“I have five groats that says Andrew wins,” Derrick spoke out of the corner of his mouth.
Before any further wagers could be made, Alec thundered angrily towards the two young men. In one swift motion, he had pulled Connor off and thrown him several feet from Andrew. Andrew looked relieved and held out his hand to his laird. “Thank ye, Al-”
He hadn’t any time to finish. Alec grabbed his hand, lifted him to his feet before shoving him hard with one hand. The surprised young man fell backward and landed soundly on his rear end.
“If this is how the two of ye will behave in the field of battle, ye both can stay at home and let yer mum’s feed ye sweet cakes and warm milk!” Alec’s voice boomed through the yard. All fighting came to an abrupt halt.
Connor struggled to his feet, murder still dancing in his eyes. “I was defendin’ me sister’s honor, Alec!”
Alec pinned him in place with an angry glare. “I do no’ care what yer motive was.”
Still angry, Connor stepped forward. “He said every man in the keep has lifted me sister’s skirts, includin’ ye.”
Alec turned to face Andrew, who was still sitting on the ground. “Did ye say such?”
Andrew gave a rapid nod of affirmation.
Turning his attention back to Connor, Alec said, “And ye believed him?”
Connor stammered, unable to answer immediately.
“Ye’re a fool, Macpherson,” Alec said as he took a step closer to Connor.
“Why are ye angry with me?” he asked, as he took a few steps back. “’Twas no’ me that he insulted.”
“He did no’ insult me, Macpherson. When ye are in battle, yer opponent will say many things to ye, things ye ken will no’ be true. They will say these things to set ye off, to get ye off balance. That is when they’ll gut ye and leave yer carcass fer the scavengers!”
Duly chastised, the young man stared at his feet.
“And ye,” Alec said as he turned back to face Andrew. “Do ye believe what ye said?”
Another rapid shake of his head. “’Twas Derrick who told me to say it.”
Alec glanced at Derrick, who was smiling proudly.
“Ye told Andrew to spread rumors about Connor’s sister?”
“I might have mentioned it, aye,” Derrick said. “’Twas merely a suggestion. Connor has been beatin’ Andrew soundly for weeks. He came to me and asked fer help in defeatin’ him. I suggested he find out what Connor holds most dear, and insult it.”
Clarity dawned. “In order to get Connor off balance,” Alec said.
“Aye.”
’Twas an age-old trick, used often. One Alec himself had deployed on numerous occasions.
“Pick up yer swords, Connor. Andrew,” Alec told them.
Quickly, they did as they were told. Alec waited until they were standing before he withdrew his own sword. “I will train the two of ye myself,” he said, slicing his sword through the air at nothing with the appearance of indifference. “And when I be done, ye will be able to hear a man say he tupped yer own grandminny and ’twill bother ye as much as a wee midge flyin’ about yer heads.”
True to his word, Alec put the two young men through hell. Not only did he repeatedly insult their mothers, their mother’s mothers, their sisters, he even went as far as to insult their fathers.
At first, the young men were furious with his copious insults. They would lunge at him, either one at a time or together in unison. And each time, Alec would fend them off with such ease, it was as if he were flicking a fly off a sweet cake.
The young men grew more irritated and furious with each insult and each deflection. More than once, he tossed them to the ground on their buttocks. Neither man was a match for his cool, steely-eyed determination, his strength, nor his experience.
Within an hour, the two men were soaked with sweat, out of breath, and in general, defeated. When he saw their shoulders sag, he smiled at them.
“Lads, have ye learned anythin’ this day?”
They glanced at one another before looking dejectedly at him.
Alec nodded at them. “I see ye have no’. Pick up yer swords. We’ll be here all bloody night long until ye can tell me what ye’ve learned.”
He would be ruthless if he needed to be, if not for their sakes, then the sakes of those men who surrounded them now and were watching. Alec needed each of his men to understand three things: One) to always, under all circumstances, remain calm. Two) never surrender, no matter how tired you were. And three) never let your opponent see how tired, worried, or even scared, you really were. Thus far, these two students were failing on every level.
