Page 19 of Cottage in the Mist (Time After Time #3)

“I dinner know if this is still accurate,” Bram said, looking down at the crude map he’d drawn on the piece of parchment.

The three men were in the great room, the drawing spread upon the massive table on the dais.

“I’ve no’ been to Tigh an Droma except the once. And I was just a wee lad at the time.”

“So we’re going in blind,” Ranald groused.

“We can send men ahead to get the lay of the land,” Iain assured him. “Besides, I’ll wager the two of us have ridden into far worse.”

“I canna remember when.” Ranald still seemed less than convinced. “We have no idea how many men Alec Comyn has nor where they might be waiting for us.”

“So then dinna come,” Bram snapped, feeling irritation rise. “I’ll handle it in my own way.”

“Nay.” Ranald shook his head, his eyes reflecting regret. “I dinna mean to imply we wouldna go with you. I only wish the odds were slightly more in our favor. Or that we could trust the memories of a wee boy.”

Bram sighed, his frustration vanishing as quickly as it had come. “’Tis sorry I am that I canna remember more. I dinna like the idea of riding into the unknown any more than you do. But I canna sit by and let my father’s death go unavenged.”

“I understand your need,” Iain said, a shadow crossing his face. Iain had lost his father to treachery not much more than a year ago now. “And you know that we’ll stand by you. But Ranald makes a good point. We canna go into this without a better understanding of our enemy.”

“And how do we do that?” Ranald queried. “We canna contact Moy or Dunmaglass. We dare not let anyone know that Bram is here. Or that we’re riding with him. Not when there’s even the smallest doubt that he might have been the traitor.”

“I told you—“ Bram began, the heat of anger shooting through him again.

“You canna ignore the facts, Bram,” Iain said, cutting him off. “And Ranald is right. Whatever we do, we must do on our own. ’Tis too great a risk otherwise.”

Bram nodded, dropping down onto a bench, wondering how the hell it had all come to this. If only his father had called for him sooner. Or if Bram had insisted on coming home. But there was nothing gained in wondering what if .

“Alec Comyn is no’ a man to ignore the possibility of retaliation,” Ranald said, pulling Bram from his thoughts. “Even if he is denying that he attacked Dunbrae, he’ll no’ be sitting idle on the chance of your coming.”

“Well, if this map is accurate,” Iain responded, “then our best shot is going to be to come at him from the hills to the west.”

“You’re right, ’tis the most logical choice,” Ranald mused.

“And the one the Comyn will least expect,” Bram added. “He’ll assume we’ll come from the south. From Dunbrae. At least from this point”—He tapped the map—“it gives us the possibility of surprise.”

A commotion off to the right pulled Bram’s attention away from the drawing. Iain’s captain, Fergus, strode into the great hall, two more of Iain’s men beside him, a fourth man hunkered between them, anger turning his face a deep red.

“What’s this then?” Iain asked, his hand moving to his dagger.

“We found him outside on the path coming up to the gate,” Fergus called as they crossed the chamber. “Figured him for one of the bastards that snuck into the canyon last night.”

“I’m no’ Comyn,” the man in the middle spat, lifting his head. And Bram raised a hand, recognizing the voice—the age-weathered face.

“’Tis my father’s man,” he assured them, then rushed across the floor to meet Frazier, the two embracing as the others watched. “I feared you were dead.”

“Nay, lad, ’tis no’ easy to take down a Macbean,” Fergus said, his smile fading as a shadow crossed his face. “Although there were no’ many survivors.”

“Robby?” Bram asked as the two of them crossed back over to Iain and Ranald by the dais, Iain’s man Fergus following behind them.

The old warrior shook his head. “Dead. After you were safe, we turned back to fight the bastards.”

“Do you ken who it was?” Iain asked, as Ranald offered the old man a tankard of ale.

“Aye.” He nodded. “’Twas Comyns. I recognized their colors. Besides, there’s no mistaking the look of them. Those eyes and all that hair.”

Bram and Ranald exchanged a look.

“You were Seamus Macgillivray’s captain?” Iain asked.

“Aye, that I was. For more than thirty years.” The older man shrugged. “But time has a way of making a man weak.” He shrugged. “Seamus and I faced that together. His goal was to step down. Leave the holding to his son.” Frazier’s eyes cut to Bram, his expression grim.

