She shared a dark look with Dand, who seemed to be feeling exactly what she was feeling. It was early, but not so early that Luke wouldn’t already be awake. He wasn’t the type who slept the day away. She knew he was the type who woke early and got to his work. He was usually at the training field early, practicing with the baron’s other men at arms.
And yet, as she stood in his yard, looking at his house, which had been so warm and inviting to her, it now looked cold and abandoned. It was somehow dimmer. Grimmer. And it looked as if nobody resided there but the shades who roamed the world. Something was unsettling about it.
“We’re nae goin’ to learn anythin’ standing around out here,” Dand said.
She nodded, and together they strode to the front door, both of them sliding their blades out of their scabbards as they went. Aileas was the first through the door, her blade up and at the ready. What she saw, though, made her heart sink straight down into the pit of her stomach. She fell to her knees, overwhelmed by the feelings of rage and fear that coursed through her.
Dand was on her heels and strode into the house, looking around. He turned to her, his face tight with his own sense of fear and anger. Though Aileas suspected it was more on her behalf than for Luke; he didn’t know well enough to have an emotional attachment.
Aileas got to her feet and sheathed her blade, Dand following suit. It was more than obvious that nobody was there. Luke’s house had been thoroughly ransacked. Most everything seemed to have been broken. Shattered clay from his mugs and tankards littered the ground. His table and chairs had been smashed to kindling, his larder completely empty.
But when she saw his bookcase, it was almost enough to bring tears to her eyes. The case itself had been hacked to pieces, and the books had been torn apart. She looked at the ground, seeing that the covers and pages had been shredded and thrown everywhere. She knew that would hurt him more than anything else. And it hurt her for him.
Of Luke, there was no sign. Aileas had gone through the house, searching every chamber, grimly noting that they were in the same condition as the main room, but there was no sign of Luke.
“Aileas.”
Dand’s voice drifted to her from the main room, so she made her way back there. He’d cleared away some of the debris on the ground and stood staring down at the spot. Twin tendrils of fear and anxiety wrapped themselves around her heart and squeezed it tight, both of them conspiring to steal her breath. But she pushed them away, focusing on the task at hand, which was to learn what had happened to Luke.
A nervous flutter in her belly, she stepped up beside Dand and saw what he was looking at. He had uncovered a section of the furs that ringed the firepit, revealing that they were matted and crusty with blood. Tears welled in Aileas’ eyes, and she fought to keep from falling. But she could not take her eyes away from the wide crimson patch at her feet.
Dand’s hand was on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I doubt that’s his blood, lass.”
“Why would ye say that.”
He shrugged. “If they were goin’ tae kill him tae make a point tae ye, they’d have left him here. Defiled thae body somehow tae make their point stronger. They’d want ye tae see it.”
She nodded, unable to refute his logic. It made sense. But that didn’t make the fear inside of her ebb in the least. If anything, it only seemed to heighten and sharpen it. The fear clawed at her insides, tearing her apart, and she was only able to hold herself together by sheer will. It was that iron will that had seen her through many bloody conflicts and many brutal storms on the open ocean. It was that iron will that helped her acknowledge the depth of her fear but keep it at bay. Keep it from turning her insides to water and leave her in a sobbing heap upon the floor.
“That’s not even tae say that’s yer man’s blood,” Dand added. “Ye ask me, I’d say that he took a few of them out. There’s another puddle of blood over here.”
She watched as he kicked some more debris out of the way, revealing another scarlet stain upon the ground. As strange as it seemed, seeing the extra blood made her feel better. It made her believe that Dand was right, that Luke had indeed taken some of his attackers down before they’d taken him.
And it made her more certain that this－the ruin that was Luke’s house, and all the signs of a pitched battle－was all a message. It was a warning to her to steer off this course she was traveling. Somehow, Pringle had tumbled onto the knowledge that Luke meant a great deal to her, and he was now using him as leverage. He was using Luke as a weapon against her.
“Aileas.”
Dand’s voice was cold. Tight. It made her heart jump once more, and she feared if it kept doing that, sooner, rather than later, it would quit responding at all. She didn’t think she could take very many more surprises here today. But she turned and found him holding a piece of parchment in his hand. He looked at her with that pinched expression that told her whatever was written upon it was not good news for her. But especially not good news for Luke.
She reached out with a trembling hand and took it from him, reading the message that had been scrawled upon it several times, committing it to memory.
Tis yer move, lass. Ye ken where tae find me ~ Pringle
She lowered the parchment and looked to Dand, feeling the rage within her start to boil over. As if everything she was seeing wasn’t bad enough, now he was taunting her. He was emphasizing the fact he had the man she cared for in his grasp.
“He’s offerin’ ye a deal,” Dand said.
“Take Luke and end the feud. Or fight on and let him kill Luke.”
He nodded. “Seems tae be thae sense of it.”