Alec refused to let the training session sour his mood or his hope for their futures. Most of the men had readily picked up on what he had been trying to teach Connor and Andrew. He could only hope that after a dip in the loch, a hot meal, and some time to think, they too, would eventually see the soundness of what he was teaching. Heaven help them both if they didn’t.
Hot, sweaty, and covered in dirt and grime, he said good eve to his men and headed toward the keep. A hefty breeze picked up, giving him a better idea of just how bad he smelled. Though he knew there would be a hot bath waiting for him, he decided that mayhap ’twould be best to wash the top layer of filth off in the loch first, then proceed to his bath.
The loch was not far from the main keep. Once there, he began to strip out of his sweat-soaked clothes. After pulling his tunic over his head, he noticed a tear in the sleeve, and a few droplets of blood. He knew his wife hated the sight of blood, even if it wasn’t his own. Without thinking, he crouched at the bank of the loch and gave the fabric a good scrubbing.
His thoughts immediately turned to Leona, who he knew was at this very moment preparing him a fine meal. She was a fine cook, his wee, beautiful wife. She worked hard to keep him fed, his clothes mended, and in short, to be a good wife.
And she was. It had been a complete surprise at first, just how good a woman he found her to be. He’d also been surprised when he realized he liked the woman. More than he had anticipated when she had agreed to marry him.
His plan had been simple: agree to marry her, get her with child, then leave her the bloody hell alone.
Now, he knew that was going to be impossible. Hell, it already was impossible to stay away from her, to not think about her nearly every waking moment of every day. There was no reason to wonder what his father might say about his current predicament.
“Ye’re a bloody fool, Alec! I raised ye better than this. I warned ye, if ye give yer heart to any woman, she’ll crush it into dust. But no’ before she beats ye dead with it.”
As a small boy, he never truly understood what his father had meant. Now, much older and wiser, he understood all too well. Loving a woman, any woman, even one as sweet and beautiful as his wife, was dangerous. It would make him weak, and weakness, according to his father, was something a Bowie never was. Weaknesses made a man do foolish and stupid things.
But Leona was different. There wasn’t a pinch of guile in her entire soul. She was genuine, honest, and kind. And, God, the way she loved him, without restraint, wholly and passionately each night? Loved him, at times, to the point where he could not walk after.
Thinking of his wife lying naked underneath his own nakedness, brought a smile to his face.
When he realized he was scrubbing his own clothing — and whistling a lively tune to boot — all in order to be kind to his wife, he nearly keeled over from the shock of it.
“What the bloody hell is happenin’ to me?” he whispered incredulously.
Do no’ fash yerself over it, his heart told him. Ye’re just bein’ kind. Kindness does no’ mean ye’re weak or that ye have fallen in love with yer wife.
When Alec stepped into the gathering room with Gylys and Kyth, he knew almost at once that something was wrong. The table was not set. No warm, delicious food waited for him. ’Twas completely empty and dark. Not a single candle was lit.
Not a day since
they’d married, had he come in from the fields that a meal was not waiting for him. Not once.
Gylys and Kyth sensed it as well. They looked first at each other before looking to Alec.
“Do ye suppose she has taken ill?” Kyth asked.
Somehow, Alec doubted it. His wife was a determined, caring woman. She’d have to be on her deathbed before she didn’t make it to her kitchens.
Hopefully, Kyth’s suspicious were correct. “Ye look in the kitchens. I’ll look above stairs.” Alec told them as he headed toward the staircase.
Not wishing to jump to any ugly conclusions just yet, he took the stairs two at a time. Mayhap his wife had listened to his suggestion that she had been working far too hard. Mayhap she had lay down to take a much needed rest and was now fast asleep in their bed.
Quietly, on the off chance he was correct, he slowly opened the door. The bed was empty. Sticking his head inside, his quick perusal told him she was not here.
Still unwilling to believe something had happened to her, he closed the door and headed back below stairs. Kyth was waiting for him at the bottom of the steps.
“She be no’ in the kitchens,” Kyth told him. “The hearth be cold.”
