Every Highland Sin: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance

by Kenna Kendrick

  “Baron Begbie, me name is－”

  “I ken who ye are, Alice Garnier. Or should I say, La Renarde de la Mer?” he intoned. “Or should I call ye Aileas Kerr?”

  A small frown touched her lips as she realized that Luke had indeed gone behind her back and spoken with the baron on her behalf. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised. He was worried about her, and if there was one thing Aileas had learned about Luke, it was that he was willing to do whatever he deemed necessary to protect those he cared about. She wasn’t thrilled with what he’d done, but she understood and couldn’t be too upset with him. Well, she could, she thought, but she was choosing not to be.

  “Aye. Ye can call me Aileas,” she said.

  The two women exchanged glances with one another, clearly not knowing who she was or why the baron did. Both the Captain and Baron Begbie looked at her hard, their eyes smoldering with intense anger.

  “And ye came back tae wage a war with Bruce Pringle, did ye?” the baron asked.

  There seemed to be little point in denying what the baron already knew. She wasn’t upset with Luke at the moment, but she made a silent vow to kick him in the backside when she saw him next. But she needed the baron’s help, and she knew she wouldn’t get it if she lied to or deceived him.

  “I did, Me Lord,” she said.

  “I’m nay Lord,” he corrected her. “Ye can just call me Fin.”

  “As ye say,” she replied. “When I was a wee lass, Pringle attacked me family. He murdered me ma and me da and destroyed me home. Tis me right tae satisfy a blood debt.”

  Fin looked at her evenly. “Tis nae thae way we dae things in this land anymore.”

  Aileas felt her eyebrows rise as she looked at him, a wave of outrage and disgust. She stared at him, her anger burning bright inside of her.

  “Tis nae thae way we dae things? Tis ancient law. Who are ye tae change laws that’ve existed long before ye and me were ever born?”

  “I’m thae baron, so named by thae Duke himself. Which makes this me land, and me clan. So tis me who says what thae laws are in these lands, includin’ who and what we fight,” he snapped.

  Aileas bit back the furious reply that sat upon her lips. It was getting harder for her to hold her temper in check, but she knew she had to. The baron had the power not just to deny her request but to imprison her if he wished. It was all the more reason for her to tread carefully. And one of the biggest reasons she hadn’t wanted to deal with Baron Begbie to begin with.

  “I understand things have changed while I’ve been away,” she stated evenly. “But I still claim thae rights to me ancestral home. Unless ye’ve done away with thae ancestral home rights too?”

  His glower slowly melted, and while he didn’t look friendly to her necessarily, he was looking less openly hostile, and the tension in the room began to lighten. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

  “Nay, lass,” he said. “Ye’ve a claim tae yer ancestral lands. But ye need tae understand that things have changed. And if ye seek tae claim yer family’s lands, then ye owe yer fealty tae me.”

  His expression soured, and he looked like a man uncomfortable with those words coming out of his mouth. She got the idea that he was not a man accustomed to being in a position of power and did not necessarily relish it. That made her warm to him, if only slightly. It was good also simply because Aileas was not a woman accustomed to being ruled, and she most definitely did not relish the idea of that either.

  “Me ancestral rights are only part of why I’m here, Fin. Bruce Pringle’s taken Luke.”

  The tension returned quickly, saturating the air in the room around them. Fin sat up a bit straight in his chair, his posture stiffer. It was the same with the captain as they both looked at her, their expressions alarmed.

  “Taken?” Fin asked.

  “Aye…” she said, her voice trailing off.

  Aileas looked at everybody gathered around the table, suddenly feeling self-conscious. It wasn’t something she often felt, usually being so sure of herself. She also didn’t like other people knowing her personal details and almost always found a way to deflect a conversation that strayed too close to her personal boundaries. But this wasn’t a normal situation, and to gain the baron’s trust and, ultimately, his cooperation, Aileas knew she needed to be as transparent as possible. Besides, she reckoned that the baron probably already knew about her－whatever it was she had with Luke.

  “As ye probably already ken, Luke and I’ve been…”

  She sighed as her words trailed off, unable to get them out of her mouth. It was just too personal, and she didn’t know any of these people. But then Fin looked at her with a measure of sympathy in his eyes.

  “I ken ye’ve been spendin’ time together, lass. I ken that he cares about ye,” Fin said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

  “Aye. More than he cares about himself,” Headen added.

  Relief washed over her that she didn’t have to say the words. Though she would be lying if she said she wasn’t slightly unsettled by how much these men, strangers to her, seemed to know about her personal life. But she had to put aside her own pride and comfort for the time being.

  His words also made her flush for another reason. Hearing that Luke cared about her, apparently, quite a bit, warmed her from the inside. It made her feel good. It made her feel happy in ways that were foreign to her. She cared for Luke in ways she didn’t know she could care for a man and the thought of him in Pringle’s hands, having God knew what done to him, sent a lance of pain straight through her heart.