“Why did I hear nothing of this?” Bram asked, grief rocking through him with the power of a lance. “He said naught to me.”

“Ye were no’ ready, lad,” the old man answered.

Bram fisted his hands, but Frazier waved him quiet. “I dinna mean you were weak. Only that you had to want it. Being laird is a right, but it is also a privilege. One earned. And yer father needed to know that you were ready to handle it.”

“I was born ready.” Bram pushed away from the table. “But my father could never see that.”

“In his own way, he loved you, lad,” Frazier said. “He just had no way o’ showing it. And you were gone more often than not.”

“Because he sent me away.”

“Isn’t that always the way of it with men?” Katherine queried as she swept into the room, a fresh pitcher of ale in her hands. “Pushing each other about, talking around everything but what’s important. It’s a wonder any of you ever get anything done at all.” She stopped, eyeing the newcomer.

“Bram’s father’s man, Frazier,” Iain said by way of introduction. “He’s managed to escape the carnage at Dunbrae.”

Bram watched as Katherine studied the man and then her husband. “And you believe him?”

Frazier ruffled, clearly unaccustomed to being found wanting by a woman. But then if Frazier knew half of the truths of this household he would no doubt be running for sanctuary. The thought brought a smile.

“What are ye laughing about, boy?” Frazier snapped.

“Nothing.” He lifted a hand, swallowing his mirth. “Nothing at all.” He turned his attention back to Katherine. “I swear on my life, this man is a friend. He helped me to escape Alec and his men—at great risk to himself, I might add.” And to others. Bram shuddered, his thoughts turning to Robby.

“Well, then,” she said, setting the pitcher on the table.

“Any friend of Bram’s is more than welcome here.

I’ll see that Flora sends some food. I’d imagine it’s been a while since you’ve eaten.

” She bent to kiss her husband, her golden hair swinging forward like a curtain. And then with a smile, she was gone.

“Hell of a woman, that,” Frazier mumbled.

“Aye, that she is.” Iain’s smile was warm, but there was still a sliver of doubt present.

Bram recognized the caution for what it was.

Iain hadn’t survived all that he had endured without keeping a clear head.

And despite the fact that Bram trusted Frazier, he understood the need to tread carefully.

“So tell us, how did you manage to get away?”

“And more importantly,” Ranald added, his gaze narrowed as he studied the older man, “how did you manage to track Bram here?”

Flora bustled into the room with a platter of meat and cheese, her ruddy face filled with curiosity as she put the trencher in front of Frazier. “Lady Katherine said that you were hungry.”

Bram swallowed another smile. Clearly Flora and her mistress were of an accord when it came to Frazier. Neither inclined to completely trust this newest addition to the household. With a last shake of her head, she turned and waltzed from the room.

“Women,” Frazier mumbled, stabbing a piece of cheese.

After following it up with a swig of ale, he sat back, eyeing the assembled company.

“I wasna planning to follow you. I’d thought to fight to the death.

To stay and avenge Seamus. But ’twas no’ possible.

We were far outnumbered. And they’d no plans to spare anyone.

“After we saw you away, young Robby and I headed back for the tower. The battle had already turned. So many men lost. But we fought on. Determined to take as many Comyns with us as we could. We’d fought our way back into the great room.

And were close to surrounded. There were only about four of us left that I could see.

Robby, me, Angus Macfarland and his son. ”

Bram blew out an angry sigh. Hamish had been not more than a boy.

“I thought for a moment we might prevail. Not overall, mind ye, but at least there in the great room. We had them down in number. But more arrived. Eight, I don’t know, maybe ten.

We continued to fight hard, but we were sorely outnumbered.

Young Hamish fell first. And then his father.

” Frazier looked down at his hands. “And then they took Robby. Not before he’d kilt four of them, mind ye.

But I knew he was dead before he hit the floor.

” The older man’s gaze locked on Bram. “I know he was yer friend, lad. I only wish that I could have saved him.”

Bram nodded, swallowing his pain. “I am certain you did what you could.”

“If you were surrounded, as you say,” Ranald asked, his voice deceptively mild, “how is it you managed to escape?”