Every Heart Has Its Day (9 page)

Kasey shook her head. “I ask agin, what has ‘Every black dog shall have its day’ to do with us?”

“That dog suffered scorn and ridicule, as do we. With time and patience, he learned his true purpose in life, and so shall we.”

A little while later Evonne crept away. As Kasey drifted to sleep, a black storm cloud surrounded her. Lightning bolts flashed over the falls of Inverness.

“Use its beauty and strength to see ye through.”

Her mother’s whisper. Kasey wrapped a plaid about her shoulders and vowed she would never give in.

****

Despite every vile attempt to break her body and spirit, Kasey had weakened little. Thus far.

A fortnight after Randall’s return another emissary arrived. Kasey did not know the details, but she could not deny the anger his missive wrought. As soon as the emissary left, Randall dragged Kasey to the stable, where he forced her to watch the stable master flog the beautiful white mare.

Then, laughing all the way, he dragged her to the great hall.

Numbed by the sight of the horse’s red-striped hide and exhausted from pleading for its mercy, Kasey offered no resistance.

“It appears ye have stolen aught from Inverness. As a result, the king has imposed a levy on our clan.”

Her chest tightened at the anger in her laird’s eyes. “Milord, I swear I stole naught.”

“No thief or liar will look me in the eyes.”

His open hand lashed out, but fear held her fast. Lightning flashed before her eyes. The force of the blow knocked her to her hands and knees. A swarm of bees stung her face.

“When the next emissary comes, ye will return the bounty or suffer the consequences.”

She raised her head far enough to see her laird’s feet stride out the door. She glanced around and found the crowd that followed her from the stables had vacated the hall. Unable to contain herself any longer, she melted into a puddle of tears. Where be ye, Hunter?

****

The morning after the next full moon, an unfamiliar voice echoed from the great hall. Kasey peered around the doorway at a stranger clad in a purple tabard.

Her thundering heart drowned their words, but the emissary’s animated gestures and her laird’s mottled face did not bode well.

She wanted to run away, but her absence would be discovered before she gained much distance on foot. If she stole a mount, her back would be filled with arrows before she crossed the border. Even if she somehow escaped, to where would she run? If these visitations demonstrated the king’s idea of protection, she feared what he would do if she showed up at his door.

The neighboring clans would kill a Cameron on sight. If only the Mackintoshes were closer. Nay, she would not have the courage to confront Hunter. Mayhap his laird, despite his gratitude, had denied Hunter’s request to travel so far, to risk war, for a woman.

She had nowhere to flee. Whatever happened lay in the hands of fate.

Or Randall’s. She had not realized he had entered the kitchens until he grabbed her upper arm. He dragged her outside, around the manor, and up to her former chamber.

“Once agin ye cause more trouble than ye be worth.” He shoved her onto the pallet.

Kasey scurried to the farthest corner, pulled her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her trembling hands around her legs.

“Dinna look like a startled deer. I would love to join ye in yer pallet, but I canna. Get under the cover and act like ye be ill.” Randall moved toward the door, stopped, and turned to face her. “Keep yer bruised cheek to the cushion. Do naught to raise suspicion.”

Kasey kicked off her slippers and crawled under the plaid. She closed her eyes and prayed the emissary would think her body trembled with ague, not fear.

A short while later, cool air rushed over her body. She shivered in the strong arms that lifted her and clung to the shoulders. Caught between slumber and wakefulness, she mumbled, “Hunter?”

The arm gripping her upper body tightened. The one holding her legs let them drop. Hands bruised her upper arms before shoving her into a wall. She squeezed her eyes against the pain as she slumped to the floor.

Eyes more evil than a mad dog’s stared down at her. How could she have been so daft?

Randall lifted her by her plait. “Why would the Mackintosh tanist want rabble like ye?”

He did not give her time to answer. Not that she had a response. She had thought Hunter a warrior, not the clan’s heir.

Randall dragged her down the stairs and into the great hall. “Laird Cameron?”

Douglas’s bloodshot eyes peered over the brim of his goblet. Ale dribbled down his chin.

“This cummer’s fealty remains misplaced.”

Douglas waved a hand. “Do with her what ye will.”

Randall pulled her plait down until she looked into his eyes. He ran a calloused hand over her cheek, along her jaw, and then down to her neck.

Her skin crawled beneath his touch. Bile rose to the back of her throat as he applied more pressure.

“I could kill ye now.”

For a moment, the threat soothed her. “Please do.”

Randall’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed. He ordered two of the nearby men to hold her, then stormed from the hall. When he returned a whip dangled from his hand. “Turn her aboot.”

