“Nay, do not worry,” Thorn patted his chest. “I’ll protect you from the Ice Queen, lad.” He tipped his head forward and whispered, “But they should all be wary of her. She can curse someone. She’s odd. They say she’s a seer or a faerie or something.”
“Is that so?” Connor asked. His tone was serious, but Gregor knew him well enough to see the smirk he was fighting to contain.
Gregor recalled when they’d been young enough to be impressed with such stories.
The serving lass stepped out of the kitchen with more stew and some fruit pastries.
“Eat up, lads. You deserve it.” Gregor patted Thorn’s back. “Good work.”
Connor took his seat again, then leaned back in his chair and glanced from Braden to Roddy. “I know you’ve just arrived, but we’d do best to act on this new information at once. Do you wish to travel with me?”
Gregor glanced at his cousin with a knowing smirk. “I suspected you’d be following Sela.”
“Why shouldn’t I? She’s probably being brought to the Channel’s headquarters in the Borderlands. This is what we’ve been waiting for all along. Don’t you think so?”
“I agree. But even though she traveled with four guards, there are probably many more at the Borderlands. The three of you cannot take on twenty guards.”
Connor chortled when he stood up. “Probably only ten, which is why I’ll not follow directly behind them, but I wish to leave while their trail is still fresh. We don’t know exactly where they are headed.”
Roddy glanced at Braden and said, “We’ve four guards, and we’ll travel with you. I think the others will be but a day behind us. You’ll have reinforcements by the morrow, Gregor. Not just Will and Maggie and their guards, but Gavin and Merewen, too.”
Tipping his head way back to look up at Connor from his stool, Thorn said, “What about me? You’ll not leave me behind, will you? I wish to go with you. I can help spy for you.”
Nari’s lower lip pouted out. “I don’t wanna go anywhere near the Ice Queen.” He looked up at Gregor with big eyes. “I wish to help you, my lord. I’m a Ramsay guard. Can I not wait for this Maggie?”
Connor crossed his arms. “If you lads don’t mind splitting up, then I’ll take Thorn with me and leave Nari here to assist Gregor. He is a Ramsay, after all.”
Roddy and Braden exchanged a confused look. “He is?” Roddy asked.
“We’ll explain later,” Gregor said. “I’d like Nari to stay. He can help me keep watch for the others.”
“How would I do that? I don’t know them.” Nari scowled, dribbling fruit juice down his chin.
“Have you not heard of the Wild Falconer?”
Both lads stopped eating to stare at him, nodding their heads in unison. “He has those big birds, the giant ones that will attack you,” Thorn said. “We heard all about him and his mean birds.”
“Will is known as the Wild Falconer and he’s married to Maggie Ramsay,” Gregor explained. “He has two falcons who always fly overhead, but they are not that big. They only attack whomever Will tells them to go after.”
“They will not go after me, will they?” Nari asked.
“Nay, not unless you attack Will.”
“I will not. I promise. I’ll stay here so I can meet the Wild Falconer.” Satisfied that the birds weren’t so great a threat as the Ice Queen, apparently, he went back to eating his fruit pie.
“Gregor, can you handle being alone for a day?” Connor asked. “Promise not to put yourself in any dangerous situations until Gavin arrives on the morrow? We have enough guards to split amongst us.”
“I’ll be fine. I don’t think much will happen here for a couple of days.” How he hoped he was right. He didn’t have the skills of any of the three cousins at the table with him. If he had to use his sword, he’d be in trouble, but he wouldn’t admit his worry to the others.
“Oh!” Nari bolted out of his seat and ran up to Gregor. “I almost forgot.”
“What is it?”
“The lasses are fighting tonight for wagers. You must go.” Nari tugged on his sleeve with a vehemence that told him the lads were getting invested in their battles. “You must.”
Connor said, “Aye, you must, but that can wait until this eve. We’re leaving in half an hour. Are you agreeable, Gregor?”
“Aye,” he replied, though he did not relish the idea.
“Now who exactly are we chasing?” Braden asked.
