A Lady's Vengeance Read online

  “If you have more of that ale you won’t be able to do anything but sleep!”

  He laughed, and set her down. He squeezed her arse, then frowned. “Ye’re wearing braes under yer gown!”

  “Aye.” She poked him in the belly. “You’ll nay be flipping up my skirt and your plaid and dropping me on your pole tonight.”

  “If I canna rut with ye, then I wish te dance with ye!”

  “First we must bless the handfastings that you caused.”

  He grinned widely. “Aye. There’s a few fathers pleased to have their daughters off their hands, and others to welcome new ones with their sons.” He grabbed her hand. “The sooner they’re wed, the sooner they’ll be bedded.”

  Eva pouted as she watched the others jump into marriage. There were five couples. Alana would send something to each of them to help set up their new homes. She’d found many things in the attic, put there by her aunts. Most were of no use to her but would mean much to those who had so little.

  The families gathered around the newlyweds. She saw James speak to the blacksmith’s son, Davie. She’d never seen the young man talk though his eyes had constantly followed the pretty blonde. Whatever James said to Davie had him straightening in pride. James spoke again, and Davie smiled. It transformed his face. Eva looked up and saw his smile. She blushed and looked away. A few more minutes of earnest talk and Davie walked across the clearing.

  He crouched and spoke to Eva. Her face went red. He took her small hand in his giant one. He spoke again, perhaps saying more than he’d ever said in his life. When she looked up there were tears in her eyes. She bit her lip, nodding. He helped her stand, then held her hand as they walked back a few feet. He sat and pulled her into his lap. She leaned against his chest. He put his arms around her, bent his head low as if to keep her safe.

  Alana looked away, not wanting to be found staring.

  “I told Davie that Eva was spoiled by her father,” said James. He put his arm around her waist. “Eva acted up because she wanted someone strong to guide her. None of the ones she flirted with were right for her as they wouldn’t see past her beauty. I said she needs a man she can count on, one who will keep her safe, even from herself. A man like him would give her the security of knowing he was in charge.”

  “I wasn’t spoiled,” she replied.

  “Nay, but you like having a man or two in charge so you feel cherished.”

  She elbowed James in the gut, though not too hard as it was true. “What else did you say to him?”

  “That her father approved of him. I told Davie to tell Eva that if she chose him she would always be safe and cared for. That while he didn’t usually say much, he would show her with his actions. And that he would support her, and their family.” James kissed her forehead. “Eva’s father knew he’d been too easy on her after his wife died. He will be pleased if they marry. A blacksmith will always have work.”

  She looked again, but Davie and Eva were gone. A swirl of music made her gasp.

  “Come. Time to dance!”

  Hours later, she sat on the dirt, back against a tree at the edge of the clearing. The number of people dancing had dropped as couples drifted into the bushes. Cormac was lying on his stomach, thumb-wrestling with the blacksmith while James cheered him on. A young boy rode James’s shoulders, clapping and cheering as well.

  “Lady Alana?”

  She looked around for the unfamiliar male voice. She stood to see better. She hadn’t realized she was so far from the others. She brushed off her skirt and started toward the campfires.

  A dirty rag was stuffed in her mouth from behind. Her hands were grabbed and tied behind her. Two men shoved their shoulders under her armpits, lifted her, and carried her away. She fought, screaming behind her gag, but it was no use. They carried her into a hollow with three horses and set her down. They wore scarves over their faces making it impossible to know who they were. All she could tell was that they stank. She could barely breathe from fear. She gagged at the smell and taste of the rag. They tied her hands in front of her. She fought, though it hurt her wrists.

  “Think of yer babe,” said one curtly.

  The threat stopped her as nothing else could.

  “If ye sit on yer horse quiet we’ll let ye ride. If ye fight I’ll tie ye facedown. ’Twill kill yer babe, like as not. My bairns are dead. What do I care of yers?”

