Page 3 of Savage Kilted Highlander (Temptation in Tartan #9)

CHAPTER THREE

R oxburghshire, Scottish Lowlands, the lands of Clan Kerr

“Who are those lassies?” Bane Graham asked the pie-seller standing next to him, quickly swallowing the mouthful of mutton pie he had just purchased and bitten into. He was forced to raise his voice to be heard above the clamour of the excited crowd surrounding them. It was the first Monday after Easter, and the high-spirited local villagers, eager to celebrate the end of lent’s deprivations, had crammed themselves inside the main courtyard of Castle Ferniehurst, at the invitation of their clan leader, the powerful Ewan Kerr.

All the folk seemed keen to sample the strong ale, hot pies, honey cakes, and many other delicacies on sale at the temporary market stalls which had been set up against the courtyard’s inner walls. Bane thought it a stroke of good fortune that today, despite being a stranger in those parts, he had been able to pass through the gates and join the throng inside unchecked by the guard. Having merged into the crowd, he stayed alert, hoping at last to get a glimpse of his so-far elusive quarry.

However, his hopes were in vain. But then he noticed the crowd suddenly quietening, and the people surrounding the pie-stall paused in their activities, turning to stare at something. Taller than most, Bane looked with ease above the sea of heads and saw a party of four women emerging from the castle keep, closely escorted by a group of armed soldiers.

His curiosity piqued, his hopes rising, he watched fixedly as the women and their escort headed for the stalls. “They’re attractin’ a lot of attention,” he added.

“That’s Laird Kerr’s daughter and her maids,” the pie-seller replied.

Bane’s heart leaped with excitement. This was what he had been waiting for. “His daughter, eh?” he said, doing his best to sound casual. “What’s her name?” He knew her name as well as his own, but he wanted confirmation that it was her.

“Lady Agnes,” the pie-seller told him.

“Oh? Which one is she?” He continued eating the pie, though his heart was thumping in his chest with excitement. At last, I’ll get a good look at her!

The pie-seller gestured vaguely. “The one in the middle in the green dress, the pale one with the auburn hair.”

Bane looked, and he suddenly choked on the pie crust, unexpectedly struck by the girl’s beauty. He pounded his chest with his fist until he could swallow, finally muttering, “Aye, I see her.”

“That’s Lady Agnes,” the pie-seller confirmed. “What’s it tae ye anyway, stranger?” he added, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as he looked up at Bane, who stood a good head taller than him.

“Nae particular reason. I’ve just heard a lot of folks speakin’ about Laird Kerr’s precious only child since I arrived here, and I was curious tae get a look at her and see what all the fuss is about,” Bane lied smoothly, not taking his eyes from the smiling girl as she passed by with her escort. Her lovely smile was gentle, the movements of her slender body graceful. But despite her smile, which appeared rather fixed, Bane detected an air of sadness about her which puzzled him.

She has everything in life a lassie could ever wish for, a rich powerful faither who dotes on her from what I hear. And she’s beautiful to boot. W hat can she have tae be sad about?

His interest in Lady Agnes Kerr’s feelings was short-lived. They were of no consequence to him. She was less an individual person with her own thoughts, emotions, and dreams than a means to an end, so he shrugged off the thought. “They were right about one thing. She’s a bonny wee lassie, that’s for sure,” he added truthfully.

Indeed, in Bane’s eyes, Lady Agnes, with her willowy figure and flawless complexion, seemed to embody all the ideals of feminine beauty a red-blooded man could ever ask for. He watched entranced as the bright April sunlight played upon her long wavy hair, igniting it with the myriad flaming tints of autumn leaves. As she and her maids browsed the stalls, she positively radiated a girlish innocence that touched Bane’s heart. Seeing her, he could not help feeling a pang of guilt for the fate he had in store for her. He gave himself a mental shake and ruthlessly crushed it.

