by Ria Cantrell
“We?”
Taking another gulp of the honeyed brew, Stephen said, “Roderick Campbell killed my brother, Charles. I want to see him brought to his knees as much as ye’ do. I know ye’, Rory MacCollum. Ye’ may have been named the Wolf of the Highlands, but ye’ are not a man of loose wits. Strong fighter, yes, but addled, no. Fer ye' to take the ancient binding rite assures me ye have not acted rashly. Am I right in assuming that ye’ never spoke those vows with Caitlyn McLeod?”
Rory nodded, feeling a little guilty that he had not bound himself to Caitlyn, as she still was bound to him to protect him. But he had bound himself to Brielle. MacDougal was right. He had not done that lightly.
“T’is time we stop warring with each other. With Robert’s decree, highland clans must unify. MacDougal will no longer raid MacCollum and in return, we will form an alliance of sorts.” Rory stared at Stephen as if he gone daft.
“Are ye’ serious?”
“Deadly so.”
“Ye’ won’t raid our livestock if I agree to this?”
“Nay. No more raids. However, if we express a need perhaps yer’ clan can aid us and likewise to MacCollum in return.” Rory shook his head and said, “Ye’ should be having this talk with my Da. I am not even next in line as Laird of the clan.”
“Aye, t’is true, but ye’ are closer to my age and we have a vested interest in bringing down Roderick Campbell. I think yer’ da is a reasonable man. I think an alliance between our clans would be beneficial to all our people. Will ye’ shake on it, Rory?”
With a single nod of the head, Rory agreed to the alliance.
“Will ye’ send word to my kin and let them know we march on Campbell? This will serve two-fold, to let my family know I am safe and to hold ye’ to yer’ word.” Stephen cracked a smile, “What, ye’ dunna’ trust me? Haven’t I been a most gracious host?” With a hint of a smile, Rory answered, “As gracious as a slave driver can be.”
Chapter Thirty
Rory sat his destrier, his back rigid, as his posture marked him as a leader of men and had taken the ranks of just such a leader of the MacDougal forces. They made their way toward Castle Campbell. Rory used the discipline of his concentration needed to lead the men to overshadow his constant thoughts about Brielle.
As they traveled down the Highland Road, they had not ridden very far when they were met with Rory’s brothers and father. The MacCollum faction halted. Caleb called out, “Thank God, ye’ are safe. I was coming to find ye’, son, only what the hell are ye’ doing with these…MacDougal gentlemen?”
“We have come to an understanding. They are going to help me with Brielle and the Campbells.”
Caleb met his son’s eyes. He saw the darkness within him once again. “How did ye’ know, son?” He shrugged and said, “They have her don’t they?”
“Aye, Ruiri. They do.” A look of anguish marred his features.
“How, Da? How did it happen?”
“We went to the village…to postpone…”
“The wedding! Oh my God, so this is my fault again. It was up to me to protect her and I failed again.”
“Ye’ did not fail her. I did, my son. My complacency caused this.”
“How, Da? I dunna’ understand.”
“Let us talk, Son. Alone.” Rory looked over at Stephen MacDougal and he nodded.
“Men we will hold. Yer’ commander will give the orders to proceed.” Caleb looked at Rory.
Commander?
Aye.
Explain! Rory shook his head, “Nay, I need to speak of Brielle.”
He dismounted his war horse and followed Caleb past the mounted men and his brothers. When they had gotten far enough away from ears that would overhear the conversation, Rory asked “Is she hurt? Have they hurt her?”
“She has been slapped repeatedly, from what I could see, not severely, but her face had born repeated marks from slaps.”
“What ye’ could see? Ye’ saw her?”
“I went to Campbell to retrieve her. I snuck in and tried to get her to come with me,”
“Da, I dunna’ understand.”
Caleb looked horrified. How was he going to tell his son what Brielle had professed? He felt the weight of his own failure deeply as he steeled himself to say the words to his son.
“She…refused, Ruiri.”
