by Allie Borne
Speaking proudly, her voice echoed about the cavernous keep. “Only cowards kill sleeping men and beat defenseless women. The guilty rogues must pay with their lives tonight!”
“Here! Here! Well said!” roared the crowd. Tankards of ale clashed resoundingly.
The groan of Bryan's arm chair grinding against the stone hearth, as he pushed back his seat at the head of the table and rose, brought the hall to stark silence. All eyes riveted to the Laird as he stood, feet apart and head bowed, his hands clasped behind his back.
“The Murray clan has taken a mighty blow. Just as Miss Luke's face bears the bruises, so do our souls, at the loss of our kin. My heart cries out fer blood and vengeance. Rest assured we will reek retribution upon those men responsible fer this atrocity.
“Tonight, however, we honor the men who gave their lives protecting Our Lady, Miss Warren. We drink and dine in their memory. In the morning, we bury our dead and by eventide we quench our thirst fer blood.” At this the crowd began cheering, Bryan held up a hand.
“There are times that cunning and intrigue strike more lethal blows. I will consider our plan of attack and act, as always, in the clan's best interest. All those loyal and obedient, show yerselves!” Bryan's voice reverberated in Merianne's chest as the clan rose from their benches in unison to kneel and face their laird. Merianne's knees trembled as she, belatedly followed suit.
“Verra well,” Bryan spoke over their bowed heads. “Join me as we drink a toast to Ian Murray, Donald Murray, and Jacob O'Hare. Again, as one the clan rose, grasped their mugs and raised them high.
“To Ian, Donald, and Jacob!” they responded, drinking and slamming down their mugs in a deafening show of solidarity.
Merianne was deeply moved. In her desperation to reclaim her friend, she had forgotten of the clan-those that had died and might yet die in her name. She would not make that mistake again.
They all sat and began telling tales of the men and their bravery, wit, and cunning. Merianne listened and laughed, sharing her own tales of the journey as they were the last days of the men's short lives. She avoided speaking again of the last few moments at camp, responding only when asked about her injuries.
Sir Robert laughed when she claimed that her attacker must look worse than she. His admiring looks began to make Merianne a bit uncomfortable. Unlike Bryan, Robert was dark, with the dashing good looks of a man in his early twenties. He too was unmarried but gave no air of a gentleman in the market for a wife. Instead, he seemed very much interested in Merianne as a paid companion of another sort. She must set him straight without offending the young man.
“Are you often away from home, Sir Robert?”
“Aye. My sister does a fine job of keeping my home running in my absence. Lord Redland sees to the protection of my lands, as I see to the protection of his power. Are ye satisfied with yer position here, Miss Luke?”
“Very, Sir. I feel that I have found my place among these people. Lord Redland has been most accommodating. I am sure that Miss Warren will consider him a most suitable match.”
“And what of yer wishes and desires? Shall they always be put aside for those of yer mistress?”
“I am yet young, Sir Robert. Currently, my wishes and desires revolve around my friend and my position. In a few years, I am certain I will be focused on hearth and home. Until then, I intend to be a most well behaved companion.”
Sir Andrew interjected, eager to help the young lady extricate herself from Robert’s clutches. “Ye will make some man verra lucky. Here comes my brother now. Perhaps he will tell us of his interview with the captive.”
Bryan approached with a pitcher. As Merianne poured each man a goblet full of the amber liquid, Sir Robert asked Redland, “Any news? Did the man give up any information?”
“Not readily, nay. But he had some nasty fingernail marks across his nose and cheek, as well as a busted lip. I find that I doubt the coincidence.”
“Did he look worse than me, then?” Merianne prompted.
“Mary, the mon looked worse than thee, far before his face was marred by yer hand.”
Merianne blushed with pleasure at the warmth in Bryan’s tone. The interaction was not lost on Sir Andrew. He felt pity for the young woman whose bride groom sat before him. Miss Warren would return to find that she had been displaced by her servant. Neither Bryan nor Mary might realize it yet, but they were besotted.