“Aye, she’s a beauty all right,” the pie-man agreed, seemingly mollified by Bane’s casual response as he too looked over at the laird’s daughter. “Braw as ye may be, dinnae bother gettin’ any ideas above yer station as far as she’s concerned, laddie,” he warned with a gruff laugh.

Bane gave a small, deprecating chuckle in return, his gaze still fixed on the girl. “Ach, I’m under nay illusions there. Such a fine lassie as she, a laird’s daughter, wouldnae spare so much as a glance for the likes of me, a poor, simple blacksmith.”

The pie-man nodded and turned to serve another customer. “Aye, true enough. A fella can dream though. But drink yer fill of her while ye have the chance, man, for this is likely as close as ye or I will ever get tae her.”

“Oh, why’s that?” Bane asked, stuffing the last of the pie into his mouth. He chewed without tasting it, interested only in keeping Lady Agnes in his sights and his informant’s reply as he swallowed and licked his fingers before wiping them carelessly on his trews.

“Because the laird treats her as though she were made of glass. Ye’re lucky tae catch even a glimpse of her. She seldom leaves the castle at all, and he never lets her out of his sight without an armed guard,” the pie-man explained.

“Is that so?” Bane replied, hiding his disappointment at the news. It did not suit his purposes at all. His mind turning, he continued following the progress of the pretty auburn head as it bobbed along. Lady Agnes and her party moved slowly along the wide swathe carved by their escort among the shoppers and stopped to look at a stall selling fabrics. “But surely, she likes tae ride out in the forest with her ladies now and then or walk about the fields and woods when the weather’s fine, eh? The scenery around the castle is awful pretty, now spring’s here,” he said hopefully.

The pie-men shook his balding head. “Nae as often as ye’d think. As I say, the laird’s very protective of her. Some would say too protective. She lives a lonely life, tae be sure, and wherever she goes, a bunch of guards go as well.” He began to unpack and arrange some more of his wares as new customers approached.

Bane tried not to frown. “Och, well, at least I’ve seen how bonny she is. I ken what everyone’s talkin’ about now,” he replied with a disinterested shrug. He noticed that many of the shoppers had sated their interest in the laird’s daughter now and were returning to their errands. “Nice talkin’ tae ye. That pie was very tasty,” he said, pushing his tall frame away from the pie stall and nodding a farewell to his informant as he strode away. He was grateful to the man, who had no idea how useful he had been, even if the information Bane had wormed out of him had not been exactly what he wanted to hear.

Bane wandered casually after Lady Agnes’ party, pretending to browse the goods on offer here and there, trying to get a better look at her. He did not want to make any foolish mistakes in identifying her and ruin his plans. But in the end, he was forced to give up. As the pie-man had warned him, all his attempts to get closer to her failed. Her armed escort was vigilance itself, making sure she was always enclosed within a ring of steel.

He wondered why Laird Kerr was so protective of the lassie. Did he fear someone might have reason tae hurt her? It seemed a reasonable assumption. One didnae get tae be as powerful as him without makin’ a lot of enemies, and some could have a mind to strike at him through her.

Like me.

Deciding he needed peace and quiet to think about what he had discovered and how he could overcome the obstacle to expedite his plan, Bane left the market. He pushed his way through the throng and out of the castle gates. Once outside, he went to fetch his horse, which he had left tethered to a nearby post, mounted it and headed along the main road leading way from the castle, through a tract of moorland bordered by thick forest. He made for his temporary camp, located in a secluded spot within the forest. After following the busy highway for about half a mile, he surreptitiously branched off, turning the horse down a narrow track leading into the depths of the forest. He rode slowly among the trees, doubling back on himself, until he reached the hollow where he was camping. He had chosen it because it was the perfect observation point for keeping watch on the Ferniehurst Castle.

He watered the horse at the small burn nearby until it had drunk its fill, then tethered it to nearby tree. He took off the saddle and replaced it with a blanket so the beast could rest in comfort. He did not plan on moving very far anytime soon, for there was much to consider. Leaving the horse to enjoy its nosebag of oats, he slapped its flank affectionately and went to see to his own needs.

