When Ravenna sat down on the bed next to Torquil, the boy looked like he was in a deep slumber, peaceful and rested. She lifted the cloth and bathed his face. “No matter, my efforts make me feel better,” she said in a solemn tone.
She placed the cloth on the bedside table. “There will be a time when I will insist that you rest, my laird.” She walked behind him and placed her hands on his broad shoulders. Ruairi’s body was tight with strain. Her fingers dug into the strong tendons in the back of his neck, and he turned his head to the side.
“That feels wonderful.”
After a few moments, he placed his large hand over hers and stilled her. He pulled her around onto his lap while his tired, worn eyes looked back at her. She supposed his troubled expression mirrored her own.
“I want to thank ye again for staying here and being with Torquil, especially when ye could verra well have taken your leave and returned home. I’m sure ye miss your sisters. Ye know I wanted to see ye home before I talked to the Gordon, yet ye stayed.”
She rubbed her fingers over the stubble on his jaw. “How could I go? I couldn’t leave you and Torquil like this. And don’t forget, I can take care of myself.”
He chuckled. “With five daggers in your possession, I suppose ye certainly have enough to prepare for battle.”
She stiffened. “How do you know I have five daggers?” She wouldn’t mention the fact that she actually had six, but she had to admit, this was the first time she’d ever seen Ruairi at a loss for words.
“If ye must know, I saw your trunk was packed and—”
“You spied on me.”
“I wouldnae say spy exactly.”
Ravenna tried to compose herself because she was surprised Ruairi had pried into her things. Thank God the only questionable items in her trunk were her daggers. Although she knew he still held the one she had lost somewhere in the darkened tunnels, the loss was a small price to pay for not being discovered. Fortunately for her, the man who encroached on Ruairi’s lands was a happy coincidence that couldn’t have come at a better time.
“I’m not angry.” She placed her head on his shoulder and he held her. “Do you think he’ll wake up soon?” she asked in a softened tone. “Be truthful. Please.”
He rubbed his hand gently on her arm. “I donna know. I truly donna know.”
“Well, he is a young and healthy boy. And one thing I’ve discovered through the years is that the young recover much faster than the old. We must have faith that God will watch over him and make him well again. And there is no way we’ll give up in battle before the war is over.”
“Ye’re a wise woman. Nay wonder ye’re a governess for young minds.”
***
Ruairi was mentally exhausted, but Ravenna had stayed with him when he needed her most. That was something he’d never forget. He watched her as she sat with his son. She was kind and giving, and he knew she loved Torquil.
He hadn’t moved from Torquil’s side since the accident, but he knew he needed to keep things in perspective. Curtailing his duties wouldn’t benefit anyone. How else would he be able to make certain the walls didn’t crumble, intruders were kept at bay, and Torquil was safe? He also couldn’t overlook something else that weighed heavily on his mind.
He wondered how Angus fared.
When he thought about the day’s events, he contemplated how he could’ve almost lost his son and Angus within a breath apart.
“Will ye stay with him? I want to step out for a moment and see to Angus. Ye said John took him to the stable?”
“Yes, he did. And of course, Ruairi, take your time. I’ll be sure to call you when Torquil wakes up.”
She gave him a warm smile and he knew she was being kind. He didn’t think she’d be calling him any time soon. He pulled himself to his feet and gazed at Torquil. Lightly, he brushed his son’s cheek with the back of his hand.
Ruairi made his way to the great hall and paused when he reached the last step. A few hours ago, he watched his son’s lifeblood spill all over the floor in this very spot. A shiver ran down his spine as he remembered the sound of the crack when Torquil… He closed his eyes. This type of thinking was not doing either one of them any good. He tried to shake off the feeling and his foul mood.
When he walked out into the bailey, he realized there were still a few hours before the sun rose. That was all right with him because there was no way he’d be able to sleep now anyway. He opened the door to the stable and saw the stable hands sleeping on the floor. Not wanting to wake them, Ruairi found the wolf in the front stall.
Angus lay in a tight black ball. His tail lifted once and thumped the ground in greeting.
