If there was one man, aside from Dand, she could trust, she thought it was Luke. She desperately wanted to believe that.
“Aileas?”
“I can trust ye, eh? That what I tell ye goes no further?”
Luke sat up, his expression growing serious. Aileas sat up as well, taking his hands in hers and giving them a gentle squeeze.
“Aye. Ye can trust me.
She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Aileas knew she was risking everything by telling Luke, but her heart told her she could trust him and her heart rarely led her astray.
“I came back tae Sowkirk tae have me vengeance. Bruce Pringle murdered me family and destroyed me clan. Dand and I are thae only people of Clan McKinnon who still live.”
Aileas recounted her tale, starting with being roused from sleep to hiding in the barn, to her flight across the sea with Logan. Luke sat stone-still, listening to her every word, never interrupting, rapt by her story. And when she was done, she let out a long breath and sat, waiting for him to speak, fearing what she might hear.
“Clan McKinnon,” Luke said, a note of wonder in his voice. “I think I remember that. I was a lad, but I remember.”
“Aye. But with me gone and Dand in hidin’, there was nobody tae challenge Pringle. He was allowed tae claim me family’s land for himself.”
Luke nodded. “I remember now,” he said. “But if there’s somebody who can help ye, tis the baron. He-”
Aileas shook her head. “Nay. I cannae go to him with this. He cannae ken, Luke.”
“But why?”
“Because he’s likely as nae tae see me as a rival or a potential usurper,” she explained. “And I daenae fancy sittin’ in a cell for the rest of me life. That is if he doesnae just decide tae cut me bleedin’ head off.”
“He’s nae like that. He’s a fair man.”
“They’re all fair men until they see a threat tae their power.”
“I’m tellin’ ye, thae baron’s different.”
Aileas squeezed his hands tight. “Please, ye promised me ye’d nae say anythin’. Daenae make me think ye a liar.”
Luke sighed heavily but finally nodded. “Aye. I’ll nae say anythin’.”
Aileas let out a silent sigh of relief and favored him with a gentle smile. He returned it, but she could see the uncertainty in his eyes. She knew he had to be grappling with his promise to her and his loyalty to the baron, but she wanted to trust him. She was going to trust him. Dand would have her head off for it, but she believed in Luke’s feelings for her and that he would keep her confidence.
“I’m goin’ tae have me vengeance on Pringle,” she said. “And then ye and me are goin’ tae have tae talk about what comes after.”
“What does come after?”
She shook her head. “I daenae ken. But I cannae see an after without ye in it, Luke.”
His smile grew wider and warmer. He leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on her lips before sitting back.
“Tis a good answer. A very good answer,” he said.
“Aye. It is,” she said as she pulled him down on top of her again.
Chapter Fifteen
Robert strode to the gates of Master Pringle’s keep and then walked through them without being stopped and hassled by the guards this time. He rather liked that. He liked that he was becoming well known enough as an associate - perhaps even valued member of Pringle’s inner circle - that nobody dared raise a hand to stop him.
And while they perhaps, didn’t look at him with anything close to respect, at least they weren’t looking at him like he was something they stepped in either. The respect would come. Like his smithy, he would have to build a reputation that commanded respect - if not loyalty - one brick at a time. And Robert believed that helping to put Pringle into power over the clan lands in their entirety, was a sure way to boost the esteem others held him in.
He walked straight past the annoying and obsequious man who’d treated him so poorly the first time he arrived at the keep without sparing him a glance. As one of Master Pringle’s most trusted and valued spies, he did not need to be introduced any longer. Nor did he need to be escorted through the keep.
That didn’t stop the man from darting past him and getting in Robert’s way, though. The man - whom Robert learned was named Cyril - glowered at him.
“And where dae ye think ye’re goin’ then?” he sneered.
“I’m goin’ tae speak with Master Pringle. Now step aside.”
“Did thae Master summon ye?”
“I daenae answer tae ye,” Robert growled. “Now get out of me bleedin’ way.”
When Cyril didn’t make to move, Robert tried to step around him. But Cyril managed to get his long, gangly body and spindly arms and legs in front of him again. Robert’s face darkened, and he narrowed his eyes, glaring at him.
“Master Pringle is in with somebody at the moment. And since he did not send for you, then you will have to petition for an audience with him.”
Robert scoffed. Petitioning for an audience with Pringle, as if he was an ordinary peasant there to complain about his neighbor stealing his livestock or some other mundane, commoner matter. Robert felt he was anything but a mundane commoner. He was Pringle’s advisor. His chief spy. Robert was the power behind the throne, keeping Pringle’s seat safe and guarding against any threat.
Knowledge was power, and Robert aimed to be the most powerful man in all of Scotland. As his abilities grew, as he got better at skulking about and hiding in the shadows to gather the most private information, gleaning those secrets people strove to keep hidden, the more powerful he felt.
