front of an avid audience.

Not about to let Sir Galen take the upper hand, she said,
“I will grant you a private audience under three conditions. First, you must order your men to retreat. Secondly, you must divest yourself of all weaponry. And lastly, you will speak to me in a civil tongue.”

The black-clad knight tersely nodded his head, agreeing to all three of her terms.

As Yvette faced Galen de Ogilvy in the vacated guard room of the gatehouse, the air between them fairly crackled with a tense animosity.

A dull beam of light from an arrow slit angled between them,
evenly dividing the room into two quadrants. Each of them recognized the unspoken boundary, accordingly taking up a position on their respective side of that narrow beam.

Sneering c
ontemptuously, Galen appraised Yvette’s simple
léine
and her unclad feet. “After only a few months amongst these savages, you look as though you were a Highland wench, born and bred.”

Yvette made no comment.
Since her abduction, she’d completely erased Sir Galen de Ogilvy from her mind. Thus, she’d forgotten that harmonious accord was beyond his grasp. If a trait did not serve the knight on the field of battle, he had little use for it.

“Get on with it,
” she commanded, refusing to yield to his insults. “You promised a civil tongue, yet you waste my time with your barbed observations.”

“
If not civilly, then I shall speak plainly. You
will
come with me, Lady Yvette. Or else I will wreak a devastation upon this isle the likes of which has never been known,” Sir Galen threatened. “And the first thing to come under the torch will be those pathetic huts that I saw on yon meadow.”

Yvette’s breath slid out of her
body in a thready exhalation. She knew the crofters’ huts of which he spoke. They were made of wattle and daub with thatched roofs. If Galen made good on his threat, the flimsy abodes would be consumed by fire in a few scant seconds.

“Then I will have MacKinnon’s castle destroye
d, one Scottish stone at a time,” Sir Galen continued in a malevolently calm tone of voice. “After which, any remaining men-at-arms will be killed, all of your vassals slaughtered, and the red-headed virago severely punished
for her insolence.”

“From the gleam in your eye, one would think you look forward to adm
inistering such a punishment,” Yvette said accusingly, taken aback by the blatant animosity that embroidered Galen’s bald threats.

“Yea, I greatly look forward to it
. I have been too long without a woman.”

Yvette put a hand to her throat, utterly aghast.
“You would not dare commit so beastly an atrocity!”

“Doubt me not, lady. F
or I
will
do all that I have threatened to do.”

Horrified,
Yvette stared at the resolute knight. She didn’t doubt for one moment that Galen would storm Castle Maoil, giving the order for his men to rape and pillage at will. With good reason he was known throughout the realm as the ‘
Le Chevalier Noir
.’ The Dark Knight.

Knowing that men like Galen de Ogilvy preyed
upon weakness, Yvette squared her shoulders and said, “This is a strong, sturdy castle. We are fully prepared to withstand a siege.”

“How long do you suppose you can hold out against a
vastly superior force?” His lips curved in a caustic imitation of a smile, Galen jutted his chin at the butcher’s knife that Yvette still had clutched in her right hand. “When your food supply is depleted and your water contaminated, you won’t have the energy to lift a pitchfork, let alone a kitchen knife.”

Yvette gasped in horror
at the thought that Galen might poison the castle’s well and cistern. While they could survive without food, everyone within the castle walls would most certainly die without potable water. Indeed, many a stronghold had capitulated once the enemy poisoned the water supply.

Should
Castle Maoil fall, Sir Galen and his knights could then simply wait within the walls of the castle for Iain and King Robert to return. At which point, Sir Galen could launch an attack against his unsuspecting adversary from
within
the laird’s stronghold.

God’s mercy
! Anything but that calamitous fate!

Despite the fact that
Galen de Ogilvy had already proved himself a ruthless adversary, Yvette was determined to prevail. Too many lives depended upon the outcome of the negotiation.

“Though I am unschooled in
military matters, I believe that my husband would have me remain steadfast. Moreover, I have my doubts that you’ll be able to contaminate our water supply.”

“Brave words, lady . . . but very foolish
.”