The Scot's Pursuit (Highland Swords Book 3)

by Keira Montclair

  That upset Alick even more, so he raced out the door for his cousin Dyna, knowing she’d be practicing in the archery field just inside the gate. Day or night she practiced, relying on torches for light for her after-dark drills. Ignoring everyone he passed, he made haste for the field, shouting as he neared Dyna.

  Her shot went wide.

  “What the hell, Alick?” she bellowed.

  “Sorry. I needed to speak with you. ’Tis nighttime or have you not noticed?”

  “Aye, but you’re correct. I shouldn’t practice at night because no one ever battles at night, do they?”

  Alick found himself grinning. He’d always appreciated her dry humor since his father’s was much the same. He stopped where he stood, hoping he was too far away for her to retaliate for interrupting her shot, something she hated.

  Dyna was also part of the Highland Swords group. Alick, Alasdair, and Elshander had all been born on the same night. Dyna was about a year and a half younger than them, yet she was often in charge of the group because she had the uncanny wisdom of a seer and she was a powerful archer.

  An archer who took her craft very seriously. She spun around and glared at him, her lips pressed into a fine line. “Fine, I’ll stop. What has you in such a state? Think verra hard before you answer me.”

  “Mama.” He stood back, giving her the wide berth she needed to calm down after her poor shot.

  She sighed, tugging on her long plait of nearly white hair. “Alick, your mother will be fine. Leave her be and she’ll be feeling better imminently.”

  “I hope so, but something else occurred to me.” He glanced over his shoulder, pleased to see Broc was the only one behind him. He didn’t wish to be overheard. Such talk got around quickly within the clan. “You are more worldly than me or Broc. Do you think Mama is carrying?”

  Dyna stopped and settled her hands on her hip, a small smirk crossing her face. “You are jesting, as usual. Carrying? Your mama is too old. She’s over forty summers.”

  “You’re sure?” How he hoped she’d agree.

  “Aye, I’m sure. Women over four decades don’t have bairns.”

  Broc came up behind him and grinned. “How would you know, Dyna? You are more like a man.” He took two steps backward, knowing he was in for it, but he wasn’t fast enough. Dyna took two long strides, picked him up by his shoulders and hung him on a nearby tree branch by his tunic, his arms flailing.

  “Put me down. How the hell did you do that so quickly?”

  “Practice. And I’ll not free you until you stop making foolish statements,” Dyna said, staring up at him with her arms crossed and her boot tapping. “I’m often insulted off Grant land because I dress like a man, I’ll not allow my own kin to do the same.”

  “My apologies. Let me be,” Broc begged, his legs swinging about as if in search of a surface he could push off of to free himself.

  “Promise? If you insult me again, you’ll regret it,” she said, buffing the fingernails of one hand.

  Broc let out a growl and looked to his brother for help. “Alick, let me down.”

  “Hell, nay. I don’t cross Dyna. Don’t be foolish. She did the same thing to me, but I learned my lesson long ago.”

  Dyna gave him a satisfied smile, then leaned against the tree. “I’m in no hurry.”

  “All right,” Broc said with a groan. “My apologies. I’ll not insult you again.”

  Dyna pointed to Alick. “Get him down and get him out of here.”

  Helping his brother required enough of his attention that he didn’t notice her for a long time. When he did, he almost dropped Broc.

  Branwen was headed their way, walking down the main path from the courtyard. She stopped as soon as her gaze settled on Dyna. Determination firing in her eyes, she strode right up to him. “Is this the lass who is the fine archer?” she whispered. “One of the cousins you spoke of?”

  Surprised to see her there, especially with such a fierce expression on her face, he stood up straight and gave her his full attention. “Aye. ’Tis Dyna.”

  “I need to ask a favor of her. Do you mind?” she said in an undertone, crossing her arms in front of her.

  “Why? What’s wrong?” Alick had a bad feeling after seeing the expression in her eyes. This was a different Branwen than he’d seen earlier. She looked scared and upset, and he suspected it was about something more serious than her sire catching her dancing.

