Kate Robbins - The Highland Chiefs Series 03 (14 page)

He sat back in his chair with a wide smirk on his face. Five thousand? He had estimated no more than several hundred upon approaching Dunrobin.

“Do you hide them in the bowels of the castle then?” he dared to ask. “For I only see a few hundred here.”

“Ahh, you have much to learn, Ronan. One never places his entire army in one place.”

He stood and motioned for Ronan to follow. They walked toward the back of the castle and climbed the tallest tower. Once there, Ronan had a fantastic view of the entire region. Inland and to the west he saw farmlands and mountains. Closer to the castle, the smaller portion of his uncle’s army readied itself. But to the southeast and out to sea his gaze beheld several ships anchored and lying in wait.

Christ! Had his ships made their way around the tip of Scotland, they would have been discovered by his uncle’s fleet!

“Now you know, Ronan, why ships are very appealing to me. I will defeat the MacKenzies on land but then I will take everything they have and we will sail into Edinburgh and claim the throne from those worthless Stewarts.”

“I think you may have to deal with the MacDonalds of the Isles if that is the prize you seek.”

“The MacDonalds are no threat to me. I have made sure the MacDonald will spend the rest of his days in prison. So you see there is nothing standing in my way any longer. It is only a matter of time before all this is mine. I must admit, Ronan. I did not anticipate your alliance. From everything I have been told, I expected you to work against me.”

As he said his last words, his fingers bit into Ronan’s shoulder in warning. Aye. It would take very little to lose this man’s trust and then all would be lost. He must tread carefully to ensure the man’s defeat. The ships would prove challenging. On land, they had an advantage, as long as the king understood the urgency of the matter. If not, all was already lost.

“When do you march against the MacKenzies?” Ronan asked.

“At day break. We will run them through and then begin the campaign south, hitting Ross and MacDonald, and farther past Inverness to MacIntosh lands. I understand the MacIntosh believes himself worthy of defending his lands, but he will discover the truth of it soon enough. They will fall. All of them, Ronan.” His uncle’s face twisted into an ugly sneer. “And they will all know the name of Alexander Sutherland by the time I am through with them.”

The man was stark raving mad. There was no doubt about it.

Following his uncle down the winding tower stairs, Ronan contemplated his next move. Freya and his mother and sister appeared safe, as long as he kept his attentions away from them.

Earlier, he had spied Neville, among the guards and nodded to him. Ronan meant to seek him out to learn of what had actually occurred at Tongue and to what degree the MacKays were incapacitated. He prayed Fergus was not harmed and was doubling the MacKenzie numbers by the hour.

When he and Alexander entered the hall again, a ruckus had ensued and some of the kitchen maids, including Shannon, were being molested by the guards. A great surge of fury welled within him. He could not stand by and watch these women be raped. But if he ran to their aid, his guise would be lifted and all would surely be lost.

“What passes here?” Alexander’s voice bellowed into the great stone chamber. “I did not give you leave to sport with these women when they have yet to feed me.”

As twisted as his logic was, Ronan was grateful that Alexander’s priority was his empty belly. At least that might give the maids time to make themselves scarce.

“First, we feast!” he said. “Then you may sport with any woman you wish, who is not under guard.”

Chapter Fourteen

Freya paced while the others slept. They had all agreed to take turns keeping watch during the night, and her shift was nearing its end. She was exhausted and confused. Something niggled at her. Ronan’s actions were confounding, but the ale drinking was new. Just how much of him did she really not know?

She stood at the window and gazed out across the sea. The moonlight shimmered on the water and lights danced in the distance. She squinted. Lights on the water? There must be ships out there. But according to the number of lights, there would have to be a whole fleet. As she leaned forward to see better, a shuffling from behind her caught her attention.

Footsteps from outside her door grew louder. She tiptoed to the door to listen for voices. The steps echoed through the hallway outside and stopped in front of her door. She held her breath and waited. A soft thunk sounded on the other side and she heard deep sighs coming from whomever it was.

Freya’s heart pounded and she jerked her head back from the door when she thought she heard her name whispered. Ronan? Her pulse quickened. Should she open the door? What if it was not him? She leaned in and pressed her ear to the door again. Muffled whispers of words she could not discern made her reach for the latch. Just before she touched the cool metal, it lifted on its own.

She stepped back and waited for the door to arc open. Somehow, she was certain it was Ronan. Her heart beat like a drum in her chest. She held her breath. Would he enter her chamber? For what purpose? So he could seduce her again and then throw her to the wolves in the next instant? Not this time.

The door inched open and Freya peered closer at the door frame. There was an additional latch, one that would bolt the door from the inside. Before thinking any better, she shoved all her weight against the door and clicked the lock in place. A gasp on the other side told her the person did not expect it.

