Warrior’s Redemption (26 page)

He made sure he sat directly across from Danielle with Christiana at his side. All the better to observe.

With an uplifted hand, he signaled for the courses to begin, waiting for everyone to be served before he made introductions.

“Have you any idea who our guests are, dear sister?” He watched Christiana closely for any reaction. “This is Danielle, Malcolm’s wife, and her traveling companion.”

He wasn’t disappointed.

Christiana’s hand paused midway to her mouth,
her eyes darting up to the other woman and back to her food again. It occurred quickly, but he’d seen it because he’d been looking for it. Surprise like that was impossible to hide.

“Welcome to Tordenet Castle, ladies.”

“And you must be Christiana. Malcolm has spoken of you.”

Tensions ran thick at the table, inhibiting conversation. That could work to his advantage if he used it properly. He lifted his hand again and maids rushed to fill all the goblets with his favorite mead.

He timed his next round of questions to coincide with the beginning of the second course. After two cups of the mead, he expected tongues would begin to loosen.

“Tell me of yer family, Danielle. How did my brother come to wed you?”

“I arranged for Danielle and Malcolm to be together.”

The companion, an older woman whose name he’d instantly forgotten, smiled cheerily at him, lifting her cup for another refill. His look must have reflected as much.

“Surely you realize that I’m Isabella’s mother. No?” She took a sip, her smile even brighter than before. “Marrying my Isabella is what made Malcolm laird of the MacGahan. And with my Isa gone, I felt the lad needed
a good wife to see that Castle MacGahan was well cared for. I found Danielle for him and the rest is, as they say, history.”

With all her blethering, the woman must have enjoyed his mead overmuch.

“When will you release my husband?”

Dani’s question seemed to spring from nowhere, catching him off guard. He waited to answer her until after the next course of food had been served.

“Begging yer pardon, my good woman, but it feels a wee bit presumptuous to be speaking of Malcolm’s release when we’ve yet to discuss the details of either his homage or his oath of fealty, does it no?”

“In that case, let’s go ahead and discuss the money. I’ll be more than happy to turn it over to you just as soon as I see Malcolm. To verify he’s unharmed, you understand.”

He had no intention of allowing her to see Malcolm. Not yet, at least. That move did not yet suit his needs.

“I fear that’s not possible.”

“Will you be serving anything other than fish at this meal?” The mother-in-law frowned at her plate and then at him. “Any fruit or vegetables of any sort?”

As if he had anything to do with what came from the kitchens!

“I have no idea what—”

“That being the case”—Danielle folded her hands on the table in front of her, focusing her attention there as she spoke—“I fear I’m not at liberty to give you any of the coin we’ve brought from the people of the MacGahan.”

“What?”

Somewhere along the line, his plans for this meal had been completely dashed. These women had taken charge.

“Since you say it’s impossible for me to see my husband, I need some proof that Malcolm lives. I don’t even know for sure that he was ever here.”

“I can assure you that I do indeed hold your husband as my . . . guest.”

“Oh, you assure us of that, do you?” The mother-in-law, at last concerned with something other than her palate.

“I’m afraid that’s simply not good enough.” Danielle looked up, her enormous green eyes boring into him as if she were attempting to search his very soul. “I’m not turning over the entire fortune of the MacGahan clan merely on your say-so. No offense intended. I’m sure you understand this is purely business.”

“The word of your own husband’s brother is not good enough for you?”

“No.” The mother-in-law pushed back her chair and rose to her feet.

“Elesyria is correct,” Danielle confirmed, rising to her feet as well. “Not when that brother claims to be holding my husband prisoner. Or ‘guest,’ as you seem to prefer to call it.”

This was beyond absurd. Did these women not realize he could merely take that which they had brought and toss their broken bodies into the sea?
And yet, he felt compelled to continue what had become an entertaining game for him. Toying with prey so full of surprises provided a fascination to see what their next move might be.

Though once he tired of the game, the annoying one called Elesyria would be its first victim.

“Christiana. Tell them you’ve spoken to your brother.”