With a snarl so loud it shook the foundations of the house, Aileas kicked a shattered piece of wood across the room. It hit the far wall and rebounded with a clatter. She paced the room, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides, seething, fuming. Feeling like a volcano that was ready to explode.
“He’s askin’ me tae choose between me birthright and me vengeance and thae man I－care for,” she said carefully.
Dand nodded. “Aye. Tis time for ye tae decide which is more important tae ye because it doesnae look like ye can have both.”
“I reject that.”
“Reject it all ye wish. Tis thae cards laid out before us at thae moment.”
“Then we reshuffle thae deck. Get new cards and make our own luck.”
“Would be nice if thae world worked that way.”
She shrugged. “It can. If ye’ve got thae fortitude.”
He sighed. “Ye owe thae lad nothin’. Certainly nae yer birthright,” he said. “Dae ye really want tae give up yer birthright for him?”
She shook her head. “I daenae ken at thae moment.”
He looked at her, a silent moment passing between them before he finally spoke again. “Dae ye love him?”
“I－I don’t ken right now. I might. I feel strongly for him. I daenae ken if it’s love though.”
“Is he worth givin’ up everything ye’ve wanted tae reclaim yer whole life?”
She raked her fingers through her hair, and she growled in frustration. “Mebbe. I daenae ken right now. I care for him a great deal, Dand. For the first time in me life, I’m thinkin’ about a life on land. A life of settlin’ down and givin’ up the sea.”
“Ye cannae even say ye ken him very well, Aileas. How can ye give up everything ye’ve wanted for a man ye barely ken?”
“I daenae ken what I want right now, Dand. I daenae ken what I want tae dae.”
He grumbled to himself under his breath. Though some small part of her wanted to scream at Dand for putting it so bluntly, she knew she would only be lashing out at him because she felt entirely impotent otherwise. Her anger was for Pringle, but he wasn’t there for her to take it out on him. She managed to keep herself in check.
Dand had always been blunt and direct. She knew that about him. He had always stated things as they were and did not soften them for anybody. Not even her. Besides, s
he was the battle-hardened pirate queen. She should be able to handle blunt and direct observation.
She continued to pace the room, the parchment crinkling in her hand. She had been in some difficult, nay, impossible situations before and had come through them all. Unfortunately for her, they had mostly all been on the open seas, and the tricks and tactics she’d used then wouldn’t do much good to her now. Save one.
In all of those engagements and close encounters where she had snatched victory by a hair’s breadth, she had learned to be untraditional out of necessity. She had learned to adapt and improvise. She had learned to be unpredictable. And she had learned to do the very last thing her opponent expected. Those things had saved her own hide, not to mention her ship and the collective hides of her crew more times than she could count.
Her daring and boldness, her willingness to do what others wouldn’t, and what others later said they couldn’t believe she had not only attempted but managed to pull off, had added to her legend and mystique on the water. It was where she had earned her nickname because they said she was crazy like a fox. She preferred to think of it as being more cunning than crazy though.
She turned to Dand, a sly grin touching her lips. “Ye say we have tae play these cards we were dealt.”
“Aye.”
“What if I told ye we could indeed reshuffle thae deck and get ourselves a new hand?”
He grinned. “I’d say ye were a bleedin’ sorceress. What dae ye have in mind?”
The smile that curled the corners of her lips was devious, and also mischievous. It was also a long shot. But then, Aileas had always enjoyed playing the long shots. They tended to pay better.
“Let’s go,” she said.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When Luke came to, the first thing he noticed was the sharp pounding in his skull. He felt like he did when he’d imbibed too much ale. More than that, though, his entire body ached. He felt as if everybody in the training fields at Cherrythorn Manor had lined up and taken turns beating him with a heavy stick. Everything on him hurt, and moving only exacerbated the pain that ravaged him.
But he forced himself into a sitting position anyway. His body protested, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out in agony, but he managed it. Once the physical torment had ended, he looked around the room. He was in a small stone chamber without a window. He sat upon a pallet covered in straw, with a ratty old fur as a blanket. The odors that clung to the air in the cell made him gag and nearly get sick. He managed to choke it back, but it was a near thing.
Luke made himself look at his surroundings more closely. He noticed the scratches in the dark stone that made up the walls. He noticed the spots of blood that had dried on the stone floor. And the bars over the rounded archway that served as the chambers only door told him exactly where he was. A dungeon cell. More specifically, he was in Bruce Pringle’s dungeon cell. Though he did not know his attackers, he knew who had sent them. There was no question in his mind.
Everything that had happened to him last night suddenly came flooding into his mind. He remembered the strange man who stood beside the door as soldiers poured into his house. He’d dispatched four of them before they finally overwhelmed him. He recalled seeing the pommel of the sword in a blink of an eye before it crashed down into his head and put him out cold.