  Dyna moved over to wedge herself between the two. She stood at least a head taller than Branwen. “I’ll assist you, but who are you?”

  Alick froze, waiting to see what Branwen would say.

  “I’m Branwen Denton. I would like to learn how to use a bow and arrow. And a dagger, if you would be so inclined.” Her hands were folded in front of her, and she whispered, “I don’t have much time. I must return to the hall quickly, but I could meet you early in the morn. Or in the middle of the night, if you’d prefer.”

  “Why do you want to learn these skills?” Dyna asked.

  “Because I must learn to defend myself, and I need to hurry.”

  Chapter Four

  Branwen climbed out of bed an hour before dawn, her heart beating so hard inside her chest she feared she’d be heard slipping out in the early morn. She slept in the chamber reserved for visiting lasses, pallets arranged around the outside of the floor with a larger bed in the middle. It suited her wonderfully. Neither her sire nor her brother would dare step inside the large chamber to call for her.

  It had given her a small taste of freedom.

  She put on her boots. The bottoms had worn thin, but her father hadn’t ordered anything new for her since her mother had passed away. How she missed her dear mama.

  Edine Denton had fallen from a horse two years ago, and her loss had forever transformed the lives of Branwen and her brothers. For her, the changes had all been bad. Her father’s former indifference had turned to near hatred. At first she’d thought grief had driven him mad, but now she doubted he had a heart capable of grief.

  Creeping down the staircase to the great hall, she was pleased to see no one was up and about, the fire in the massive hearth mere embers sputtering occasionally. She opened the door, wrapping her mantle around her body to brace herself for the cool night air, and started to cautiously make her way across the cobblestones, not wanting her footsteps to ring out in the quiet.

  The gate was still open, though there were guards about. One nodded to her and pointed to Dyna, surrounded by four guards. Several horses were tied to the nearby trees, and guards stood around the periphery.

  Her breath came out in a whoosh because she was so relieved to see the other lass. How she’d feared her heartfelt request would be ignored. She wasn’t allowed friends anymore, although they had a maid named Fia whom her father occasionally allowed to tend her needs. If she were to call anyone a friend, it would be Fia. They talked as often as they could, but they had to do so in whispers because her sire didn’t believe nobility should speak with the help. Even though they held no title, her father considered himself nobility by marriage.

  Given they had few visitors, she’d have no one to speak to but her father or brothers if she followed that command, but perhaps that was his preference. It surely was not hers.

  Dyna smiled and said, “Follow me.” A set of footsteps came flying toward them as they neared the horses, and she spun around, afraid it was her brother, but there was a wee dark-haired lass racing toward them.

  “Mama said I could come, Dyna,” the lass said, hurrying over to a mounting stone and whistling for a horse. “Good lass,” she said, patting the dark brown horse that pranced to her side.

  Dyna had an amused look as she said, “Branwen, this is Chrissa, Alick’s sister.”

  “Greetings to you, Branwen. Do you like my brother? I saw you dancing with him last night,” she said, a twinkle in her eye. Before Branwen could sputter out a reply, the lass took off for the forest.

  Dyna mounted one of the horses and pointed to
another for Branwen. “Chrissa loves to follow me around. She’s allowed only when there are guards about. She’s sweet but can be a wee bit mischievous, so do be aware around her. She’s only ten and two winters.”

  Branwen nodded, a little entertained by the fact that this was Alick’s sister. One of the guards helped her mount, and they took off. Although she didn’t know where they were going, she suspected it was another practice area. A more secluded one.

  Chrissa was in the lead briefly, but two guards quickly rode up to flank her. Being of a noble family, she wouldn’t be allowed to go off on her own. Apparently, it didn’t stop her from doing as she pleased.

  Away from everyone, just the way she liked it. She savored in the sensation of the breeze blowing the fine strands of her hair away from her eyes. Oh, to be free like this always. Part of her was tempted to just turn the horse and take off galloping.

  But even as the fancy crossed her mind, Dyna held her hand out, indicating she was to stop and dismount. She followed the other woman’s silent orders and trailed her to a chest hidden in the bushes.