Sharp, cool metal pressed against her throat. He drew the blade around to her nape, cut the lacings of her kirtle, then stabbed the dirk into the table. He jerked on the collar, exposed her back, and picked up the whip.

Kasey begged and twisted.

“Hold her still.”

The first lash bit. She screamed. The second lash struck. She struggled free. The men caught her. She remembered how her screams had spurred the stablemaster when he beat the mare. How could she remain silent?

The waterfall will see ye through.

Kasey nodded at her mother’s words. She took a deep breath and pictured herself standing on the riverbank. The whip’s crack was naught but a tree limb snapping. The lash’s bite naught but lightning. The moisture on her brow naught but the fall’s mist. Randall’s taunts naught but distant thunder.

She looked up. Why would her laird be sitting by the falls? She could not remember him ever visiting Inverness.

Sweat beaded the flushed brow of his contorted face. His chest heaved. His right shoulder and upper arm trembled, as though his hidden hand moved with increasing speed. He called out with such force her knees buckled.

The storm subsided. Her laird sprawled in his seat gasping for air. Randall panted behind her. The men, their faces masked in fear, released her.

Randall grasped her chin. “Dinna change yer clothes. Let all see the punishment for betrayal.”

Careful to keep her face blank, she forced her shoulders back. She refused to give him the pleasure of seeing her pain.

The urge to use the tabs of her hidden boots on Randall surged through her, but she would not lower herself to the snake’s level—yet.

Later that night, after completing her chores, Kasey waded into the stream. The chill pierced through to her bones, but dried blood had pasted her chemise to her back.

The cold water soothed the relentless pain. Had she known what her future held, she would have taken the time to make more salve. Her gift of foresight seemed to have abandoned her like aught else.

She shook like a like a leaf in a storm by the time the slip floated free. Her vision blurred and darkened. Jagged walls scratched her hands as she searched for escape. The earth trembled. The cave roared. Rocks tumbled around her. Kasey stumbled through dust-choked air. Her heart raced as she rounded a corner. That candle at the caves end had burned to a stub. Would she die with the flame?

Chapter Nine

“I shall wait no longer.” Connor paced the antechamber.

“Alienating the king will serve no purpose, brother.”

“The king wishes to offend no one,” he looked right through Gavin, “save me.”

“What did ye expect him to do, Connor?” Dillon asked. “The harsh winter must have impeded his efforts.”

“And with the early spring should come twice the endeavor.” Each night Connor’s dreams of embracing his heart’s desire descended into nightmares of her slipping through his grasp.

Sleep had become as ethereal as a rainbow. He spent countless hours considering the plight. Balancing the wants and needs of all had proved no easy task, but with the aid of Gavin and Dillon, his youngest brother, he had devised a near perfect plan. He needed only to gain the king’s approval.

Broderick entered the chamber and declared the king’s arrival. The three Mackintosh brothers bowed. After the king took a seat, they joined him at the table.

“Do ye think it wise, Laird Mackintosh---?”

“My liege, I no longer be laird.”

“What?”

Connor hid his smile. In order to maintain his father’s ruse, the Mackintosh elders had named him chieftain after he returned from Inverness. Clan Chattan’s council, impressed by Connor’s royal tutelage and ignorant of Caedmon’s good health, had followed suit.

Before this journey, Connor returned the titles to his father. If the king failed to agree to Connor’s plan, he would forever relinquish his claim.

He had naught to lose. Gavin would be as competent, so the clan would not suffer. And Kasey did not know or care about his station.

“Our laird sends his regards, sire.”

“Caedmon be well?”

“Aye, my liege. We be here with his blessing.”

“I see. To what do I owe this honor?”

“With all due respect, my liege,” Gavin said, “the Mackintoshes’ reputation suffers. Yer enemies fear us because we protect what be ours. Therefore, we believe it our duty to see yer decree fulfilled.”

“I should have denied the petition.” The king sighed and turned to Broderick. “I would think my father’s experience would have taught me to abstain from meddling in matters of the heart.”

“Do ye now deny my request?” Fear knotted Connor stomach. His life would be incomplete without her.

“I dinna say that.” He turned an accusatory glare toward the Mackintoshes. “Do ye believe I sat aboot twiddling my thumbs?”

Connor took a deep breath. “Nay, sire, but it appears yer means have failed.”

“Immediately following yer departure I sent Broderick to the Cameron manor to demand Lady Kasey’s immediate return.”

