Highland Moonlight (31 page)

Every eye below seemed focused on the stairs and a stillness hung over

the room. Mary moved with stealth to the railing.

The prisoner stood on the stairs, his arm lodged beneath Grace’s

chin. He held the girl before him, a blade pressed against her midriff. Her

cornflower blue eyes were wide and glistened with frightened tears, but she

made no sound. The man forced her down several more steps, their

staggering progress unbalanced.

The man’s eyes, glassy and glazed, looked wild. His fever-flushed

face burned a hectic red. He stumbled nearly falling on top of Grace and the

dagger pricked the girl’s side. Blood, bright red, stained the gray wool of her

gown and she whimpered in pain. Pushing back against him, she

attempted to support his weight to prevent the blade from going deeper.

“‘Tis plain to see you are not strong enough to seat a horse, nor ride

for any distance,” Alexander said as he stepped forward. Two men eased

forward on either side. “The lass has done naught but care for your wounds

and ease your pain. Is this how you would repay her kindness?”

“‘Tis enemies that surround me. I would leave this place,” the prisoner

said.

Grace’s face turned dark red with the effort to breath and her hands

clawed at the man’s arm as it tightened against her throat.

“Aye, MacDonald. Once you are strong enough to make the journey,

you and all the others shall leave my land.”

The man laughed, the sound hoarse. His throat worked as he

swallowed. “We are all dead men, lest you be dead too. We can not return

until the deed is done.”

“Return to Lochlan or MacDonald Glenn?” Alexander asked.

“Think me a coward that I would betray my men, Campbell?” His fever

glaze gaze narrowed. “A horse, bring me one now!”

“Look about you, Man.” Alexander raised his hand to motion to the men

seated and standing around the room. “How far will you ride before you will

be hunted down and captured anew?”

The prisoner’s gaze swept the room then returned to Alexander. A

smile more like a grimace bared his teeth. “There is nothing to lose then.”

“Only your life,” Alexander said.

“My own will not be the only one lost this day,” he threatened, his arm

tightening across Grace’s throat once again.

The girl’s struggles to breath grew audible in the silence of the room

as she twisted against the pressure.

Her hands shaking, Mary armed and raised the bow. She sighted the

man. Grace’s body blocked his, leaving only his head as a target.

“She is but a servant and of little value as a hostage,” Alexander said.

Grace sagged, her legs crumpling beneath her.

“What value do you hold, Campbell?” the man jeered at Alexander

below him. He flipped the dagger into the air, its blade turning in the light.

Fear for her husband lanced through Mary . She loosed the arrow. The

barb struck the man’s wrist traveled through and lodged deep into his throat

pinning his hand into an upraised position. The force of the shot thrust him

sideways. Grace’s loose-limbed form fell on top of him as he slumped

backwards onto the steps. The two slid down almost to the bottom. The

dagger dropped to the stairs and bounced between the wooden banister

and landed harmlessly on the floor below.

For several moments all remained still then Alexander turned to look

upward.

Lowering the bow to her side, Mary grasped the oak railing to steady

herself as her limbs grew tremulous and weak with reaction. She had shot

a man. The enormity of what she had done struck her and, as her ears filled

with a horrible hollow ringing, her legs gave way. The world spun about her

and she closed her eyes against the sensation. Blackness closed about

her.

When next she opened her eyes, she lay in the comfort of her own

bed, a heavy pelt drawn up over her to her neck. Alexander shifted beside

her his tawny eyes grave with concern. Tears burnt her eyes and

immediately he leaned down to gather her to him and hold her close. Mary

clung to him and breathed in the familiar musky scent of horses, peat

smoke, and the man himself. He was whole and safe.

“Grace?” she managed after a few moments.

“She is alive, though her throat is bruised.”

“He meant to kill you both.”

“Aye,” he agreed.

Her arms tightened about him.

He shushed her, as he cupped the back of her head and held her

close. “Be at ease, Mary. All is well.”

Mary ran a steadying hand along the wall as she descended the steep

stone steps to the dungeon. The smell had improved somewhat, but

dampness permeated the walls, and a chill hung over the dimly lit

passageway. She shivered, reminded of the cave and the many miserable

days she had stayed there. It seemed a lifetime had passed since then.

Setting her basket of herbs atop the small table just outside the cells,

she stepped aside as one of the men placed a brazier filled with hot coals

on the table. Another man set a pot of water on it and, at her direction,

positioned a wooden bench against the wall.

“Alexander said the men’s hands were to be bound behind them

before you would be permitted to see them, Mary,” Duncan said as he came

to stand beside her.

“Aye.”

“Are you certes you wish to do this?”

She raised her gaze to his face. His open concern brought a smile to

her lips. The bonds of kinship she felt toward him were growing. “Aye,

Duncan, I am certes.” She laid out the herbs and dried barks she might

need. “You may bring out the first of them.”

An hour passed while she bathed and bound minor wounds. She

studied each man’s face carefully, relieved when she did not recognize any

of them. The taut dread she had carried inside her began to ease. If none

were familiar to her, then perhaps her suspicions of her father were wrong.

The next man balked at being led from the cell and a scuffle broke out.

Duncan stepped between her and the clansmen dragging him forward,

blocking Mary’s view.

“I do not need the services of a healer,” the man protested.

The sound of a meaty fist landing with a solid impact made Mary flinch.

“You do now.” One of the men muttered as they dragged him forward

and hefted him none too gently onto the bench.

Wondering at the men’s senseless violence, she drew a deep breath.

