It was early afternoon when Bethia found herself alone with James with nothing to do. She decided to go and find some herbs. Recalling how helpless she had felt while Eric was fevered that time, she had decided to learn some of the art of healing from Old Helda, the clan’s healing woman. Now she was trying to put together her own collection of herbs and medicines.
She briefly wondered if it was wise to go outside of the walls of Dunnbea, then shook aside her fear. From all she had heard, William was now trying to get Dunncraig by petitioning the king and her parents to become James’s guardian. Since the messages he had been sending had come from Dunncraig, he could not even be close by. For now, Bethia felt she could venture outside in some safety and she went to find Bowen.
Bowen disagreed. “I think ye ought to stay right where ye are.”
“I need to get away from these walls for just a wee while,” she said, following him as he walked into the stables.
“A grave will feel even more confining.”
“Bowen, the mon isnae even near here.”
“How can ye be so sure of that?”
“Because he is sending his messages here from Dunncraig.”
Bowen leaned against a stall and frowned at her. “Aye, so it is said. ’Tis just that the mon wanted ye and the lad dead. I have no reason to think he has changed his mind.”
Bethia sighed. “Neither do I and that is why I asked for two armed men to go with me. I cannae see what the fool would gain by harming me or James now, but I also ken that he may not have the wit to ken that or he just may want us dead for ruining his wondrous plan to steal Dunncraig. Howbeit, all signs point to the fact that the mon has returned to Dunncraig.”
“All right. Two armed men and ye are to return ere the sun sets.”
She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed his beard-roughened cheek. “I dinnae think I will be gone even that long.”
As she and the two men at arms rode out of Dunnbea, Bethia pushed aside her lingering worries. It was a surprisingly warm, sunny day and she intended to enjoy it to its fullest. James sat in his sling across her chest and looked all around him, babbling and pointing at everything. Bethia hoped his skill with words would improve as quickly as his walking, for she was interested in what he was trying to say.
She glanced in the direction of Bealachan and was a little disappointed not to see Eric riding toward her, then told herself not to be silly. He would return when he was able. Having been tossed aside by his father and left to believe he was a bastard, then rejected time and time again by his true kinsmen, Eric had more right to try to learn what he could about his newfound family than any other person she knew. This acceptance by his mother’s family also meant that he would not be fighting over his rights with the MacMillans. Since that would have set him against her clan, she should be glad that he wanted to stay and visit.
Nevertheless, she wanted him home and not just because she sorely missed him in her bed. Even doing as Grizel advised and trusting him until he did something to destroy that trust, she could not stop worrying about him. Him she could trust with just a little effort. The women she did not trust at all and she could not forget that Eric was a lusty man.
“Nay, stop it, ye fool,” she scolded herself. “Ye are venturing too close to nay trusting him again.”
“Did ye say something, m’lady?” asked the man riding at her side.
“Nay, Dougal, I was just talking to the lad,” she replied and sighed when Dougal nodded in understanding.
Bethia smiled faintly. There were some unseen advantages to having a child. One could do silly things and claim one was just playing with the child. One could also talk to oneself a great deal and save oneself from looking foolish by claiming one was talking to the baby. Glancing down at James, she decided she should be a little more careful in what she said around him, however. More and more words were slipping into his happy babble and she did not want to risk him repeating something she might wish to keep secret.
They had ridden just short of a half hour when Bethia had them stop. This was the place Old Helda had said had the best pickings for herbs and medicinal plants. Dougal helped her dismount, then joined the other man in standing guard while she searched out what she wanted. As she struggled to keep James from stuffing any plant she picked into his mouth, she began to collect some of the plants Helda had recommended.
It did not take her long to fill the little bag she had brought, but Bethia felt her hunt had been successful. She turned to the two men with her to tell them that she was ready to leave, and then cried out in fear. Dougal grunted and, wide-eyed with shock, fell on his face, revealing an arrow in his back. The other man screamed as another arrow slammed into his chest so hard it sent him crashing back into the tree he had been standing in front of.
Holding James tightly against her, Bethia stared in horror as nearly a dozen men rode out of the surrounding trees. She recognized three of the men immediately and frantically wondered how William and his sons could have arrived here from Dunncraig so quickly. Their latest pleas for guardianship of James had only arrived yesterday.
As William dismounted and walked up to her, she realized her wits had gone begging. They had all believed that William was back at Dunncraig, but the only one to have given them that idea was William’s own messenger. Instead of sitting at Dunncraig trying to steal what was not his by right of birth, William and his men had been lurking around Dunnbea just waiting for a chance to get at her. And I have just walked into his arms, she thought angrily.
“Are ye mad?” Bethia demanded, trying desperately to hide the cold fear that was curling itself around her heart.
“Mad?” William frowned as if seriously considering the matter. “Nay, I dinnae think so. I tricked ye into coming outside where I could get you, didnae I?”
“I didnae come here to watch ye murder two good men. I certainly didnae come here because ye somehow lured me to this place.”
“I ken it. But I am still the reason ye are here and ye have brought me wee James. I kenned that ye wouldnae be able to stay confined for verra long. All I had to do was allay suspicions about where I was and wait for ye to leave that keep.”