“And neither is she above stairs,” Alec said, his brow furrowed with concern. He was not worried. He refused to worry. Worry meant he cared for his wife far more than he was ready to admit.
Gylys came in from the rear entrance. “Did ye find her?” he asked with a hopeful tone.
“Nay,” Alec replied.
“I checked behind the kitchens,” Gylys told him. “She be no’ with the chickens nor near the well.”
“I be certain she is nearby,” Alec said, though he was growing more concerned.
“Mayhap she is at Melvin’s,” Kyth offered. “She takes him a meal each day. Ye ken how the man can talk yer ear off.”
“Aye,” Gylys agreed. “Mayhap he is holdin’ her prisoner with one of his stories of the auld days.”
His jest made Alec chuckle, but only slightly. “Then let us go rescue me wife from him.”
Alec stopped at the drawbridge and called to the men on watch above. “Did Leona leave the keep today?”
The man on duty shook his head. “Nay, m’laird, no’ that I ken. But I’ve only just come on watch an hour ago. Do ye want me to wake up Kennith and ask him if she did? He was on watch earlier.”
Believing there was no need to call for an alarm, Alec called back, “Nay, ’tis no’ necessary.”
With Gylys and Kyth beside him, he waited impatiently for the drawbridge to be lowered. Where on earth could she be? He wondered.
They stopped first at Melvin’s cottage. The man was sleeping when they entered. “Nay, she did no’ come to see me this day,” Melvin answered sleepily to Alec’s inquiry. “She comes to see me every day, usually after the noonin’ meal.”
Alec’s heart began to race with worry.
“’Tis unlike the lass, no’ to come here, or at least send word,” Melvin added as he rubbed a hand across his belly.
“Word?” Alec asked with a raised brow.
“Aye, on those rare days she be too busy, she sends a meal with Willem or someone else. But she did no’ do that.”
Worry began to settle in around Alec’s heart.
Sensing his worry, Gylys said, “Mayhap she be at Effie’s. Mayhap Effie be havin’ the babe and Leona is helpin’?”
Alec thought on it for only a brief moment. “Effie is no’ due fer another month,” he said. Although ’twas entirely possible her time had arrived earlier than expected. “Mayhap there be a complication and that be why Leona can no’ be found.” He wondered if Gylys was as unconvinced by his statement as he was.
They bid Melvin good day and headed toward Dougall and Effie’s home. He refused to panic, to let worry or dread rule his actions. Leona, he believed, would be found. Hell, she is probably back at the keep already and wonderin’ where I am, he mused.
Dougall opened the door, his expression turning from confused to worried as soon as he laid eyes on Alec. For reasons Alec could never figure, Dougall seemed to be able to read him better than anyone he’d ever known.
“What be the matter?” Dougall asked as he waved them into his home.
“We came to see if Effie has seen me wife,” Alec said, as he looked hopefully to Effie, who was setting the table for their evening meal.
“I have no’ seen her all day,” Effie told him, with a raised brow. “Usually she stops by to check on me after she visits with Melvin.”
“She did no’ go see Melvin this day,” Gylys told her.
“And she be nowhere in the keep?” Dougall asked?
“Nay,” Alec replied. “But we have no’ looked in every room. We thought mayhap she had been held up by Melvin, or stopped here to help Effie.”
Dougall and Alec looked at one another for a brief moment. Dougall recognized at once that Alec was doing his best not to let anyone know he was concerned or worried.
“I shall come help ye look fer her,” Dougall said before grabbing his sword and belt from the hook by the door. “I be certain she be fine,” he added.
“Would ye like me to help?” Effie asked with a good deal of concern in her tone.
“Nay,” Alec and Dougall replied in unison.
“’Tis best ye stay here,” Dougall told her. “Ye were no’ feelin’ well this day.”
For once, his wife decided against arguing with him, which only added to his concern for her well-being.
The men left the cottage, while Dougall closed the door behind them. “Did ye inquire with the watch if anyone saw her leave?”
Alec explained about the change in watch.
“I say we wake Kennith up then,” Dougall said. “Just to be certain.”
