“Aye, aye,” said Tormand. “I am just trying to find the key to those chains.”
“Here,” said Edmund as he came out of the shadows of the passageway and handed the keys to Tormand. “That last guard had them on him. Are ye going to tend to him, then?”
“Aye, the rest of ye get up there and see if any of the others need help. We need those gates opened.” As the men ran off, Tormand hurried to James’ side and began to unlock his chains.
“Do ye have an army with ye?” James asked and then cursed when he was finally set firmly on his feet and found that hours of hanging in chains had left him a little unsteady.
“A small one,” replied Tormand as he supported James while his brother tried to regain his ability to move with some semblance of grace.
“Where did ye get one?”
“A few villagers who had some skill with a sword. About a half dozen of your old guard who ne’er lost their loyalty to ye. Oh, and a few MacLarens.”
“MacLarens? We are feuding with them. Donnell’s last raid cost that laird his son.”
“Simon convinced them that ye and most of the people of Dunncraig werenae responsible for that and if they truly wanted the one who was they had best become your closest, most loyal allies. To swear a form of fealty to ye in front of Simon is much akin to swearing it to the king himself. They want Donnell.”
“So do I. Did ye hear all he said?” Feeling steady on his feet, James searched for his clothes and then began to dress, eager to join in whatever battle was going on upstairs.
“Och, aye, and Simon was listening verra carefully. I think he would like Donnell to be captured and nay killed, for he wants the names of those in power who helped him condemn an innocent mon.”
As he buckled on his sword, James said, “I want him alive so that others can hear his confessions. Now, how did ye find the way in here? I hadn’t yet given ye the directions or a map when I had to flee Dunncraig, and no one else here kens where they are.”
“That is nay exactly true,” said Tormand. “Your lass does.”
“Annora? But she only came through the passage the one time.”
“It seems it is all it takes for her to recall every step.”
“Astonishing. So, where is she now? I think Egan beat her and I would like to be sure she is all right.”
“Weel, she is here.” Tormand shrugged when James glared at him. “She couldnae tell us how to get here or draw a map, for she recalls only how to get where she is going when she can see it.”
“That makes no sense.”
Hearing those words, Annora sighed and, putting her hand on the wall, attempted to stand up. “I have heard that said quite a bit tonight,” she said.
“Annora?”
James hurried over to her and then hesitated. Even in the shadowed corner she stood in she did not look well. Gently taking her by the arm, he led her into the brighter light of a torch-lit dungeon. He gaped when he finally got a good look at her and then a hard, cold rage began to fill him.
“Your poor wee face,” he said softly as he lightly touched one of her more livid bruises on her high cheeks. “Egan did this to ye, didnae he?”
“Aye. I wasnae giving him or Donnell the answers they wanted,” She touched his equally bruised cheek. “Ye arenae looking so verra much better yourself.”
“T’will heal.”
“As will mine.”
“Are ye sure ye are all right?”
She smiled and nodded. Annora could feel his eagerness to go and join in the battle to regain his home and she was not going to hold him back. She did her best to hide the fact that she could barely stand up, locking her knees in place when her legs wobbled from the pain and weakness she no longer had the strength to fight. She had to get James to go and fight before she fell down and he felt compelled to help her instead.
“Go, James,” she said. “Go and save Dunncraig.”
“If ye need help—” he began.
“Nay, I got this far without your help.” He did not need to know that she had had to get a lot of help to get this far. “I ken ye truly want, e’en need to be a part of this fight, so go and fight. But do try nay to kill Donnell as Simon thinks he will be more use alive, at least for a little while.”
“I will try, but can I kill Egan?”
There was such a boyish look on his face despite the grim request he was making that she had to smile. “Aye, I dinnae think anyone wants or needs him alive.”
He gave her a brief, gentle kiss on her bruised mouth and then bounded up the stairs. Annora looked at Tormand, who was studying her closely. She tried to stand up a little straighter, but his crooked smile told her she was failing.
“He needs to be in on the battle,” she said.
“Aye, he does. And ye need to be in bed,” he said.
“I can make my way there. James needs ye to watch his back, doesnae he?”
Tormand took her by the arm and started to help her up the stairs. “Edmund and Simon will see to that duty until I can join them.”
Annora needed to go up only one step to know that she badly needed his help. He had to give her more and more of his support and strength as they climbed the stairs. By the time he led them through the doorway at the top of the stairs, she was shaking from pain and weakness so badly he was nearly carrying her.
Once in the great hall they saw that a confrontation had begun among Simon, Donnell, James, and Egan. Tormand set Annora on a bench near the doors that led to the kitchens and moved to stand near James. Annora felt a movement at her side and looked to find Big Marta there, Meggie hiding behind her but peeking out from behind her skirts. Meggie looked horrified by Annora’s wounds, so she forced her mouth into a smile to reassure the child. A soft grunt from Big Marta told her that that woman did not believe her act in the slightest.
“Shall I help ye to your bed, lass?” asked Big Marta.
“In a wee bit,” Annora replied, knowing she was going to have to be carried but not wanting to admit to that much in front of Meggie. “I think I need to see this.”