  “Aye well, since ye seem tae ken thae basics, I’m here on his behalf. He needs help. More help than I can give.”

  Begbie scratched at his beard. “Funny how thae help Luke needs lines up with thae help ye need then, eh?”

  Anger flashed through her, and she stared daggers at the baron. Perhaps sensing her impending explosion, Dand laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, and when she looked up at him, she saw that his expression was stern but understanding.

  “Take a breath, lass,” he said.

  She did as he said, though it did little to quell the rage swirling around inside of her. She noticed that the captain of the baron’s guard eyed her carefully, and instead of hostility or contempt for her, she saw genuine curiosity, as well as that light of concern in his eyes. He obviously cared for Luke as Conall did.

  “I think we should all talk,” he finally said to the baron, his voice a low, deep grumble. “I think we’ve all got interests here that align.”

  Begbie frowned, his brows furrowed as he thought it over for a moment. But then he looked up at Aileas and gave her a stiff smile.

  “Ye both might as well take a seat and fill yer bellies while ye warm yerselves. Looks like we may be in for a long night then,” he said.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Luke

  There wasn’t anything on him that didn’t ache at the moment. Luke groaned miserably as he opened his eyes, agony radiating through every inch of his body as he sat up and leaned back against the wall of the cell he was being held in. An iron shackle with a thick iron chain was attached to his ankle, with the other end bolted to a ring set into the stone floor of the chamber.

  As he sat there, Luke felt his face throbbing. He was having trouble seeing out of his right eye, which was swollen nearly shut. His mouth felt like it had a greasy film coating it, and the coppery taste of his own blood overwhelmed him. Luke groaned again but felt proud of himself for not breaking. He hadn’t told the men who’d been sent to beat him anything.

  The chamber was roughly eight feet by eight feet. The walls were made of a rough-hewn dark stone, and a narrow, rectangular window sat high in the wall. Luke wouldn’t be able to reach it, even if he wanted to. What was more, from what he could see of it, Luke didn’t think he’d be able to squeeze through it even if he could reach it. He let out a sigh of resignation, and even doing that seemed to hurt.

  The floor was rough under his backside, the thin layer
of straw he sat upon affording no cushion, and there was a pervasive stench of rot in the air about him. Even thicker than that though, was the miasma of human waste and suffering. Luke took shallow breaths through his nose but couldn’t shut it all out entirely. It was hard for him to keep from retching.

  His captors had beaten him severely. Luke had never taken a beating as bad as he’d gotten as they tried to drag information out of him. They wanted to know about Aileas. What the size of her force was. How she was planning on attacking Pringle. They wanted to know about the baron. The size and disposition of his soldiers and what he was up to.

  Luke knew why they wanted to know the answers to those questions. After he had dealt with Aileas, Pringle was going to launch an attack on Baron Begbie. And Luke was going to be damned if he would do anything to help Pringle hurt the baron. Luke admired the man, and he was loyal to a fault. He would rather die than do anything to help Pringle wage war against him.

  He closed his eyes and tried to will the pain away. Tried to distract himself by thinking about Aileas. He wondered what she was doing. Wondered if she had found his house in the state of disarray his fight with Pringle’s men had left it in. And if so, what she thought. He wondered if she’d know Pringle’s men had taken him and, if she realized it, what she was planning.

  He didn’t want her to come after him. The idea of her getting hurt－or worse－trying to rescue him not only sent a bolt of pain through him, but it also turned his stomach. He didn’t want any harm to come to her. He never wanted Aileas to feel discomfort or pain. He never wanted her to know injury, and he certainly didn’t want her to be killed. Especially not on his behalf.

  Luke felt something deep for her. And it was only then, as he was chained up in Pringle’s dungeon, that he was able to put a name to it. He loved her. He loved her more profoundly than he ever thought he could love somebody. Just the thought of her made him happy, and when he thought of his future, he couldn’t see one without her being a part of it.

  Luke silently vowed to himself that if he ever got out of the mess he was in, he would be sure to tell her that. He vowed that he would set his fear aside and tell her how he felt. Maybe she didn’t feel the same, but at least she would know where he stood, and she could do with that as she wished.

  Aileas had carved out a special place in his heart. She had burrowed her way in deep, and Luke knew there was no way he was going to be able to get her out again. Not that he wanted to. But it surprised him. Luke hadn’t been looking for somebody. Romance and love were the furthest things from his mind when Aileas blew into his life like a storm on the sea, casting him about and spinning him around. She really had turned his life upside down, but it was in the best way possible.

  He was going to tell her how he felt. But to do that, he would need to survive this and escape. And he needed to do it quickly.

  Luke tried to relax his mind and focus on something besides the myriad of aches and pains that ravaged his body by trying to figure his way out of the problem he was in. As he sat there with his mind spinning, the sound of the bolt on the door being thrown echoed around the stone chamber like the tolling of some ominous bell of doom.