“I am trying to understand Da…please help me understand….” With a labored sigh, Caleb said, “After we…spoke to Father Duncan, the lass was very quiet. She tried to be brave, but I knew she wanted to have a good cry by herself, so I let her go to the pasture. The beasties seem to comfort her. She loves that brindle horse so much. I didna’ wish to intrude on her privacy so I went to get provisions. . . and sit a spell with Mara. By the time I got to the pasture, she had been taken. I rode home, took Shawn with me and headed to Campbell Keep. I camped three days outside the keep and observed. I realized I could get in easily and with a ruse, I went to find her.” Rory listened intently. He was leaning casually against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest. He felt the darkness seeping into his veins like an old friend. His anger was just under the surface ready to bubble out at any provocation.
“Go on, Da,” he said, tightly controlling the rage.
“Rory, there is something ye’ need to know and I dunna’ know how to tell ye’.”
“Is she hurt? What have they done to her?”
“I dunna’ think she is badly hurt. But her spirit has taken harder blows than the ones they have put to her face.” Caleb put his hand on Rory’s shoulder.
“She…does not want ye’ to come for her. She said, she had made a mistake…She said she does not love ye’.” That errant muscle worked furiously in Rory’s jaw. He felt ready to explode.
“T’is no matter. She is mine and what is mine I shall retrieve. Love or no.”
“Ruiri, she is lying. She is trying to protect ye’. Roderick wants ye’ to come for her. It is a trap. Son, ye’ believe me, don’t ye’. . . about her lying. ?”
Rory turned away from his father and said over his shoulder, “Campbells are very good at lying. Why would Gabrielle be any different? She thinks to toss the ancient vows aside lightly? Again, no matter. I have claimed her. As my property I will return her to where she belongs.”
Caleb knew that Rory was furious. The lass was going to have to make amends to be certain, that was, of course, if they could get her to safety once and for all. Striding back to the ranks of soldiers before him, Rory called out, “We ride on to Campbell as planned.” Caleb called after his son, “Ruiri…”
“T’is time I brought my woman home, Da. I dunna’ wish to discuss another word.” Rory mounted and took the lead. He was deadly silent, thinking about what his father had said. His anger was simmering to a dangerous level. So, she thought to undo their binding? She thought to toss it in his face, aye? Rory was so angry, he felt consumed by it. He knew he had to keep that anger in check in order to be able to lead the men and think clearly to form a strategy to get Brielle home. Rory didn’t know who he was the most angry at. He could kill Roderick for having Brielle taken; he was furious at his father for leaving her unprotected and then leaving her back at Campbell Keep; he was livid with Brielle because she had lied to him and most of all, he was mad at himself…mad at himself for falling in love in the first place; mad at himself for leaving her to fight the MacDougals and for not returning in time for their proper wedding…mad at himself for setting his heart up to be broken yet again. But regardless of whether her words were lies or not, they had wed by the Old Rites and that was as true a bond as the church one and by God he would make her realize it.
Rory rode relentlessly and the men were hard pressed to keep up with him. It was late in the day as they approached the moldering remains of the keep. Despite his anger with her, Rory hated to think of Brielle in this horrid place. In the lengthening shadows, the men surrounded the outer bailey. It seemed unnaturally quiet, which signaled danger to Rory’s trained warrior’s mind. Now t
hey waited.
Chapter Thirty-One
Roderick was sick of that crying chit. Her incessant bawling had frayed his nerves. She seemed never to stop. Threats of beatings did not dissuade her. He was seriously ready to put her in the dungeons to get some peace. He wondered why MacCollum had not shown. Perhaps he had discarded his sister as a plaything after all. He had thought that MacCollum’s undisputed pride would have drawn him out. Instead, Roderick was stuck with this bawling mess of a sister. He swore. She was a horrible mess. Perhaps he should have let the Rabid Wolf keep her. He was to get no peace, he was certain now. He grabbed a bottle of wine. He knew he should keep a clear head in case the Wolf showed himself, but he needed at least a few sips to calm his frayed nerves from the echoes of sobs that continued to drift down to his study. Ah yes, just a few sips wouldn’t hurt.
