by Sondra Grey
I don’t know if it was the calm confidence in Brandon’s voice, or the way he held me gently, but suddenly, I wanted to forgive him for leaving the hall with that woman, for leaving me. I wanted to tell him everything. So, I did.
I told him about Maighread Anstruther, about her father, and his plans to gain power, to ally himself with one of the great families of court.
“Only none of them would have me, or have him,” I said. “He was a Baron, a nobody. Who would ally themselves with a new house? I don’t know who the man who was who came to visit that day…” But I told him about the man, about our encounter in the hall, about the kiss, the strike that had sent me sprawling. I described what he looked like, said that I’d seen him just now in the hallway. That he’d recognized me and called me by my given name…
Brandon was silent as him told the story, as I spilled the truths about my childhood, about my father’s cruelty, and my music.
And when I was finished the silence remained. My eyes were adjusting to the dark and I could make out the features of his face.
“The man had red hair you say. Auburn,” he said, finding the word I’d used to describe it. “It curled a bit. He had blue eyes. What else did you know about him?”
“I knew only that he was seeking an alliance with a family who’d access to the eastern coastal waters. My father bought the title of Baron from James, with money he’d made from shipping. Anstruther is a port town…” I realized I was babbling.
“The suitor wanted access to the port towns. So, in marrying you, he received that access. And what did your father want in return?”
I shook my head. “Same thing he wanted with the other matches. Influence at court…”
“Or power. Or more shipping rights,” Brandon interrupted. “James regulates the ports of Scotland and has all but shut down trade with Ireland. Back when the Lord of the Isles ruled the water, there was good money to be made by sailing ships west…” he stopped. “So…your father was interested in helping Angus Dubh regain his title. If he married you to Angus, and Angus reclaimed his seat from Argyll, Huntley, and the king, then Baron Anstruther would have almost exclusive shipping rights in the Western sea.”
“You know the man?” I asked. “You know who he is.”
Brandon nodded. “The man who you are hiding from is the same man I’ve been trying to find for over two months. He’s the bastard son of a bastard son of the Lord of the Isles. His name is Black Angus MacDonald.”
Chapter 4
T he coincidences were too terrific to consider. Brandon couldn’t wrap his mind around them, but he didn’t need to. What he needed to do was get his hands on Black Angus, which meant he needed to find out where the bastard was hiding himself.
Meg had been shaken half to death and Brandon had waited with her in the closet until he was certain that they wouldn’t be discovered going back to her rooms.
Meg didn’t want to be left alone. She’d demanded to know why Brandon was also looking for Angus, and when Brandon had refused to tell her, she’d begged him not to leave her alone. That she was frightened about being found out. Brandon had to assure her up and down that Angus would not give her away to anyone, because he – himself – was on the run from the King.
He left Meg in her rooms with the doors locked. She’d let him go only after he promised her that he’d return later. In the meantime, he needed back up. He needed to leave tonight, and find supplies. He needed to try and summon James’ guard. He needed to send letters…
Mind spinning with all he had to do, Brandon snuck from the castle and lit out for the town.
Chapter 5
W hen Brandon left, I went right back to panicking. I had all my belongings packed and was ready to flee. I calmed down only when Glenna returned to the room and chastised me for going to bed early.
With Glenna present, I felt a bit steadier, but still I locked the door and slept terrible that night. I kept dreaming of him…of Angus. The next morning, Brandon did not return to the room and I didn’t want to be alone. I followed Glenna to breakfast. I was jumpier than a hair with a hound on its scent. But Angus Dubh didn’t enter the hall for breakfast. Neither did Brandon as a matter of fact.
“Do you know where he went?” I asked Ned. Ned shook his head but looked grim. “His things are still here, but he didn’t sleep in the room last night.”
“I saw him leave the hall with that buxom waitress,” said Glenna, helpfully. “Mayhap he’s still abed with her.”