“How are ye, Angus?” Ruairi opened the stall door and sat on the floor. “What happened to ye, eh?” He patted the wolf on the head and scratched him behind the ears.
“My laird, I thought that was ye. Angus is doing much better than he was. He brought up whatever he ate in the garden. Once he did, he wasnae in so much pain.”
Ruairi ran his hand through Angus’ thick fur. “I’ll leave him here in your care until he is well again.”
“Aye, my laird. I’m sure he’ll be up and about in nay time.”
Ruairi stood and Angus turned his head, not lifting his muzzle from the ground. The wolf’s pitiful eyes looked up at him.
“Ye stay here with John and ye’ll be all right.” As if the wolf understood Ruairi’s words, Angus’ tail moved only once in response. At least the animal looked as though he was getting better. Ruairi only prayed his son would follow suit.
He left the stables and walked through the darkened fields. He didn’t take the time to light a torch since he knew his lands well. When he reached the clearing, he let out a whistle that only he and his men knew. He waited a moment for his captain’s response, and when no one answered, Ruairi approached with caution.
As he reached the entrance to the tunnels, he looked around for Fagan and saw no one. Where the hell was he?
Ruairi walked along the outer edge of the tree line and stealthily entered the brush where he thought Fagan kept watch on the tunnel entrance. The foliage was so thick that he couldn’t see a damn thing. He heard someone moan and unsheathed his sword. As he walked toward the sound, he made certain his footsteps were carefully placed as to not alert anyone of his presence.
When he lost track of where the noise came from, he stopped. Everything fell silent and he could hear the sound of his own breath. Someone cursed and he moved toward the voice, tripping over something and falling quickly to the ground. He scrambled for his sword and received a hard kick in the side.
“I’ll kill ye, ye bastard!”
“Fagan?”
There was a brief silence.
“Ruairi, what the hell are ye doing? Och, ne’er mind. Help me to my feet.”
He grabbed Fagan under the arm. “What happened?”
“Ne’er mind me. Why are ye out here? God’s teeth, is it Torquil? How is he?”
“The same. Now tell me why ye are on your arse.”
Fagan staggered into the clearing, barely able to stand. “Someone knocked me on the back of the head is what the hell happened. I’m nae sure how long ago.”
“Will ye be all right?”
“Aye.”
“I’m going in the tunnels. Nay matter what ye do, donna let anyone come out. We’ll get this man once and for all.”
“Aye.”
Ruairi took off with purpose and thundered into the dark tunnel with his sword drawn. He quickly realized the narrow passage was too small to properly carry a sword. He turned to the side and sheathed his weapon, then pulled his dagger from his boot. He placed his hand on the cool stone walls that guided his way farther into the darkness. Up ahead, a faint light flickered and he slowed his pace. Shadows danced on the walls, and he wasn’t sure how many men he’d soon be facing. At least Fagan would make certain no man escaped.
He peeked around the stone wall of the tunnel and two men stood in the natur
al room, their faces hidden by their cloaks. The men had to have known the schedule of the tides and when the caves were flooded. But how? Even as he tried to figure out the answer, another thought came to mind—surely they didn’t know where he kept his coin. How could they? No one knew.
Ruairi was about to enter the cavern and put an end to all this madness when one of the men bent over, his arms encircling the giant rock. When the hole in the floor was revealed, the man grasped a handful of coins and tossed them into his companion’s bag.
“Is that enough?”
When the arse nodded, the man replaced the rock while Ruairi sheathed his dagger and pulled out his sword. He would strike down one of the men and force the other to talk. And once and for all, he would know if the Gordon was responsible for far more than he was willing to admit.
Ruairi stood perfectly still, the sound of the sea making it difficult to hear the approaching men. He had taken another step forward and was looking around the edge of the wall when the men came upon him. The bigger bastard unsheathed his sword, and Ruairi hastily shoved the man back.
The ringing sound of metal upon metal clanked through the cave. The torchlight reflected from their swords as Ruairi looked into the eyes of the man he would kill this night. He didn’t recognize the arse, not that it mattered. When the smaller man backed up against the wall and held the torch out in front of him in a cowardly gesture, Ruairi couldn’t help but smirk. Nothing stirred his blood like a good fight, and frankly, this was just what he needed.