She waited to see if the intruder would persist, instead she heard faint laughing as the footsteps moved away.

Freya slumped against the door and let her head fall back against it. Her knees quaked. Part of her still wanted him so badly it was bound to drive her mad, but the logical side of her wanted to grab the nearest blade and drive it through him.

“Who was at the door?” Morag asked.

Freya jumped. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I was until the door slammed shut. I thought someone must have come in.” She rubbed her eyes, sitting up.

“No, I thought someone was out there so I checked and then locked the door to be sure no one entered.”

“I doubt a lock from the inside will stop them if they seek entry badly enough.”

“You speak true, however, for now it appears Sutherland does not want us harmed. Any guard could sneak in here if he wanted to with the door unlocked. He would have to make quite the racket in order to get in, and then he would risk waking his laird. I don’t know about you, but that is one man’s attention I’d rather not attract.”

Morag got out of bed and approached Freya, wrapping her arms around her. “He is not acting like himself, lass.”

“Who?”

“You know of whom I speak.”

“He has made his wishes quite clear, Morag. I see no reason to speak of him again.”

She tutted. “Freya, he is protecting us, that is all.”

“I appreciate, as his mother, you have to see the best in him, but I have looked into his eyes, and what I saw there tonight left me with no doubt there is nothing but disgust for me left in him.”

She wrapped her arms around her middle as if doing so could change the cold, hard fact. Ronan did not love her, and she wondered if he ever did.

“Freya, use your head. What do you think would happen to us if Ronan showed us the real love he has in his heart?”

Freya shook her head. All she could see was the disgust in his eyes. Morag tightened her arms around her.

“Alexander Sutherland would have gutted the lot of us where we stood, that is what.” She gave Freya a little shake. “Freya, look at me. You must not give up on him. I know my son and I would bet my life that he loves you more than his own. He distances himself to protect you. Please, for both of your sakes, do not give up on him.”

“My brother is dead. You cannot expect me to forgive the man responsible. I cannot. I will not!”

With that, Freya broke from Morag’s embrace and moved to take her place in the bed beside Muren. She flopped down on the pillow and drew the covers up and over her head. She heard Morag heave a great sigh as Freya shut her eyes tight. She did not want to see or hear anymore reminders about how much she had lost. No, she needed to formulate a plan to get back to Tongue and find a way to protect Nessia and the children. Please God, they were not harmed and had others there to help them.

Would Neville have gathered enough information to have formed a plan? Was he able to get information out? And if he could, exactly how was she to find him in a sea of soldiers she did not know if she could trust to keep from ravaging her?

As much as she hated to admit it, right there in the chamber, with Ronan’s sister and mother, was the safest place.

Muren mumbled in her sleep and Freya turned over to regard her. She peeked out from under the covers and took in the young lass. Muren had been through so much as well. Freya recalled the screaming from the first night and then wondered if Muren had been attacked. She compared the scream to the one Morag had given when one of the guards had touched her hair. They were different.

Freya sat up and Morag turned her head.

“Why did Muren scream that first night we were taken?”

Morag came to the edge of the bed and sat. “One of the guards tried to haul her off for his sport,” she said, frowning. “Freya, I have never been so afraid in my life, until I saw you and the fury in your eyes that night. I thought, if Freya can do this, so can I. We can both protect Muren.”

“Aye, we can, Morag. But I tell you now, my priority is to return home to Fergus’s wife and children. That is where I belong. You and Muren can come with me. I have a friend out there.” She tilted her head toward the window. “He will help us return to safety.”

Morag smiled. She really was quite beautiful. “You speak of Neville Stephenson.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because he was with Ronan when they rescued us.”

“Neville was there? Are you telling me you really were rescued?”

Morag’s brow furrowed as she frowned. “Of course we were rescued. Freya, they burned out my cottage. Ronan and Neville and the others rescued us from the dungeon and we tracked back a different way from the one we came. I rode with Neville and we spoke a great deal of the MacKay and Sutherland feud. When I say my son has nothing to do with what is going on and is only trying to protect us, I speak the truth. I know you have your reasons for disbelieving me and I know you are in pain. But know this, Alexander Sutherland is a liar who toys with us all for his own sport.”

Could it be true? Did Ronan pretend indifference and disgust to protect them from his uncle’s attentions? She wished, more than ever, she had opened the door. Freya slumped back onto the pillow. Her mind raced with the possibilities.

“We should be asking ourselves what we can do to help him. I feel he is trying to get close to his uncle for a purpose, but I cannot fathom why. Other than trying to influence him on our behalf, I cannot imagine what he can accomplish.”