That suggestion seemed feasible and people stopped asking. I kept glancing towards the entrances. Hoping Brandon would come back, terrified that it might be Angus.
“Since we’re staying another day,” said Babette. “The Lady Balrig has asked us if we’d like to help them search for mushrooms and sorrel in the wood for the supper tonight. Apparently, they’re inviting some of the folk from the village to hear us perform.”
That last thing I wanted to do was spend another night here. That last thing I wanted to do was leave the safety of my room to go outside. But if Brandon was right, if Angus wasn’t going to reveal me, then I was most likely safer with these women. Glenna was hesitant to go, but Babette leaned in and touched my cheek. “I think it will do you good to be around women, to have a task to take your mind off of… well… you know.”
I went searching for mushrooms and late summer fruit in the woods with the women from the castle. I was surprised at all their questions. Most were directed at Glenna, who was gracious enough about answering, but you could see she took no real enjoyment from the company of women.
“Come on,” she said, when they headed up the hill to search for wild garlic. “There are flowers just up there,” she said, pointing. “And I’d like a flower crown for my performance this evening. I can even make one for you.”
Before I could say anything, she linked her arm through mine and was dragging me over towards the hill of wildflowers. Even distracted as I was, I had to admit that the flowers were beautiful. There were orange flowers with black centers, beautiful crimson flowers that hung like bells from their stems. Glenna plucked almost all of them and sank herself down, tossing the ones that ‘weren’t quite perfect’ to me. I twisted the flowers idly, my crown not nearly as elegant or accomplished as hers.
“Hmmm,” said Glenna, staring at the beautiful wreath she’d created. “It wants yew berries. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll come with you,” I said, getting to my knees.
Glenna looked over her shoulder at me, exasperated. “I need to relieve myself, Meg, so unless you wish to watch me do that…”
I blushed and she snorted and strode up the hill towards where the trees were the thickest.
I stood anxiously looking back towards the mouth of the woods, where I swear I heard… No. I wasn’t imagining it. Babette was calling me. I could hear her voice floating from the same direction she’d travelled. I shook my head. Glenna was perfectly safe on her own, but I knew I’d feel safer if I were with the castle women.
I headed back towards the woods.
I didn’t even hear him until he was practically on top of me.
Chapter 6
I was walking forward, and then I wasn’t. Something covered my face and snapped me backwards. I reached up, feeling the rough wool of a scarf just before I slammed back into a chest.
I opened my mouth to cry out, but the wool that was not on my face was in my mouth. Hard hands blinding me, pressing the scarf between my teeth so I couldn’t shout, could barely breath.
My hands were jerked behind my back and I could feel them being bound quickly, and so tightly that my skin gave way beneath the rope. Fear, thick and choking, flooded my veins, weighting me down and freezing me in place. I didn’t even struggle.
Next thing I knew I was airborne, a hard shoulder slamming into my gut as I was thrown over a shoulder. A hand reached over and spread itself over my buttocks, pinching rudely.
“I thought she’d never leave.” Oh god. That voice: th
e man from the hall. It was Angus. “And when she did, I didn’t dare hope that you’d come down into the woods. I thought I’d have to chase you up into the hills. That would have caused quite the commotion. But I lucked out,” he said, his fingers sliding lower. The paralysis left me. I needed to leave. I needed to get away from him.
I reared up, bucking. One hand, secured my feet, the other slapped me. Hard.
“Behave,” he snarled. And followed the command with another vicious slap to my rear.
My face covered, I could smell the horse before I could see it, but as I slammed across its withers, I knew I was in trouble. We weren’t going back to the castle.
The realization overcame my sense. I began to struggle in earnest and, for my efforts, he smacked me again, harder this time. “Behave,” he hissed. “It’ll go worse for you if you don’t.” He delivered another brutal blow, and I bit back a cry of pain. Lest he strike me again or do – as he promised – something worse, I subsided.