  Cormac and James would come for her. She knew it in her very soul. It was up to her to protect herself and their babe. She would conserve her strength. She would be ready when the time came to fight. She nodded her agreement. They lifted her onto the horse with her hands still tied.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw something move. It was close to the ground, like a dog, though it didn’t move like one. Perhaps a child? More likely it was her terrified imagination.

  “The Master will pay well for this one,” said one of the men. He squeezed her thigh. She kicked out, making him laugh, though quietly. “Mayhaps when he’s done with ’er, we’ll get a taste.”

  “She’ll be dead first,” said another.

  “I dinna care, long as she’s still warm when I shove my cock in her.”

  They spoke of William. He was the Master of Sinclair. And he wanted her dead, but not until he’d got his vengeance. She would be the one gaining vengeance this time!

  Braal Castle was sixteen miles west. Though there was a good trail between there and Girnigoe, she was tired. The moon would soon go down. They could not make it in one night.

  Alana had not counted on her captor’s determination to get their gold and escape. They saw her gagging and removed the cloth, telling her they’d kick her in the belly if she made a sound.

  If she hadn’t been wearing braes her thighs would have been bloody from rubbing before they stopped halfway for a short break. She was beyond exhaustion and terrified but mounted up again on their orders. For the last few miles, each step was agony. She stayed in the saddle from sheer determination, focusing on the Northern Lights which lit their way in swaths of green with a tinge of red now and then. She took the display as a sign that she would survive, as would her babe.

  William, however, would not.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Laird?”

  A jerk at his plaid made James look down. A lass, barefoot in the chill, looked up at him. He recognized her as one of the Travelers. She had big eyes, but her usual wide smile was missing.

  “What is it, wee lassie?”

  “The bad men took yer lady.”

  He crouched to be at her level. He thought Alana was with Cormac. “What bad men?”

  “They said we’d be blamed, but they was the ones what took her.” She nodded with great seriousness. “We like the lady.”

  “As do I. Can ye tell me what you saw?”

  Her bottom lip trembled. “I couldna do naught,” she whispered. “They tied her hands and put a rag in her mouth. They said if she be good she and her babe may live. They put her on a horse and rode away.”

  William! James kept calm so not to scare the lass. “Do you ken where they’re taking her?”

  “They said Braal.” Tears formed in the girl’s eyes. “I couldna help her!”

  James took her hand in his. “Lassie, you did help. You watched, and then found me. Now we must bring Lady Alana home. Thanks to you, we know where she’ll be.”

  “Now gel, what stories are ye telling the laird?”

  James looked up at the older man. He scowled but there was no harshness in his eyes. James stood.

  “This little one told me some bad men took my wife. The Lady Alana is carrying our babe. Thanks to this lass, we know where they’re going.”

  “William?”

  “Aye. We’ll be riding out.”

  “Nay,” said the man. “They’ll be watchin’ so ye canna go after them. We travel like the wind. None will see us.” He gave an abrupt nod. “Ye treat us well, and we’ll do the same.”

  James reached in his sporran for a coin
. The man held out his hand to stop him.

  “Nay. We dinna need gold. We will watch and follow, then bring word to ye. We canna go near Braal Castle as he has us killed on sight.”

  “I swear that as long as we have Keiss Castle your people will be welcome. Your wagons may pull up by a sweet burn out of the wind to camp, and you can fish all you like. Ask, and we’ll find you a sheep.”

  James held out his arm. The man eyed him with respect, then clasped it. Both knew the contract was binding, even unto their heirs.

  “Say naught of yer woman bein’ taken. Let them think they got away. Later, when ye canna find her to go home, that’s when ye make noise. By then ‘twill be too dark to ride out. Our wagons will be gone by morning but someone will tell ye what we’ve seen.”

  And so it came to pass that, as the moon was going down, James and Cormac met in front of the bonfire. They’d stayed away from each other, pretending each thought the other had care of their wife. The hue and cry was great, but all insisted naught could be done until morning. They would wait until word came as to where Alana was.

