Highland Fortitude (The Band of Cousins Book 5)

by Keira Montclair

  The mother abbess leaned forward and tugged Constance toward her. “I’m sure he only did it taunt you, but I thank you for telling me the truth. Is there anything else I should know?”

  “Nay, ’tis everything. I’m sorry I’ve been such a burden, but I would like to work with the bairns, do something good for our Lord. Please do not force me to return to him.” Perhaps she wouldn’t have to run away after all. If the abbess accepted her and didn’t force her back home, if no one else came after her, could she make a life here? She’d like to try, if only for Kelby’s sake.

  “How many summers are you, lass?”

  “I was born in the middle of a verra cold winter. Ten and nine years ago.”

  She patted Constance’s hand. “Then you are old enough to make your own decisions. I’ll not force you to return to your sire. I’d be pleased to have your assistance with the bairns again. Wee Kelby misses you.”

  Constance was so excited she bounded out of her chair and wrapped her arms around the mother abbess. “My thanks to you, Mother Abbess. I vow to do as I should. I’ll not stray again.”

  “Child,” she said, reaching to unclasp Constance’s hands behind her head. “You’re choking me. Please release my neck.”

  Constance jumped back, apologizing and grinning. She’d finally told the truth, and she hadn’t been punished for it. She could start over. She breathed a sigh of relief and plunked back down in the chair.

  “There is only one small problem.”

  Constance squelched the groan that threatened to come out of her mouth. Sitting forward in her chair, she asked, “What is it?”

  “I do not think those men belonged to a baron. They were dirty, disrespectful, and one of them hit me. Do those sound like your sire’s men?”

  “Nay. I’m so sorry they hurt you, but I don’t believe my sire’s guards would ever strike a woman, especially not one in an abbey. Who could they be?”

  Mayhap she was wanted for the Channel of Dubh.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Daniel led the way to the side entrance, grabbing the door handle and opening it with his new appendage, only to find it tugged back. He clutched his new hand, something he found himself doing often because he was afraid he’d lose it, but it was still attached.

  “What the hell?” he whispered to the others.

  “Knock,” said Connor.

  Daniel knocked, and the door opened with a force that would have felled him if he hadn’t been quick enough to jump out of the way. A massive brute stood there staring at him, not speaking. Daniel hadn’t dared take a good look at the guard before, but now he stole a quick glance to take the man’s measure. He had a long scar across his face from his left eye to his right jaw. It would be a mistake to upset this lout.

  Daniel silently held out the stone the serving lass had given to Connor.

  The brute accepted the stone, stood back, and allowed them to pass.

  Once inside, Daniel waited for his eyes to adjust, surprised to find himself in a chamber that was nearly empty but for a serving bar with one man behind it. It had been full before.

  “Grab an ale and head that way,” the barkeep said, pointing to the long passageway at the end of the chamber. “The fighting is about to commence. What will you wager?”

  “Who’s fighting?” Connor asked, approaching the bar with a coin in his hand.

  “Deathstalker against Ivan.”

  Connor said, “I’ll take Deathstalker.”

  The others followed suit. Each of them was given an ale and a stone to vouch for his wager, then they headed down the passageway. Gregor started to ask a question, but Daniel elbowed him. “Hush until we get in there.”

  The din grew louder as they progressed down the dark passageway lit with small torches. When they reached the huge chamber halfway down the path, they were surprised to find probably fifty men gathered in the chamber, many seated on stools while the others paced. The dirt of the floor had been built up in a graduated manner so those in the back could see above those in the front. Benches and stools were arranged in the middle, but the rest of the chamber was standing only. Three men stood in an open area down below. Spectators could only watch from three sides. The back held stools for the contenders.

  “Deathstalker must be the big one,” Daniel said.

  Gavin said, “What made you say that? The eyes that could pierce your soul as well as any could or is it the drool rolling down his chin?”

  Gregor choked on his ale.