“Ye do think ye are so much cleverer than ye are, dinnae ye?” And I am very stupid, she thought despondently.
“Oh, I am clever, for, I ask ye, who has won?”
Before she could say anything he drew back his fist and punched her in the face. Bethia knew one horrible moment of fear and pain, then nothing more.
“Bowen,” Wallace yelled as he stumbled into the stables. “Ye had best come quickly.”
Bowen hurried after the young man and pushed his way through a crowd of people staring at something on the ground. When he finally saw that they looked down at Dougal bleeding from a hole in his chest, he swore. He crouched down next to Grizel and Old Helda who worked to stop the bleeding.
“What happened, Dougal?” he asked, praying the grayfaced young man could stay awake long enough to tell him what he needed to know.
“We were attacked in the wood,” Dougal said, his voice a hoarse thread of sound. “Robbie is dead. They thought I was too. ’Twas that William fellow. He took the lass and the bairn.”
“Did ye see which way they rode?”
“West.”
“Good lad.” Bowen glanced at the two women as he stood up. “Do your best by the lad,” he murmured and they both nodded.
“Did he say west?” Wallace asked.
“Aye.”
“That willnae take the mon back to Dunncraig.”
“Nay, it willnae. I think he wants to leave the bodies where they willnae point toward him. Men and horses, lad. If we move fast, we may just have a chance to save them.”
Wallace roared out the orders, and as men hurried to obey, he turned back to Bowen. “I hope we can get her and the bairn back ere that mon of hers finds out what has happened.”
“Too late,” Peter said as he stepped up beside Bowen and pointed toward the man just ri
ding into the bailey.
Chapter Eleven
“Where is she?” Eric demanded.
Bowen grimaced and dragged his fingers through his hair as he looked at Eric. “We think that bastard William has taken her.”
Eric stared at the man. He had sensed something was wrong the moment he had ridden through the gates of Dunnbea. Peter, Wallace, and Bowen were busy gathering men and horses in the bailey, their faces grim. Eric had not even bothered to dismount, just ridden over to where Bowen stood.
“James?” he asked, fear for Bethia a tight knot in his belly.
“Aye, the lad too.”
“How in God’s sweet name did William get into Dunnbea?”
“He didnae. The lass and the bairn had gone out to gather some herbs. They took two men with them. They werenae complete fools. Weel, now one of those men is dead and the other sorely wounded. Peter’s wife Grizel is nay sure he will live.” Bowen mounted the horse Peter brought to him. “We are going out to hunt for them. Are ye with us?”
“Of course.”
“Old Helda and poor Dougal have told us where to begin our search and that will help some,” Bowen said.
As the men rode out of Dunnbea, Eric fell in next to Wallace, with Bowen and Peter close behind. “What possessed the lass to leave the safety of the walls?” he asked when they slowed their pace upon entering the wood.
Wallace shrugged. “I dinnae think she believed it was completely safe to leave, but certainly safe enough to go for a short wander with two armed men. William appeared to have withdrawn from the chase, to be just pleading his right to become guardian to the lad through long, tediously polite messages. That fool uncle and aunt of mine were actually considering the matter, which terrified Bethia more than the chance that William might still plan outright murder.”
“It certainly terrifies me.” Eric glanced at Thomas, who was searching for a trail for them to follow. “Is he good?”
“The best, I think. A few of the neighboring clans have actually borrowed the mon when they had some important tracking to be done. Thomas can find a clue in the bend of a blade of grass.”
“I hope he finds the trail quickly. Bethia and James have already been in William’s hands for too long.”
Wallace frowned. “Do ye think the bastard still means to kill them?”
“Oh, aye.”
“It makes no sense. Everyone would ken that he had done it and why.”
“I am nay sure he has the wit to see that, and even if he did, he is arrogant enough to think that he can explain it all away and maintain his grasp upon Dunncraig.”
“Dinnae worry, mon. We will find her.”
“I hope so. I havenae been wed but a fortnight. I have no wish to become a widower.”
Bethia was aware of two things as she started to wake up: The strong smell of horse filled her nose and she could hear James whimpering. Then her head began to throb and the memory of her capture came back to her with sickening detail. Cautiously, Bethia sat up, fighting the nausea that swept over her. Although the pain in her head made her vision blurry, she looked around for James. Her heart skipped with fear when she saw that Iain, the most brutish of William’s sons, held the baby before him on his saddle.
“Ah, awake, are ye?” William grinned at her as he rode up beside her. “Head hurt, does it?”
“Oh, why dinnae ye just curl up and die,” she grumbled, lifting her hand to rub her forehead only to discover that her wrists were tied together and lashed to the pommel. “We all ken that ye have won. ’Tis naught but childish for ye to gloat about it.”
She could tell by the scowl on William’s face that his good humor had quickly faded and she was glad. A vicious, stupid William was far easier to understand than a pleasant one. This was the man she recognized.
“I have a right to gloat,” William snapped. “All of ye Drummonds, so proud and haughty ye are. Ye all thought I should be so cursed grateful because ye let me take on the name. But that was all ye would give me.”