“I persuaded him to admit that he had been to the campsite before,” Bryan continued. “Other than that, the man gave me no information.”
“The plaid he had been wearing was that of the Cumyn clan,” Arthur interjected, leaning in at his seat beside Bryan to add to the conversation. If I were him, I’d clam up, also. Whatever we might do to 'im is nothing compared to what his Laird might do, were he to talk.”
Redland nodded. “I will speak with him again. I will approach him as I might a messenger, and see if he will give me a motive fer the abduction.”
“When, can we leave out?” Meri interjected. “I see no point in negotiating. This Cumyn Laird seems ruthless enough to destroy Mary.”
“We will not act out of ire, Miss Luke,” Lord Redland sighed. “I am concerned for Miss Warren’s safety as well. We will do her no good if we get ourselves captured or harmed. We will plan out our attack for the morrow.”
Merianne knew that Redland was right. Yet, she felt as if she would crawl from her skin if she could not make some progress towards recovering her friend. “How will we recover her if she is ensconced in another Laird’s keep? We will never discover her. We must persuade this Lord Cumyn to produce Mary somehow.”
“Aye, we must. First, we will determine the motive. I have an idea of what he might want, but I am unsure.”
“Allow me to talk with my attacker. Perhaps seeing me will startle him into confessing the purpose of their abduction.”
“Absolutely no'. You will no' go near that bastard.”
Meri blanched at the vehemence in Bryan’s voice. Yet, the seed of an idea planted itself in her mind.
“What if...What if I were to pay our captive a visit, to brag to him that he had the true Miss Warren within his grasp but let me go. Then, if he were released by you, with a message to his Laird, without knowing that you were aware of my visit, he might run to his Laird.”
“And if he chooses to kill her and cut his losses?”
“That would depend on why it was he wanted to capture me, I mean Miss Warren, to begin with.”
“He likely wished to cause problems between myself and your mistress’s kin. I really can’t imagine he plans on returning Miss Warren of his own accord,” Bryan theorized. “Perhaps, if he believes she is merely a servant and is also given the opportunity for a trade, then he might return her.”
“And what or whom would ye trade, My Lord?” Arthur asked.
“Myself.”
“What?!” Merianne sputtered, aghast. “Why on earth would you sacrifice yourself for a woman you have never met?”
“She is my betrothed. And I would not offer myself up as a sacrifice. I would offer a challenge. If he wins, I will give him my best stallion. If I win, he will turn over my ‘wife’s’ servant.' Ye will pose as my wife,” Bryan explained, tilting his head towards Meri.
“Why would he agree?” Merianne asked, skeptical of a plan that left so much to chance.
“He believes himself my superior. By besting me in front of his kinsmen he will gain the respect he feels he deserves. He covets my stallion for stud horse. He will be tempted. What will he do with a maid servant?”
Merianne nodded. “Are you certain that he will act honorably?”
“Nay. That is why I will send the challenge with the ruffian in the dungeon. If he agrees to the competition, ye will make an appearance, a convincing show, then leave the competition field. I cannot combat the devil if I am distracted by thoughts of your safety.”
Meri’s heart warmed at the thought of Bryan’s regard for her well-being.
; Bryan could not keep his eyes off of the fairy-born lass. How will I ever sleep tonight, he thought, with her lying in the room beyond, tossing and turning mere yards from me? I shall be driven mad by her lithe little body. Even as he bit down on his venison, Bryan noted the excited rise and fall of her chest. He longed to wrap his hands about her waist and sit her upon his lap to dine. He longed to feed her venison until she stilled those hands and her breasts rose and fell more slowly, languidly.
Curse me for a fool for entertaining such impure thoughts, Bryan shook his head and attended to Arthur’s words to his left. “I recommend challenging him to a wrestling match, My Lord. He is liable to beat ye at any lifting competition. It is best to beat him in one on one combat, so as to destroy his hope for becoming master over ye. He is a large man but he is not as fast or able as thee in a fight.”