  Daniel glared at Gavin and said, “Do either of the other two look like a death stalker?”

  Connor, a wry grin crossing his face, said, “I’m not sure if he looks like a death stalker, but the man standing across from him, who can only be Ivan, looks like he’s taken one too many blows to the head.”

  “Shut up. They’re staring at us.” Gregor spun around and headed toward a stool toward the back of the spectators. “What the hell are we looking for anyway?”

  They each found a stool in the back row. As soon as they took their seats, the man who stood between Ivan and Deathstalker spoke to both fighters, then clasped their shoulders, stepped back, and waved his hand in a circle above his head.

  The battle commenced.

  Ivan dove at his competitor, knocking him down and pummeling his belly. Deathstalker gave him a fist to his jaw, sending Ivan to the ground and giving himself time to get back up, ready to fight. Once Ivan rejoined the fight, they battled for maybe two or three minutes more before Deathstalker took a swing at the other man, connected square with his temple, and knocked Ivan out completely.

  The crowd shouted and applauded, many of them jumping up in the air before they sat down.

  The judge stood next to Deathstalker and announced, “Deathstalker wins.”

  Another man appeared out of a doorway on the other end of the chamber, handing out coin to anyone who could display their winning stone.

  Gavin’s eyes widened when he saw the coin he was given. “That was easy. I’m wagering again.”

  Once they finished collecting their coin, the man in the center said, “Who’s next?”

  The four sat in the corner for two more rounds, watching Deathstalker take on various other competitors, before Daniel announced, “I’m going to take him on. I can beat him.”

  “Daniel,” Connor countered, “in case you’ve forgotten, you only have one hand.”

  “I’ll be using my new assistant, Treun.”

  “They won’t allow you to wear it.”

  “We’ll see.”

  As soon as they asked who was next, Daniel bolted out of his seat. “I am,” he shouted.

  “What’s your name?”

  Daniel glanced at his friends before he shouted back, “Damien.” He wasn’t about to use his real name.

  “Damien the Demon? Come forward.”

  That wasn’t exactly the moniker he would have chosen, but he wasn’t about to argue. He’d done everything he could to build up his biceps at the Drummond lists, and the time had come to prove himself in front of a larger audience. With Treun on his arm, he had no doubt he’d be able to take on the well-named Deathstalker. As he stepped down toward the center of the platform, he heard the whispers build.

  “What the hell is that?” Deathstalker asked, pointing to his fake hand.

  Daniel slipped it off and handed it to the man he guessed was the judge. “I only have one hand, which would give him a distinct advantage over me. This evens us out, makes it fair.”

  The judge handled the fake hand, inspected it carefully before he declared. “You may don it. Place your bets. Damien or Deathstalker.”

  Daniel stood in one place, shaking his arms to relax his muscles as his cousins ran out to place their bets. Connor returned first and leaned over to whisper to him. “They’re all betting against you. If you win, we’ll make a ton of coin.”

  “You all bet on me, did you not?” Daniel asked.

  “Och, aye!” Gavin shouted, as he entered the chamber from th
e passageway. “I saw you fight Cailean, the Invincible Crazed Brute, I’ve no doubt you’ll win.”

  Gregor laughed and said, “Cailean would do well here.”

  His cousins moved closer to the fight to get a better view. A few moments after they were seated, the man swung his arm overhead and the fight began. Daniel had watched Deathstalker’s moves for three fights now, and he knew he’d try the same ones against him. True, the man was huge, but he wasn’t quick, which Daniel would use to his advantage.

  Deathstalker made the first move by diving toward him, his arms held wide to sweep around Daniel’s waist, but Daniel side-stepped him with a shove, sending him face down into the dirt floor. The crowd bellowed their surprise at Daniel’s speed.

  He allowed Deathstalker to get to his feet and managed to clobber him with two hits in a row to his face—one to his jaw and the other to his temple. He saw the man’s eyes react to the second blow, rolling a bit before he managed to refocus and make another swing.