Though it was true that Pringle had not yet named him his official spymaster, Robert was confident that it was coming. The more reliable information he provided, the more secrets he poured into Pringle’s ears, the more indispensable he would become. Pringle would have no choice but to name him spymaster.
And when he did, when Robert had the power and the freedom that came with the title, he could set about righting wrongs in his own life. He could see to settling up with all of those people who had wronged him in his life.
As the spymaster of the keep, he would have the power to command men who would do the bloody work he did not enjoy. The hands of those men he commanded would reach out from the shadows and snatch up those who’d wronged him, and then, he would exact his pound of flesh. He would have his vengeance upon those who’d been stupid enough to cross him.
Robert was a smart man. He was ambitious. He was resourceful, and he was clever. But most of all, he was patient. Methodical. Robert was good at what he did - be it spying or even crafting blades - because he did not rush. He took his time to ensure everything was done properly and done well. He would wait for the right time to strike, and when he did, his own enemies would fall like wheat fell before a scythe in the field. And he might as well start with this one standing in his way.
“Ye better move out of me way, or ye’ll nae like what comes next, Cyril.”
Perhaps it was something in his eyes, or maybe the tone of his voice, but Cyril’s eyes widened, and he swallowed hard. He moved to the side of the corridor, if grudgingly, but he let Robert pass.
A satisfied smirk on his face, Robert strode to the doors of the great hall and pulled one open, closing it behind him as he slipped inside. Pringle sat upon his chair on the dais, glowering down at two men who stood at the bottom of the steps looking up at him. Robert crept among the columns, listening to the two men go back and forth with accusations of theft and assault. He rolled his eyes.
Behind Pringle on the dais stood Callum, Pringle’s personal guard. He was a tall man, easily a head and a half taller than Robert. He had long dark hair tied into a tail that fell to the middle of his back, dark, soulless eyes, and a frame that looked like it had been chiseled from marble. He was as solid as a statue and as frightening as the Bodach. Robert didn’t like him at all and did his best to steer clear of the man entirely. Not an easy feat to accomp
lish when he was trying to keep in Pringle’s good graces, but he did the best he could.
As Robert moved through the hall, waiting for Pringle to finish with the peasants squabbling over matters that - well - did not matter, he felt Callum’s eyes following him. The man’s gaze had a physical weight to it, and Robert felt it pressing down on him. It felt like a freezing cold hand was reaching into his chest and grasping his heart, squeezing it tightly. Robert found the man unsettling, to say the least.
Pringle rendered some judgment that Robert ignored, then sent the men on their way. They were both grumbling and looked to be on the verge of violence once more, so clearly, Pringle had made neither of them happy. Robert’s da had always told him that in most cases, that was the sign that a decision was the correct one.
“Come forward, Robert,” Pringle intoned.
Robert walked over and stood at the foot of the dais, looking up at Pringle. Callum stood behind and to the side, his dark eyes seeming to pierce Robert’s soul, making him shudder. He did his best to contain it, but seeing the small smirk creep across Callum’s face told him he wasn’t entirely successful.
“What news?” Pringle asked.
“Quite a lot, Master Pringle,” he replied. “I’ve been followin’ her around - like ye asked. Been keepin’ tabs on what she’s doin’, who she’s seein’.”
“And what have ye found?”
“Well, ye were right. She is plannin’ on takin’ yer head. Heard her say it from her own mouth,” Robert stammered.
“As I expected.”
Pringle frowned and looked down at the ground for a moment. Robert had no idea what he was thinking but would have given almost anything to be inside his head, prying out all of his secrets. He finally raised his gaze, looking Robert in the eye.
“And does he have men?” he asked.
Robert nodded. “Aye. She’s got some. Or rather, her cousin Dand does. I daenae ken how many yet, but me best guess right now is that she’s got a few score.”
“A few score,” Pringle murmured as he stroked his chin.
From what Robert had seen and gathered, Pringle and Aileas had forces about them that were roughly the same size. It would be a fair fight. And if there was one thing Robert had come to learn about Pringle, it was that he hated a fair fight. Pringle was a man who sought every advantage, fair - though mostly unfair - as possible. Not that Robert blamed him. If he were a fighting man, he’d do the same.
“It looks like we’ll have tae delay our plans tae move on thae baron until we’ve dealt with this nuisance,” Pringle said to nobody in particular. “This lass is annoyin’ me, and tis time tae wipe out thae dregs of her clan once and for all. It should have been done bleedin’ years ago. If there’s one thing I cannae stand, it’s incompetence.”
Callum nodded, and what sounded like a grunt - though, to Robert, it sounded like stones being grated together - in the affirmative bubble out of his throat.
“There’s more, Master Pringle,” Robert said. “She’s got herself a man. Somebody she been seein’ in secret like.”
“Aye? And who is this mystery lad?”