I could feel him swing up into the saddle behind him. Pressing a hand to my back to keep me in place, he set his horse to galloping. My neck screamed from holding my head still. I was crying, silently. After running away from home, I must have imagined dozens of scenarios where my father, my father’s men, or Angus found me and dragged me back. But of the dozens of scenarios I’d imagined, this was worse.
It felt like an eternity before Angus slowed the horse to a walk. “I should feel badly, I expect,” said Angus, after a long period of silence. “Carting you off like this. But I don’t. I quite like seeing you at my mercy. You cost me a great deal of trouble, did you know? I needed the alliance with your father. I needed his ships and his ports. Do you know how difficult it was to that fat, pompous idiot that I’d reclaim the isles? Do you know how long I dickered and negotiated with him in order to get the ships and men I needed to reclaim my birthright? And you managed to ruin it in less that twenty-four hours. We hunted for you for days, you know? And no one had seen a hair of you. I would have been impressed if I wasn’t so furious. And now here you are, at my cousin’s castle, playing harp in a sad little travelling troupe.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth.
“What do you want with me!?” I tried to demand, but it came out muffled against the fabric shoved in my mouth.
Angus drummed his fingers against my back. “If I’m translating you correctly, you’d like to know why you are here? The answer is simple. You are here because I am about to head into exile for a very long time. And since it’s your fault, you’re coming with me.”
I choked on a sob, fear getting the better of me.
Angus pinched my sore backside. “Before you ran off, I had a plan of action, I had the players in place, I’d made promises and threats to very important people. But once you ran off, there was nothing to seal the deal your father and I had struck, nothing to hold me to my bargains, and nothing to hold him to his, and so that deal dissolved. And my plans fell through. All those promises I made? All those threats? For nothing. Empty. And the same lords who’d pledged to me sold me out to the King. And James demanded my head. So, I’m in exile, Maighread, until my cousins can raise the money and men to fund my army. I’m heading out to the ends of the world. And as luck would have it, I don’t have to head there alone. I’ll have you to warm my bed, a hot field to plow every night.”
I couldn’t stop myself, I began to struggle mindlessly. His hand flew again, and again, striking me until even the horse shifted anxiously beneath the attack. I choked on my own sobs. “Enough!” Angus said, his voice low and dangerous. “You will behave yourself, Maighread. Or so help me, I’ll take you off this horse right here, right now and show you what happens when you disobey.”
Chapter 7
Brandon hadn’t expected MacDonald to run. When he’d sent his letters, when he’d visited the apothecary for the herbs and the draughts, he’d expected to return to Balrig, hunt down Angus, drug him, and be on his way to Edinburgh.
But he’d scoured the castle. Scoured the outer buildings. He’d even trekked back through the village. There was no sign of the MacDonald bastard.
“Excuse me,” said Brandon, wandering into the stables and catching a stable-hand’s attention. “I spoke to a young man earlier – didn’t catch his name – but he wanted me to take a message into town for him. Have you seen him? I was supposed to meet him here an hour or so ago, and I was late. He’s about this tall, with orange hair…” Brandon gave the description and watched the groom’s eyes shutter closed. Just as he thought. MacDonald had been here.
“He left,” said the groom. “About four hours ago. He must have found someone else to run his errand for him.”
“Ah,” Brandon forced himself to say. “Well, no matter. I’ll just stable my horse and be on my way to village.”
Brandon’s blood was racing, but he forced himself to act casually, saddling his horse and riding leisurely away from the keep. But his eyes were scanning the dirt, looking for any hoof prints that might be heading west. Why would Angus come to Balrig only to leave so quickly?
Meg? Had he been worried she knew him and would reveal him?
Brandon felt his blood spike, recalling the story Meg had told him last night. He’d thought about it as he’d ran his errands. That Meg was really Maighread Anstruther wasn’t as surprising to him as it should have been. He’d known there was something different about her. He’d heard the lowlands in her accent, and the way she comported herself spoke of the status with which she was raised. Her story had raised in him a fierce anger that he’d been forced to tamp down. He could do nothing for her until he was, himself, free to act.