“Ye saw her?” Connor glared at the emissary. “Yet each time ye came to my manor not once did ye think to mention this?”

“I had been ordered not to tell ye, lad.” Broderick looked to the king, who nodded. “Would ye cease yer quest if I informed ye she looks not well?”

Connor tried to control the anger that tightened his chest. “Do ye think naught more than beauty binds me?”

Broderick shrugged. “Beauty? Honor? Forbiddance? Tell me what makes Lady Kasey better than any other.”

He walked to the window. “I wish I could answer ye.”

The king shook his head. “Randall destroyed one missive demanding Kasey’s immediate release. I sent another informing Laird Cameron if he retained her custody, I would levy a special tax. I believed an exorbitant amount, collected each fortnight, would garner obedience.”

“I canna believe aught exceeds her laird’s love of gold,” Gavin crossed his arms, “but ye have just given another reason to support our plan of attack.”

“I willna risk the lady’s life,” the king turned to Connor, “and I canna believe ye be willing to do so.”

“Mayhap my words misled ye, sire.” Gavin gained Connor’s side. “We have another suggestion.”

Dillon flanked Connor’s other side. “If we canna barge through the front door, we must sneak in the back.”

The king raised his brows. “Explain yerselves.”

Despite his eight and ten summers, Dillon could pass for a much younger lad. He would stagger as far as he could within the walls and beg to speak with the laird.

He would tell a sad tale of men killing his parents and offer his youth and strength to the clan. If the laird balked, Dillon would give him a moderate amount of gold in return for shelter.

Gavin would camp on MacDonnell land. Once he obtained information from Dillon, he would return to the Mackintosh holding. Connor would then decide how to proceed.

“Yer plan to get Dillon in be sound, but how will he get his tidings out?”

Dillon straightened. “I be quite resourceful, yer majesty. If I find no other way, yer next emissary could take it with him.”

“Yer plan leaves much to chance. If Douglas discovers Dillon’s identity he willna hesitate to kill him.” The king looked at Connor. “How can ye risk yer brother’s life?”

“Sire, I offered my services.”

“No doubt to please yer laird, Dillon.”

“Connor tried to dissuade me, but I shall allow no man to go in my stead.”

“I canna give my blessing to a fool’s errand.”

Connor narrowed his eyes. “Ye seem to have forgotten to whom ye speak, my liege.”

“Have a care, Connor,” Broderick warned.

Negotiations were like a chess game. The loss of Mackintosh support would lead to check, and the subsequent loss of Clan Chattan would end in checkmate. The king could accept the new strategy or lose all. “The Mackintoshes have more than proved their fealty and asked naught in return.”

“Until now.”

“Aye, yer Majesty. I want what be mine. If I dinna have faith in Dillon’s abilities, I would never have presented this option.”

“Ye canna expect me to give full leave to do as ye see fit. Ye must keep me informed of yer progress and consult me every step of the way.”

Connor understood the king’s position, but time had become his enemy. Each conference could delay Kasey’s freedom by as much as another sennight. “An emissary, acting in yer stead, could await word at the Mackintosh manor. I would include him in all decisions.”

“Ye have considered this well.”

“Then we may proceed?”

“Ye may do what ye must. I will continue to seek a solution of my own.” The king rose. “In the meantime, Broderick will escort ye home. I imagine it will take nigh on a fortnight for him to check on Caedmon’s well-being.”

Satisfied the king had conceded, Connor sent Dillon and Gavin to prepare the trap. Awaiting Broderick, he paced the corridors and prayed providence would provide strength and guidance to all involved.

****

Throughout winter she wished the waist-high snow and dirk-sharp air would prevent the emissaries’ visits. Yet every fortnight another made the journey, and she suffered another beating.

By the time the trees budded, each flogging hurt a little less than the one before.

From the kitchen doorway, she watched the latest emissary stomp from the great hall. She took a deep breath and prepared for Randall’s imminent arrival.

The tug on her braid screamed his presence. She gathered her shredded pride and refused to fear the inevitable. With her chin high and her shoulders back, she stepped into the great hall and bowed to her laird.

“Ye still deny taking aught from Inverness?”

At Kasey’s nod her laird punched her jaw.

Reeling from the blow, she fell to the rushes. The Cameron grabbed her plait and hauled her up.

“We beat ye every time an emissary collects the tax, yet ye still proclaim innocence. If ye returned the spoils, the king would surely end this nonsense.” He kept her face pointed toward Randall. “Ye will watch this.”

Two men dragged Evonne, her eyes bright with fear, into the hall. Kasey struggled to break free, but her laird held fast.

