by Jackie Ivie
The door flap dropped as Payton’s father exited. And then it lifted again. Dropped. Each time with a blast of cold air.
“But…Seth has words…for you!”
Davey had never shown much in courage. Payton knew he wasn’t the lone one wondering what had gotten into him.
“Words? The mute?”
Payton’s father roared with laughter after his announcement. It was said at a volume no one in camp could avoid hearing it. Payton heard it clearly enough, but had to hold his breath to hear more. Davey’s voice came as a mumble of sound, but it was easy to listen to the laird’s answer.
“Are all of you gone deaf? Get your carcass moving! Stones! I need a goodly amount of them! Take both wagons! ’Twill take some to get the measure of the walls! And the height. And mind you, I need logs as well!”
More of Davey’s mumbling came then. It was impossible to make out what he was saying since he must be moving away and Payton was bound into position and couldn’t move closer to the walls. He could always count on his father’s booming volume, though.
“Big logs! And get me some carpenters! We’ve got to build a siege tower! I’m na’ taking that bastard’s occupation of Dunn-Fadden property another sennight! You say he talks with sticks? Draws what he means? Are you fashing me, lad? I would na’ continue it, if—”
Davey’s voice was high-pitched as he interrupted the laird and Payton caught a breath at his cousin’s daring. He fully expected to hear a slap after such a thing, but all he got was silence after Davey’s outburst.
Cursed silence. There wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it, either.
All of which lasted long enough to get the healer crone to her knees at his side, twisting a bit of whiskey-soaked twine between her thumb and fingers, and making Payton long for the oblivion again. Josephine gave him a gap-toothed smile just before she poked the needle through his flesh, and if Payton wasn’t as stiff as a board already in preparation, he’d have gone that way with the fresh prick of pain.
“Any harm! Any at all…and I’ll have him skinned a-fore I plant him!”
His father’s voice preceded his entry into the tent again, sending cold dawn air into the enclosure and making the torch light waver. Payton held himself stiff, expecting any moment to feel the whip his father normally didn’t spare. Instead he got the laird at his side again, with a grin on his mouth that split his beard with the white of teeth. Then Payton got a beefy hand on his shoulder, rocking him slightly from the stiff position he was maintaining.
“You’ve done it, lad!”
“I…have?” Payton queried.
“Aye. Justly and rightly, too. And with little time, as well. I’m that proud of you, son. That proud.”
Payton narrowed his eyes a bit, and would have frowned except the bond at his forehead holding him in place didn’t allow him movement enough since it was rubbing against where the Dunn-Fadden thistle-wrapped falcon claw crest wound was still scabbed.
“I doona’ ken…” Payton started, and then just let the words end. He’d never received such full approval from his sire. And here it was taking place, not in the Chieftain’s Rooms as would be orderly and proper, but in a siege tent outside the demesne of his castle, with the clan healer Josephine as a witness, and with a string of twine hanging from somewhere in his belly since she’d stopped her sewing. He shook his head.
“I’ve done sent those fools off for stones, too.”
“They’re needed for the catapult,” Payton replied.
“Na’ now. The laird of Kilchurning canna’ ever have the castle, nor can he have the dales. If I continue this assault, I’ll cause harm to my property. And that I refuse to do.”
“’Tis my property,” Payton told him.
His dad grinned wider. Then he chuckled. “Aye. So, ’tis.”
“You’re calling off the siege?”
“Nae. Never that. I just have to wait. Nae need to blight the walls. Anything done will need rebuilding.”
“You’ll let him win?” Payton’s lower lip dropped slightly.
“The man canna’ have a win. Na’ now. We do.”
“I doona’ understand.” He didn’t either. Only a fool would claim a win when they were outside the demesne, in a tent in the midst of winter, while an interloper held their castle. And he knew his father wasn’t a fool.
“The king’s edict was clear. The castle and lands are all yours if you hold them and keep control over them. And that means you have to keep the heiress to your side.” His father rocked back on his heels and rubbed his hands together as if that explained everything.
“I am na’ holding much at the moment,” Payton pulled in a breath as Josephine went back to her task, pricking and pulling at his flesh.
“Well, your son will.”
Payton went slack-jawed as he lost his breath. Then he lost his stiff post. And then he just lost feeling, as giddiness overtook everything else. Then, he was smiling larger than his father.
“My…son?” he choked out.
“’Twas Seth’s news. I’ve done given the group of them the day off. I’ll give the entire camp the day off! ’Tis that wondrous!”
“My…son?” Payton said again.
“Aye. And my grandson.”
“My…son?” Payton said it yet again, although in a stronger tone.
“Takes a bit to get used to, I ken.”
“My son!” Payton’s voice was back. He didn’t even feel what Josephine was doing to him. He didn’t feel much of anything except joy.
And then the worry started.
Chapter 8
“When do they plan on sending me food today?”
Lady Evelyn looked up from her incessant sewing on the tapestry, but she didn’t reply before getting back to her work. She did set her lips tighter, but other than that, she looked engrossed in her needlework, and not like she was listening to her niece’s complaints at all. Just as she’d done last week, and the week before, and all of four months plus a fortnight!