Merianne looked at Bryan silently and contemplated the lethal lines of his body. As much as she admired the scar above his lip, she did not fancy seeing him beaten and bruised. She very much disliked the nature of this conversation.
“I cannot see how besting him will solve anything long term. He will simply become more resentful and plot to act again in a similar fashion. Can there not be a clever, more civilized solution to this problem? Besides, the man is a murderer and a kidnapper of women. How can you trust him to honor his side of the bargain?”
“The stakes. If he loses, he loses nothing of great value.”
“What of his pride? I should think that is all the man has left.”
“After I beat him and secure the return of my bride, I will explain to him in no uncertain terms that he is to leave my lands and never to return. If he does return, I will consider it an act of aggression and destroy his keep. He will not go so far as to incite me to violence.”
“What of the three men he has killed? Is there no justice for them?” Merianne leaned forward and whispered harshly.
“Shall we erase their deaths by adding dozens to the score?” Bryan returned, continuing to stare into her eyes.
“They died protecting me, protecting Miss Warren. I will not think they have died in vain.”
Bryan leaned toward Meri to murmur vehemently, “They died sleeping at their posts. They failed in their duty and lost their lives in the bargain. I will not ask men to die for me unless I am certain that the cause is just. Cumyn’s men are not necessarily my enemy, only their laird. Now, let us speak no more of this at the dinner table,” turning to the nearest servant, Bryan bellowed loudly and cheerfully, “I am ready for my dessert!”
Merianne really knew better than to challenge the Laird in his own keep, and to ask him questions he dare not answer in front of those he could not fully trust. She pressed her lips together to stop her tongue from moving of its own volition. There would be time enough for questioning Bryan later. For now, she would concentrate on forcing a few morsels of food down her throat. Her stomach was tied in knots and her chest had turned to lead. If she did not eat at least a little bit now, she would be of no use to Mary on the morrow. The lack of an appetite was starting to make her weak.
As the pudding was passed about, Bryan caught Meri’s attention and said beneath his breath. “Go now, with Arthur, to speak with the prisoner. Make it look as if you are retiring for the night.” Looking at Merianne appraisingly, he added, “Arthur, fetch Mary my brides’ plaid. We want this to look convincing.”
Merianne’s blood pulsed along the side of her neck and thrummed at her wrists. She was not ready to face her attacker. When would someone be ready for such thing? Yet, she would do so. She would plant a seed of doubt within the rotter’s brain and send him running off to plant the poison in his master’s head as well. She must leave him thinking that she was Merianne Warren and that she and her kin would be very put out if anything was to happen to her companion. In short, she must tell the truth.
“Miss Luke, I am uncertain as to the wisdom of yer task,” Arthur began as he led her up the stair at the back of the hall. “I will not be leaving ye alone with the brute. How will he think ye are coming without the Laird’s knowin' if you are in my company?”
“Knows he you are the laird’s man?”
“It is clear enough I am a Highlander, Miss.”
“This is true...Well, then, I suppose we will just leave him guessing. I will do all of the talking and he will assume that you are there because I bid it. I will be claiming to be the lady of the keep. Your presence will support that. It matters little if he thinks the Laird knows of my visit or not.”
“I suppose,” Arthur conceded.
As they came to the end of the hallway, Arthur pushed open a heavy oak door and led Merianne down a narrow flight of poorly lit stairs. They continued past another landing with a door that led to “servant’s quarters,” according to Arthur. Arthur held up a finger, indicating that she should wait for a moment as he ducked into a tiny doorway. When Arthur emerged, he cradled a neatly folded plaid.
“Mrs. Fraser has crafted this for the new mistress.” Arthur carefully unfolded the wool and asked, “May I?” At Merianne's nod, Arthur wrapped the long piece about her and thinner piece across her shoulder. As a finishing touch, he attached the broach, another of Bryan's wedding gifts for his wife.
Arthur stood back to examine his work and sighed. “It fits ye perfectly, Miss. Ye must be the very size of yer mistress. Thou art the very image of a Highland Lady.”
Merianne could not help but rub her hands along the red and black fabric. She traced the gold and silver broach. “Tout Prest,” she whispered. “I am ready.”