“I done some askin’ around like I knew you’d want,” Robert started. “Turns out he’s one of Begbie’s men. Luke Addair is his name.”
“Luke Addair,” Pringle repeated wonderingly as if he recognized the name but couldn’t place from where.
“Aye. Young, strappin’ lad. Handy with a blade is what I hear.”
“Is he now?”
Robert nodded. “Aye. Anyway, yer lass is taken with him.”
“And how dae ye ken this?”
“Followed ‘em. They was up on thae bluffs ruttin’ around like a couple of dogs in heat, they was.”
A broad grin stretched across Pringle’s lips, and Robert could see the man’s mind working. Knew he was coming up with some plan that would bode ill for those who stood against him.
“Thae more I hear of her, thae more interestin’ she gets,” Pringle finally said. “Ye’ve done well, Robert.”
Robert grinned, basking in the glow of Master Pringle’s praise. He knew he was positioning himself well in Pringle’s household and grew increasingly excited, knowing his dreams of being a man of some importance were well within his grasp.
Chapter Sixteen
“Ye’ve been spendin’ a lot of time with thae lad,” Dand grumbled.
“Aye. And what of it then?” Aileas said.
He shrugged. “I kent ye were here tae reclaim yer birthright, nae tae play house with a lad. One of thae Baron’s lads at that.”
They sat on the furs that lined the ground in front of the fire pit that sat in the center of the main room in Dand’s home. A rough-hewn wooden table sat on the right side of the room with four chairs around it, and his larder in the wall behind it, covered by a curtain. On the left, a straw pallet covered in furs was set against the wall, and through the doorway to the side of it was his sleeping chamber.
Dand’s home was small and spartanly furnished, but Aileas found it cozy. The fire in the pit warmed the entire house, warding off the chill that crept in through the windows at night. It was a different chill than she felt out on the water. Aileas thought for some reason, the cold on land was more bitter. It crept into her bones in a way being out on the ocean never did.
Aileas sat up, crossing her legs beneath her, and sipped from her mug of warm, mulled wine. She looked over at her cousin.
“He’s nae like that.”
“Nae like what? Thae Baron’s lad? Isnae he wantin’ tae be one of them Black Horses or whatever they call ‘emselves?”
“Wolves. Black Wolves,” she replied. “And aye, tis true. But he’s nae one of them preenin’ peacocks tryin’ tae win glory and have songs written about ‘em. He’s just somebody tryin’ tae dae the right thing for his people.”
Dand took a long swallow of his wine, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He eyed her steadily, the fire from the pit in the center of the room casting flickering shadows across his face that Aileas thought made him look ominous. Fierce.
“If ye say so,” Dand said.
“I dae.”
He looked at her and frowned. “Ye must really like this lad.”
Aileas opened her mouth to reply but hesitated and closed it again. Part of it was that she did not want to share her personal feelings with Dand. She did not want to listen to him chastise her about being distracted right now. And he would be right. She was distracted by thoughts of Luke and knew that she could not afford to be. Not with everything at stake right now.
At the same time, though, she could not deny her feelings. Nor could she define them. Aileas knew she felt something for Luke. Something as powerful as it was unexpected. She had not imagined coming back to Sowkirk and finding… whatever it was she felt for him. One thing she remembered her ma had always taught her was to listen to her heart, for it would never point her in the wrong direction.
Aileas felt something profound for Luke, but she could not say what that feeling was. She was inexperienced in matters of the heart, partly for lack of opportunity, and partly by design. In her life on the sea, she never assumed she would live long enough to consider things like love or a family. She never actually expected to be back in Sowkirk at all. To be here now, to have this intense emotional connection with Luke… she was having trouble understanding it all. And she definitely could not put a name to what she was feeling.
“If ye’ve changed yer mind about all of this, tis nae too late tae back out,” Dand said. “We daenae have tae go through with it.”
Aileas cut a hard look at him. “I’m nae goin’ tae back down. I’m here for me vengeance. And I’m here tae reclaim me birthright.”
“Then ye need tae be focused, lass. Tis nay game we’re playin’ at here.”
“Ye daenae need tae tell me that, Dand,” she snapped. “I ken what I need tae be, and I ken we’re nae playin’ a bleedin’ game here.”
“Then ye need tae get yer mind of
f thae lad, and－”
Aileas shot to her feet, narrowing her eyes, and glared at Dand for a long moment. The fury radiating through her made Aileas’s entire body tremble.
“Yer me cousin. Yer nae me da. Ye cannae tell me who I can and cannae spend me bleedin’ time with,” she growled.
Before he could respond, Aileas stormed out of his house, slamming the door behind her, and stormed into the darkness of the night beyond. She was so upset, her skin was hot, her breathing labored, and her heart raced. But as she paced the yard inside the low wall surrounding Dand’s home, she shook her head. As she thought about it further, Aileas realized she didn’t even know what she was so upset about.
Every Highland Sin: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance Page 13