Highland Devotion (The Band of Cousins Book 7)

by Keira Montclair

  Gregor shook his head. “Nay. Thorn, you’re a Grant warrior, but Nari is a Ramsay warrior. Remember the difference. Someday we’ll teach you the correct Ramsay and Grant war cries.”

  Chapter Seven

  Linet and her group arrived in Edinburgh the day after Sela fell from her horse. She had lost her tall grace to a limp, favoring her injured foot. Linet had attempted to examine her, but the woman had refused—just as she refused to speak of her night terrors.

  It was already dark when the guards led them to a big stable behind a manor home not far from the middle of the burgh. There were many candles lit inside, making her wonder who awaited them within the house.

  The weather had not accommodated them, instead battering them with sheets of rain most of the day. It had dropped to a constant drizzle for the last hour. Linet dismounted, shivering under her wet mantle. She and the other lasses were led through a back entrance, into a small chamber. Sela left them there without explanation. “You’re not to move,” was all she said. “Wait here until someone comes for you.”

  It sounded foreboding, especially given what the guard had told Linet. You’ll need your rest by tonight.

  The two-story manor home smelled of fresh bread, and Linet’s stomach rumbled. No one spoke, although the girls exchanged a few glances. All of them looked as afraid as she felt. Finally, the door was opened by a woman with a tight black bun and eyes so brown they were nearly black. “Follow me,” she said in a harsh voice. “Do not stop to speak to anyone along the way.”

  She did as she was told, keeping her head down as they were led into a great hall filled with people. A fire roared in the hearth and a table was weighed down with food, but the rest of the chamber held no similarities to anything she’d seen in Inverness.

  Various men sat in chairs with young lasses on their laps, their hands roaming at will over their scantily clad bodies. Linet didn’t know what to make of it. So shocked was she that she actually stopped moving, gaping openly at the goings on in the hall.

  A hand from behind shoved at her lower back. “Have you never seen a whore before?” the lass behind her whispered. “Well, now you have. You may as well adjust yourself to it. We’ll all probably be doing it soon enough. There are no fighting lasses in Edinburgh.”

  She turned to look at the lass, her jaw slack. The lass had a scar under her eye that did little to mar her beauty. Linet had thought to ask her about it on the road, but Sela had insisted the lasses were not to talk to one another more than was necessary. This lass’s words had been harsh, but she had kind eyes.

  “Whore?” was the only thing she could think to say. She had no intention of becoming a whore. “I must talk to Sela.” Stories of lasses made to whore had reached her in Inverness, but she had chosen to ignore them, uncertain as to whether they were true or not. She hadn’t wanted to believe Sela would force such a thing on one of them.

  The girl whispered from behind her, “My name is Alys. We better get to know one another. We’ll need all the friends we can get in a place like this.”

  “Linet. My name is Linet, but Sela calls me Leena. What did you do at Inverness? I never saw you there.” She forced herself to start walking again, not wanting their harsh guide to check on them. The woman looked to be heading for the staircase at the end of the hall.

  “I worked in the kitchens, but I don’t know what I’ll do here. If Sela gave you that name, then you better refer to yourself as Leena. Never question her or you’ll regret it.”

  That gave her pause. She only realized she’d stopped walking again when Alys moved ahead of her and took the lead up the staircase, tugging on her hand to make sure she followed. Her hair swung heavily against her back, and she dropped Alys’s hand to reach back and squeeze out some of the water. The plaits had fallen out long ago, and the hood on her mantle had drooped off her several hours ago, leaving her drenched.

  She did her best to cover a sneeze.

  “Don’t get sick, healer lass,” Alys warned. “You’ll not like it here. They’ll send for someone to bleed you.”

  That thought sent a chill down her back. She recalled the Ramsay mistress mentioning the evil practice. Never. Never would she allow someone to bleed her. Mistress Brenna had made it well-known that she thought it a horrendous practice, one that would only make a person more ill.