“I have spoken to my brother.”

Even he would have doubts based on the girl’s demeanor and he knew for a fact that Malcolm languished in the oubliette below.

“Nope.” Danielle pushed her chair to the table and began to gather her bags. “Not good enough. At this point, I need proof.”

The next move was his, in the form of a new hurdle for his toys to overcome. He stood and walked around the table to place a restraining hand on the woman’s wrist.

“If that’s the treasure you think to deliver, then it would seem we already have a problem. I canna believe that holds the amount I required of you.”

Danielle pulled at his grip but he refused to release his hold. Time she began to understand the power she sought to battle.

“Well, sir, it’s all you’re getting.” Brazenly, she fixed that brilliant gaze upon him again. “And there’s nothing we can do about that because it’s everything we have. All the coin, all the silver, right down to the only two candlesticks I could find that were worth anything. We’ve even collected every piece of jewelry
we could lay hands on. So, you want the wealth of the MacGahan in return for my husband’s release? There it is. But you don’t get one single piece of it until I have proof that he’s here and that he’s alive.”

She tugged her hand again and he glanced down to where he held her, an idea springing to life as he noted the jewel upon her finger.

“As you say.” He released his grip and stepped back. “This is business, not family, so I have a business proposal for you. In exchange for one trinket from your treasure, I will deliver to you proof that Malcolm is indeed here. A good-faith gesture on both our parts.”

He could well imagine her mind ticking off the possibilities as she continued to stare at him. By the gods, but Malcolm did not deserve one such as this. Beauty, wit, and a quick mind combined in a single package.

Though hardly quick enough to successfully engage him in an intellectual battle.

“And once we’ve completed this good-faith act of yours, then you agree to negotiate Malcolm’s release to me in return for the treasure I carry?”

“The treasure and the MacGahan’s pledge of fealty, of course.” The one piece he was certain he would never receive from Malcolm.

“Then we have a deal.” She extended her hand to grasp his, pumping it up and down as a merchant at the fair might. Stepping back she swept her arm over the stack of bags. “Feel free to go through them. Choose whatever item you like.”

“No need, my lady. I’ve already chosen. I’d have
the trinket you wear upon your hand. You did say you were including all the jewelry you could find at Castle MacGahan as part of the payment.”

Surprise registered on her lovely features even as she covered the ring with her other hand. Her reaction, however, was short-lived. She recovered quickly, all emotion wiped from her expression as she twisted the ring from her finger and handed it over to him.

“Elesyria and I shall await your proof in our chambers.”

He waited as they gathered their precious little bags and made their way from the hall. At his nod, his guards fell in step behind them.

“Thank you for a most unusual meal, Brother.” Christiana glided past him on her way to the door, stopping at the last moment. “She’s an interesting woman, our new sister, is she no?”

Indeed she was, but he saw no need to share his thoughts with Christiana, and instead dismissed her with the wave of his hand.

He had more pressing matters on his mind.

“H
E’S BEING FAR
too accommodating. I don’t like this.” Elesyria lay back on the bed, one hand across her eyes. “I don’t trust that vile creature in the least.”

“I don’t trust him either, but I’d hardly call him accommodating.”

Dani sat on the floor in front of the massive stone fireplace in her bedchamber, rubbing her thumb over the newly empty spot on her finger. It was her own fault.
She should have left her aunt’s ring at Castle MacGahan if she’d wanted to keep it.

Still, if it made any difference in getting Malcolm out of this place, it was well worth the loss.

A knock at the door sent her scrambling to her feet to answer.

“Our lord Torquil sends these things with his compliments. He bids me tell you his part of the bargain is now fulfilled.”

The guard handed over a pack and a roll of blankets that looked very much like the ones Malcolm had carried with him the night he’d left Castle MacGahan. Still, everyone who traveled could well have items just like these. And even if they were his, they only proved that he had been here at one point, a fact that was really not in question for her.

“You can tell your lord that I don’t accept these as proof that my husband is alive.”