“Yer claims of disdain for this infidel may have fooled others, Evonne, but not me. Two whores! Two liars! I canna rid myself of this filth,” Cameron jerked Kasey, “but I can clear this holding of rubbish like ye!”

At the laird’s nod Randall punched Evonne’s face. After she fell he kicked her ribs, then pummeled her. When she screamed no more, he knelt and took each of her legs into his hands and snapped the lower bones.

Kasey choked back her morning’s fare.

“Ye see, milord.” Randall panted. “Those two years be not wasted.”

“Dispose of her body outside the walls.” He shoved Kasey toward the kitchens. “Ye will soon meet the same end.”

She tripped over Evonne’s lifeless form. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she stroked her friend’s swollen face.

Randall lifted her to her feet. “Fear me.”

“Mark my words. One day I shall avenge—”

“Ye dare to threaten me after I killed yer friend. Ye fool!” He ordered a nearby man to bring him a whip.

****

Gavin and Dillon tethered their horses in a copse, then crawled through the thick brush to study the Cameron holding.

The outer wall had gaping holes, but the patrolling guards never bothered to peer through them. Mighty oaks towered beside the tattered stone curtain. No gatehouse with which to contend. The portcullis stood wide-open. Gavin shook his head. A lad of ten summers could breach the defenses.

A horse-drawn cart rolled nearby. Gavin looked at Dillon, then pointed to his eye and his ear before he laid a finger over his lips.

They kept to the bushes and followed a fair distance from the manor. Two men alighted and walked to the rear of the cart. They each grasped an end of a sack, then carried the load into the foliage. Within moments, they reappeared empty-handed and climbed into the wagon.

Gavin caught Dillon’s attention and pointed. While Dillon crept toward the sack, Gavin followed the wagon to the holding.

Dillon’s whistle pierced the silence. Gavin hastened back through the brush.

His brother cradled the sack in his lap. His brown eyes looked like rocks in a spring field.

Gavin understood why Dillon looked ill. The sack encased a woman. At least he thought it a lass. The bloodied and swollen features gave few clues to gender, but she had a long, dark braid.

She moaned when he touched her face.

“She lives?”

Dillon took a deep breath and nodded.

“It be a miracle.”

“I thought the sack held mewling kittens. She tried to fight me off after I untied the top.”

“This be most inconvenient.”

“Aye. We canna leave her, yet we canna move her far.”

“Notice her arisaide? Any clan who treats a woman thusly be verra dangerous. Voice yer fear now before it be too late.”

Dillon shook his head. He eased the woman into Gavin’s arms and followed him.

At a clearing near the horses, Gavin lowered the bundle to the ground. “Ye have the gold?”

Dillon nodded and donned the cloak of his mother’s clan. Her forebears, who hailed from the northernmost region, had no qualms with Camerons.

“Ye look too clean.” Gavin rubbed grass on Dillon’s tunic, then tore it.

Dillon rubbed earth on his face and trews.

Gavin hugged him. “Watch yer back, brother.” He escorted him as far as he could, then ran back to the broken woman.

Nigh on three summers before, he had watched Lady Kasey’s every move as she tended Connor. His sister Annie and Commander Shaw had since taught him as well. This woman needed him to remember all he could.

Kneeling by her side. he ran his hands over her neck and head. Nothing felt amiss in her neck. Except for the damage done to her face, her head had no lumps or blood.

He removed the woman’s shawl, undid her gown and chemise, and then lowered them to her narrow waist. Under different circumstances, he might have enjoyed disrobing her, but now he needed to keep his mind on the task at hand.

She struggled weakly as he slid his hand under her full breasts.

He whispered, “I mean ye no harm. I need to see where ye be injured.” Bruises covered her ribs, but nothing felt cracked.

The woman’s arms felt whole. From the bruises Gavin guessed her attacker had dragged her by them. He shook his head as he covered her torso with her shawl.

One final area required assessment. He had mocked Kasey’s reluctance to check Connor’s legs. “The past comes back to haunt me,” Gavin whispered.

He slid the sack from under the woman. When he looked at her lower extremities, his hands shook and his stomach turned. The considerable swelling and bruising did not alarm him as much as the odd angles at which her legs bent.

The air around him disappeared. His lungs found no satisfaction despite his fervent gulps. He ordered himself to slow his breaths.

His guard commander had shown him how to deal with such injuries when a warrior broke an arm during training.

Shaw had jerked the man’s hand while Connor held the elbow, and the bone snapped back into place. Then he had padded the limb with cloth and braced it with branches.