  The two large, hard men who’d been roughing Luke up since they took him filed into the room. He flashed them a smirk, then winced, his split lips sending sharp jolts of pain shooting through him.

  “That time already, lads? I was just thinkin’ how much I was missin’ ye,” he said.

  The first one was a large, burly bald man, thick through the gut. He was one of Pringle’s Germanic conscripts. He walked over and kicked Luke in the thigh. Luke bore the pain, doing his best to keep himself from groaning out loud. The last thing he wanted was to encourage them. With a head of wild, shaggy blond, almost white hair, the second man leaned against the wall next to the door, folding his thick arms over his chest.

  “On your feet,” the bald man said, his voice thick with a foreign accent.

  Luke sat where he was, not because he was being defiant, but simply because it hurt too much to move. Not wanting to give them the satisfaction though, Luke raised his chin, trying to look as though his stubbornness was a matter of defiance. Apparently amused, the bald man chuckled as he reached down and grabbed a fistful of Luke’s hair. He yanked him up hard, and Luke couldn’t stop himself from crying out as his entire body was ravaged by pain.

  He got to his feet, though. Slowly and haltingly, doing his best to keep the tears that welled in his eyes from falling, he stood. The bald man pushed him back against the wall harder than necessary, rattling his bones. He followed that up with a vicious punch to the gut that painfully drove the air from his lungs. Luke doubled over, gasping and wheezing for breath. The man grabbed him by the hair and pulled him into a standing position once again.

  Luke slumped against the wall, his breath ragged, clutched in a fist of agony that was squeezing him tight. The bald man moved in again, raising his fist when he was stopped by the sound of a man’s voice.

  “Enough.”

  Luke looked over to see Bruce Pringle step into the cell. He was a large, intimidating looking man with dark hair shot through with gray that fell to the middle of his back and an iron ring binding his thick, bushy beard. Luke had never been so close to the man before, but he couldn’t deny that Pringle had a presence about him. He carried an air of authority and quiet menace.

  “I was wonderin’ when ye were goin’ tae make an appearance,” Luke said. “I was startin’ tae think ye dinnae have thae stones tae face me. And I have tae say. Ye’re even uglier up close than I imagined.”

  A small smile flickered across Pringle’s lips as his eyes shifted to the bald man. Pringle gave him an almost imperceptible nod, and Luke had barely a moment to process it before the bald man’s fist was driven into him again. His breath exploded from his body, and as Luke doubled over, he vomited onto the stone floor beneath him, splattering his boots.

  “You got me boots dirty. Gonna make ye pay for that,” Luke wheezed.

  Pringle laughed, and it was a thunderous, booming sound. The two foreigners standing in the cell laughed along with him.

  “Thae lad’s got some real stones, eh?” Pringle said. “Massive stones.”

  “Tis what yer wife said too,” Luke quipped, slowly regaining his breath.

  As the smile slipped from his face, Pringle crossed to Luke, looming over him ominously, a dark, angry expression on his face. He leaned close to Luke, their noses scant inches apart, staring him in the eye. As the man’s warm breath washed over him, Luke flashed Pringle a mischievous grin.

  “Yer breath is… rancid. I’ve been in bogs that’ve smelled better.”

  Seemingly unperturbed by his jibe, Pringle glared at him. “I’d suggest ye nae mention me wife again, lad. If ye dae, I’ll cut off yer stones and shove ‘em down yer throat.”

  “That sounds disagreeable,” Luke replied.

  “Keep testin’ me, lad. See how disagreeable I can be.”

  Pringle kept his gaze fixed on Luke for another moment before straightening up again. He folded his arms over his chest and began to pace the small chamber. The bald man pressed himself against a wall, silently watching Pringle, waiting for him to give him his next order. Luke smirked to himself.

  “What’s so funny?” the bald man sneered.

  “I was just thinkin’ ye obey Pringle so well. Ye’re like a trained dog.”

  The bald man took a step toward him but, with a glare from Pringle, stepped back against the wall once more, glowering darkly at him.

  “See? Like a good dog,” Luke said.

  “Ye shouldnae press yer luck or antagonize me man, lad,” Pringle said, stepping to him. “Keep it up, and I may turn him loose on ye.”

  Luke said nothing, and Pringle grunted as if satisfied with his silence, then resumed pacing again.

  “Now, tell me about Aileas. How many men does she command? How is she goin’ tae attack?” Pringle asked.

  Luke shrugged. “I daenae ken. She di
nnae share her plans with me.”

  “Did she nae?”

  “Tis what I said, isnae it?”

  “Tis what ye said. But I daenae believe ye.”

  “Seems tae be yer problem. Nae mine,” Luke fired back.

  “Tis goin’ tae be yer problem unless ye start answerin’ me questions.”

  Luke shifted on his feet, trying to find a position to stand in that didn’t hurt but wasn’t having much success. He grimaced, which made the bald man smile.