  The guards spread out and lit a few torches around the area. The Grants often practiced in the dark, apparently.

  Alick’s sister took out a bow from the chest. “This is my favorite because I can hit the target with this one. Someday, I’ll be as good as Dyna, and they’ll allow me to travel with the warriors.” She aimed and fired, hitting the target just off to the side. “Got him in the shoulder, Dyna.” She fired two more quick arrows, then headed off toward the target to retrieve them.

  “She won’t bother you, I promise,” Dyna said, pulling out a variety of bows, which she arranged in a circle around them. “’Tis important for you to find the right weapon or you’ll not be able to handle it quickly,” she said. “See which one feels best to you. You must be able to pull it out and ready it quickly. It could be attached to your back, or you may choose to have it ready on your horse. Which will work best for you?”

  She stammered, “I’ll have to hide it.”

  Dyna paused to look her over. “Who exactly is it that worries you?”

  Branwen shrugged, briefly considering how much she should reveal to this woman she’d just met.

  Of course, she had already told her she wished to defend herself from someone.

  Dyna reached down to touch Branwen’s cheek, turning it toward the torch that lit the clearing. “Do you wish to retaliate against the person who bruised your face with such a hard slap?”

  Branwen blushed, ashamed it was bad enough to be seen in the dark. “Not exactly.”

  “Why not? I’ll repay the bastard if you’d like. Who did it?”

  “My father. It was my fault. I spoke with your cousin without his permission.” And much, much worse. She’d gone outside with him. Kissed him.

  “But did I not hear that Alick stopped your father from striking you?”

  She looked down. “Aye, but Father took me outside later when he was not being watched. He enjoys punishing me.”

  “So you spoke with Alick, and ’twas all it took for your father to get angry?”

  She summoned the will to look up at Dyna again, and saw nothing but warmth and understanding in her eyes. “I’m not allowed to speak with strange men.”

  “I’ve heard of bastards like that,” the other woman said with a fierce expression. “Let me tell you the truth of it. No one treats their daughters like that on Grant land. If you’re wise, you’ll do what you can to get away from him. You will enjoy your life much more if you find the right clan or the right husband.”

  Branwen fiddled with the folds of her skirt, brushing away imaginary lint. “You speak as if you’ve experienced the same. Have you?”

  “Nay, I have not, but my mother and sister have. If you’d like, you may speak with them anytime.”

  “Many thanks, but I know not when we’re leaving, and I need to learn how to use the bow and the dagger before my sire awakens and comes looking for me.”

  Dyna’s gaze narrowed, and she started fussing with her arrows, arranging them like she wanted them. “Understood,” she said while she worked, “but I will tell you that my cousin is a fine and honorable man. Did you dance with him, too? Alick is a wonderful dancer.”

  Dyna was unlike anyone she’d ever met. Serene yet confident, kind yet fierce. She made Branwen want to confide in her. But what would the other lass think if she knew Branwen had danced with Alick outside, away from the others? That she’d kissed him. That they’d climbed the curtain wall and run away—outside the wall. A lass wasn’t supposed to do any of that.

  Her shoulders fell and she dropped her gaze to the ground again.

  But when Dyna spoke, her voice was soft and sweet. “Look at me, Branwen. You did naught wrong, for certes naught to deserve a blow like the one he must have given you to leave such a mark on your face.”

  Chrissa came up and stopped short. “Who did that to you? If any of the warriors in my family find out, they’ll hit him for you. Then they’ll send him off our land. Lads don’t hit lasses unless they’re bairns.”

  Branwen’s hand went up to her cheek, touching it briefly before she dropped it. “Your sire doesn’t strike you for misbehaving?”

  “Nay!” Chrissa said as if horrified. “My sire would never hit me. My mother would, though. She got mad at me when I was wee and walloped my butt.”

  Dyna snorted. “Don’t get into trouble, Chrissa.”

  The lass hung her head and said, “I don’t. I have not been bad in a long time. I try, Dyna. Truly I do.”

