by Sondra Grey
Brandon let Robin keep playing. He’d allowed himself to get distracted by Meg, when here he was, in a castle full of MacDonalds, and he’d yet to find out any information about Angus Dubh. He had work to do, and while he’d let his eyes roam the crowds while Meg was dancing, he hadn’t seen anyone who looked remotely like Angus.
But that didn’t mean Angus wasn’t here.
Brandon had no problem falling in with a group of MacDonald clansmen. He cracked jokes, laughed with them, let the conversation linger where it would before he started asking questions about Castle Ardvek.
“My grandmother was a MacDonald,” he lied. “From Islay, a cousin of the old lord of the aisles. She married a Harris Macleod and moved north. I’ve been looking to try and find that family.”
One of the MacDonalds clapped him on the arm. “Tis a brave man who’d admit to being MacDonald these days.”
“What nonsense,” Brandon scoffed. “To hear my Gran speak of it, ‘twas the Grandest clan. She often said to me the heat in my blood was MacDonald.”
That cheered the men, and they hailed him in appreciation. “Whatever happened to the chief?” asked Brandon. “I’d have thought not even the King could keep the MacDonalds seat for long.”
The men quieted and one looked thoughtful. “’Twould be nice to see glory restored to the clan,” he said. “We’re lucky James let us keep Dunscaith. He took Islay, and half the castles on the North of Skye.”
There were grumbles on that score.
Brandon felt himself shake his head. “I heard word the Old Earl’s son is in Harris. We’re heading that way next. I’d be eager to see him, hear if he’s in touch with any of my Gran’s kin.”
One of the MacDonalds grinned broadly. “Did you not hear then?”
Brandon gave the man a confused shake of his head. “Is he dead?” he asked.
Laughter followed the question. “It would take more cunning than James could muster to kill Black Angus. He’s wily as his father. No. After the King stripped the titles, he went to the Macleods kin on Lewis. Your Gran isn’t the only MacDonald linked herself to the Macleods. Angus’ own mother was Macleod, and the Lewis Macleods fought against the Dunvegan Macleods. The King ordered Tormod Macleod to hand Angus over to the crown. But they refused.”
“Ah,” said Brandon, crossing his arms and frowning. “So, he won’t be on Harris then.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said one of the MacDonalds. I wouldn’t be surprised if he still was, or if he’d run across the straight and back into the highlands. It might be Mackenzie territory, but there is many a Mackenzie that hates the King. Mayhap he even went south, to talk to the Camerons.”
Brandon grunted. “Either way, I’d best not set my heart on speaking to him. Maybe one or two of my Gran’s cousins are still there…”
He let the conversation turn as it would. These MacDonalds hadn’t seen Angus. He hadn’t been to Skye. But Brandon learned what he needed to know. Angus hadn’t gone south, which meant he was still north. And the more northern the troupe travelled, the closer to Angus Brandon would get.
He thought about finding Meg again, but couldn’t quite bring himself to face her yet. Not after what he had done. It might be best for him to stay away from her until he was certain of where Angus Dubh was hiding.
He let himself be drawn further in the MacDonald conversation. They may have been staid when the troupe first arrived, but Meg’s music had put everyone in a good mood. Brandon may have been feigning merriment to gather information, but he was surprised to find himself actually enjoying the MacDonald’s company. The Camerons were a competitive and brutal lot, whose conversations, while boisterous, often had an edge. And more than one fight would break out at a dinner gathering. The Macphersons, allied to clan Cameron and often at Castle Tor, were the same. In Edinburgh, the company had been even worse – for all the competition was veiled, all the threats barely implied, and the company staid and only occasionally vibrant.
It was the early hours of the morning when everybody retired, he found himself loathe to claim his spot amidst the hay in the MacDonald loft. He would have liked a clan like this, would have liked to linger just a bit longer in their company.
When Brandon awoke the next morning, it was to thoughts of Meg, who he’d dreamed about last night. Waking, he braced his hands on his knees and peered around the loft. He’d no notion where the women had slept last night, but Robin and Thamas were also stirring, and ready to leave with the dawn light.
