The Kindling Heart (36 page)

Bree shivered.

He stood in the center of the chamber, forbidding and detached. “I…have rarely seen so much blood.”

“My lord!” The ancient woman had returned. This time, she clutched a small bundle to her breast. “The wet nurse has come. Do ye wish to see yer daughter before she is taken away?”

Cameron remained where he was, giving no indication he’d heard.

“Allow me,” Ruan said, and stepped forward. He lifted the small infant carefully from her arms, murmuring, “Give him a wee bit of time.”

The woman nodded once and disappeared.

There was something mesmerizing about the way Ruan gently cradled the baby, never had Bree seen a man appear more virile and handsome. All at once, she wanted to kiss him, take him to his chamber, and repeat the entire night of before. Their eyes caught. She blushed hotly and glanced away.

“I suppose this is my third daughter,” Cameron observed dispassionately. He made no move to touch the infant. “Or shall I say the King’s.”

“One day, ye’ll have a bairn of your own,” Ruan said.

“I’ve no need of a bairn,” Cameron answered in icy, clipped tones. “I now have three heiresses to my estates. I could even use a few more as I’ve land to spare. I’m sure the King will provide.”

“Have ye ever even held a bairn?” Ruan raised a suspicious brow.

“I’m sure I must have wedded one, once or twice,” Cameron replied in a mocking tone.

Thrusting the infant into the Earl’s arms, Ruan ordered, “Hold the wee lassie.”

Cameron obligingly held the bundle, cold and distant. The infant began to whimper. The Earl peered at the child briefly before shoving the bundle back at Ruan. “She needs a wet nurse, nae me.”

With that, he quit the room.

As Ruan sought out the wet nurse, Bree went in search of Merry.

She hadn’t seen the little girl the entire morning, and it was unusual. She knocked on the door to Merry’s chamber, only to find it swing open, creaking on its hinges. Hesitantly, she stepped inside. “Merry?”

The chamber was tidy, apparently empty, with nothing amiss. She turned to leave when she heard the door close with a thud. Whirling, she beheld a paunchy, cloaked figure holding Merry tightly, with one hand clamped over her mouth and the other pushing a blade against the little girl’s neck.

“Do nae speak a word!” a familiar voice hissed.

It was Silas, the priest.

She could not allow herself to feel fear, to wonder why he was there. Instead, she forced herself to act.

“Leave her be,” Bree swallowed, her voice shaking a little. The fear radiating from Merry was overwhelming. “Take me, not her!”

“Aye,” Silas laughed as the hood fell back. “I’m taking ye both.”

As he moved forward, Bree shouted, “Run, Merry!”

Desperately, she reached for the
sgian dubh
Ruan had playfully hidden in her boot that morning, but a sudden burst of pain exploded from the back of her head and then darkness descended all at once.

As the servants lit the candles lining the main hall, Ruan leapt up the steps to Cameron’s private chambers, two at a time, with a growing sense of dread. At first, he had thought Merry and Bree were with Isobel. When he finally sought the woman out, they discovered that neither Merry nor Bree had been seen for quite some time. A quick search revealed no sign of them anywhere in the castle grounds.

He pounded on Cameron’s door.

“What is it?” Cameron asked, his brows arching in concern.

As they headed back down the stairs, Ruan heard Isobel’s scream. His heart leapt into his throat as he strode into the hall.

Isobel was cradling Merry close to her breast, but any sense of relief Ruan felt was instantly gone as his little sister turned to him. Pushing away from Isobel, she launched herself at Ruan. An angry bruise was already spreading over her jaw and a jagged cut marred her neck, but it was the horror etched on her face that made his heart stand still.

“They took her!” Merry sobbed, clutching Ruan desperately. “Silas and another man took her back to Dunvegan! Ruan, ye have to get her, I love her! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I don’t care if ye love her too, just bring her back! Promise me, ye’ll bring her back!”

It was too much to feel. He stared in shock only for a moment before spurring into action. Now was not the time to experience even a shred of emotion.