*****
Every time Brielle thought of Rory, she would start to cry. She had lied to Caleb. She knew that lie would hurt Rory beyond being able to ever forgive her. She knew he could not abide by lies. When he had fought with her, that dreadful day in the solar, he had accused her of being a liar and she had slapped him at the insult. How she regretted that now, for she was a liar. She was the worst liar he had ever thought her to be. She did not deserve Rory’s forgiveness. He deserved someone who would never break his heart…someone who would also never be a Campbell. She would always be that thing he hated most and they would always have that between them.
Brielle hated that she had lied to Caleb after all he had done and risked for her. He had been so kind to her. He had risked his very life for her. Those thoughts brought fresh tears to her eyes. Life without Rory would hold no promise. She had no hope for future days. She almost couldn’t bear to think of the numerous days without him. Looking out her window, it was like the world was grey, with no shades of life to welcome her. It was as if the colors were masked and her world was darker without him. When she thought she had cried every tear she possibly could, more seemed to prick at the backs of her eyes and spill like constant leaking trickles. She knew she would never see Rory again and it made her heart hurt in her chest. Knowing she had lost him forever made her stomach roil. She cried so hard, that she retched violently. Once she purged her stomach, she felt a bit better. The filth and refuse of the keep kept her nauseated most of the time. Crying did not help. She knew that, but felt she could not seem to do anything else.
After three such days, Brielle felt that familiar malaise upon waking. She purposely did not eat to avoid being sick, still upon rising, she barely made it to the guarderobe before she vomited. She cleaned herself up and thought a disturbing thought. Could she be carrying Rory’s child? So lost in distress, she had forgotten when she last bled. She ticked off the weeks since her last monthly course and she realized the truth. Dear God, it was so. She was pregnant! New fear consumed her. She could not let her brother know. He had said he would kill any offspring of Ruiri’s.
Despite the dire threat, the revelation suddenly gave her new strength, for if she could never be with her beloved Rory again, at least she would have this part of him that was part of them both. She would die to protect the child she and Rory had created in love. For when she had lain with Rory, it was in love and she would always know this child was brought from that union. Rory may hate her for the rest of her days, but this child was a product of when he loved her. She would do anything to keep safe a child of her beloved Rory. Roderick had said he would send her back to Val Cour. If she could go back to England, she would then carry the child in safety. She would let Marcus’ offspring think he had sired the child. Though that thought was abhorrent to her, she felt that it was the best thing she could do. Her child would be safe, and Rory would not learn of it to claim it. Drawing on her strength from the knowledge she was carrying Rory’s child inside her, she decided she needed to make herself physically stronger. She could not lose this baby. It would be all she had left of Rory, now. She had to take care of herself as best she could and get strong enough to travel back to England. Finally, her tears ceased. She was going to have a baby…Rory’s baby. For Rory’s babe, she had to live.
Suddenly, she was filled with strength. She would try to see if Roderick really planned to send her back to Val Cour. She now needed a plan to get away from Campbell keep as soon as possible so she could make a life for herself and her child. She would speak to him straight away to see what his plans for her were. She did not want to seem too happy to leave for England, else he would deliberately not send her. Making her way to Roderick’s study, she found him polishing his sword. He looked up from red-rimmed eyes. By God, he had already been drinking!
“Ah, my infernally crying sister…And what do I owe the honor of your presence,” he asked sarcastically, with a mocking bow before her.
“I know ye’ want to send me back to Val Cour. And if that is my fate, I would sooner get on with it than not. Ye’ have taken all I have ever wanted so, sending me back to Val Cour would be no worse.” Hatred flared in his bloodshot eyes.
“Oh, so ye’ are ready to go back to Val Cour are ye’? And I wonder what could have brought on this change of heart…hmmmm…. what could it be?”
“I just need to go away, so I can forget, t’is all,” Brielle said more honestly than she wanted to admit, though she knew that nothing could ever make her forget; no amount of distance would wash away the pain in her heart.