But Angus’ appearance in her story had been bothering him. Brandon wondered, idly, what had happened once Meg had left. That would have been over three years ago, right around the time the King began acting against the Lords of the Hebrides. He wondered if the one event was connected to the other. If it was, no wonder Angus had scoured the halls for Meg last evening.
Brandon had the sudden, fervent hope that Meg had stayed put this morning. He hadn’t seen her or Glenna about when he’d come back to the castle, and so he hoped they were still in their rooms, practicing perhaps.
It would do him no good to think about Meg right now. Right now, he had to find Angus. He had to stop him before he could board a ship, because that was where he was going, Brandon was certain. If word in the highlands was correct, then Angus was going into hiding, and what better place to do that than the Isles. Back where he’d first started.
As soon as Brandon was out of sight of the castle, he dug his heels into his horse, spurring the beast into a gallop. He had a feeling he knew what road Angus had taken.
He was riding so hard, he almost missed it, where a set of hoof prints turned off the dirt path and turned up into the woods. Brandon reigned his horse in with a muffled oath. Angus hadn’t taken the road to the sea, he’d taken to the woods. Brandon looked up and down the road, but Angus’ were the only hoof prints visible. No one was following him, no one was hunting him - no one but Brandon. There were no signs that anyone had come up this road in the past few hours. So why would Angus have gone through the woods.
Brandon slid off his horse, leading the beast up the steep incline and into the wood. Bending down, he examined the horse’s prints where they sank into the earth. They were deep. Deeper than they should have been. Angus was riding with someone. And he didn’t want to be seen.
Brandon’s mind spun. Perhaps it was one of the men that Angus had been travelling with? Through Brandon had seen neither hide nor hair of an entourage in Balrig. Either way, Angus wasn’t riding alone, and Brandon would need to be careful of how he approached him.
Chapter 8
I lost consciousness at some point during the ride, and when I regained it I was sitting astride the horse, my head bouncing against Angus’ shoulder, his arm securing me from falling off the mount. I feigned unconsciousness, not wanting to know what might happen once he thought I was awake.
> It was an effort to keep my muscles lose, to keep the panic from overwhelming me. The further we rode from Balrig, the less of chance I had for being rescued. Certainly, they would have known I was missing by now? Certainly/ they would send a search party? Wouldn’t they?
They might have for Maighread Anstruther. But why would they send a search party for Meg the harpist?
What I needed was an escape. I had a knife in my boot, but with my face covered and my hands tied, there was no way I could reach it. I’d have to hope he’d release me, allow me to relieve myself, maybe even eat something. Then I could go for the knife. It was my only shot. I had to save myself some way or another.
I don’t know what time it was when we finally stopped riding, when Angus reigned his horse in and swung me off of his mount, depositing me in a heap on the ground.
“I know you’re awake,” he said, kicking me lightly in the shoulder. I didn’t see the kick coming and it didn’t hurt, but it startled me. Angus grunted. “Thought so,” he said. Next thing I knew, he’d propped me up against a tree and tied me there. Only then did he slide the scarf down so that I could see. My mouth was still bound by the fabric.
We were deep in the woods somewhere and the only sounds were the occasional bird, the crackle of leaves signaling an animal was darting about nearby.
“I don’t have to warn you to keep your mouth shut,” said Angus. “I’m not going far. I’ll be back.”
And without another word, he turned and headed into the woods, whistling as he went. I was still until I was certain he was out of range, then I began to struggle in earnest. He’d wrapped a rope around my waist and while it was tight, if I could just shimmy under it. I worked and worked, inching and sliding. The rope had barely any give to it at all, and I ended up half strangled and stuck. Tears streamed down my face, my sobs threatened to choke off my air if I didn’t calm down.