Brandon picked the straw from his pants, climbed out of the loft, and went about helping to hitch the horses back to the wagon. Then he saw the women. He was surprised to see that Glenna looked absolutely recovered. Whatever had caused her to be ill last night had abated and she swept in to the stables and bee-lined for him.
“Good morning!” she sang, brushing a kiss to his cheekbone before he could pull away. Luckily, she did the same to Tham and Robin before rushing off with Ned to bid farewell to the Laird of Dunscaith.
Brandon’s eyes found Meg, and his cock twitched at the sight of her, fresh as Glenna, with her hair pulled back and a shawl draped over her shoulders. He had the sudden image of her dressed in one of the beautiful gowns of James court, with her hair down and curling about her ears. A hot streak of lust shot through him and he braced himself against the wagon and leaned forward, lest the stiffening of his cock be evidenced against his kilt.
“Ready to head north, man?” asked Robin brightly, stepping in front of him before he could call out to Meg. “It’ll be a long day of travel!”
Oh yes. Island to island, further and further from the mainland. Brandon grimaced at the thought, reminding himself that they were travelling closer to Lewis and Harris, where he might hear word of the Black Macdonald.
As they left Dunscaith, they headed towards Uig. The troupe was in good spirits. Whatever bad blood had occurred between Brandon, Meg, and Glenna seemed to have abated.
But had it? Brandon had wanted to speak to Meg alone, to apologize for what had happened, but she seemed to be avoiding him. She was constantly with Babette, or with Glenna. And it wasn’t Brandon’s imagination. Glenna had redoubled her efforts to get him in bed, and whenever she did, Meg would disappear into the wagon, or ride on the back of Thamas’ horse.
Brandon once offered her a ride on the back of his, but she declined the offer, saying she’d rather walk. Not twenty minutes later, she was riding with Thamas again. Brandon was beginning to grow irritated and was having a difficult time hiding it. Why was she upset with him, he hadn’t even delivered his practiced ‘I’m sorry and it wasn’t a good idea’ speech.
She managed to avoid him even throughout the small concert they played in Portree, and by the end of the three days travelling across Skye, Brandon was beginning to see red.
Taking the boat to the Lewis and Harris meant leaving their wagon in Ulig. But the plan was to spend only a few nights on the island before returning and heading back onto the mainland.
It was only on the boat that Brandon managed to corner Meg.
Chapter 18
I ’d been worried about the boat ride. Brandon had been trying to speak to me for days, and he managed to accomplish it because Glenna had gone to lie down and so had Babette. I should have followed them.
“Can we talk?” he said, coming abreast of me where I stood on the bow deck, watching the waves nervously. I’d never been on a boat like this before, where I couldn’t quite see the land towards which we were heading. I was nervous and was feeling that same terrible trapped feeling I used to feel in my father’s house. I was trying to calm myself down when he approached and nearly burst into tears when his very presence stilled the rising tide of panic in my breast.
I felt myself relax against the side of the ship and had to force myself to steel my spine.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, his voice low, his posture casual, but his eyes intense.
I shrugged. “I’m sorry,” I said, for lack of anyt
hing else to say.
Brandon took a deep breath in, and I realized that he was angry that I’d been avoiding him. “May I ask why?”
I shrugged. What was I going to say that wouldn’t sound foolish? I’m in love with you and I know you don’t care about me. I don’t want to have my heart broken. I’m afraid you’re going to tell me you made a mistake. That was only partly true. There was also some terrible part of me that wanted him to prove what a cad he was. I wanted to see him take Glenna up on the offers she kept throwing his way.
But something in his gaze made me hope that maybe I was wrong about the whole thing. Maybe he was about to tell me that he did care for me…
Brandon took a deep breath in. “I’m sorry too,” he said, after a moment. “I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you. I knew how you felt about me, and I knew better than to exploit it. And yet I did anyway.”