Big Marta stared at her bruised face for a moment and then nodded. “Aye, I think ye do.”
“Ye brought MacLarens into Dunncraig!” yelled Donnell as if James was the one who was in the wrong.
They arenae my enemies,” said James. “’Tis ye they want to fight and I think they deserved the opportunity to avenge the death of their laird’s eldest son.” James looked at Egan and saw Annora’s battered face. “As for ye, I mean to cut off a piece of ye for every bruise ye inflicted upon Annora.”
“So I was right,” said Egan, facing James squarely as Donnell stepped back. “Ye have made her your whore.”
He knew it was wrong to allow his anger to interfere in a battle, but James heard himself growl in fury and he attacked Egan. It took him just a few swings of his sword to regain the calm that was needed to fight a mon with a sword. Once he did gain control of his emotions he began to coldly and precisely back Egan into a corner.
Egan’s style of fighting was rash and consisted mostly of trying to cut a man’s head off. James knew he had the skill to beat this man and he began to use it. Within minutes Egan was sweating and bleeding from a dozen small wounds, but he had managed to keep James from striking a death blow.
“Are ye going to surrender?” James asked the man, feeling honor-bound to offer the man that choice.
“For what? To hang beside the fool that confessed all in front of a king’s man?”
“Ye might be able to buy yourself some leniency by offering to tell of all the crimes your laird is guilty of.”
“I think not.”
Egan’s sudden attack caught James by surprise and he paid for that with a large gash in his side and a smaller one in his leg. However, Egan did not have the skill to take advantage of that. The moment he regained his balance, James attacked Egan. The resulting battle was quick. Within minutes Egan was faltering so badly that James barely had to think about the swing of his sword
that finally cut the man down. As soon as Egan fell to the floor, his life’s blood rushing out of a clean cut to his throat, James turned his attention back to Donnell.
“Do ye surrender?” he asked.
To his surprise, Donnell did, throwing his sword at Simon’s feet and allowing that man to bind his hands. James staggered, a weakness from a loss of blood and the time he had spent hanging in chains briefly overwhelming him a little, and Tormand was immediately at his side to help him stand and face Donnell one last time. Before he had his wounds tended to, he needed to be certain that this was the end, that he would soon be a free man and have his lands returned to him.
“Did ye hear all ye needed to, Simon?” he asked the man.
“Oh, aye, more than enough. That and the journal and the witnesses we have will be enough to clear your name,” Simon replied.
“What journal?” demanded Donnell.
“Mary wrote a journal in which she said a lot about all of your crimes,” replied James.
The look on Donnell’s face told James that he was rethinking his surrender. It was clear that the man had thought to use his friends or blackmail of important men to get himself out of the dangerous tangle he found himself in. It was not going to work this time. In fact, James would not be surprised if some of the ones Donnell had blackmailed into helping him last time would be eager to see the man hanged for his crimes.
As Simon and Edmund dragged Donnell away, James went over to the bench Annora sat on and waited as Big Marta fetched her simples bag so that she could tend to his wound. When Meggie cautiously approached him James mustered up a smile but it did little to lessen the concern in her brown eyes. There was curiosity there and James had the feeling he was about to be pressed with a lot of hard questions.
“Who are ye?” asked Meggie. “Ye arenae the wood-carver, are ye?”
“Nay, lass, I am Sir James Drummond, the former laird of Dunncraig.”
“That was my father’s name, ye ken. He was the mon who was married to my mother when she had me and that makes him my father. Doesnae it?”
“Aye, that makes him your father.” James saw no sense in trying to avoid this conversation or turn the child’s thoughts elsewhere. He suspected Meggie was not a child who would be put off a subject she was interested in or deterred from getting answers to her questions.
Annora watched the different expressions on Meggie’s face and felt a little uneasy when she saw a flash of anger in her brown eyes. Ever since Meggie had confessed that she did not believe Donnell was her real father she had sometimes mentioned the previous laird. Since he had been married to her mother, Meggie had already begun to suspect that he had been her father. Annora had offered no opinions, for she knew James had wanted to tell the little girl the truth himself. What James did not know was that Meggie had sometimes thought that her real father had left because of her. Annora regretted not telling him about that, for she feared he was about to be confronted with the fury of a child who thought she had been tossed aside, deserted and unloved.
“So if ye are Sir James Drummond, then ye are my father.”
“Aye, I am.”
“Why did ye go away?” Meggie demanded.
“Because MacKay had everyone believing I killed your mother and I was declared an outlaw. Have ye not heard that tale?”
“Aye, some of it. Ye didnae kill my mother, did ye?”
“Nay, MacKay did.”
“Weel, that doesnae surprise me. He was always killing people.”
“And so what do ye think, Meggie-mine?” asked James. “Are ye ready to accept me as your father or are we going to have to discuss it a wee bit more?”
Meggie chewed her lip as she studied the man seated before her. “Ye didnae leave because I was a bad girl?”
“Nay! I left because it was the only way I could stay alive to try and clear my name and regain my child and my land,” he said. “I would ne’er have left ye just because ye did something naughty.”