“Her name is Sela,” Connor explained. “The tall Norsewoman who controlled the fighting lasses in Inverness.”
“Will she recognize you?” Roddy asked.
“Oh, she’ll recognize me, and she will answer my questions.” He pursed his lips and rubbed the palms of his hands together. “Do not doubt it.”
Chapter Twelve
Linet ate the mush they brought for her supper, deciding it was the best way to keep her strength up. Her fury at her ill treatment, and the part Earc played in it, had not ebbed one bit.
Her calm life with Sela had gone to hell, so her best bet was to try to escape, but she’d have no chance down in the cellars of the brothel. It struck her that the fighting would probably be held in this very building. The manor was large, with many chambers down here in the cellars.
In Inverness, they’d held the whoring in a separate building from the fighting, but Earc and his men hadn’t had much time to arrange their new venture. It would make sense for them to use the space they already had. She had to get away somehow.
That meant she had to pretend to cooperate. If Gregor or any of his cousins were still in Edinburgh, she was certain they would return to this building.
Footsteps from the stairwell carried down to her, and the guard who had slapped her bottom appeared with a grin on his face.
She’d like to smack that grin right off his face.
“Your time is up,” he said. “Here’s your clothing. Put it on or I’ll put it on for you.” He waggled his eyebrows at her with a guffaw.
He tossed her a tight one-piece garment that fit over her body like a second skin, complete with built-in trews. Her sire would forbid her to wear such an indecent piece of clothing, but she didn’t doubt the bastard guard would love the excuse to dress her, so she turned her back and put the garment on.
“You have two minutes or I’m coming inside.”
She wiggled and squirmed and finally managed to fit herself into the tight fabric, then spun around. This time, she wouldn’t fight him.
Doing her best to be agreeable, she followed the brute abovestairs and then down a passageway she hadn’t noticed before. She paid close attention to everything, just in case she had an opportunity to escape. This new area felt like a maze, but if she concentrated hard enough on her surroundings, she might be able to find a way out.
She passed one open area where two women were fighting, a crowd of boisterous, drunken men shouting and hollering as they hit and kicked each other. She didn’t recognize either of the lasses.
They walked past more men. Most of them emerged from a large chamber down the passageway. Quite a few of them came out with goblets of ale. They all had one thing in common—they stared at her form in the tight garment. Some even whistled and tried to touch her, though the guard in front of her shoved them away.
The passageway was loud, and when they reached the end, the guard opened the door and pushed her inside, slamming it quickly behind her. Once her eyes adjusted to the dark chamber lit with only a few torches, her gaze fell on Ivetta in an outfit like hers. A sick feeling began to brew deep in her gut. The man standing next to Ivetta came to Linet’s side and introduced her as “The Healer” while Ivetta had been nicknamed “Wolfette.”
She’d gone over everything she’d ever heard about fighting while in her prison in the cellar—how to protect herself, how to be aggressive, and what Merewen had told her about using her legs. When the man swung his arms over his head, indicating the fight was to begin, Ivetta charged directly toward her. Linet did exact
ly what Merewen had said—she waited until the last minute, then stepped out of Ivetta’s path and swung around to kick her in the arse.
Ivetta flew against the stone wall, but she recovered much more quickly than Linet had expected. Within seconds, she spun around with a guttural cry and said, “I’m going to kill you.”
Linet thought about Earc and his partner, and her fury ignited. She waited again for Ivetta to charge toward her. This time, she bent quickly at the waist so she could get underneath her, then stood up, tossing the woman backward where she landed on the floor with an oof. The crowd went wild cheering for her. When Ivetta tried to stand, she kicked her in the belly, sending her flying backward again. This time, her head struck the stone wall and her eyes closed before she crumpled into a heap.
The man was at her side in a moment, declaring her the winner. She hoped she could leave, but a very large woman with severely plaited red hair, a beaked nose, and a frightening look of hatred entered through the doorway.