“Have you seen the ships?”

Morag’s brow furrowed. “What ships?”

“Out there in the bay. There must be a dozen or more. Go look, I saw them there not more than an hour ago.”

Morag moved to the window and Freya waited for her affirmation. When she said nothing, Freya got out of bed and moved up behind her. She peered out into the darkness. The moon was hidden behind the clouds and everything on the sea was black. It could not be. She had seen them with her own eyes. How could they have simply disappeared?

“It makes no sense. They were there. I swear it,” she said.

“I believe you, Freya. I think there is only one of two possibilities. Either your eyes tricked you, or the ships were there and now they have moved.”

“But where could they have gone in such a short period of time?” Their chamber afforded an extensive view of the sea. Ships could not just disappear.

“Perhaps there is another possibility we have not considered,” she said. “That they are still there.”

“How can that be?”

“You saw lights correct?”

“Aye.”

“And now there are none.”

“Aye, Morag, we have established that much.”

“So considering the time frame, I would suggest the lights are simply put out.”

“But ships always leave some light on to assist in avoiding collision. The only time you would hear of a ship moving under complete cover of darkness, is if—”

Morag smiled. “If?”

“If they are about to attack.” Freya looked out to the sea again and strained hard to detect any sign of the ships sailing closer to shore. Try as she might she was not certain if she saw black ships, whales, or a trick of what little light there was.

The wind picked up and moments later the moon illuminated the water again. Freya’s belly tightened because now the ships sailing without the aid of lanterns were clearly visible. Morag grabbed her arm and gasped.

“Who are they?”

“I know not, but their destination is unmistakable.”

Freya watched them for the next hour, between the moon appearing and disappearing again moments later. Silently they came. Friend or foe of the Sutherlands? And would that make them the opposite for her? When they neared the shore, dozens of smaller boats emerged from the larger ships. They rowed until the shore was dotted with intruders.

Just when Freya anticipated they were ready to attack, the party of men moved off toward the south and away from the castle, their destination unknown and her questions unanswered. An hour later still, all was quiet. Morag urged her into bed and despite the activity of the evening and the uncertainty of her safety, Freya fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Ronan listened to his uncle relay his plans to the captain of his ship’s fleet. He had every detail planned down to each soldier’s duty. It appeared nothing escaped his notice. Despite his monstrous methods, Ronan had to acknowledge the man had a strategic mind that was unmatched.

“You will stay off shore until we signal your arrival. You’ve been too close lately and I fear you may be spotted, so you will have to take greater pains to hide the ships.” The warning was clear.

“Aye, my lord. If that concludes your orders, we will be on our way.”

His uncle nodded and the captain left the great hall. He then turned to Ronan and smiled. “You are in deep concentration, nephew. Do you have any questions about my plans?”

“No, uncle. I consider your approach thorough.”

He chuckled. “Aye, I am thorough. It is how I am able to achieve exactly what I want. For example, when you were able to escape with your mother and sister.”

Ronan sat up a little straighter.

“That is correct. I knew you were here. Did you not think you were allowed to collect them with very little resistance and that was odd?”

“Aye, I did.” Ronan was not about to share all details on what he had learned about that rescue. Namely the habits of the guards in the dungeon. Ronan had observed exactly as his mother had suggested. They filled their gullets at night and rarely moved before the mid-day meal.

“And yet you left a clear path to MacKay’s door for me. Perhaps that was your intention all along.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that perhaps you relate more to my attempts to rule over these barbarians than to roll around in the muck along-side them.”

Ronan opened his mouth to deny it but his uncle put his hand up.

“You are not yet ready to accept the Sutherland blood that runs through your veins, Ronan. You were allowed to live with your mother for far too long. I told Artair he should have hardened you to the ways of a true leader from your birth, but he had put all his faith in his eldest, and we both know how that turned out. Your father was a mad fool.”

Ronan knew that story all too well. His older half-brother, Artagan, had met his fate at his father’s hand. A chance meeting with Fergus MacKay when they were lads would prove to everyone the importance of recognizing both friend and foe. His father had been wild with fury when he learned Artagan and Fergus had become friends. His brother succumbed to his lashings within a month of receiving them.

“I was but seven when my brother was—when he died.”

Alexander grinned without mirth. “Aye, and if you were my son, your whore of a mother would have never had you for even seven days.”

Ronan worked hard to hide the fury in his heart at the mention of his mother.

“You hide your feelings well, Ronan. But not well enough. I know you are here to protect them more than to ally with me.”

Ronan’s head snapped up. “Of course I wish to protect that which is mine. But when I told you I am here to support your campaign, I meant it.”