And now, he was here at Pringle’s mercy, in a cell, waiting for the man to do whatever he wanted to do to him. At that moment, he made a silent vow that if he were given the opportunity, he would seize it and kill Pringle. He knew Aileas would be mad if he took her vengeance from her. But he wanted to believe she would eventually be all right with it. After all, she’d have her birthright back. That had to count for something. As for him, Luke now had every reason in the world to want Pringle as dead as Aileas wanted him dead. And he fully intended to kill him when he got the chance.
“Oh good, ye’re awake. I was afraid I was goin’ tae have tae throw a bucket of water on ye.”
Luke looked up and saw the man from his house last night. The man who’d clung to the shadows, far away from the fight, as his men brought the battle to him. Luke narrowed his eyes and glared at him with an expression on his face that could curdle milk. Despite the lance of pain that skewered him, Luke got to his feet and crossed to the bars of his cage, grabbing hold of the cold iron.
“Ye said yer master wanted to talk to me, and that was all,” Luke hissed.
“Aye. I’m afraid I lied,” the man said with a grin on his face. “Ye cannae blame me though. I was tryin’ tae stop thae bloodshed. It dinnae have tae go down that way. But ye’re a stubborn arse.”
“What dae ye want with me?”
“Oh, ye had thae right of it before. We fully intend tae leverage ye against thae lass. We’ve already made thae offer. We told her we’d give ye back tae her if she quit this foolish vengeance campaign.”
Luke scoffed. “I’ve nay faith ye intend tae keep yer word. Ye’re a snivelin’ coward, and ye break yer words like they mean nothin’.”
A slow, sly grin touched his lips. “Ye’ve got me, I’m afraid. I confess, when she agrees to meet tae discuss terms, we’re goin’ tae kill her and then ye. Or maybe we’ll make her watch us kill ye. Then we’ll kill her.”
The man tittered, his laughter sounding like that of a child, and Luke felt the most powerful hatred for the man he’d ever felt for another person in his life. While he fully intended to kill Pringle, it would be entirely dispassionate. It would be one rival killing another. But with this man, he was going to enjoy it. There would be nothing dispassionate about it. His obvious glee at the thought of killing Aileas fueled that hate and desire to kill him.
“I think it more likely that I’m goin’ tae kill ye and then yer master,” Luke said.
“From in there?” The man tittered again, and it was really grating Luke’s nerves.
“Why are ye doin’ this? What have I ever done tae ye? Or yer master for that matter.”
“Tis nae what ye did tae me. Tis a matter of ye cannae do anythin’ for me. Except die, of course,” he replied. “I advance meself with yer death.”
“What are you talkin’ about? Ye’re makin’ nae sense.”
The man leaned against the wall across from the door to his cell, his arms folded over his chest, a look of smug arrogance on his face. Luke had seen the man around before. In the market. He racked his brain, trying to come up with his name, but fell short. The man was large, though not unusually so. He had broad shoulders and was thick through the chest and arms, with a slim waist.
Other than that, though, the man was utterly forgettable. Brown hair, brown eyes, unremarkable face. There was literally nothing to remember about the man other than the fact that he was so－ordinary. Luke was sure he would forget the man mere moments after meeting him. In certain capacities, he realized it could be beneficial. Not many, but some. Such as when one did the work of a spy. And given the context of their first meeting and now where he was, Luke concluded the man was Pringle’s spymaster.
“I was born neither wealthy nor with position,” the man finally said. “Everythin’ I have in this world is because I’ve worked for it. Sacrificed for it.”
“Sounds like ye’re goin’ tae sacrifice me tae advance yerself.”
He shrugged. “Tis distasteful, I admit. But once thae lass comes for ye and Master Pringle can kill ye both, he’ll be well pleased with me. I’ll have his favor, and he’ll trust me. He’ll come tae me for counsel before anybody else.”
“So ye’re doin’ all this for greed? For yer own vanity?”
“Ye make it sound so vulgar. Ambition is man’s natural state of being,” he replied. “We all want to better ourselves, and those of us who have that desire and that motivation combined, do what we must to achieve our goals and to take what is rightfully ours.”
Luke leaned down, grimacing as the sudden movement ignited the pain inside of him. He took a beat to gather himself before standing up straight and looking at
the man across from him.
“And what is rightfully yers?” he asked.
“Power. Position. Wealth,” he replied simply. “As thae new baron’s spymaster, people will learn tae fear and respect me. More than that, I’ll have others wantin’ me services. I’ll keep advancin’ meself and acrruin’ wealth and prestige.”
“I see ye’ve given this some thought.”
“We all have our hobbies,” he replied. “And daenae pretend tae be so virtuous. Ye’ve ambitions of yer own. Or was I misinformed about ye wantin’ tae be one of thae baron’s Black Wolves?”
Luke glared daggers at the man, angry that Robert knew of his own ambitions. He hated men like Robert with a deep-seated passion. Luke believed in a straight-up, honorable fight and had no respect for those who attacked from the shadows. He had no respect for those who spewed venom and lies into the ears of another, simply to prop themselves up at the expense of another.
Every Highland Sin: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance Page 18