  Dyna stood up and grabbed Chrissa, giving her a hard hug, so hard the lass broke into giggles. “I love you, wild one. Someday you’ll calm down.” When she released the younger lass, Dyna turned to Branwen. “Weak men hit women because they are the only ones they can overpower. Your sire was in the wrong.” She paused for a moment, looking at Branwen with glimmering eyes. “He does it often, and he’s not the one you fear?”

  She shook her head. “My betrothed, Osbert Ware.”

  Chrissa’s eyes widened. “I must tell Alick you’re betrothed. Does he know? He won’t like that.”

  “Chrissa, ’tis not your concern so you’ll say naught.” Dyna didn’t say another word, but the fury on her face was unmistakable. A moment passed, then another, and she finally asked, “I expect your sire didn’t seek your approval.”

  “Nay,” she said, appalled. “I’d never agree to marry such an old man.”

  “Aye, I know of him. Not to mention he has six bairns for you to care for.” Dyna paced in a small circle, driving the toe of her boot into the ground with a kick. “I’ll speak to my sire, see if he will step in, though that may not be possible since you live on Thane land. Have you asked your uncle to put a stop to the match?”

  “Nay, my sire arranged it here, this verra night. He was angry about my behavior with Alick.”

  “’Tis all Alick’s fault,” Chrissa cried out. “I’ll tell him he should leave you be.” She looked as if she thought she was being helpful, but nothing could be further from the truth.

  The last thing Branwen wanted was for Alick to stay away. “Chrissa, nay. Please do not say anything to your brother.”

  When Chrissa nodded her agreement, Branwen turned back to Dyna. “My sire says he no longer has a need for me. ’Tis why I fear he may go through with this.”

  Dyna’s brow arched at that admission, but Branwen didn’t wish to speak of it. The words still pained her. “Please teach me to use the bow?”

  “Aye, we must move forward. We are wasting valuable time. Come, I will choose your bow and teach you how to start. I will also give you a dagger, though we’ll save that instruction for another time. Even one unaccustomed to a dagger knows which end is the pointy bit.”

  She nodded, and Dyna selected a weapon for her. She taught her how to stand, how to nock the arrow, and how to let it fly, sometimes using Chrissa as a model for how her form should look. Branwen loved the feeling of letting the weapon go, the so
und of it sluicing through the air somewhat magical to her ears. Probably because it made her feel she was finally in control of something—even if it was just a slender piece of wood with a metal tip. They practiced over and over again, and although she never wished to stop, her arms developed a soreness that surprised her.

  Finally, Dyna called a stop to their practice.

  “You’ll be sore until your muscles adjust to it. You’ve done a fine job today. Find a way to practice on your own after you leave. ’Tis the only way to get better. Practice, practice, practice.”

  “Many thanks for your assistance and for the bow,” Branwen said.

  “And here’s a quiver full of arrows for you. Hide them amongst your things so your sire will not notice,” Dyna said. “If you ever need help, come to me. We’ll find a way. I’ll see if I can find you a pair of leggings to fit. ’Tis much easier to shoot in them. I have many in my chamber.” Shocked at the thought, even though Dyna wore leggings so unabashedly, Branwen shook her head and said, “My sire would never allow it.”

  Dyna pursed her lips and said, “Why does he need to know? My guess is you’re going to run away, so you better have something under that gown to run in. You can hide them in your saddlebag when you go.”

  Branwen grinned at that image. Somehow, she knew she would use the leggings. “Many thanks. I would appreciate it if you found some for me.”

  Dyna patted her shoulder and said, “As you wish. Don’t back down.”

  “And I’ll help you,” Chrissa said. “Lasses can be strong, too. ’Tis what my mama says all the time.”

  Those words would stick with her. She would not marry Osbert Ware. She just had to figure a way out.

  ***

  The following day, Alick made his way back to the keep from the lists. Whenever visitors stayed on Grant land for a festival or celebration, they enjoyed watching the warriors fight in the lists. Alick had sparred with his sire and Uncle Connor, although he surely missed his cousins Els and Alasdair.

  His sister came running out to him from the keep. “How is Mama?” Alick asked.