“I…know ye’ are displeased with me…all I had wanted was to come home after Marcus died, but now home offers me no joy,” she said trying to placate him.
“I will go back and live out my days as the proper grieving widow.”
Roderick threw his sword, sending it to the floor in a clatter. He grabbed Brielle by her hair and yanked hard, snapping her head back painfully.
“They will not have ye’, whore! Ye’ have disgraced their goodly name with yer’ antics with the Rabid Wolf. Ye’ have dishonored your husband who is only dead two moon and ye’ have already taken up with that MacCollum cur. Did ye’ think that word hadn’t gone back to Val Cour’s family?”
He flung her away from him, sending her sprawling into the filth on the floor. She landed with a thump on her hands and knees, grateful that she hadn’t landed flat on her face. She struggled back up to her feet, weak from her grief imposed isolation. The palms of her hands felt scraped from the rough hewn wood of the decaying floor boards.
Roderick watched her straighten and he laughed with the sound of insanity. That actually frightened Brielle. She realized drink or no, her brother was a madman. She would have to find a way to leave Campbell on her own.
“It seems, little sister, that yer’ MacCollum lover has finally come to claim ye’.” Brielle faced Roderick and stared at him in shock.
“What…Ruiri…is here?”
Hearing that Rory had arrived sent momentary shivers of elation through her…Her Ruiri…she would see him again…but as quickly as that joy filled her broken heart, she reminded herself that she must not let Rory think she wanted to be with him, or it would get him killed. He must never know about her suspicions of being with his child. That would further endanger him. As much as she wanted to run and throw herself into his arms, Brielle knew she could never again make that claim. She had to make him believe she did not love him, so he could go home, nurse his wounds and live. She ignored the little voice that nagged at her saying, And do ye’ think he will want to live if ye’ break his heart? Brielle wanted to cover her ears against that voice.
“Aye, yer’ precious lover is here…and he brought his brothers. Finally, I shall have them all finished this day.” Brielle gasped and said, “NO, dunna’ harm him…”
“Awww, ever the concerned lass. Do not harm him,” he mimicked. “Do not harm him? And ye’ offer no concern for yer loving brother?”
“Ye’ are my brother by blood only,” she said without caution, not caring that it would anger him.
“Half Blood,” Roderick spat.
“What madness is this
, Roderick? I am yer’ sister.”
“Oh, didn’t ye’ know? Yer’ mother was not my mother. Our sire spawned ye’ on some whore after my mother died.”
“Father was married to my mother.”
“Aye, and after only two moons of my mother’s death. Like father, like faithless, whoring daughter. Father was weak. He disgusted me and so do ye’. His lack of loyalty to his dead wife was an abomination. But at least ye’ have helped lead my most hated enemy into my hands. I canna’ wait to see the light die in his eyes as his blood runs.”
“Nay,” Brielle gasped in horror. Roderick grabbed her and forced her to the window.
“See the glints through the trees. They will be here before nightfall.” Brielle did see those shimmers and thought there seemed to be many more men than just Rory and his brothers. He brought reinforcements.
“Ye’ are outnumbered, Roderick. Ye’ should surrender now and save yourself.”
“Ahhh but they dunna’ know my archers are lining the walls. I will cut down enough of them to even the score, and then Dear Sister, ye’ will lead yer’ precious lover into my hands.”
“I will never do that. The devil take ye’, Roderick.”
“Oh, but ye’ will, because I know yer’ little secret, little sister.” Roderick then pretended to retch.
“And if ye’ want to see the brat begotten by the Rabid Dog, ye’ will do as I say.” Brielle looked at her brother in horror.
“My God, ye’ are a monster.” He laughed maniacally.
“I assume it is not Val Cour’s, dumb old sot. I doubt he could get his cock hard enough to take a piss.” Brielle stammered, “I… I am not with child. I was sick from the filth here.” She lied, but it had no merit.
“Ah, that is what I thought. T’is the Cur’s very own whelp.”