Once the fight started, she did her best to stave off the lass, who was fiercer than Ivetta, but she took several punches before she managed to strike her opponent once. She spun and connected her foot to the beast’s chin. This stunned the other woman for a second, but only for a second. Then, to Linet’s complete surprise, the door opened again, and Ivetta came forward to join the fight. Apparently, she’d recovered quickly from the blow to her head.
Two against one. Earc did want her dead.
She fought to the best of her ability, but it was obvious she couldn’t win. She wasn’t meant to win. And then she saw the light at the end of the tunnel.
Gregor.
He stood in the crowd of spectators—a beacon of warmth and strength—her eyes found his in the audience. She saw the only chance she had. She shouted, “Gregor, help me, please.”
And she ran straight at him.
***
Gregor brought his sword with him into the fighting hall section of the brothel. Nari had chosen to wait outside the hall rather than stay in the inn alone. On the walk over, Gregor had stewed about Linet, and why she had refused him. None of the guards had been around. Had she been hesitant to leave Sela? If so, that would no longer be an issue.
If he did manage to see Linet this eve, he’d do whatever he could to speak with her. He wasn’t in a position to steal her away on his own because he had no back up, but he reminded himself that she’d insisted she didn’t wish to leave.
She liked being a healer, liked feeling she had a purpose.
He only hoped they wouldn’t force her to fight. Linet was not a naturally aggressive person. It was against her nature to use fists against another person. His Linet was a quiet person who was a natural healer. Her gentle ministrations when he’d broken his arm had stayed fresh in his mind. He recalled a time when he’d escorted her home, and they had passed a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest.
He couldn’t help but chuckle over that memory. He’d deemed it his duty to climb the tree to put the wee one back into its nest. The way its mother had squawked at him, he’d feared the worst, but she’d gone immediately to her baby, fussing over it like any maternal animal would do.
Linet had smiled the biggest smile he’d ever seen and said, “Do you not feel like a hero, Gregor?”
That comment had made him smile, simply because he had felt like a hero. Not for the bird, but for his tender-hearted Linet. Little had he recognized how powerful those moments would be for him as he grew up.
Aye, his Linet was a healer and a protector, not a fighter.
How he wished he had worked harder in the lists. True, he felt competent enough to carry his sword, but his skills were hardly on the level of his cousins’. While he could easily take on one man, maybe two, he certainly couldn’t defeat every guard in the building. He’d been a fool to depend on his bow. He only hoped Linet wouldn’t pay the price.
The crowd was smaller than Inverness, but the building had a larger capacity. They’d managed to fit it all in one wing of the brothel. It was arranged in a similar fashion to the fighting halls in Inverness, with a large chamber at the entrance of the wing for chatting and placing wagers. There was a small chamber toward the front of the building where two women fought, but it wasn’t much of a fight. Farther down the passageway, he entered a chamber where they sold chicken legs and ale. The main fighting chamber was at the end, but nothing was going on yet. He elbowed his way back to the counter in the first chamber to make a wager.
“The Healer or Wolfette?” the man behind the counter asked brusquely. He was missing a front tooth, and the scars on his face suggested he’d lost it in a fight.
The Healer.
Gregor’s heart beat faster in his chest. Were they forcing Linet to fight? Even if she had to fight tonight, he could not intervene. Not unless she needed him. He placed a bid on The Healer, grabbed an ale, and pushed his way to the back chamber just as the fighting was about to start. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his tunic sleeve as he waited for the lasses to be introduced.
Just as he’d feared, Linet was dragged into the ring, dressed in a tight one-piece outfit. He wanted to kill every last man who leered at her, but he was too worried for her to pay them much notice.
But his lassie was tough. She disabled her opponent in a few quick moves.
He expected them to lead her away, but instead another fight was announced, this time with a woman probably double her size. How would she possibly beat this brutish woman? She’d proven agile with her feet, much like Merewen, so perhaps she could stay out of the way of her opponent’s fists.
The first time the other lass hit Linet, Gregor leapt out of his chair. Hellfire, but this was not going to be easy. He watched her take two more punches and a low growl came out of his chest, something he was surprised actually came from him.