My hope came crashing down around my ears. I knew how you felt about me.
I’m not sure where the impulse came from, but I felt, suddenly, as if I were onstage, performing for the Macleods. I was cool and confident in my beauty, and not afraid of him or any man. I could feel myself grow taller, feel my shoulders open up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, and when he blinked, I knew that he believed me. “How I felt about you? That I wanted a bit of fun?”
Brandon blinked and – I wasn’t imagining it – blushed. “A bit of fun…” he said, his voice a low and disbelieving hiss. “Your virgins blood was smeared along my shaft!”
I shrugged, as if that were of no consequence. “Am I supposed to feel guilty about that?” I asked.
Brandon reared back, as if he couldn’t quite believe what I was saying. “You’re supposed to have some self-preservation!” he said. “I’m supposed to feel guilty for taking advantage…”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said, reaching out and patting him on the hand. He stared at me like I’d lost my mind. In fact, I felt like I had. “You didn’t take advantage. I wanted some fun. Glenna assured me you’d be a good time. And she wasn’t wrong.” I gaped at him, as if I’d suddenly realized something. “Oh. Should I apologize?” I said, sounding sincere even to my own ears. “Did you think it was something it wasn’t?”
He stared at me as if he couldn’t quite believe the words coming out of my mouth. I couldn’t quite believe them either. A part of me was cheering me on, another part was looking on in horror.
Brandon’s expression was growing black, and then changed, slowly. A slyness crept in, a bit of a sneer and – not for the first time – I realized that I didn’t actually know who Brandon Sorely was.
I couldn’t let him take the upper hand. “I apologize for avoiding you,” I continued as he opened his mouth, no doubt to deliver some rebuke I couldn’t take. “Our time was nice, but I got what I wanted,” I said. “And I felt badly for Glenna. It’s clear she’s interested in you. I figured I’d better back off and give her a chance.”
I had dumbfounded him. He was blinking as if he’d been caught in the gut by a fist. I hated myself then, hated what I resorted to – but really what was one more lie? I’d been acting to save myself for years now.
I gave him a small, regretful smile and strode off, hurrying to find Ned, or Robin, or Thamas – someone that might save me from spending any more time alone in Brandon Sorely’s company.
Chapter 19
I’d thought Dunscaith was dreary, but Lewis made it look like a sunlit beach. Mist hung heavy over the isle when we arrived and it took our captain a time to set the ship into harbor. We sent Robin ahead to let the Macleods know we’d be there by nightfall, then we started our trek over the hills and towards Ardvrek.
“He looks ready to do murder,” murmured Babette to me. We were riding atop one of the wagon horses, our feet having tired from walking. She was looking at Brandon, whom Glenna had chosen to chaperone her over the rock hillsides. She was clinging to his shoulders, prattling on about something, occasionally breaking into song. And Babette was right, Brandon looked furious.
Furious in that he had no expression at all. His face was blank, but you could tell from the flexing in his cheek that his jaw was clenched. Though his shoulders were relaxed, you could see from the way his hands twisted in the reins that he was not happy.
“I don’t understand why she doesn’t get the hint,” said Babette. “He’s not interested.”
“She thinks he is,” I said. “And wouldn’t she know?”
“I don’t think she’s used to having men not be interested. But I think he’s about to pitch her off.
That he didn’t by the time we made Ardvrek was impressive. I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but the castle was isolated atop a grassy hillside, overlooking cliffs and waves. Cattle grazed across the hills and sheep ran across our paths. Sun hadn’t quite managed to appear from behind the mist, and the only notion we had that it was growing late, was a gradual dimming of the light.
Robin had made good time to Ardvrek and the castle was lit, the Macleods out in welcome.
“Greetings players!” Hailed a man who must be Tormod Macleod. He was a beast of a man. Taller even than Brandon and wide, with thick, dark hair, beetle-black brows, and a greying beard that dusted his chest.