  They finally stepped inside a small chamber with four pallets, the last of the group to arrive. Their guide gave them a weighing look, then said, “Strip out of your wet clothes. Because of the difficult journey, you’re excused from working this eve. There are clean night rails in the chest against the wall, and a vegetable pottage will be brought up soon. There is water in the two ewers, and you’ll get one glass of ale with dinner to help you sleep.” The woman left without offering them any additional guidance or information.

  Alys led Linet to two pallets next to each other on the far wall. Although it didn’t offer much in the way of privacy, a couple of thin screens separated the pallets from the table in the center of the chamber. “Get undressed and I’ll find us some night rails.”

  She hid behind the screen and removed her clothing, folding each garment neatly. They were sopping wet, so she left them in a small pile on the stone floor. She’d probably have to wash them on the morrow. She had one other gown in her satchel, but it was also drenched. As soon as she was dressed, she’d find her things and arrange them.

  She was about to peek around the screen to look for Alys when the screen was pulled back. One of the other lasses, a favorite from the fights in Inverness, stood there snickering. Her hair was dark and dry, though how she had managed it, Linet would never know. Even if her hood hadn’t fallen, she’d still be drenched. This lass had ample hips and a small bosom, though she was quite attractive.

  “Well, if ’tis not the special lass, Leena. Sela won’t be able to help you here. You’ll not be pampered the way you were in Inverness, so get used to people looking at you with naught on. No reason to be shy. Sometimes two of us take care of one man.” The look on her face told Linet she’d hoped to shock her with her boldness.

  She had. Two at once? Forcing herself to ignore the lass, and her own vulnerable position, she focused on the clothes on the floor.

  She lifted one of her wet garments and shook it out, trying to cover her nudity, but the lass grabbed the offending piece of clothing and flung it across the room.

  Alys came around the corner of the screen to hand Linet the night rail. Her eyes lingered on the dark-haired lass, but she did not say aught to her. The lass didn’t leave. Instead, she crossed her arms and glared at Linet as she quickly donned the dry garment.

  “I’ll leave you be. For now. But Sela won’t be in charge for long. Within a few days, you’ll have a new boss. Me, Ivetta.” Her gaze traveled from Linet to Alys and the other lass behind her. “You, Alys, and Maude will all do my bidding or you’ll pay.”

  Linet wasn’t willing to cross her, and apparently, neither were the other two.

  She’d made a big mistake by refusing Merewen.

  ***

  Gregor hoped they’d make it to the burgh before nightfall. “Nari, know you a good inn on this side of town? I know of a few, but they are all in the middle of town.” The path they were on allowed them to ride abreast of each other. Nari rode with him while Thorn sat tall in front of Connor, his eyes luminous from the excitement of riding such a large stallion. They were approaching the edge of Edinburgh.

  “There’s one on this side of town near the first stables. I used to take the rich guests’ horses there for coin. They call it the Horse’s Inn because ’tis so close to the stables.”

  Thorn giggled and said, “I call it the Horse’s arse.”

  “You have a foul mouth for one so young,” Connor said.

  “No worse than any man,” Thorn retorted.

  Gregor said, “Curse all you want around us, but there will be no cursing around lasses.”

  “Why? Do you like lasses? Because I surely do not.
” Thorn’s gaze narrowed as if he dared them to question his judgment.

  Connor said, “For certes. You’ll see someday.”

  The smaller lad glanced around in all directions, even behind him, before whispering, “You’ll be wise to stay away from the Norsewoman.”

  Gregor shot a look at Connor. “And which Norsewoman is that?”

  “They call her Sela and she’s mean.” Nari scowled as if recalling something in his past. “She has hair that’s nearly white, but she’s not old.”

  Thorn said, “He’s mad because she caught him stealing apples and one of her guards walloped his butt.” Turning to Nari, he added, “But she stopped him from walloping you more.”

  Connor listened to their exchange with interest, then said, “It surprises me to hear that. We know about Sela, too, and we’ve heard she’s mean.”