  * * * *

  “Yer lady wife is a braw lassie.”

  Cormac jerked his head. He’d been pacing the cliff edge since before sunup. He was so absorbed he hadn’t seen the man appear. William’s men could have taken him with an arrow. All they had to do was knock him off the cliff, and he’d be dead.

  “Ye saw Alana?”

  “She’s alive, at Braal Castle.”

  He dropped to one knee in exhaustion and relief. While he was there he added a thank-you prayer. That Alana was alive was enough for now. The rest didn’t matter. Not now, and perhaps not ever.

  “They rode all night. She was hurtin’ and near fell out of the saddle. It took her a bit but she walked in on her ain feet, head high. Her belly still carries yer bairn.”

  “What of William?”

  “He’s at Mey.”

  James had learned that William’s younger brother, David, was the steward at the Castle of Mey. The earl had built Mey for Alana’s second brother, who the earl favored. He’d been killed in the earl’s dungeon by his older brother, John. No doubt William hoped the earl would give Mey to him.

  “Do you ken when William will return to Braal?”

  “The way he rides, ’twill take him two days.”

  “Good. Alana should be safe until then.” He shuddered, exhaling. “We need to catch him with proof, but we dinna wish my wife to be harmed, nor any other lass.”

  “Too late.” The man spit on the ground in disgust. “He’s had his men stealing lasses from the far crofts of his lands. Aye, and sometimes wee lassies as well. None complain as he is the Master of Sinclair and his father the laird cares for naught but his drink.”

  “Methinks Laird Sinclair will soon be in mourning with a new heir named David,” said James.

  The man’s expression lightened. “Be ready by sundown on the morrow.” A quick bow, and he was gone.

  Cormac told James, who disappeared for the rest of the day. He spent the day doing hard labor, hoping his tired body would allow his brain to sleep that night. When he went up to their bedchamber to wash before supper he found James, shoulder against the wall, staring out the window. Cormac suddenly realized the implications of that particular window. James had never gone near it as it looked straight down to the waves crashing on the rocks.

  “Ye’re lookin’ down,” he said.

  “Aye.”

  “I didna think ye’d do that.”

  “If it would get Alana back safe I would climb cliffs thrice this height.” James shivered. “I fear being dashed on those rocks, but I fear living without her more.”

  “I feel like there’s lightning in my bones,” murmured Cormac. “I canna sit. I canna sleep, or eat. If he touches her…”

  “We canna think of that.” James put both hands on the window ledge. He leaned so far out his head protruded from the wall. His face was white, and his arms trembled, but he stayed there.

  “Killin’ yerself willna save her,” said Cormac.

  “Aye. If it would, I’d be dead by now.” James swung around, rubbing his heart. “Is this what love feels like? It hurts like hell itself.”

  “I dinna ken love.” Cormac dropped his head. “Thinkin’ we mayna see her smile again has me feelin’ cold from the inside out. Without her, I’ll never feel warm or see joy in a bairn’s smile.”

  James rubbed his forehead. “Mayhaps love is being able to see the joy around you. Not for what you have, but what you can give.”

  “What are ye sayin’?”

  James was quiet for a long time. When he spoke it was slowly, choosing each word. “Love by yourself is nothing but pain. If you can share it, then love is everything.”

  Cormac had never felt love, so hadn’t missed it. Thinking Alana was gone, worrying he’d never hold her again, had ripped out his heart. His body still moved, but he was a shell.

  “We will get her back,” said James solemnly. He straightened. “Unhurt.”

  “Aye, we have to get her back. And she will be hurt.”

  “Nay!”

  “She was hurt by riding sixteen miles in the night. She can heal from that. I am prayin’ she isna harmed.”

  James understood the difference. Pain was temporary. Harm could last until death.

  “Thanks be to God she wore her braes, and her dirk,” added Cormac.

