Highland Hero (38 page)

“It will also tell him that Sir Ranald may weel have righteous grievance against the Ruthvens.”

“I ken it. I dinnae think ye will find anyone here who willnae be more than ready to take that chance. I would be willing. Donald would be, for his Sorcha is still carrying her bairn, grows rounder and heavier with it every day, and ’tis a lively one. He tells us all of its every kick. Robert’s back is better, and he has discovered a new way to enjoy his bonnie wife. The blacksmith near to kisses the ground your lady walks on, for his son is alive and getting into trouble again as all wee lads should.”

“So weel loved in such a short time?”

“Aye, by all of us, and I think mostly by you. She saved your life as weel.”

“Aye, she did. Ye had best be sure of this, Leith. If that fool father of hers has no caring for her at all, thinks naught of who she weds but only of the coin weighting his purse, we could be setting ourselves in the midst of a bloody feud with no hope of allies.”

“I am sure. Send him word. If he proves to be such a heartless bastard that he cannae e’en come to judge the truth for himself, then once we are done with Sir Ranald, we will go to his keep and steal all her sisters.”

David laughed, surprised he could do so. Then he realized that he had some hope now. Even if Tatha’s father did not join him, he had the support of his people. Pulling them into the midst of a feud, something that could be long and bloody, for the sake of a lass who was not a Ruthven, was something he had been reluctant to do. He had feared that he would be leading his people to their deaths simply to keep a lass he wanted. It was clear that his clan wanted her as well.

“Weel, find the lad who took the last message to that fool Tatha must claim as her father,” David ordered. “I will try once more to rouse the mon’s conscience. We willnae wait long for him, however, so we had best begin to plan our attack as weel.”

“Dinnae worry, David.” Leith briefly clasped his cousin’s shoulder in a gesture of sympathy. “We will get the lass back.”

David prayed his cousin’s confidence was trustworthy. He dared not think on all that could happen to Tatha while she was in Sir Ranald’s hold, nor what the man might do to her when he discovered she was no longer a maiden. Or, if he had guessed correctly about what ailed the man, how he would treat her if she could not cure his problem. All he could do was plan, and pray she could keep herself safe until he could get to her.

“Where is my daughter?”

David stared at the huge scowling man standing in his bailey, only briefly glancing at the well-armed force he had brought with him. It had been four long days since he had sent the last message to Sir Malcolm Preston, and he had begun to lose hope. It was hard to believe this angry brute of a man was Tatha’s father, but David was willing to accept any help he could get.

“As I wrote you, she is in Sir Ranald’s hands,” David answered. “I am preparing to go and take her back.” His eyes widened slightly as a slender, dark-haired girl stepped up next to the man.

“One of my other daughters, Elspeth.” Sir Malcolm scowled down at the girl. “She made me bring her.”

David almost smiled. Perhaps, in his gruff way, Sir Malcolm was not as heartless as they had all thought. If such a tiny lass could not only defy the man but make him accede to her wishes, there might well be some softness beneath the scowl. He glanced at his cousin, thinking to silently share his humor, only to find himself fighting the urge to gape. Leith was staring at the slender girl as if some angel had just alighted and offered him the keys to God’s kingdom. When he turned back to look at the girl, she was staring back at Leith and blushing.

“Pleased to meet ye, Lady Elspeth,” he said as he took her hand in his and lightly kissed it, breaking her and Leith of the spell they seemed to be caught in. “Your concern for your sister can only be praised.” He looked back at Sir Malcolm, who curtly introduced his son Douglas. “Let us go to the hall and have some ale and food whilst we discuss this matter. Not a long discussion, mind, for I am preparing to ride out after Tatha.”

“Oh? And ye think ye have that right, do ye?” demanded Sir Malcolm as he, Douglas, and Elspeth followed David and Leith into the keep.

“I promised her my protection. Aye, and many here feel they owe her.”

Sitting down and helping himself to a large tankard of wine, Malcolm grunted. “So she has been going about healing hurts, has she?”

As he too sat down and filled his tankard, David nodded. “She is truly skilled in the healing arts.”

“Aye, her aunt taught her weel.” Sir Malcolm’s eyes narrowed. “Though some called the old crone a witch, and ’twas something whispered about Tatha from time to time.”