  Daniel dodged the blow, then swung both his false hand and his real hand back and forth in front of the brute until he was so confused, he didn’t know which one was swinging toward him. He danced a full circle around Deathstalker, who spun and spun, unable to keep up with Daniel’s quick moves and his confusing hands. He finally dealt the fool a hard blow to the head, and Deathstalker crumpled to his feet.

  The crowd cheered Daniel on. “Damien! Damien! Damien!”

  “Well done,” Connor came over to him, clasped his shoulder, and handed him an ale to take a few swigs before the next fight was announced.

  “Go again, Damien?”

  Daniel glanced at Connor, shrugged his shoulders, and nodded.

  He took on two more contenders.

  By the end of the night, he’d beat four contenders and gained a new name.

  He was now Damien with the Devil’s Hand.

  They had their in with the underground.

  ***

  Constance ate as much as she could at the next meal. Ada sat with her.

  “We’re so glad you’re out of the cellar, Constance. ‘Twas not right for you to be in there. I cannot believe the mother abbess left you down there for so long.” She dipped her chunk of bread into the fish stew and chewed quietly.

  Constance noticed Ada giving her an odd look. Finally, she asked, “What is it, Ada?”

  “I just wondered if ’tis true or not.” She stared at her meal while she asked the question, for some reason not lifting her gaze to meet Constance’s.

  “If what is true?”

  “Are you of noble blood? ’Tis the latest rumor.” Ada clasped her hands in her lap and gazed at Constance. “And if so, why did you not tell me? I came to see you in the cellar. I wish to be your friend.”

  “Oh, Ada. Forgive me for not confiding in you. I didn’t confide in anyone for the longest time. I had to tell the truth in the end. Mother Abbess gave me no choice.”

  Ada just nodded, staring at her hands. “I wish I were of noble blood. Then mayhap I could go home. Your home must be nicer than this.”

  Constance sighed. “My keep is nicer than this, true, but I can never go home. ’Tis out of the question. I would much rather spend my time caring for the bairns of the world, mostly the lost ones. You do a good job with them, Ada. Why not enjoy them?”

  Ada stared at the rafters for a moment, and Constance thought she noticed tears in her eyes. “I suppose I will,” Ada said at last, lowering her chin. “You make a good point. I’m sorry you had to reveal something you didn’t wish to tell. Will you tell me the rest of your tale now?”

  “Nay. I prefer to keep my true identity a secret. ’Tis safer that way.” Though her sire had always provided for them, she knew him to be a stubborn, unforgiving man. He would undoubtedly see fit to punish anyone who helped her elude him.

  “I understand. ’Twas a nasty thing the mother abbess did to you, putting you down there alone.”

  “No matter. ’Tis over now and I’m off to work with the wee ones again. I shall see you in the nursery.” She finished her food and left in haste, wishing to end her conversation with Ada before it took a different turn.

  The sweetest sight she’d ever seen greeted her in the nursery. Kelby hopped off her stool and ran toward Constance, followed by two other wee lasses. As soon as the wee bairn with the short leg reached her, she hugged her skirts, then reached her arms straight up toward her. “Constie, up?”

  Constance leaned down and picked up the lassie, giving her a swift hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  “More kisses?” The wee one tipped her cheek toward Constance, waiting for more.

  Constance chuckled and gave her three more kisses, then settled on a stool so she could hug the other two lasses, giving each a kiss on the forehead.

  Kelby looked at Constance and asked, “Find my mama?”

  Constance shook her head. “Nay, lass. I’m afraid your mama is gone.”

  Kelby stuck her thumb in her mouth and rested her head on Constance’s shoulder.

  Sister Murreall made her way over to Constance. “You were missed, lass, especially by wee Kelby. I’m glad to have you back. We have a new set of wooden blocks for the wee ones to use. Why don’t you sit with the lassies and show them how to stack them?”