“Our lord Torquil bids me convey to you his invitation to join him in breaking his fast on the morrow to continue the negotiations as you have agreed.”

“Fine.” Arguing with this Polly parrot was doing her no good at all. “You may tell him for me that we’ll see him bright and early tomorrow morning.”

There was no mistaking the relief she’d seen on the man’s face as she shoved the heavy door shut.

Holding the things tightly to her chest, she returned to her spot by the hearth to go through the items Torquil claimed belonged to Malcolm.

She untied the binding on the bedroll and buried her nose in the blanket and any question of who it
belonged to was gone. The fresh herbal scent that clung to his skin permeated the wool. It definitely belonged to Malcolm.

After draping the blanket across her legs, she opened the pack to look inside; her heart felt as if it skipped a beat. Just inside the pack was the pouch Malcolm always wore around his waist, as if someone had taken it from him and carelessly tossed it in with everything else.

She loosened the drawstrings on the leather bag and dumped its contents into her lap. There, among the bits of tiny wood shavings, two items stood out from the rest.

The first was Malcolm’s knife. She’d seen it too often not to recognize it as his. He used it at every meal, and even in his spare moments, he pulled it out to occupy his hands by idly whittling some piece of wood he’d pick up.

The second item clutched at her heart.

“A fork,” she said aloud, unable to keep her voice from breaking.

“What’s that you say?” Elesyria climbed from the bed and crossed over to kneel at her side.

“Malcolm’s carved a fork.” She ran her finger the length of the smooth wood before offering it to Elesyria for her inspection. “A small fork. Just like I told him I wanted.”

She felt as if her heart might break. Even as he’d traveled to meet God only knew what kind of fate, he’d been thinking of her. Only two wickedly sharp prongs, and those were all out of proportion, almost
as long as the handle. But it was fork. A fork she had no doubt he’d made especially for her. She could almost see him sitting by a fire, absently carving away as he did when his hands were idle.

Her head felt stuffy and she rubbed at her eyes to prevent their betraying her with tears.

“I thought you said this whole true-love, SoulMate thing was supposed to be a gift. It doesn’t feel the least bit gifty right now. In fact, it feels pretty awful.”

“We do feel most deeply those things that are most important to us,” Elesyria agreed as she smoothed one hand over the wood before lifting it to her nose. “It’s rowan wood he’s used.”

Dani held out her hand for the fork and lifted it to her own nose. “Just smells like wood to me.” How Elesyria could tell one from another was beyond her.

“Rowan trees are a home to powerful Magic left behind in the world by the ancient Fae. It’s not just their smell that identifies them to me. It’s the sense of power in the wood.”

“Too bad we don’t have ourselves a rowan tree here, isn’t it? Maybe you could access your Magic then.”

Elesyria shook her head and stood up, stretching her back as she did. “I doubt one tree could overcome what I feel weighing down upon me here, but they do have power. You likely could have used a single bit of wood like that when you set about to contact the Faeries instead of all those stones you told me about.”

If only she’d known that at the time. It would have saved her the week’s pay she’d spent on those pretty
little stones. Not that she would have had any idea where to find rowan wood in Wyoming. Besides, none of that mattered now. It was all history.

Or would be in seven centuries.

She replaced all the items as they had been. All except the little fork. That she tucked into the pouch she wore around her own waist. After all, she was sure Malcolm had meant it to be hers.

Carrying his blanket with her, she crawled into bed and drew the woolen close to her face, breathing in his scent. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about the circumstances Malcolm endured this night that prevented him from using his own things.

Instead she forced her eyes shut. She needed to sleep in order to try the dream again. She needed to see for herself that Malcolm still lived.

D
ON’T LET HIM
see your fear or it’s all over. He’ll come after you.”

Aunt Jean’s caution played through Dani’s mind as she followed Torquil’s guard toward the dining hall, grating against her already frayed nerves. Maybe if she’d gotten any sleep at all last night it would have helped. Or if she’d been able to catch even a tiny glimpse of Malcolm in her dreams she might be less of a nervous wreck.