It was on a much smaller scale. She had to admit. But their situations were similar in nature. The realization brought her understanding of the tightrope he had to walk. And with it, a measure of compassion, as well as regret, for the unkind thoughts and words she had fired at him.
“Bleedin’ hell,” Fin muttered.
“And if thae gossip I’m hearin’ be true, he’s got more of these Germanic barbarians comin’. Could be here within thae week. “And I daenae need tae add what comes after that,” Headen added.
“Nay. He’ll declare war on us thae bleedin’ moment those barbarians’ boots hit thae sand,” Fin said. “But Pringle still hasnae made a move against us. I cannae just attack him for nae good reason. I daenae want tae have tae answer tae Col or even worse, thae Duke.”
“Aye. I agree. We need a reason tae launch an attack.”
“Isn’t thae fact that he took one of yer men hostage enough of a reason? Isnae abduction and probably torturin’ one of yer men a reason for goin’ after him?” Aileas offered.
Fin and Headen exchanged a look, a slow, feral grin crossing both of their faces.
“Aye. I think it is,” Headen said.
“Tis enough of a reason at least tae have a conversation with him,” Fin said.
“A conversation?” Aileas almost shouted.
“Relax,” Fin said. “I want tae be sure he’s got Luke－”
“Who else could’ve taken him then?”
“I want tae establish it for meself. I need tae be certain to me own satisfaction,” Fin replied. “Before I go converse with him though, I want us tae have a battle plan ready tae execute. How dae we assault his keep?”
This time, it was Aileas who offered them both a feral smile. “I’ve an idea about that, as it turns out.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
As he hung limply, his wrists shackled to a beam overhead, Luke was learning new levels of agony. He had pain heaped upon pain, racking his body from the tip of his toes to the crown of his head. Unlike the brutes who’d been beating on him earlier, the Spymaster, whose name he learned was Robert, had taken a more targeted and precise approach to his torture.
The effect had been more intense pain than he’d ever experienced before. His entire body felt like it was on fire at the same time it was being sliced in a thousand different places by the edges of razor-sharp daggers. Spit dribbled from the corner of his mouth, and the blood was dried and crusty upon his face.
Robert had broken three of the fingers on his left hand, then pulled the nails out. The pain had been exquisite and had drawn a howl of sheer agony from his throat. A question had followed each indignity the spymaster had visited upon him. Luke had stood firm though, refusing to give him an answer to any of them.
Luke took pride in the fact that he had withstood the onslaught of pain the man had rained down on him and had given him nothing. Robert stood several paces away, glaring at him hard, obviously frustrated by his inability to break him.
“So, what is thae lass plannin’? How many men does she have with her?” Robert asked again.
Luke could barely manage a groan, let alone a complete sentence. With incredible difficulty, he raised his head and looked at the man. He managed a weak smile and spat a large, red glob at the man’s feet. An expression of disgust crossed the man’s face, and he stepped forward, delivering a vicious backhand. Luke’s head was rocked to the side, but he managed to look at Robert again, a weak, wavering smile upon his lips.
He drew in a breath that made him grimace, the pain telling him he probably had a few broken ribs. But the determination rising up within him lent him strength. Lent him power. It made him glare at the spymaster with raw fury and contempt.
“Go tae hell,” he rasped.
Robert grinned ruefully, then walked over to the bucket on the table in the corner. He filled a cup with water, then helped Luke drink some down. The small act of compassion was unexpected, but Luke figured it was just another one of the man’s mind games. He’d been playing them since Pringle left, trying to trip him up and get him to say something he hadn’t intended. But like the physical punishment, Luke had stood firm and had not withered in the face of it.
“Ye’re tough. I’ll give ye that,” Robert said. “But why keep putting yerself through this, eh? What dae ye owe those people?”
“Why are ye doin’ this then, eh? Why are ye Pringle’s lapdog?
Robert clenched his jaw. “Ye’d never understand.”
“Try me.”
Robert walked back to the table and set the cup down. He stood with his back to Luke for a few long moments, seeming to be deliberating with himself. The spymaster finally turned around and faced him. He pursed his lips and gave himself a subtle nod.
“I grew up with nothin’. I made meself everythin’ that I am,” he started. “And I want more in life than just tae be a smithy.”
“What’s wrong with bein’ a smithy? It’s good, honest work.”
Robert looked at him, flatly. “Tell me this. Why are ye workin’ so hard tae be one of yer baron’s Black Wolves, eh? Bein’ one of his man at arms, or even workin’ on a fishin’ boat is good, honest work.”
Luke lowered his gaze to the ground beneath him, letting the man’s words rattle around in his mind for a moment. He wasn’t sure how to answer the question. For as long as Luke could remember, he wanted to be one of the Wolves. He’d worked hard and had done everything he could to put himself in a position to join them. To become one of the baron’s personal guards. But he’d never stopped to ask himself why.