He must act.

As Cameron lifted a hand, dispensing crisp commands to his men, Ruan wordlessly bounded to his chamber. It took only a moment to collect his weapons, and then he was back in the hall.

“I’m coming with ye,” Cameron stated, throwing his cloak over his shoulders.

With a curt nod, Ruan headed for the boats.

A group of men awaited them on the shore, battle ready and on horses, and then they were galloping into the falling darkness, with twenty more of the Earl’s men preceding them down the road.

They didn’t need to speak further.

They knew where they were going.

Dunvegan.

Bree’s ears rang incessantly and her stomach heaved. Someone had stuffed a rank smelling gag in her mouth and drawn a hood over her face. Vividly, she recalled Silas’ leering presence in Merry’s chamber, but how she’d ended up securely tied to the back of a horse was a mystery. Judging by the soreness of her ribs, a significant amount of time had passed. She wriggled enough to maneuver the hood to the side, allowing a partial view of the horse’s hooves squelching in the foul smelling mud. It was growing dark and she could smell the rain in the air.

From the corner of her eye, she spied another horse. There were at least two captors. Fervently, she prayed that Merry had escaped.

They began a sharp assent, a steep and stony climb. Several times, the horse stumbled, jarring her unmercifully.

“Hold!” a man’s voice called from the darkness ahead.

The horses reined in sharply.

“What took ye so long?” a gritty voice from close by startled her.

“’Twas nae an easy task,” Silas grated from inches away, apparently the rider of her horse. “Cameron guards his castles well. We were fortunate they were in great need of a priest.”

She shivered as hands untied and lifted her down. She forced herself to be limp, feigning sleep, but it was not necessary. Her abductor dumped her unceremoniously on the ground and tossed a plaid over her head.

“Where is the wee one?” another voice queried.

“I had to leave her behind,” Silas growled. “They were growing suspicious of the boat.”

Bree’s heart leapt. Merry had escaped. Then, a new wave of anxiety rose. Surely, Silas would have drawn the line at harming his own sister. And then she remembered that she was the man’s relation now as well, and he was showing little concern for her. She began to fret.

“I’ve little tolerance for yer constant bungling!” the gritty voice inserted itself again. “Ruan will be on yer trail. We must press on.”

“Nay!” Silas responded angrily. “I’ve had enough of ye! I’m leading this raid, and–”

“Fool!” the man hissed in response. “I’ll be patient with ye no longer!”

There was the sound of rasping metal, and at that, Bree’s eyes flew open. She managed to shake the plaid to the side just in time to witness the last moment of Silas’ life. He stood with his sword raised as he faced a bald, burly man she’d never seen before. Several others leaned against their horses, watching in mild interest but making no move to intervene.

It was over quickly.

Silas was no swordsman.

The man disarmed him with a single stroke before his blade slashed the priest’s throat.

With a slight gurgle, Silas sank wordlessly to the ground.

Bree gasped.

“We leave at once,” the bald man announced. “I’ll nae have this fool lead Ruan right to us. The boat is waiting; we must lose nae time!”

She held still, frozen with shock, as he approached. His steel fingers crushed her wrist as he dragged her to his horse and tossed her in front. Mounting quickly behind her, he locked his arm about her waist in a vice grip that would afford no opportunity for escape and ordered his men to move.

It was a grueling ride. They traveled long into the night, stopping for only short periods of rest. The weather deteriorated, the gusts of cold rain driving through her plaid, stinging her face and hands.

Before dawn, they rested under a ledge of rock in a narrow ravine and huddle close to a small fire. Bree found herself bound securely, tossed to the side, and then ignored completely. The men spoke loudly. Their spirits were elated with their success, and she soon discovered the bald man’s name was Angus, he and his companions were Fearghus’ men, on their way back to Duntulm.

Fearghus!

This discovery brought her to a near state of panic. Ruan would never think of searching for her in Duntulm. Her mind raced, why did they want her? Was she a trap for Ruan? She listened carefully, but she found answers to none of these questions.