  Constance sat in the middle of a big fur and the bairns clustered around her. They stacked the blocks, making different things until they fell over and the girls all giggled. Then she told them two tales of angels and heaven, hoping to give Kelby some hope. She probably was too young to understand, but mayhap the memory would stay with her.

  The bairns were totally enraptured by her voice, some of them even lying on their sides and closing their eyes for a nap. When Kelby finally fell asleep, Constance lay her down on a different fur and covered her with a plaid.

  “Well done, lass,” Sister Murreall said. “They need a wee nap. They have not been sleeping well, some of them.”

  Constance nodded to the nun and said, “I’m going to take care of my needs. I’ll be right back.”

  “Of course, lass.”

  Constance moved out into the passageway, taking her time and thanking God for sending the lassies here to give her a purpose. She hadn’t gone far when the sound of horses outside carried to her.

  She froze, fear pooling in her gut, then searched for a hiding place. The only one she could find was the garderobe, so she ducked inside, pulled the curtain shut, and listened.

  A fist pounded on the door and one of the guards answered, “Here now, you need not beat the door down. Where are your manners?”

  The man outside said, “We were approved at the gate. We should be allowed to wander through your building.”

  “What is your purpose?” This voice was unmistakably that of the mother abbess.

  “We’re looking for someone, by the request of Baron Walter Lockhart of Lee. We’re to search the premises.”

  Constance recognized the voice as the head of her sire’s guards. He did not give up easily. She closed her eyes and prayed he would go away without searching the premises. Her legs trembled so fiercely that she nearly lost her footing and fell to the ground.

  “In the name of our Lord,” Mother Abbess called out. “You need not be belligerent. Please remember that we are the House of our Lord and we don’t submit to searches. What exactly are you looking for?”

  The guard’s voice carried to her easily. “We’re looking for his daughter. She either ran away or was kidnapped and he wants her back. Now.”

  Leave it to her sire to be so demanding. His men were not as rude as the ones who had come before, but they were no less officious. They’d barged right in and started barking their demands.

  The abbess continued in her calming voice. “We have no one of that name. What does she look like?”

  “She has flame-red hair, long and wavy, and green eyes. She’s about this tall.” She could not see the gesture, but she could imagine him lifting his hand to his chest. “She would have arrived about
a moon ago.”

  “Why are you just searching now?”

  “Because we’ve searched all of Scotland, both the Lowlands and Highlands. And we’ll not stop until we find her.”

  Even if they went away without finding her, everyone at the abbey would know they had come searching for her. She could no longer lie about her heritage. She could no longer hide.

  The abbess said, “We have no one here who fits that description, and you’ll not search our abbey. We have mass at present. Guards!” she called out through the door, “take them away.”

  “We’ll take our leave,” the guard said, his tone brusque. “If you see a lass who fits that description, you’ll notify the Sheriff of Lanarkshire?”

  “Of course.”

  The door closed and Constance nearly fell to her knees in relief, but not for long. She could not ask the abbess to continue lying for her. Her secret was out, so she had no choice.

  She’d be leaving in the middle of the night.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Two days later, the group of cousins sat at a table in the inn they were staying at in Edinburgh, eating the midday meal.

  “Daniel, we’ve been at this a few days and learned naught. I think we should take our leave. ’Tis an empty lead.”

  “Nay, I don’t think so,” Daniel said, taking a bit of stew and chewing on the left side of his mouth. “I’ve heard talk of the man who’s in charge. We need to find out if it’s someone associated with the channel.” He brought his hand up to the right side of his jaw and rubbed it. He’d taken a good punch on that side last night, and he was still annoyed he’d allowed the arse to get the blow in.

  “I’m going for a shave today,” Connor said. “You need one, too.” He pointed at Daniel. “You’re starting to look like a ruffian.”

  Gavin guffawed. “Your mother would kick your arse if she saw you. You’ve got more bruises than my arse after my sire tosses me across the lists for being lazy.”