  James scratched the back of his neck. “She’s got more than that to protect herself.”

  “More?”

  “The healer gave her poison to put in his wine. The Travelers gave her a wee dirk to hide in her braid. So even if they find the one on her leg she will be able to stab his black heart.”

  “I told her she didna need it.” He was disgusted with himself for thinking they could keep her from harm during the night of a fair.

  “Aye, and she was right.” James sighed. “If we don’t eat and sleep we’ll be no good to her.”

  “Where were ye all day?” demanded Cormac as he washed up. “I could have used help building that wall. Look at my hands.” He held them out, dripping. They’d been pinched and scratched. He hadn’t felt a thing at the time.

  “I was climbing rocks.”

  “What rocks?”

  James tilted his head toward the window overlooking the cliff. “I’m no good at prayers. I told God if he saved Alana and our babe I’d conquer my fear of yon cliffs. I had to do so, in case God heard me.”

  Cormac grabbed his brother’s hands and spread them out, then flipped them over. The palms were scratched, the knuckles battered, and a few fingernails split.

  “I climbed those bedamned cliffs all day, Cormac. God better keep his part of the bargain!”

  Later that night they lay back to back in their lonely bed. An empty presence hovered between them. The sheets held her scent. Lying there, missing her, was torture. What if her scent faded, and she never came back?

  James, by conquering his greatest fear, had made his personal pact with God. Cormac, as laird, had to do something that would help his people. The earl had two chapels at Girnigoe, an old one and a new. Cormac would arrange for the priest to visit Keiss regularly to bless their weddings, baptize their babies, and ease the old folks on their way to a better life.

  It wasn’t enough. He got up, dressed, and padded outside. The sky was alive with dancing veils in the green of spring. He’d forgotten how the harvest brought out the Northern Lights. He fell to his knees at this display of celestial power. He’d never prayed in his life. Never felt he would die for missing the touch of another.

  “Please, God, if ye have to take a life, make it mine, and nay my wife. James would make a good laird. He and Alana would be good for this land. Dinna let the lass die, or the babe. I’ll do whate’er ye wish, if only they lives.”

  A swath of red light swirled through the green heavens. His heart clenched. A warning of blood to be spilled? If so, would it be William’s, or Alana’s?

  Cha
pter Thirteen

  They’d kept her in a small room at the top of a tower for two days. Luckily it had a high window, though too high for her to see anything but sky. A woman had searched her, removing the dirk from her thigh. She’d laughed at her braes, saying William would make short work of them, but didn’t take them off her. Nor had she removed the silk square around her neck or seen the wee dirk in her hair. She had, however, given her salve to put on her legs.

  William must have returned as she’d just been brought to his chamber. She staggered into the room, thrust from behind. The door slammed and a bar rammed home. Wine and a pitcher of ale were on a table along with a platter of food. She was hungry and thirsty but there was no time.

  She ripped open Biddy’s silk and sprinkled half the sleeping draft into William’s wine. She stirred it with a finger then huddled in the far corner, wiping it on her skirt. If he thought she was cowed he would boast and, she hoped, drink even more. She looked longingly at the corner that held the cupboard hiding the hidden staircase. Had it been blocked up? His servants didn’t know about it or they wouldn’t have left her here alone. She avoided looking at the wooden paneled wall near the door. Somewhere behind there was a hidden room. One she wished would stay closed forever.

  Yells of triumph announced William's arrival. Back against the wall, she wrapped her arms to protect her babe. The bar was removed and the door thrown wide. She jerked, not hiding the fear. It would help him misjudge her. She would get her vengeance or die trying.

  “Back so soon?” he asked, gloating. His sneer went hard. “You shouldna have married that bastard. You are mine!”

  He strutted into the room, motioned for a servant to set down the candle, then waved him out. He shut the door, setting a heavy board in place. She would never be able to lift it, and he knew it. His look of contempt proved it.