“‘Tis the man who’s arrow pierced Alexander’s leg at Lorne, Mary,”

Duncan explained as he stepped from in front of her.

The man held his stomach, bent over in pain from the blow. When he

straightened, pain-filled eyes, as bright blue as her own, settled on her face.

Grimy hair streaked with pale gold hung limply on either side of his face, the

strands following the curve of a cheekbone marred by a purple bruise that

had turned green and yellow along the edges. A light brown beard darkened

the lower half of his jaw.

Shock drained the strength from Mary’s legs and forced her to brace a

hand on the table. She caught back a groan of disbelief.

“Do you know him, Mary?” Duncan asked, his gray gaze fixed on her

face.

“Aye,” she managed, her mouth dry with dread. Tears blurred her

vision. Her hopes of being accepted by Alexander’s clan dwindled away like

so much dust in the wind. “Why have you done this thing, Gavin?”

“Do you not know why, Mary? He destroyed your honor and brought you

harm! ‘Tis my duty as your brother to seek revenge for what he did.” His

cheeks, flushed with outrage, caused the bruise to stand out all the more.

“Brother!” Duncan exclamation sounded more like an oath.

Mary ignored him, her attention focused on Gavin’s face. “He is my

husband, Gavin. He is the father of my bairn. Would you make me a widow

and my child an orphan?”

Gavin’s features grew tense, his blue eyes flared with rage. “Better a

widow than to be forced to serve him after what he did.”

Drawing a deep breath to steady herself, Mary stepped forward to lay a

hand on his shoulder. Her gaze settled on his and she swallowed against

the tears clogging her throat. “I do not need you to seek revenge on my

behalf. I do not wish that for myself or my child.”

“How can you defend him, Mary? He shamed you!” He clenched his

hands, his frustration palpable.

Mary flinched, and her temper finally erupted. His presence put her

place in the clan at risk and put her child’s future in jeopardy. “Where would

you have it end, Brother? If you strike him down then his brothers will strike

you, then our father will strike back, and the bloodshed will go on and on.

What will be left for my son? What will be left for me? Would you have me

return to our father to be bartered to the next man. And the next. She

slammed both her fist down on the table. “And the next. If you are here to

serve his purposes ‘tis you,” she pointed her finger at him, “who are the

fool, Gavin. He will use you, and use you, until your heart will be as hard as

his, and you will be as hungry for power as he, because that is all you will

have left.”

She rose to her full height, her body trembling with passion and anger.

“How many husbands do we bury in the name of revenge, Gavin. How many

sons? Do I allow it to go on and on until my own sons are laid at my feet in

the name of honor?” She shook her head. ‘Twould be better to be dead

myself than to leave that legacy for my children.” Her voice cracked on the

last word and her composure wavered.

Gavin’s scowl set in stubborn lines. “‘Tis better for you to be dead than

forced to live with a man who would dishonor you.”

His words had Duncan and the other men stepping toward him

threateningly.

Mary raised her hand to ward them off, resenting their interference and

their presence. “Do you think our father honored your mother or mine,

Gavin?” she asked, her voice growing softer as she calmed. She shook her

head. “Marriage to him is little but the begetting of heirs and has nothing to

do with the honor or the care of the woman with whom he chooses to beget

them. That is why both his women are dead.”

“Can you say the man you are wed to is any better?” he demanded.

“Aye, I can. He is not harsh with me in his word or deed. What has

passed between us is for us to settle, no one else.”

“Can you forgive the harm he has done you so easily?” Gavin asked

obviously amazed.

She could not say it had come easily to her. “You have spilled his

blood, you have pricked his pride, and wounded him. What more would you

have him suffer in the name of my honor?”

“He has killed my men,” Gavin shouted.

“In defense of his own life and that of his men. Indeed, he has done so

in defense of me as well. Or would you have your men abuse me in the

name of revenge?”

“Nay, Sister. Never!”

She placed her hands on her hips. “Then mayhap you should have

spoken more plainly of your wishes before you ordered them to attack us on

the way to
Caisteal Sith
.”

His brows furrowed, “My men and I were at Lorne and here as well,

Mary, but we did not attack anyone along the way.”

Her gaze searched his face in surprise. “Then whose men was it that

did so, if not yours, Gavin?”

He shook his head. “I do not know, Mary.” His gaze dropped to her

thickening waist. “I would not risk you or your bairn, Sister.”

She did not know whether to believe him or not. She did not know how

much influence Collin had on him. All she did know for certain, was she did

not want to lose any more of her kin. Anne was lost to her now she had wed.

Because of Collin’s actions, she would probably never see her younger

brother Kenneth again. Gavin, her half brother, was the only blood kin she

had left with whom she had hope of retaining contact, and that hope was

slowly melting away.

“Will you give me your oath ‘twas not your men who attacked us?” she

asked, working against the knot of tears rising again in her throat.

“I give you my oath, Mary, ‘twas not me or my men,” he answered, his

pale blue gaze steady on her face. His sudden smile laced with mischief

and satisfaction. “But I have bedeviled his cattle and I did pierce him with an

arrow.”

Mary found no humor in the situation. “I too have killed one of your

men, Gavin. Would you wish to take my life in revenge for that as well?”

His smile quickly died.

“He tried to strangle my maidservant. It could have as easily been me,

had I arrived at the chamber in which he slept a few moments before. He

sought to kill Alexander with a dagger and claimed he could not return

home lest my husband was dead first. I loosed the arrow and I killed him. I

will have to live with his blood upon my hands because of you, dear Brother.

That is what has come from your quest for revenge.”

****