“And even when they do send something, all they manage is watered-down broth! There is na’ even meat to the broth they cook! I doona’ even get a crust of bread. Do I deserve such punishment? And for what? I’ve been a model prisoner!”
“You tried to escape last Sabbath,” Lady Evelyn replied.
“Poorly. Obviously. And is that reason to starve me now?”
“Most clans could have, and would have, done worse. You ken it as well as I do. The bleached skulls mounted at the gate tower are mute testimony of that.”
“I have value. They will na’ do that to me.”
Lady Evelyn clicked her tongue. “True. You are also difficult. You complained until that poor man ran from you this morn.”
“That was because they send swill worse than pond water!”
Dallis made a face at the door before looking over at her aunt again.
“’Tisn’t something they wish to do, Dallis lass. They’re sending the best they have.”
Dallis snorted with an unladylike noise. “The best they have?”
“Aye. And Laird Dunn-Fadden wants it that way. ’Tis why every man to Kilchurning’s forces is at the gate as we speak.”
“How do you ken that?”
“Because I heard the latest taunt. And was there when he tossed a meatless joint over the wall with his catapult.”
“A joint?”
“He’s got his clansmen filling the grounds outside the gate, just outside of arrow range. They’re roasting four venison carcasses over open fire, all browning nicely and filling your fields with the most heavenly smell.”
“That’s unfair…and making my mouth water.”
“’Tis exactly what he’s done to Kilchurning’s forces, as well. The entire castle is watching, with mouths watering and bellies taunting.”
“Why would he resort to such a thing?”
“I believe Dunn-Fadden’s lost his patience, and I’m a-feared I ken why.”
“Why?”
&nbs
p; The older woman sighed heavily. “I told the Earl of Kilchurning of the bairn.”
Dallis’s eyes went wide. “You did…what?”
“Aye. I told them! Someone had to.”
“How could you?” Dallis was past the four month mark of carrying a babe, and beyond an increased bosom, little of it showed. She was wearing the same clothing, keeping herself covered whenever another was in the rooms, and she was going to keep it her secret and hers alone. Until she could get to safety.
“I had to. ’Tis the lone way I could get meals of substance for you!”
“You call that substance?” Dallis asked.
“’Twas the best they have. They slaughtered the last animal a fortnight ago. There is na’ much else worth the eat. Complain to the others if you like. They’re at starvation’s door.”
“This canna’ continue!”
“Which is why I told Kilchurning. He’s got to make that Dunn-Fadden see sense! He’s got to realize that further siege will harm his lone grandson…if Dunn-Fadden even knows about the bairn. It was foolish, I ken. But I was hopeful they’d end the siege and do this fairly.”
“It dinna’ work, did it?” Dallis asked.
“Na’ unless you think cooking meat within smell of the gate is an end to it.”
“Men! The least they could have done was send us a meated joint. Mayhap through our window. Right there.”
“Men are na’ smart enough for such. Too much brawn. Nae sense. You just keep pacing and walking. ’Tis best for the child. And they’d best start negotiating with Dunn-Fadden for that venison. That’s what they’d best—!”
A strange air-sound followed by a thud interrupted her. Dallis gaped at the huge claw that latched to one of her fur rugs as it slithered along the floor in a jerking fashion and then clanked against the wall, digging deeply into the stone.
“Look! A grappling hook!” She was pointing, but it was unnecessary. Lady Evelyn was watching the dark stone where the hook was latched, looking incongruous with a dangling white rug as an accessory.
“Perfect shot!” The announcement carried too much sound.
Perfect? Payton felt the gut-clenching reaction the moment he’d launched the hook, knowing he’d swung it at too low of an arc, he’d let it fly a moment too soon, and he’d sent it with too much force. Consequently, it wasn’t high enough to snag a merlon of the crenellation, but was instead going to fly with precise force, right into her room. And right near her.
He hadn’t aimed to send a hooked weapon of battle into a room where his wife was imprisoned! He could have hurt his bairn. Or the vessel. The possibility of either caused him such emotion, he had to blink it rapidly away. He spent the time awaiting any scream from the rooms above by wiping his palms along the kilt grazing his thighs, where the damp melded with the black, white, and green of his plaid.
He didn’t know that fear weakened a man, made his palms wet, his belly clench, his eyes moist, and his limbs tremble. He didn’t dare let the others in the boat know of fear’s effect. It was bad enough that he did.
“Doona’ just sit there wasting time! Go get her!” That was Davey.
Seth-the-Silent wasn’t saying anything—as was his creed, Dugan was smiling, while Alan was just bobbing his head and looking in awe at Payton.
He motioned for Redmond to precede him. They’d already decided it when Payton had bested the others last eve. At every challenge. He was still the strongest, now that he’d healed. Easily. There wasn’t anyone else he’d trust with lowering her from the tower. It was his chore.
But the lass thought Payton dead. Her reaction at finding that false was bound to be entertaining. It had been an amusing thought before they’d concocted this rescue. Now, he couldn’t risk the woman’s screams of shock or her rage at finding him alive. Although a dead faint might be helpful in getting her out of the tower in the sling they had. Either way, they couldn’t risk it.