“Could it be because ye’ve been lookin’ for respect? Because ye want those around ye tae see ye as somebody important? Because ye want tae make somethin’ more of yerself than what most people thought ye could be?” Robert asked.
Luke had to admit that they were good questions. They were questions he’d never considered before. He’d simply set a goal and had charged hard for it, never wondering why he was doing it all.
“Maybe a bit of everythin’ ye said,” Luke finally admitted.
Robert nodded as if he’d scored a point. But then he gave Luke a look of understanding and perhaps even a hint of kindness. His expression seemed to suggest to Luke that Robert thought they had more in common than differences. And at the moment, as he pondered everything the spymaster had just said, Luke wasn’t sure he could refute it. At least in that regard.
“But why nae go tae thae baron?” Luke asked. “I’m sure he would have taken a man of yer talents intae his household. He could’ve put ye tae work. He would’ve given ye thae respect ye’re lookin’ for. He could’ve－”
Robert scoffed, letting out a loud snort, and rolled his eyes. His expression darkened, and Luke could see the anger smoldering in his eyes.
“I tried tae offer me services tae yer precious baron a long while ago,” he spat. “He dinnae want me. Said he had nay use for a spymaster. Said ‘twas a poor leader who relied on spies tae dae his dirty work for him.”
Luke sighed. He hated to admit it, but that sounded like Baron Begbie. He was a man who preferred things done by the light of day and who absolutely abhorred anything done in the dark. He could well imagine that the baron had a disdain for spies and those who practiced their craft in the shadows. And he further knew that the baron could be very cutting and sarcastic when dealing with those he held in contempt. It was little wonder Robert was so bitter and angry.
“Master Pringle respects me,” he spat. “He respects me intelligence and me skill. He holds me craft in high esteem. And when he’s thae baron of these lands, it’ll only raise me own esteem.”
“And if he decides he doesnae need ye once he’s thae baron?”
He shrugged, as if unaffected by it. “If he does, I’ll find somebody else who can use me skills. There’s nay shortage of ambitious men who need somebody who can dae what I dae.”
Luke thought that was probably right, which was a depressing thought. That you couldn’t rise in the world without being abl
e to dig up dirt on an enemy or have somebody comfortable in the shadows slipping poison in their wine, or doing any of the number of evil things he imagined Robert did. All in the pursuit of power and position. It was not the way the world should be.
Luke thought things should be different. He believed that an enemy should be faced eye to eye, position gained through skill of arms. Through the sharpness of one’s mind and one’s wit. He may not have been quite as militant about spies and assassins as the baron was, but Luke shared a similar sentiment about the existence of such a profession in the first place.
The door to the cell opened, and Pringle walked back in, a look of irritation on his face. He looked from Luke to Robert, his expression darkening.
“Has he given ye anythin’ useful?” Pringle asked gruffly.
Robert sighed. “Nae yet, Master.”
“Nothin’?”
“He’s strong. Willful,” Robert said.
Pringle looked at Luke with utter disdain on his face. Luke could see his mind working, seeming to be weighing out the usefulness of keeping him alive. Luke had already resigned himself to death. He had chosen to die rather than put the people he cared about at risk. It had been difficult, and there had been plenty of times he had nearly broken. The pain had been so ferocious that Luke had come close to telling the spymaster what he wanted to hear several times.
But instead, he’d gritted his teeth and borne the pain. He’d chosen to trade his life for theirs. For the baron’s life. And Aileas’s life. He was loyal, and he did not care for people easily. But when he gave somebody his heart, be it in the way he’d given it to Aileas or in the way he’d given it to the baron, he would do anything to avoid hurting them. He would do anything to avoid putting them in compromising positions. He would rather die than see them hurt or suffering.
“Then kill him,” Pringle said.
Robert looked at Luke for a long moment, as if trying to decide the best course of action. It was apparent to Luke that the spymaster disagreed with his master. Luke knew the only thing he truly weighed, though, was what benefit he could derive from the situation. A man like Robert thought only of himself and what was in his own best interest.
However, what that told Luke was Robert wasn’t sure his best interest lay with Pringle. It was an interesting nugget of information. One he knew might not amount to anything, but it was an interesting insight to squirrel away for later, just in case anyway.
“I daenae think that would be prudent, Master,” he finally said.
Pringle looked at him, his eyes narrowing, and his jaw clenched. “And why not?”
“I think he’ll have some value tae ye yet.”
“How do ye figure?”
“We daenae ken what thae baron might give tae have his man back,” Robert offered.
Pringle looked at him askance. “What in thae world makes ye think he’d give a single whit what happens tae this one, let alone be willin’ tae give anythin’ tae get him back?”
“One of his vaunted Black Wolves?” Robert countered. “Ye ken how loyal thae baron is tae his people. Especially one of his precious personal guard.”
Pringle frowned as he pulled on the end of his beard. His eyes flicked from Luke, then back to Robert, considering.
“Fine. We’ll leave him be,” Pringle said. “For now.”