The hour was growing late, the sun painting the skies in deep crimson and amethyst. ’Twas the kind of sunset his wife would have oohed and ahed over. Do no’ begin thinkin’ of her in the past tense, ye eejit, he cursed his traitorous heart.
They hurried down the path, through the thicket, and to the drawbridge. Someone had ordered it raised as soon as Alec and his men had popped through the thicket.
“Wake up Kennith Bowie!” Alec shouted to the men above.
He’d last seen his wife at the noonin’ meal. That was a good eight hours ago. Not Kennith or anyone else who manned the wall that day had seen Leona leave the keep. Therefore, it stood to reason she was still inside the keep, or at the very least, its walls.
Men were called for to aid in the search. Alec assigned a group of men to each floor, where they would search from room to room.
When that first search yielded nothing, Alec was nearly overcome with dread. “Call for more men,” he barked to Gylys. “I want every square inch of this keep searched. Even the dungeons.”
Gylys, just as worried as anyone about his missing mistress, gave a curt nod. “Shall I send men to search the stables, granary and such?”
“Aye,” Alec responded gruffly. “Every square inch, inside and out!”
He will mourn her loss. Mayhap no’ for long, but mourn her he will. I tried to warn him she was a poor choice, but he would no’ listen to reason. “If ye must marry, marry from within the clan,” I told him. Stubborn fool.
’Tis a pity she has to die, for I was truly beginning to like her. ’Tis a small sacrifice if it means savin’ our clan from ruin. I have made many sacrifices over the years for this clan. I will get my due, I will. I deserve it after all the hell I have gone through, after all I have done for these people. I’ll no’ stand idly by and watch Alec Bowie and his whore run us aground.
It was my good fortune seein’ the witch headin’ for the north tower. Och, but me heart pounded with the anticipation! Me fingers all but itched to be wrapped around that skinny neck of hers.
No one will think to look for her there. I did no’ even have to remove me dirk. One small push, bar the door, and voila! Our problems are solved.
I imagine it will
take a few days before she dies. She’ll suffer, which makes it all the sweeter in the end. Knowin’ it took days fer her to die. And none shall suspect my role in it.
I was no’ there, but they say Eduard was dead before he hit the ground. His death near crippled me with grief, but I did no’ show it. I could no’ show it.
Rutger, they say, suffered for only a short time. ’Tis another death I could no’ mourn as openly as I wanted. He was no’ the man Eduard was, but at least he was no’ tryin’ to lead us down the path to ‘peace’. Peace. Bah! The word makes me skin itch! This be no’ what Eduard would have wanted. Nor Rutger. Nor any other of our chiefs before them.
I be tired of bein’ ignored, of people lookin’ at me as if I were less than nothin’.
They’ll no’ be ignorin’ me much longer.
In the end, they will see the wisdom in my plan.
“I am going to die here,” Leona cried quietly.
Just how long she had been locked away in the black-as-pitch room, she was uncertain. It seemed an eternity.
This room, she decided, would eventually become her tomb. No one knew where she was. The tower, though still connected to the main keep, sat too far away for anyone to hear her cry for help. That, along with the thick walls, the lack of windows, and the barred door, did not help matters.
Hours ago, she had given up screaming for help. It wouldn’t do any good anyway. Besides, she had screamed so loudly and for such a length of time that she lost her voice. She had clawed and scratched at the door until her nails were broken and her fingers bled.
On her hands and knees, she had crawled around the floor of the room, looking for something, anything that might help effect an escape. Though she could see not a thing in all this blackness, nothing felt helpful. There was no axe, to fire stokers, not even a candlestick to beat against the door with. Nothing but big, heavy pieces of furniture, a few chairs and tables. Not even an old worn cushion on which to rest her head.
She had also given up trying to figure out who had shoved her in and barred the door. ’Twas no ghost, of that, she was certain. Nay, ’twas a flesh and blood person. And whomever he was, he most assuredly wanted her dead.
The Bowie Bride: Book Two of The Mackintoshes and McLarens Page 21