  Although Connor had admitted he took a special interest in Sela’s situation—that he wanted to help her if, indeed, she was being coerced into her role with the Channel of Dubh—Gregor suspected there was more to it. Lasses had always vied for Connor’s attention, but he’d never shown any particular favoritism for any of them.

  Sela was different. She clearly intrigued him.

  “She has a soft spot for laddies, I heard,” Thorn said.

  “Well, I don’t care,” Nari whispered. “I’m not going near her.”

  “You need not worry about it. She’s not been here for more than a moon.” Thorn scratched his chin, his gaze darting around. Both of the lads were so watchful, as if danger lurked around every corner, because for them, it seemed, it did. What a sad state for a couple of laddies.

  “And where exactly does the Norsewoman live?” Gregor pressed. If they found Sela, they would also find Linet—and, hopefully, the people in charge of the Channel. “Does she know the Dubh men?”

  “Aye,” Thorn explained. “She gives orders to the Dubh men. She sleeps in the whorehouse on the other side of town.”

  “Och, laddie, is there naught you don’t know about? How do you know about the whorehouse?” Gregor had a sudden urge to protect the two youngsters from the harsher parts of life in a busy royal burgh.

  Nari smiled. “The whores feel sorry for us and give us some of their food sometimes. But ’twas where the Dubh men found us so we have to stay away now.”

  The stables could be seen down at the end of the street they traveled, so Gregor asked, “Which one is the inn?”

  Thorn pointed to the right side of the street. “’Tis that one. He has ten chambers abovestairs. He’ll let us sleep in the small stable behind the inn. He can handle five horses.”

  “Good, because Midnight Moon needs to rest.”

  “I’ll brush him for you, but it will cost you a coin,” Thorn said, trying to work the two of them. His bottom lip jutted out far enough for Gregor to set the coin he’d requested on it. How he wished to chide the lad, but he held his tongue.

  “No coin. You two take care of the horses while we get a room. Food is the payment you’ll get. Come inside when you finish and you can eat all you want,” Connor said.

  Thorn’s eyes widened. “All we want?”

  Gregor looked at his cousin and said, “Why do I feel like you’re talking with Gavin?”

  Connor laughed and ruffled Thorn’s dark hair. “Because this one has an appetite like Gavin. We’ll see how much you can eat. In exchange for filling your belly, you’ll get a bath on the morrow.”

  “Nay, no bath,” he said with horror. “I took one last moon.”

  “Aye, you’ll both get a bath, as will we. Lasses do not like dirty men.”

  “But I don’t like lasses, so why must I?”

  “Because you’ll stink up our chamber if you don’t bathe. You’d best do it while we’re here. You know not where we’ll be on the morrow.”

  “Truly?” Nari asked. “We might travel soon?” His face lit up and his gaze jumped from one to the other and back again.

  He was so taken with the thought of an adventure that Gregor couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever left the city before.

  “One never knows for certes,” Connor said. “Take care of the horses first. My horse is Midnight Moon, Gregor’s gray horse is Silver.”

  The lads took the horses and led them toward the back. Gregor called to them. “Do not forget you’ll be leading us to the whorehouse later.”

  Thorn nodded. “After we eat?”

  “Aye, after you eat,” Connor replied. As the laddies walked away, he smirked at Gregor. “Gavin’s twin.”

  Chapter Eight

  Linet dreamed she was burning in hell. Everyone she knew stood around her, pointing at her—her mother, her sire, her brothers, even Merewen. Winnie, as she preferred to call her, cried out to her over and over again. “Come back, come back, come back…please, Linet.”

  Behind Merewen stood Linet’s abuser. “She’s mine, she’s mine, she’s mine…”

  She just wished to run away from all of them.

  A voice called to her, so she opened her eyes. Alys sat next to her mopping her forehead. Linet almost lifted her head off the pillow, but the other girl shook her head, the motion just slight enough for her to see it, and pushed her back down again. “Leena, please talk to me. I’m so afraid for you.”