She looked at his wounds and then smiled. “Weel then, we had best let Big Marta fix those wounds as I cannae have my da bleeding all o’er the place.”
James took her into his arms and held her tightly for a moment, kissing the top of her head. He felt tears sting his eyes but blinked them away, knowing that Meggie could easily misinterpret them. When she started to wriggle in his hold he let her go, knowing it would take time for acceptance to become the love of a child for her father.
“I think Annora needs tending to, Big Marta.” Meggie sat down by Annora and very gently began to stroke her hair. “Dinnae ye worry, Annora. We will see that ye are made all better.”
“That would be nice,” said Annora and then slowly began to slide off the bench, unable to hold back the blackness that had been nudging at her for so long.
James cried out and reached for her, but to his surprise Tormand caught her up in his arms. Before he could say anything he and Annora were hurried up to their bedchambers so that their injuries could be attended to. It was several hours before his wounds were cleaned and stitched and the business of what to do with some of the more immediate problems of Dunncraig were tended to and James was able to turn his full attention on how Annora was faring.
“Did ye see her?” he asked Tormand as his brother strolled into the room.
“Aye, she is sleeping. None of her injuries are serious, just painful.”
“I dinnae ken how ye could let her come into Dunncraig with ye when she was so badly beaten.”
Tormand sat down on the side of the bed and began to tell James all that had happened since he had been taken captive by Donnell. “So, Brother, ye can see that when the lass decides she has to do something, there is nay stopping her.”
Moved by all Annora had done to help him, James was speechless for a moment. To put herself at such risk and push on despite all the pain she had to have been in had to mean that she cared for him. That lightened James’ heart in a way he found a little embarrassing if pleasurable. He wanted to see her right away, but knew he had to take care with his own wounds. Lying back in his bed, he came to a decision about Annora. He was never going to let her leave him. He just hoped he could make her agree with that plan.
It took only two days for James to realize that he was going to have to fight hard to get what he wanted. Annora had only come to see him a few times while he had suffered through a short but fierce bout of fever, and he had sensed a difference in her. He had told himself not to read too much into her formal manner as she was still stiff from the results of her beating and she might need some time to accept the change in his circumstances. That lie did not work to calm his growing fear anymore. Annora was slowly but surely pulling away from him.
Chapter Twenty-One
“She is thinking of running away, isnae she?”
When Tormand just shrugged, James scowled at him. There was an all too familiar glint in Tormand’s mismatched eyes. His brother was anticipating some entertainment in watching James fumble about trying to hold fast to the woman he wanted. There was nothing the Murray men liked more than watching one of their brethren struggle in the pursuit of his woman. Once James felt confident that he was back to his full strength he was going to pound Tormand into the ground. His younger brother was in sore need of being taught some respect for his elders.
“Where is she?” he demanded, fighting to use the sort of commanding voice even Tormand might feel inclined to obey.
“With Meggie in the gardens,” Tormand replied, grinning when James cautiously stood up and had to grab hold of the bedpost to keep from falling. “Need some help?” he asked, knowing the offer would be refused.
“Nay, I am fine,” snapped James as he fought against the urge to fall to his knees.
“Of course ye are,” he drawled. “I dinnae think ye are in any condition to hunt her down. Ye would just fall on your face in the dirt by the time ye reached her, and that isnae an image a mon wishes to present to his lover.”
“Weel, I cannae just lie
here and let her run off.”
“She willnae run away whilst ye are still weak and healing from your wounds.”
“I am nay weak,” James grumbled even though he knew full well that he was. “I have but been abed for too long. Makes a mon unsteady.”
“Of course it does.”
“T’will pass in but a few moments.”
“Of course it will.”
“Shut your mouth. Wait, hesitate to obey that order until ye tell me why ye think she willnae run until I appear strong and hale again.”
“As I said, ’tis because ye are still recovering from a wound.”
James found a seed of hope in those words, but it was a very small one. Annora could be lingering at Dunncraig because she needed to see that he was fully recovered before she went away, might even think to care for his poor, battered hide now and again, although he had seen very little of her since everyone had decided he would live. She could also feel that it was her responsibility to continue to care for Meggie until he was able to find his daughter a new nursemaid, aside from Annie. Since MacKay had often used Annora as his lady of the keep, ordering her to see to the care of his guests, Annora could simply be continuing that chore now. He had to find a way to hold her firmly at Dunncraig until he was healed enough to catch her if she ran.
Feeling a little steadier, James took a few cautious steps, wincing a bit at the pull on the still raw wound at his side caused by each step. The stitches had been removed but the wound still ached when he moved too quickly. Considering all he intended to do the moment he got his hands on Annora, James knew he needed a few more days to mend. A man needed to be at his full strength and able to move with some grace when he loved his woman into a stupor. He looked at a grinning Tormand as he sat back down on his bed and struggled not to give away how weak he felt and could tell by the glint of concern and sympathy in his brother’s eyes that he was not hiding it well at all.
“Keep her at Dunncraig, Tormand,” James told his brother.
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