I realized now why the hills had seemed so empty as we rode past. It seemed as if everyone from Stornoway, where we landed, to Lewis had come to the castle to see us perform.
“They’re paying us handsomely to be here,” murmured Babette, as if sensing my awe. Indeed. If the Macdonalds hadn’t been expecting us, the Macleods certainly were, and were unable to wait for us to set up and begin playing.
As we entered the great hall, women were dressed in their finest gowns, wearing Macleod colors and outfitted with wicked looking arms.
“Why are they armed?” I asked Ned as we walked in.
“They’re not King’s men,” said Ned. “That’s my guess, but you’d have to ask Tormod, if you’re brave enough.”
Indeed, you would have had to be brave to face Tormod. The man didn’t ask so much as he commanded. “Eat! Drink a bit! We’d have you play within the hour. Our company is eager for merriment this evening.”
It turned out that they’d even secured us rooms in the palace. No sleeping in the loft, or the kitchens. The Macleods were eager to see us play and wanted us to stay a bit. Brandon seemed to darken at the news that we’d been staying for three days. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” He’d barked at Ned.
Ned, who’d not been talked to like that before, looked at him, expression curious and said, slowly “I apologize Sir. Sorely. Was there somewhere else you were trying to be?”
That had shut Brandon up immediately, and he’d left to take a walk.
He didn’t come back until it was was time to play, and when he came back he looked a bit less angry, a bit more thoughtful, watchful.
I couldn’t help but watch him, for he seemed hell bent on avoiding me. It wasn’t difficult to do. With Glenna back singing tonight, I could blend into the background and did.
In my three years playing with the troupe, not once had I experienced the kind of audience the Macleods gave us. The MacDonalds had been interested enough in seeing us play, but the Macleods were thrilled. They even brought some of their own players up to join our numbers, and soon the hall of Ardvreck was vibrating with the music and the singing.
Glenna was a huge hit, and once she was through singing her numbers, once we were through playing, Macleod after Macleod spun her around the dance floor. Even I got pulled from the stage and spun across the floor.
The man who’d grabbed me up looked so much like the chief – big, dark, imposing, that I asked him his name before I thought not to.
“Tormod,” he beamed at me. “Son of Tormod.”
“So, I have the pleasure of dancing with the Chieftain’s son?”
“You do lady, might I ask your name?” His voice was pleasant enough, as was his manner, but his hand was a bit low on my waist,
his grin broad and friendly with drink. My nerves spiked and I was relieved when his father tore me away from him and spun me about himself.
Chapter 20
B randon left the hall the moment the music had ceased to play. There were so many people that he had no problem escaping through them. He’d stood in the back, behind Thamas, and so nobody had really marked him as someone to pay attention to.
He climbed all the floors of Ardvreck, stole into its dungeons, and even went through the gatehouse. There were no signs of Angus Dubh. Everyone was in the hall dancing. When he went back into the crush of the hall, he tried again, to locate Angus but to no avail.
And it was no good trying to talk to anyone when they were in the height of the merriment so he subsided, letting his black mood swallow him. Why should he care that Meg used him? Why? Because she had seemed so innocent? Because he had liked that about her? Who cared, when he was going to tell her anyway that he’d made a mistake in lying with her.
And yet she’d made him seem so disposable. So expendable. And isn’t that what you were going to do to her? His inner voice asked him, calmly. Brandon scowled deeper. He needed to refocus. He needed to remember why he was here. If he couldn’t find anything in the castle, if the men and women in the hall couldn’t be bothered to converse, then he may as well talk to the grooms. He pushed himself away from the wall and headed towards the exit once again, though he couldn’t resist taking another look back at the dance floor.
He stopped in his tracks.
Meg was twirling about in the arms of Tormod Macleod, the younger.
It shouldn’t have bothered him. Meg had danced with many of the men at Dunscaith, but she’d been a virgin then. She wasn’t anymore. Not only that, but the Macleod’s hand was all but cupping her right buttocks. Brandon saw red, his bad mood boiling up until it seemed to pour out of him.