He pointed his sword briefly at the smaller man. “Ye’ll have to wait your turn. I’m a wee bit busy right now.”
Ruairi swung his gaze back to the man before him.
The bigger bastard was able to ward off every one of Ruairi’s blows. Little did the man realize that Ruairi was only testing his opponent’s skill with a sword. He wanted to kill the man slowly, taking his time and actually savoring the moment. No one stole Sutherland coin. And this man wouldn’t be the first.
Ruairi sliced the man on the upper arm and then lifted his brow. “Och, that had to hurt.”
The man growled and became enraged, lifting his sword high into the air. Ruairi turned out of the way and elbowed the man in the gut.
“Who are ye?” asked Ruairi.
When the man didn’t respond, Ruairi gave his opponent another matching slice on the other arm. The man grunted, and Ruairi repeated his question in a tone that was more of a warning.
“Mo mhallachd ort!” My curse on you.
Ruairi laughed. “Cha bhrist mhallachd cnàimh.” A curse breaks no bones.
He easily deflected another blow when the man struck at him again. Something suddenly moved, and Ruairi saw it out the corner of his eye. The other man was trying to retreat along the wall, edging his way closer to the tunnels.
“And where do ye think ye’re going? Donna even think about it because after I’m through with your friend here, ye and I will have words.”
Ruairi wasn’t surprised when the man didn’t heed his warning and continued to make his way out of the cave with the bag full of coin. When he spotted the man slipping into the tunnel passage, he realized the time for swordplay had swiftly come to an end. Besides, this bastard wasn’t telling him anything he wanted to know. He turned to face his opponent one last time, and the man’s eyes widened when a smile crossed Ruairi’s face. He could have easily brought this man to his knees some time ago.
“Apologies, I nay longer have time for play.” Ruairi pulled his sword out of the man’s gut, knowing the incoming tide would sweep the bastard out to sea. Let the fish have at him because Ruairi was done with him.
With a quick swipe on the man’s cloak, Ruairi wiped the blood from his sword. He sheathed his weapon and pulled his dagger out of his boot. Hastily grabbing the other torch, he ran after the man in the tunnel, following the faint light ahead. The man didn’t get much of a head start and even if he did, Ruairi knew Fagan would hold him at the end. The bastard had nowhere to go. Praise the saints. At least something now worked in Ruairi’s favor.
Increasing his speed, he saw the whipping tails of the cloak not far in front of him. He quickly reached his target and dropped the torch. With a heavy thump, Ruairi tackled the man to the ground. The torch flew out of the man’s hands as he continued to struggle beneath Ruairi’s firm grasp. He noticed this man was a lot smaller than the one he’d just sent to his maker. Even though he could easily restrain the bastard, he wanted the man punished—to feel the wrath of what happened when anyone crossed a Sutherland laird.
Ruairi lifted his hand, ready to land a forceful blow, when hands reached out and touched his arm.
“Please, Ruairi.”
She pulled the cloak back from her face, and Ruairi had never felt so betrayed in his life.
Fifteen
Ruairi was entirely speechless because nothing in the world could have readied him for this moment. How could she be so deceitful? He quickly realized that was a daft question because he knew why.
She wasn’t a Sutherland.
He stood and then reached down and pulled her to her feet by the cloak. She brushed off the dirt and had the nerve to simply look up at him with an innocent gaze. The lively twinkle in her green eyes incensed him even more. Neither one of them spoke as Ruairi’s angry gaze swung over her and fury continued to choke him. When he found he could no longer restrain himself, he shook her into gasping silence.
“Why? Why would ye do this?” he said with disgust, pushing her away from him.
Ruairi took a step farther away and ran his hand through his hair. If he moved any closer, he’d kill her. He didn’t expect her to answer his question. After all, what reason could she possibly give? But he needed a moment to think. Did the woman truly have no conscience?