At dawn, they rode as if the very devil chased them. For the most part, they kept her hooded, ordering her from the start to remain silent. Twice she summoned courage to speak, but each time Angus rewarded her with a sound smack across the face so fierce that she feared it had cracked her jaw.

“Ye’ll nae speak, woman!” he shouted, planting his beefy face within an inch of hers. “I’ve no patience for it and if ye even attempt to escape, I’ll bring yer head alone back to Fearghus! He will nae mind much!”

Bree gulped. She didn’t try again after that.

Time passed in a blur.

They resumed their mad dash, and she managed only a few glimpses of her surroundings. The lone hawk soaring in the sky, tree branch rustling in the wind, but it meant little. She didn’t recognize any of the terrain. She only knew she’d never been on these roads before.

They stopped rarely, subsisting on the occasional bannock and draught of water. She spent the majority of her day propped before Angus, gritting her teeth and nursing her sore jaw, as the horse jostled her unmercifully. At night, they rolled her in several plaids and slept on either side of her to ensure no chance of escape.

Tears flowed in those long, dark nights until she fell into an exhausted sleep amidst the damp heather, the smell reminding her of Ruan. She knew in her heart that he was following, and it gave her some measure of peace, but only a small measure. He wouldn’t think to look in Duntulm. No, her destiny was in her own hands. She had to escape. Panic, fear, and despair roiled within her, at times threatening to render her helpless, but she could not give up, not now when she had too much to live for.

It was thoughts of Ruan that began to steel her resolve in those nights and the days that followed. She had to survive. She had to escape. She fought desperately to bring her fear in control and doubled her efforts to find a way to elude her captors.

The cries of many gulls heralded their impending arrival to the sea. The sounds of pounding waves roared in her ears as they cantered down the beach to a waiting boat.

Bree’s heart sank. Her doom was fast approaching, and she hadn’t yet found one opportunity to escape.

“Aye, ‘twill nae be long now!” Angus rubbed his hands, apparently pleased with their progress. “Fearghus will reward us greatly for yer bonny face!”

Bree clenched her jaw and glared at him.

“Ach, what ye think makes no difference to me,” the man laughed as he shoved her into the boat. “We’ll be dining well enough soon and raising our tankards high with a wench or two on our knees!”

The men broke into cackles of anticipation as the oars dipped into the water.

Bree closed her eyes tightly, willing her panic to subside. Soon, they would entomb her in Duntulm, and whatever Fearghus desired of her; it was surely nothing good. She had to escape. Jumping overboard was not an option. She could not swim.

“Aye, ye canna escape,” Angus informed her with a laugh. “There is nothing ye can do, lass.”

Cursing her transparency, she didn’t lift her head to look at the man.

The winds turned violent, large waves tossed the boat mercilessly, sending her sprawling to the bottom. Her captors paid little attention. They no longer seemed to mind the fact her hood had slipped to her shoulders, allowing her to see. She cautiously peered over the vessel’s side at the coastline rapidly disappearing.

Soon enough, she saw the brown expanse of Skye on the horizon, gradually forming into in the rolling hills topped with stone columns. As they drew closer, she could see the scrubby trees and the tiny dots of sheep and goats.

Tears slid down her cheeks. Vainly, she wished Ruan would somehow magically appear. Her heart was heavy. She could still feel the
sgian dubh
tucked safely in her boot, but she’d little chance to use it with her hands and feet perpetually secured. Not that she’d have a chance against these battle-hardened men, anyway. No, she could not escape yet, but she had to remain vigilant.

The storm prevented further progress, and the men put to shore to wait it out. They built a fire and shared tales and ale long into the night. Someone tossed her a piece of bread as an afterthought. From listening, she learned they would reach their destination early the next morning, providing the clouds would lift. She remained alert, watchful, but Angus was ever at her side. Finally, she fell asleep, overwrought with dread of what the next day might bring.