“We are nay so foolish here.”

“Nay? Wasnae that what got your mother killed?”

“Papa,” Elspeth snapped. “I thought we came here to help Tatha. I dinnae think that will be easy if ye make the mon want to cut your throat.”

“Ye are verra saucy for such a wee lass,” he grumbled. “I but speak the truth.”

“Aye, ye do, and ’tis best ye recall who decried my mother as a witch and whose men killed her,” David said coldly. “That same mon now holds your daughter.”

“A lass who is betrothed to him.” Sir Malcolm held up his hand when both Elspeth and David started to speak. “A mistake. I see that now. The mon was old and ugly, but he was wealthy, powerful, and would have given the lass a household to lead, mayhap e’en a bairn or two. Or so I thought. Your last message has me thinking the old bastard was hiding the truth about himself. I talked with the maids and they confirmed your suspicions. Told the fool lasses they should have come to me. E’en a whore doesnae deserve to be beaten near senseless just because some old goat cannae get his rod to stand up.” He grinned when Elspeth groaned, blushed, and hid her face behind her hands. “Ye wanted to come along.” He blithely ignored the glare she gave him and looked hard at David. “Of course ye ne’er touched my lass yourself.”

“I mean to get her back and marry her,” David said, his look almost daring Sir Malcolm to argue with him.

“Weel, there could be a cost,” Sir Malcolm began.

“Nay, Father,” Douglas said. “No more. Ye have set that poor lass in the midst of deadly trouble with your fine plan. ’Tis clear it isnae the way to do things.”

“Ye were ne’er fond of it from the start. Isabel and Bega didnae mind.”

“Isabel and Bega would have wed with the Devil himself and any one of his minions if it meant they wouldnae be spinsters any longer,” snapped Elspeth.

“Aye, and the ones who bought them were nay old, useless men who may have blood on their hands,” said Douglas. “I wonder now if all of his wives died of illness as he claimed or were set in their graves because he blamed them for his lack.”

“Insolent lot,” Sir Malcolm grumbled, but he nodded as he looked back at David. “All right. If ye want the fool lass ye may have her. Now, how do we get her back from that old bastard?”

Two hours later, as the combined forces of the Prestons and the Ruthvens rode out of Cnocanduin, David felt his hopes rise. He nudged Leith, pulling his cousin’s gaze from the slender girl waving them farewell from the walls of the keep. David had caught Douglas grinning at both Leith and Elspeth, revealing that he too had noticed the bewitchment that had apparently seized the two. He was not sure it was something that ought to be revealed to Sir Malcolm just yet, however.

“What ails ye, cousin?” he demanded, biting back a grin when Leith blushed bright red.

“Tatha’s sister is a bonnie lass,” Leith muttered.

“Aye, she is, and she smiles quite freely at you.”

“I have no coin.”

“Dinnae fret on that. It appears the father isnae as fierce in his ways as we thought, and the brother has clearly ne’er approved of the business. When we get Tatha back we will turn our attentions to getting ye the wee, bonnie Elspeth.”

“We will get the lass back,” Leith said firmly.

David just smiled and prayed that his cousin was right to feel so confident. Tatha had been in Sir Ranald’s grasp for four long days. She was a clever lass, resourceful and brave, but how long could she keep herself safe from the man? He had been tormented day and night with thoughts of all that could be happening to her, and he had to stop, for it was threatening to make him useless. David forced himself to fix his thoughts on the battle ahead and nothing else, a battle he must win.

Chapter 10

Tatha winced as the light the guard carried stung her eyes. When Baird had delivered her to Sir Ranald, that man had glared at her for several minutes, then had her tossed in the dungeon. There she had been left, alone and in the dark. If she was right and the meager offering of sour ale and stale bread that arrived was really only sent once a day, she had been kept in the dungeons for four days. That also meant that Sir Ranald’s silent, glaring visits also came but once a day, for she had endured those long moments of glaring four times. She was being punished.

