Sapphire Dream (35 page)
Authors: Pamela Montgomerie
As they followed the wide path to the steps which led to the keep’s door, Rourke grasped Brenna’s shoulder, silently lending his support.
She glanced up at him, her green eyes worried, her mouth taut. But as their gazes met, her expression softened and she reached up and took his hand, squeezing it, thanking him silently.
Hamilton and Malcolm led the way into the entry hall where they were met by two women, one round with age, the other round with babe.
“Hamilton, who are . . . ?” The older woman stared at Brenna, her cheeks going pale. “Saints have mercy, ’tis our Ena, back from the grave.”
“Nay, Mum,” Hamilton said, grabbing the woman’s arm to steady her.
Her gaze swung to her son, then back to Brenna as understanding dawned and with it a smile of such hope that Rourke was once again filled with self-hatred for having tried to send the lass back to her own world.
“Brenna,” the woman breathed. “Is it you, lass?”
Brenna stood uneasily by his side, raking her teeth over her bottom lip as her gaze went to Hamilton.
Hamilton just shrugged as if to say he should have known there would be no fooling his mother.
She’d not be Lady Marie after all.
Brenna nodded slowly. “It’s me.”
The woman lifted her hands and shook them, rushing forward to enfold Brenna in a huge hug. When she pulled back, she slapped her palms to her cheeks. “The image of your mother, you are, lassie. The very image.” She smiled sadly. “But ye dinna remember. Do ye remember me?”
Brenna shook her head. “No. I’m sorry.”
The woman grabbed her hands. “Never you mind. You were such a wee slip of a thing when last you were here. I’m yer aunt. Yer father’s sister, Gaira. Praise the heavens, Alex will be beside himself when he hears.”
Gaira blanched at the sound of her own words. A silence descended over the group and Rourke knew they all had the same thought. Alex Cameron would indeed be beside himself . . . if he still lived.
“Och, come, lassie,” Gaira said, pulling Brenna along at her side as the younger woman joined them. She approached Brenna shyly.
“Brenna? ’Tis me. Larena. Do you remember?”
Brenna gave a helpless shake of her head.
“I am your cousin. We are of an age, you and I. We used to be very close.”
“Lari’s a year older,” Hamilton said behind her. “But ’twas you who was the leader, always gettin’ the pair o’ ye into one scrape or another.”
“That seems to be a recurring theme,” Brenna muttered.
Larena grinned. “Do ye not remember the time we tried to saddle and ride one of the hunting hounds?”
Rourke felt his mouth twitch as he tried to imagine the two wee lassies trying to ride the hound. She’d been a wildcat from the start, which might have served her well growing up as she had. Such abandonment might have broken a softer lass. Nothing broke his wildcat.
As others gathered around her, Rourke felt himself slowly pushed to the side, along with the other men. Hamilton clapped him on the back. “Come share a wee dram with me, laddie.”
But Rourke’s gaze remained firmly on Brenna as the women began to usher her toward the upper stair.
“She’ll be fine, Kinross. They’ll not harm her.”
But as she allowed them to lead her away, Brenna’s gaze sought and captured his. Panic shimmered in the green depths of her eyes, telling him she needed him still.
“ ’Tis time we made plans,” Hamilton said when supper was over.
Brenna was seated in the middle of the long table between Hamilton and Rourke. She watched the heads of a number of the men bob in agreement as the women of the clan rose and left their seats. Her aunt came up behind her and slipped her arm through Brenna’s, pulling her to her feet. “Come, lass. We’ve given you time to settle, eh? Now ’tis time for you to tell us a story or two about where you’ve been.”
Brenna braced herself, refusing to be pulled away. She didn’t want to be rude, but they sure as heck weren’t ready to hear about the twenty-first century. Besides, she fully intended to be part of the battle planning.
With care, she extricated her arm. “I’m sorry, Aunt Gaira, but no. I’m staying here.”
Several of the men exchanged disapproving glances. Hamilton watched her calmly.
“This is a man’s discussion,” Malcolm said from the head of the table.
Brenna met his gaze, biting her tongue from saying what she really wanted to.
Well, I guess that leaves you out.
Well, I guess that leaves you out.
“Is it?” She forced herself to remain calm as she stood, staring him down. “I thought you were planning to discuss how to rescue
my
father who was taken in place of
me
because of a prophecy that states that
I
will cause the Earl of Slains’s destruction. Forgive me for believing this conversation concerns me.”
my
father who was taken in place of
me
because of a prophecy that states that
I
will cause the Earl of Slains’s destruction. Forgive me for believing this conversation concerns me.”
One of the elders spoke up. “You’re just a lass, Brenna. You must leave the warmongering to the men. Now run along with the women.”
All the anger and injustice of the past days, past years, bubbled up until she could barely speak through the bitter taste in her mouth.
Screw being calm.
Screw being calm.
She leaned her hands on the table, looking directly at the old coot who she knew was some kind of cousin of her father’s. Neil, she’d heard him called. But before she could start with her tirade, Rourke rose beside her and put a hand on her shoulder.
Brenna knocked his hand away. She couldn’t take it from him, too. “Don’t you dare—”
“I agree with ye.” In his pale eyes she saw warmth and understanding. And something far more precious—respect. “Ye should be part of this.”
He turned to the others. “The prophecy and everything to do with it affects her, aye? But the reasons for her to remain are far beyond mere involvement. The lass is a hellcat. A fierce and courageous fighter. And she kens more about Castle Stour than any man here, I trow. She’s been inside.”
Exclamations of surprise erupted around the table.