Watching her made his protective instinct roar until it was ready to burst out of him. He wished to jump over all the spectators in front of him, hoist the big bitch into the air and throw her across the room. Nay, it wasn’t the lass’s fault—he wished to flay whoever had forced them to fight. Linet did get a couple of hits in, especially one with her foot that managed to temporarily stun the woman.
Was this what is was like to lose his heart to a lass? He ignored his inner thoughts and brought himself back to the battle in front of him. Linet’s fearlessness surprised him, and so did something else—she looked furious. Her expression, usually so placid, was full of hot anger.
The door opened, and the lass from earlier emerged to join the fight. Nay! He’d not stand back and watch while two of them hurt her. He took a step forward, but before he could take another, Linet did something that shocked him. She yelled his name and headed straight for him.
“Gregor, help me!”
He held his arms open and she lunged into them, but men grabbed at her, trying to pull her back toward the fray.
“Hands away from the lady,” he snapped, tucking her behind him and pulling out his sword.
“She’s no lady,” sneered one man.
“Never mind. You can’t have her.”
The spectators attacked them with taunts and jeers, but no one wanted to be on the sharp end of his sword. The guards had not caught wind of what was happening yet. He made his way toward the exit, intent on taking every advantage he had, and had almost made it when she called his name again. “Gregor!”
Three guards came at him with daggers, but Gregor had rage on his side. No one would stop him from bringing his Linet out of here safely. He finished all three of them, two with slices across their bellies and one took a deep cut to his leg. When blood started spraying, the passageway erupted into chaos. Shouting. Pushing. This was their chance. He took her hand and said, “Come. We must hurry.”
Once outside the door, he yelled to his wee friend, “Nari, wait for the Wild Falconer and tell him and Maggie what has happened! We’re going by horseback into the forest and headed northwest. He’ll know where to find us.”
Nari jumped up and down, shouting, “I will. You can count on me, my lord.”
Gregor hurried Linet off to the stables to find his horse.
Thanks to the tangle of people within the hall, and the ale they’d all imbibed, the guards were slow moving. He had time to retrieve his horse and toss Linet atop its back. But by the time they were galloping toward the treeline on horseback, hordes of men chased after them.
“Why are there so many?” Linet squealed. “I thought there’d only be a few of Earc’s men.”
“Earc? What do you mean, Earc?” Gregor must have heard her incorrectly, but he distinctly heard Earc’s name. He’d suspected Earc was perhaps in the pay of the Channel of Dubh—he’d disappeared under highly suspicious circumstances in Inverness—but since when did he have his own men?
“Earc is in charge of everything in Edinburgh. He sent Sela to the Borderlands.”
Gregor nearly choked on that small piece of information. “We know about Sela. Connor and two of my cousins have gone after them, headed for the Borderlands. But this is the first I’ve heard of Earc.”
“Earc is the one who banished her. He’s the one who locked me up, who forced me to fight…”
He could feel her body shake against him, so he did his best to protect her against the cold wind. “Do not worry, Linet. I’ll keep you safe whether ’tis from Earc or another.”
“But are you not alone? Can we manage alone?” Her hands gripped his arms and he hoped she’d never let go.
“I’m alone for the moment. Others will be joining me soon.”
She leaned back against him and clutched his arms. “Please just get me away. I don’t wish to whore or fight, and I’m so, so sick of witnessing cruelty.” She glanced back slightly, her face losing more color. “Where can we go? There are still so many men following us.”
“Hush,” he whispered, tucking her in tighter as he guided his horse. “There are plenty of caves we can hide in until my cousins arrive. Maggie and Will should be in Edinburgh on the morrow. I think Gavin and Merewen might be with them. I have a wee friend to help us out—the lad who gave you the linen square—and he’ll direct them our way. Four Ramsay guards are yet at the inn. I didn’t bring them to the fighting hall tonight, but they’ll do their best to help us.”
Highland Devotion (The Band of Cousins Book 7) Page 8