Pringle looked at Luke as if expecting him to say something. Luke simply stared back at him, a grim smirk on his face.
“If ye’re expectin’ me tae grovel and thank ye for sparin’ me life, ye’re goin’ tae be waitin’ a long time. Try holdin’ yer breath,” Luke said.
Pringle lashed out, catching Luke with a solid backhand. His head was snapped to the side, and a low groan passed his lips as a rivulet of spit and blood spilled from the corner of his mouth and ran down his chin.
“Ye’d best learn some gratitude, lad. Otherwise, I may decide yer baron has nothin’ I want and send him yer head in a basket,” he snapped. “Robert, with me. It seems we have a visitor.”
“A visitor?”
“Thae baron, as it turns out,” he replied.
Pringle stormed out of the room, his cloak fluttering behind him as he disappeared around the corner. Robert scurried over to him and stared deeply into his eyes, his gaze intense. Then he reached up and unhooked the shackles from his wrists. Luke slumped to the ground, his legs unable to hold him upright. The spymaster stepped over him, his face filling Luke’s field of vision as he loomed over him.
“Remember what I did for ye here, lad,” he said.
And with that, Robert scampered out of the room, closing the door shut behind him. The bolt slamming into place echoed around the chamber, sounding like finality to Luke. He groaned, feeling white-hot agony coursing through his body.
He would remember what the spymaster had done for him. But he thought it might have been more merciful if Robert had let Pringle kill him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Aileas stood on the aft deck of the Selkie, waiting for the longboat to reach the ship. Her men rowed quickly, really putting their backs into it, but it felt like it was taking forever. She tapped her foot on the deck, looking out to the horizon as the sun slowly started making its heavenward ascent.
“Calm yerself, lass,” Dand said. “He’ll be here when he gets here.”
“Ye calm yer own self. I can wish him tae get here faster if I want tae,” she snapped back.
He chuckled to himself, a strange smile on his face. The smile had been there since they’d left the baron’s keep the night before.
“I’ve nae seen ye smile so much in me life,” she said.
He shrugged. “I’m in a good mood.”
“Aye. I bet ye are. That Mira is somethin’, isnae she?”
He looked at her with widened eyes, his expression startled. It made her laugh. Dand grumbled to himself and cast an obscene gesture her way, which only made her laugh harder.
“Did ye nae think I saw thae way ye were moonin’ after her like a lovesick cow?” she said.
“Shut yer hole, I was nae,” he said, his face flushing.
“She’s a beautiful lass,” Aileas said. “I can see why yer so caught up in her. If I were a man, I might be tae.”
That finally made him smile and chuckle. He looked up at her, pursing his lips as if he was considering something. But then he looked away, seeming to be too uncertain of himself to say anything.
“Does she fancy ye thae same way ye obviously fancy her?” Aileas asked.
He shrugged, his face clouding over quickly. The expression on his face was strange. Aileas had never known her cousin to be self-conscious. He was always so sure of himself, but as she looked at him, she could see the uncertainty. An almost sheepishness crossing his features. She thought it was adorable.
“I daenae. She seemed tae enjoy thae conversation, but she’s a lass? Who can say what a lass is really thinkin’?” he finally said.
Aileas gave him a mocking grin. “Aye. Who can say?”
He laughed, as if only just realizing what he’d said. “Ye daenae count. Ye’re nae a real lass. Yer me cousin.”
“Well, once we take Pringle down and get Luke back, we’ll have plenty of time tae see if thae lass fancies ye,” she said.
He cocked his head at her. “Will we then? Ye plannin’ on stickin’ around Sowkirk? I kent ye’d be off plunderin’ and pillagin’ again.”
Aileas frowned. “I daenae ken yet. I’ve been givin’ it a lot of thought, and there may be some good reasons tae stick around.”
“One good reason, ye mean,” he replied. “I can think of two. Ye and Luke are good reasons for me tae stay.”
He nodded, seemingly surprised by her words. She couldn’t blame him for that. Her life was on the sea. Her life was that of a pirate. The idea of being bound to the land, with a possible family further solidifying that bond, had been anathema to her for so many years. But now that she’d met Luke, and her thinking and feelings had changed so drastically, it wasn�
��t such a clear decision anymore. She couldn’t say which way she was leaning at the moment.
But it would all be for naught if they did not save Luke. If he died at the hands of Pringle, she would have little reason to stay in Sowkirk. There would be little left for her here. Getting aboard the Selkie and putting Sowkirk behind her might be for the best. And knowing that her cousin had a good woman like Mira to look after him might make that easier for her to do.
The longboat bumped against the hull of the ship, and her men threw a ladder down. Headen quickly and nimbly scaled it and jumped over the rail, landing softly on his feet. He looked around in wonder, watching the crew scurry about as they made ready, as if it was his first time aboard a ship. Aileas bounded down the stairs from the aft to the main deck.
Every Highland Sin: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance Page 22