She sighed as the silent guard changed her privy pot, left her a bowl of scummy water to wash in, and set down her meager meal. It was maddening to sit there alone, shrouded in silence and darkness, but she tried to be hopeful. At least Sir Ranald was not trying to assert his husbandry rights before the wedding. And if he was waiting to marry her it had to be because her father was coming. Her father had to frown on this treatment. The man had never even struck them when they were naughty, for all he roared and grumbled. Sir Malcolm could never be called a loving father, but he had never been cruel, and she prayed this would shock him into listening to her pleas.

She had barely choked down her unappetizing meal when another guard arrived with a large bucket of hot water, some of her clothes, and what looked to be soap and a drying cloth. He set them inside her cell, then turned his back. For a moment Tatha stared at the things he brought, then at his stiff back. Surely he did not expect her to bathe and change while he stood there? It quickly became clear that he expected exactly that. Praying that he had been ordered not to glance her way, she turned her back on him and began to wash. She even rinsed out her hair, then rubbed it dry with the cloth and combed her fingers through it. It was a tangled mess, but at least it was a little cleaner.

“Are ye done?” demanded the guard.

“Aye,” she muttered as she tied off the last of her laces. “Now what?” she demanded when he grabbed her by the arm and started to drag her back up the stairs.

“Sir Ranald wishes to speak with you,” the guard answered.

“I am overcome with joy.”

“I dinnae ken why the old fool wants such a sharp-tongued lass.”

“I am young?”

“Aye, that could be the way of it. Ye must have made your father verra angry if he was willing to sell ye to this old goat.”

Tatha did not reply, for she had often thought the same thing. Unfortunately, she had been unable to think of one thing she had done that would make her father condemn her to marriage with Sir Ranald. She could only pray that her father simply did not know what the man was like and that he would listen when she tried to tell him, that she would at least be given the chance to speak to him.

When the guard did not lead her to the great hall as she had suspected he would, she tensed. If Sir Ranald’s keep was much akin to the others she had been to then she was being dragged to the sleeping rooms. Feeling the first hint of panic she tried to pull free of the guard’s hold, but he doggedly dragged her onward. When he reached a heavy, iron-studded door, he knocked once, opened it, and practically threw her inside. Before she could catch her balance he had shut it behind her.

“So, my wee bride, how do ye like your new bedchamber?” asked Sir Ranald as he stepped up behind her and shoved her toward the bed.

“We arenae married yet,” she said, straightening herself up and trying to meet his cold gaze with calm.

“We will be.”

“Is my father coming to the wedding?”

She wondered why that simple question should make him scowl so darkly. Then she studied him more closely. He looked furious, but she sensed the anger was not all due to her blatant aversion to him. Something had gone wrong, and she began to suspect that that something was why he was about to try to claim his husbandry rights before they were actually married.

“Oh, aye, your father is on his way, but he will be too late.”

“What do ye mean?”

“Your fine Sir David has been verra busy, verra busy indeed. He has been sending messengers all o’er the countryside, telling one and all that I killed his mother.”

“And did you?”

“What does that matter?”

“It gives David a righteous grievance against you. ’Twill hobble what few allies ye have, for none will wish to put themselves in the midst of a weel-earned reckoning. And my father willnae make me marry a woman-killer.” She edged away from the bed when he took a threatening step toward her. “Has my father learned the ugly truth about you, Sir Ranald? Is that why ye have brought me here? Ye mean to try to steal what is nay longer yours by right, dinnae you?”

He stalked her around the room. “Your father and I made a bargain. I gave him a hefty purse for your sweet hide. Ye are mine now.”

“Nay, I am not and I ne’er will be.”

When he lunged for her, she darted out of his reach. She raced for the door, but he grabbed her, dragged her to the bed, and tossed her on top of it. For a slim, aging man, he was surprisingly strong. Tatha also suspected that four days in the dungeons with little to eat or drink had severely depleted her strength. Despite the growing conviction that she could not win a fight against him, she struggled with all her might. It did not really surprise her when he got her firmly pinned down beneath him on the bed, but it was difficult not to weep over her defeat.

The too-wet kisses he pressed against her neck made her stomach roll. His bony fingers clawed at the laces of her gown, and she felt herself shrink away from even the promise of his touch. Her growing panic eased abruptly when she realized there was no hardness in his groin. He ground himself against her, but she felt only his hip bones and a faint soft shape that was probably his manhood. The man might maul her, might even beat her, but she began to think that he would never be able to rape her.