Redmond was first. He had to get it announced and the reaction handled before Payton got there with the sling. He knew Redmond wasn’t desirous of his task. The man nodded once at him and started climbing.
Payton watched him get halfway before moving forward.
“Oh my. That Dunn-Fadden has more smarts than I credited him with.” Lady Evelyn had a note of amazement staining her voice. She’d also given off her seated position and moved to stand beside Dallis. They both watched as the thick rope attached to the hook moved back and forth by a finger-width of space in more jerking motions as something heavy climbed it.
“He couldn’t have created a better diversion than those deer carcasses, either. How else could he get you spirited away without alarm? It’s brilliant!”
Dallis wasn’t arguing. She was watching, breathing shallowly as the rope slid back and forth in a sawing motion and keeping her hands clasped for lack of something better to hold to.
“He’d better have sent a sturdy clansman or two as well. I’ll na’ have you injured by the rescue, brilliant though ’tis.”
A hand came over the edge of her oriel and then the other. Dallis didn’t know she was holding her breath until the head of Payton’s second-in-command came into view. It was all right, then. He was sturdy. He was known. And he was going to see her rescued, and then protected, and for certain well fed.
He pulled himself over the balcony and then fell into a heap into it, where he sat for precious moments breathing hard. Then he rolled onto his knees, lifted himself up and started walking toward her, speaking as he went.
“Good. You’re quiet. Did you secure the door?” His voice was gruff as he asked it, before he reached her and then went past.
“I’m a prisoner. Why would my door na’ be secure?” Dallis answered, and was forced to swivel to one side to grant him room.
“From the inside. Jesu’!”
He’d reached her door and pulled her bolt into position, making a creak of noise from the unused metal bolt it was fastened with.
“There.” He announced it before walking back toward her.
“You hurt?” he asked when he was an arms-span from her, and being held at that distance by exactly that.
Dallis didn’t know why, but something about the man’s demeanor was frightening, although she’d never admit it. She’d never been looked at with such distaste and distrust. She stood for several moments, hands holding him off and watching him breathe hard.
“Nae,” she finally answered.
“’Tis said you carry a bairn,” he said.
Dallis looked over at Lady Evelyn. That woman had her eyes wide, was shaking her head like a clock pendulum, and was holding her tapestry to her like a shield.
“Did you have to tell everyone?” Dallis asked.
Lady Evelyn didn’t answer, but the head shaking got worse. Dallis turned back to the man at her palms.
“Well? Do you or doona’ you?”
He was running his gaze insolently over her before meeting her eyes again.
“Aye,” she answered.
He grunted, whether in approval or not, she couldn’t tell. Then he was pulling a length of cloth from his belt.
“Is it Payton Dunn-Fadden’s bairn?” he continued.
“Nae other man has touched me,” Dallis replied.
He grunted again and draped the piece of material over her hand. As a sling, it was going to be severely inadequate.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” she asked. “Tie my hair back?”
“’Tis a gag. For your mouth.”
Dallis’s eyes went huge. “I will na’!” she announced.
“You’d force my hand? I would na’ wish the bairn harmed.”
“But I want to be rescued. Why would you gag me?” she asked.
“An arguing woman needs silenced. Especially during a rescue.”
“I’ll na’ argue,” she replied.
“You’ll na’ scream, either?” he asked.
“Do I look to be screaming?”
He pulled in a breath and shoved it ou
t in a long, heavy sigh. “Payton dinna’ warn me with sufficient words,” he replied.
“To what?” Her tone was acidic. She couldn’t help it. She’d heard the Dunn-Faddens possessed beauty. She’d also heard they had a dearth of wits that went along with it. And here she was facing a perfect example of it.
“The argumentative nature of his bride.”
“Show me a rescue, and I’ll cease the argue.”
“I have na’ got time for this.”
He had her swiveled with her back against him and the gag in her mouth with such speed, Dallis couldn’t comprehend it at first. Then she was biting hard on the material and screaming her anger. And then it all turned to iced shock as her husband materialized from her balcony, tossing a lump from his back onto the stone floor as he went. She was in luck the clansman was holding her when her legs refused to do it.
“She took the news well, I see,” Payton said as he approached them.
Dallis had sagged against the man at her back, forcing him to hold her weight up. And with Payton’s approach, everything weakened even further. She could barely function past the loud pump of each heartbeat and the tremble overtaking everything. He was alive? The reaction was sending pings of emotion through her jaw and into her scalp, and bringing tears to her eyes.
Dallis couldn’t decipher what the emotion making her reel was. She told herself it wasn’t joy, or something so closely akin to it, they meshed. And then she worked at believing it.
He’s alive! Not only alive…but well; recovered, fully and totally. And he was stunning. Even more so than before, as the frame blocking the sunset proved. He loomed larger and more menacing with each silent step nearer. Or it was her own ears silencing his movements. Dallis couldn’t hear over the rushing sound in her ears. Payton looked even larger than before, more muscled, more powerful. It wasn’t possible, but nothing in front of her eyes disputed it.
“Evening, Wife.”