Brenna jerked her gaze to Rourke’s, then remembered telling him, shortly after diving off the ship, that she’d toured Stour.
Hamilton nodded. “She should remain.”
Malcolm scowled, but Brenna ignored him as Rourke held her chair out for her and she retook her seat. She met Hamilton’s gaze with gratitude and earned a quick wink. Some of the men were still grumbling under their breath.
Rourke’s hand slid over her knee and she took the support he offered, twining her fingers through his. She met his warm gaze and felt him climb right down into her soul. He’d become not only her protector, but her champion. She knew better than to think he didn’t bear watching. He was still all too likely to try to keep her out of harm’s way. But he’d supported her just now against a roomful of men and for that she could kiss him.
With a last scowl her way, Malcolm launched into the discussion. “Missives have been sent to eight of our allies. ’Twill likely be days before we receive any replies. If we can amass a great enough force, we shall attack Stour and demand the release of my father.”
One of the elders, a man with little hair and fewer teeth, rose unsteadily. “The king, I say. Ye must go to the king.”
“Ye auld fool,” Neil replied. “The king is beholden to Slains for much of his support. He’ll not side with us on anything concerning Slains and Stour.”
“Ye cannot know . . .”
Brenna rose. “Why don’t we—”
Neil cut her off as he motioned toward Rourke. “The Douglases have always allied themselves with us. We’ve got Lord Kinross himself here.”
Brenna crossed her arms. God, this was going to try her patience. “Why don’t we—”
“And the Camerons of Locheil,” the elder broke in.
“They’ll—” Neil began.
Brenna had had enough. She slammed her hands on the table, rattling the china and silver. She was seething and suspected everyone at the table knew it by now.
“Och, aye, uncle,” Hamilton said, a twinkle in his eye. “You dinna want to cross this one. She’s got Alex’s own temper. She’d as likely kick you in the ballocks as look at you, wouldn’t she, Malcolm?”
Malcolm just grunted.
“The lass is no lady,” Neil complained.
“She can be,” Rourke said beside her. He gave her a sidelong look. “I think. But she is a warrior first. She took down four of my crew with her bare hands. And I was captaining a muckle rough crew.”
Hamilton nodded at her. “Say your piece, Cousin.”
Brenna looked from one man to the next, daring anyone to cut her off again. Some looked down or away, but most met her gaze with curiosity, if not approval.
“I assume the reason you are not discussing a rescue attempt is that you know of no way into the castle past the guards, am I correct?”
Old Neil scoffed. “And would ye be taking out the earl’s army with your bare hands?”
“That will be all, Neil,” Hamilton said sharply. “Brenna is your laird’s daughter, and you will provide her, at the very least, the respect due to her as such.”
The old man grumbled and picked at a stain on the tablecloth in front of him.
Brenna watched him, wondering briefly how many bridges she was going to burn today. “I think I know a way into the castle.” Her gaze swiveled to Hamilton. “A way that possibly even the Earl of Slains doesn’t know about.”
“How do you come by such knowledge?” Hamilton asked, his eyes excited yet confused.
“It’s a long story.”
Rourke spoke beside her, his voice low. “Are you certain it now exists?”
She met his gaze. “Certain? No. But historians believe it was part of the original construction. They believe none of the Earls of Slain ever knew of it.”
Rourke nodded gravely. “I am willing to make the attempt.”
Hamilton nodded. “As am I.”
All eyes slowly turned to Malcolm, who sat watching the table stonily.
“What say you, lad?” Hamilton asked him.
Malcolm lifted his head and looked from Hamilton to Brenna. He sat up and leaned forward, addressing her. “Where inside the castle would ye take us?”
“The dungeons, I think.”
“And will you lead us inside?”
Hamilton and a couple of others made sounds of disapproval, but Brenna met the challenge in Malcolm’s eyes. “Absolutely. You’re not going in without me.”
Rourke put his hand on her arm. “Wildcat. ’Tis too dangerous.”
“Aye,” Hamilton chimed in. “You can tell us the way.”
But her gaze remained on Malcolm’s. He would sacrifice her in a heartbeat. But his lack of concern for her welfare was just the weapon she needed.
“If he’s being held in the dungeons, I can possibly get you in and out without you ever being seen. I can’t promise, because any number of things could go wrong, but I’m the best chance you have of getting him out of there alive.”
“Brenna, nay,” Hamilton said. “Your father would ne’er forgive us.”
“My brother is chief of this clan until our father returns. If we’re going to free him, there’s no room for fear. Either for ourselves, or for one another.”
Malcolm rose. Now that the pain she’d inflicted on him seemed to have passed, he stood tall and straight. At twenty-three, he still had a lankiness about him, but she saw the promise of power in his build. And the pride of generations of Cameron leaders in his stance.
“My sister has the way of it.” He acknowledged her as kin for the first time. “If she has knowledge that we need, we’d be fools to ignore her.”
“How do we know she can be trusted?” Neil asked. “She may have turned spy for the earl.”
Rourke opened his mouth to defend her, but Malcolm got there first.
“If you’d heard the filth coming from her mouth when she learned of our father’s capture, you’d not being asking, Neil. She’s risking her life more than any among us by leading us into Stour. If the earl catches her, he’ll not be releasing her alive.” Malcolm’s gaze swung to her and held. “And she knows it well.” In his eyes, she saw something dawn and grow. A grudging respect.
Brenna inclined her head in acknowledgment. The two of them had a long way to go to develop any kind of fa milial relationship, but this was a start. And he was giving her exactly what she wanted—a chance to find her father. And a chance to end this curse upon her family once and for all.
SEVENTEEN
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