  Puzzled, but not wishing to upset her, Linet closed her eyes again. She could easily sleep another few hours, but why was Alys encouraging her to stay abed?

  “Leena, wake up.”

  She opened her eyes, suddenly recognizing how parched she was. “Water, please?”

  “Aye, I’ll get you something,” Alys said, stepping over to the chest on the side wall. “Here, drink up.”

  Her throat felt as if she’d swallowed a hundred thistles in the night, so she was forced to swallow slowly. “My throat…’tis verra sore.”

  “You’ve been quite sick.” Alys took the empty goblet and refilled it. “Have more.”

  Linet pushed herself to a sitting position, her gaze traveling around the empty chamber. It all came back to her—the rain, the dampness, the long journey. And here she was in Edinburgh. Ill, it would seem.

  “Have you seen Sela?”

  Alys shook her head. “No one has seen her since we arrived. Ivetta is being bossy, but she’s not in charge yet.”

  “Do you think she’s right? Will Sela leave us?”

  “I’m not sure, but Ivetta claims the person who’s in charge in Edinburgh is not so fond of her. Of course, Ivetta can’t be trusted. Still, we have not seen Sela. I know we haven’t had it the best, but she did do nice things for us.”

  “How long have I been ill?” Linet asked through the rasp in her throat. She wondered if she’d be able to talk more clearly on the morrow. Or maybe she’d lose her voice completely. Her mother had always warned her about keeping her head dry in the rain.

  “You don’t recall waking up this morn? I gave you something to drink, but you fell back asleep.”

  She handed the water goblet back to Alys.

  “Do you want something to eat? I’ll find you some bread or cheese. The food has been decent.”

  Rather than speak, she just shook her head. The thought of food made her wish to heave.

  Alys urged her back down and covered her back up with the furs. “You still look like you have the fever. If you get up, you’ll have to work this eve,” Alys whispered. “’Tis only an hour away. Stay down for another night. They’ve told me that I can care for you through the night if you’re still verra sick. If you’re better, we’ll both be sent to entertain men offering coin for us.”

  That was all the encouragement she needed to lie down and close her eyes again.

  The next time she awakened, it was morning again.

  ***

  Thorn and Nari took their new roles quite seriously and had spent the majority of the day roaming the town, listening to aught they could hear. And they’d heard quite a bit. The lads had reported seeing several Dubh men back from Inverness, along with Sela herself.
There were whispers of a battle in Inverness that had gone badly wrong, so much so the local chapter of the Dubh would close down shortly and move to England.

  The lads had also learned that the Dubh men had orders to take out any Ramsay, Drummond, or Grant warrior they encountered.

  Once Gregor and Connor finished eating and made sure the lads had full bellies, though it had taken quite a bit to fill Thorn up to his satisfaction, they made their way into the brothel, hoping to see Linet or anyone else they might recognize.

  They kept their plaids inside the satchels they carried. They needed information, so it was important to keep a low profile. Wandering through the establishment, the two grabbed a couple of ales and a bit of food while gazing at the clientele.

  Gregor searched for a beautiful lass with dark hair, and there were several, but none held any interest for him. None of them were her. It struck him that this mission had become personal for him. Or maybe it always had been.

  He couldn’t get Linet out of his mind. Over the past couple of weeks, he’d had plenty of opportunities to consider what had happened between them. Their friendship had cooled after the end of their reading lessons. Once his arm had healed, he’d returned to the archery butts, practicing hard to regain the use of his arm.

  The next festival they’d had, Gregor had spoken briefly with Linet, but the ease they’d developed over the course of their lessons had faded. Where once they’d talked for hours of history and the fae, that day she’d treated him as if he were little more than a stranger. Merewen had danced half the night, but Linet had sat off to the side.

  Alone.

  He hadn’t understood it, but he’d left her, thinking that was what she wanted. Thinking she was rejecting him.

  He should have been more persistent, more devoted to his cause, but he’d accepted that she wasn’t interested in him. That he’d perhaps imagined the whole thing.

  This time, he was determined not to let her down.