“Aye, it is our clan’s call to action. Seems fitting at a moment such as this,” Arthur whispered, struck by the scene before him.
Something primitive within Merianne called out to be a part of this clan, a part of Redland’s life. She felt too attached to the plaid and the fact that it communicated these very wishes. She would be hard pressed to return the items, when time came.
“Come, let us continue with our task.” Arthur turned and led Meri down yet another, smaller and darker flight of stone steps. Finally, they came to a small landing and a huge, heavily bolted door.
“Once I open this door, My Lady, you will see a narrow walkway. There are three doors with three prison chambers. The man we are keeping is in the last chamber on your right. He is chained and much bruised. Try not to show reaction or weakness as wolves like he will feed on your fright.”
“Yes, Arthur, I will be careful. Thank you,” Merianne dipped her head and clasped her hands in front of her to still their shaking.
Using the keys at his waist to open the ancient planked sentry, the door creaked open and Arthur strode before her to insure her security. Banging on the cell door in question, Arthur hollered at the prisoner in his coarsest brogue, “Get your serry self up, the Lady Redland is ‘ere to speak with ye’” Unlocking the door and yanking it outward, Arthur swaggered into the cell and checked the bonds of the Cumyn man. Nodding at Merianne, he stepped to the side and allowed her to enter. She knew the role of mistress well and she would play it to perfection.
Chapter 3-The Interrogation
Lifting her head, Meri looked down her tiny nose at the offensive creature. “So this is the loathsome man who laid hands on me?” Tapping him with the toe of her boot as if he were a maggot-infested carcass, she smirked.
“Tis true what my husband says. You do look poorly. I can hardly be proud of besting a man when he is a half-wit, Arthur,” Meri turned and spoke to her companion.
The man’s eyes burned with his clear wish to finish the job he had started. She knew she had his attention, so she said. “To think, the idiot had the true Mistress Warren in his greasy palms the entire time and he walked away. It is pathetic, really.”
“I suppose your master will be wanting some sort of ransom or favor for his capture of my maid. I must say, I am rather put out...All the time I put into training the chit...You may tell him that I would like her back.”
“My husband would just
as soon slit his throat, and yours, but then, he is less forgiving then me. He dislikes cowards and ingrates. I have persuaded him to give you a chance to redeem yourself.” Taking the tip of her boot, Meri lifted the man’s grizzled chin and looked, undaunted into his black eyes.
“I believe that cowards and ingrates have their uses. They will, in the end, act predictably. They will always act to save their sorry skin.” Merianne flicked her boot and his head thunked into the stone wall of the cell. She continued talking through his moans, “So, here is how this will work. I will instruct Arthur to allow you to ‘escape.' It will not take long for my husband to determine that you are not where he left you. He will track you down like the dog that you are. If you are a bit cleverer than I expect, perhaps you will make it back to the Cumyn clan. I expect that my husband will challenge your laird’s honor and give him an opportunity to save the lives of his clansmen by facing him.
“If anything should happen to my maid servant, however, I will not be satisfied.” Merianne moved her boot to cover the soft flesh of the man’s throat and continued. “I would not allow me to become dissatisfied. I do not take kindly to disappointment. It will not be you chasing me, next time, urchin, it will be the other way around. I can do very uncomfortable things with a dagger.”
As the man began to look quite uncertain of her, Merianne continued, “Shall I demonstrate for you?”
“P-please, My Lady, that wul not be necessary. I wul tell my laird what ye ‘ave to say.”
“I don’t know...Arthur?”
“Aye, My Lady?” Arthur offered, eagerly.
“Shall I cut off his manhood, to prevent the lecher from trying to accost any more young maidens?”
“Ach, 'e might bleed to death, like the last one, remember?”
“But I am certain I will have better luck this time, Arthur. He is a large man and less likely to bleed out. Besides, I will take my time and cut carefully.”
“Then, be my guest,” Arthur strode toward the man as if to pull up his tunic.
“Nay!” he shrieked.