She simply stood there, her mouth set in annoyance. The fact that she was caught stealing his coin didn’t even trouble her. She looked as though she was merely inconvenienced by his presence. When she turned away from him and picked up the torch, Ruairi wanted nothing more than to reach out and strangle his sister-by-marriage with his bare hands.
“I take it ye’re surprised to see me, then,” she said over her shoulder.
“Surprised?” His voice went up a notch. “Surprised doesnae begin to express what I feel. And since when did ye learn to speak English, Cotrìona?”
“’Tis quite amazing what one can accomplish in two years’ time. Donna ye agree? Although I must say, naught has changed around here. I see ye still have Fagan wearing the skirts.”
Ruairi grabbed her roughly by the arm. “Ye overstep.”
Cotrìona looked down at his restraining arm and her eyes narrowed. “Remove your hand from my arm, Brother.”
“I assure ye, my hand is the least of your worries.” He grabbed the torch and his body brushed up against hers as he passed her in the narrow tunnel. When she gave his body a raking gaze, he pulled her along behind him and she practically had to run to keep up with him.
“And just where do ye think ye’re taking me?”
“When your father arrives, I’m sure he’ll love to see I’ve captured his beloved daughter.”
She laughed, and blood pounded in his ears. Taken aback at seeing Cotrìona, he hadn’t considered that the Gordon more than likely knew his daughter was stealing Ruairi’s coin. Of course the man did—like father, like daughter. Ruairi led his sister-in-law out of the tunnel, and she pulled up her cloak around her head. He was so furious he didn’t even notice the rush of cool wind that brushed his cheek. With a firm grip, he led her into the clearing as Fagan stepped out of the shadows.
“Ye caught the bastard.”
“If ye mean my sister-in-law, then aye.”
Fagan held up his hand to stay them. “What did ye say?”
Cotrìona pulled back the cloak and Fagan’s reaction amused her. “Fagan, Ruairi’s right hand and ever the obedient dog. ’Tis been quite a long time. Have ye missed me?”
Fagan’s eyes widened. “Cha t
ugadh an donas an car asad.” The devil could not get the best of you.
“Aye,” said Ruairi. “Isnae that the truth? Take her to my study and have someone stand guard. She isnae to leave. Nay one goes in or out without my permission.”
Fagan grabbed Cotrìona by the arm as she turned and spoke over her shoulder. “Ye look well, Ruairi. I’m glad to see my sister’s death hasnae changed ye. Ye’re still a verra handsome man. More’s the pity that ye donna love your country as much as ye love yourself.”
“If ye know what’s good for ye, ye’ll stop talking,” snarled Fagan.
“Ye ne’er liked me. Did ye, Fagan?”
Fagan led Cotrìona away as Ruairi stood alone in the clearing. The sun had started to rise and cast its golden hues above. He needed a moment to clear his head. Never had he imagined that his wife’s sister was behind the missing coin. Cotrìona was a venomous lass who never knew when to hold her tongue. She was completely reckless, always vying for her father’s attention, even more than his wife had.
In addition, Cotrìona was the last living progeny of the Gordon and could be just as deadly as any man. He didn’t think there was anything she wouldn’t do for her father. She’d slept with many men to get what she wanted, but something about her unsettled him and Fagan. His captain had always said the woman was the devil herself.
Ruairi rubbed his hand over his brow. He was furious, yet there was no way he could speak to Cotrìona right now. There would be no words, only curses and a lot of screaming. More to the point, his son came first. He would see how Torquil and Ravenna fared, and then he’d decide how to deal with the latest catastrophe.
When he opened Torquil’s door and saw Ravenna sleeping, he was thankful the lass had fallen into a deep slumber. She didn’t even stir when he covered her with a blanket. Now that he knew Torquil remained the same, Ruairi felt calm enough to seek some answers. Cotrìona may not have spoken to him in two years, but she was going to talk to him now.
He grudgingly walked to his study and relieved the guard at the door.
“Where are your manners, Brother? Ye donna even offer me anything to drink?” She sat in a chair and picked an imaginary piece of lint from her day dress. Her brown hair was pulled back into a bun, and her oval face was something he’d sooner forget.
My Highland Spy Page 15