“That was more than ye had when ye married Robert’s poor besotted aunt. Ye and your loathsome sons would have been ragged and starving in some filthy hovel if she hadnae taken ye in.”
“Dunncraig is mine. I earned it.”
“Doing what? Standing about and boasting about what a fine mon ye are?”
“Finer than any Drummond. Where are they for all their pride? All their beauty and fine ways? Dead. As ye will soon be. As that cursed brat will soon be.”
Despair washed over her as he left her side and rejoined his sons. She fought against it, for it made her weak. Although she could see little chance of escape, especially as long as William kept her and James apart, she knew she had to keep hoping. Without the spark of hope, she would go to her death like a lamb to the slaughter and, worse, take poor little James along with her.
Bethia glanced up at the sky and tried to judge how close it was to sunset. It was not something she had ever been very good at and the pain in her head was not helping her to concentrate, but she felt sunset must be drawing near. Then Bowen would come looking for her. It would be close, but if she could somehow delay William and Bowen was particularly impatient, there was a small chance of rescue. Bethia suspected it was such a small hope, it was a false one, but it gave her something to cling to.
She took several deep breaths and struggled to push aside the pain in her head and her jaw. That pain clouded her thoughts and she needed a clear head. Somehow she was going to have to keep William talking—talking so long that Bowen arrived to cut his murdering throat and she was still alive to cheer him on.
By the time Bethia got her pain under control enough so that she could think without wincing, William ordered a halt. As one of the men untied her and yanked her out of the saddle, she kept her eyes on James. The feeling was just painfully returning to her hands when James was shoved into her arms.
“Get over here and kneel down,” William ordered from where he stood in the middle of the small clearing.
“Ye wish me to just meekly submit? Ye are mad,” Bethia said and shook her head.
Then she bolted. She knew she had no chance at all of escaping so many men, especially carrying James as she was, but miracles could happen. It also wasted time—time in which Bowen might come looking for her. No matter how much she darted and veered she found every route out of the clearing blocked by one of William’s men. Finally one man simply charged her and she was not quick enough to get out of his way. Bethia concentrated simply on holding James out of harm’s way as the burly man slammed into her and brought her down, hard, onto the ground.
Even as she was yanked to her feet, gasping for air, Bethia struggled to quiet a screaming James. She knew he was mostly terrified, not badly hurt, but the look on William’s face told her that James had better stop crying. William looked as if he was more than ready to kill the child immediately. James’s noise would also make it hard for her to get William talking and keep him talking. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks when James was quickly subdued to soft hiccoughs and shudders.
“That was verra foolish,” William said. “Where did ye think ye would go?”
Bethia cursed softly as she was forced down onto her knees so hard that pain shot through her already battered body. “Mayhap I ne’er intended to go anywhere. Mayhap I just did it to annoy you.”
“Aye, I can believe that. Ye have been naught but a thorn in my side since the day ye rode into Dunncraig.”
“Ye killed my sister and tried to kill her child. Did ye expect me to thank ye?”
“I expected ye to be as dim-witted as your sister. She and her foolish husband ne’er guessed my plan. How did ye ken it?” William frowned at her. “Mayhap ye are a witch. Aye, with those eyes, ye probably are.”
He sounded very much like a petulant child, and Bethia wished her dagger had not been taken away from her. She ached to bury it deep in his heart. William spoke as if her efforts to stop him from murdering a child were little more than rude or unk
ind. It showed that he considered James, as well as the child’s parents and his own wife, as nothing more than obstacles on his path to riches, insignificancies to be kicked aside. A man like that was, if not already mad, probably very close to it.
She tossed her head to get the hair out of her eyes because, recalling his remark that she was a witch, she had an idea. Toying with the fear so many had of things they did not understand could be dangerous, for it could get her killed very quickly. If she could make them think she had some power they could hesitate, however. It was foolish for people to think she was evil or had strange powers just because her eyes did not match, but Bethia had felt the sting of that fear before. Now she might actually be able to gain some benefit from it. She stared straight at William, not really surprised when he tensed and took a small step back before he could stop himself.
“It was nay hard to see your foul plans written on your black heart,” she said.
“I kenned it,” he said, his triumph over being right tainted with a hint of fear. “’Twas the only way ye could have escaped me, the only way ye could have kenned which meal held the poison.”
If I am so clever I can read thoughts, what am I doing here? she wanted to rage at him. The man was such a complete fool she was astounded he had stayed alive long enough to torment her. It also enraged her that such a stupid man had succeeded in killing Sorcha and might well succeed in killing her and James. That simply did not seem fair. She did nothing to keep the disdain she felt for him out of her expression. After all, she mused, if she was really such a powerful witch, she would certainly view such a man with utter contempt. Bethia prayed someone would come to help her, for by playing this game, she could easily talk herself into being set afire instead of just having her throat cut. Shaking away that morbid thought, she concentrated on what she should say next.
Moving through the wood as fast as possible without making noise, Eric and the men from Dunnbea trotted toward the sound of James’s crying. Then abruptly all was quiet and Eric felt chilled. “He has stopped.”
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