After drinking from a waterskin—he would have loved a cup of hot tea but dared not light a fire in case it drew attention from the castle guard—he ate some bread and cheese, then settled back comfortably against the trunk of a large oak tree. From where he was sitting, he could keep an eye on the comings and goings of the castle without any effort, which was what he had been doing for several days.

Castle Ferniehurst stood crouched on its rocky promontory less than a quarter of a mile away from him, a grey, brooding, granite beast. Though Laird Kerr commanded many other strongholds throughout his extensive territories, Ferniehurst was his preferred residence. It was also Lady Agnes’ permanent home, which was the reason Bane was there. Over the last few days, the castle had proved itself to be a busy place, full of the comings and goings of the Kerr clansfolk as they went about their business. Until that day, all movement had been carefully monitored by uniformed guards.

Sunk in thought, Bane pulled out his sword and laid it across his knees. He reached into a pocket of his sheepskin jerkin and pulled out the small whetstone which he carried with him everywhere. As was his habit, he began meticulously honing his sword. A trained blacksmith by trade, what Bane did not know about forging a blade or keeping it sharp enough to slice off a man’s arm was not worth knowing. It was ingrained in him to keep his weapons sharp and ready for use. Especially now, because if he were caught by the castle guards trying to carry out the plan he had in mind, he knew he would need to vigorously defend himself… or die.

The whetstone moved rhythmically along the blade, providing a low, rasping counterpoint to the singing of the birds and many voices floating across the meadow from the castle environs. Noisy groups of people were spilling out of the gates into the surrounding area, some looking the worse for wear. Now and then, alerted by some sound or movement, he would raise his head and glance between the tree trunks over at them before looking away again, seeing nothing of interest.

While he worked, Bane thought over the last few days of his vigil, the information he had garnered, and how he could best put it to use. He had caught sight of Laird Ewan himself several times as he rode in or out of the mighty gates at the head of a party of his soldiers. The very sight of the man made Bane’s blood boil with anger, fuelling his resolution to enact his plan at the earliest opportunity.

However, there had been a problem preventing him from doing so.

The problem had been that until that afternoon, when he had managed to get inside the walls, he had not seen hide nor hair of the man’s daughter. And his plan depended upon knowing what Lady Agnes looked like, for she was an essential part of it. Without being able to recognize her, he would not be able to achieve his sworn purpose of retrieving his brother. The brother who even now, Blane was certain, must be languishing somewhere inside the castle walls, Laird Kerr’s prisoner.

He and his beloved elder brother Tav owned and ran a profitable smithy in a far distant town, living happily alongside their adoptive younger sister Fia. But a year ago, out of the blue, Tav had mysteriously vanished. While frantically searching for him, Bane had heard from witnesses that Tav had been abducted by a group of Laird Kerr’s soldiers, for what reason he could not guess.

Worried out of his mind about Tav’s fate, Bane had nevertheless tried to remain calm and comfort Fia in her distress, to be strong for her. But it had been hard. To be without Tav, to not know where he was, if he was safe, or even alive, was torture for them both. For Bane, it was like having a limb cut off.

Bane loved and respected his brother, had always looked up to him. With their parents having died of a sickness when Bane was but seven years old, Tav had been his world for many years, his mentor, his protector, his family. For a long time, it had been just the two of them. But things had changed when Tav had come across Fia, a young girl of fourteen, wandering alone in the streets, starving. In his typical kind fashion, he had brought the poor girl home. She had quickly become a part of their little family too, and both brothers were fiercely protective of her.

Try as he might, over the last twelve months, Bane had hardly able to focus on anything but his brother’s fate. He had been desperate to leave the smithy and search for Tav but instead had been forced to stay and look after Fia. He knew it was what Tav would have wanted. But a few weeks ago, thank the Lord, he had seen Fia wed to the man she loved, Laird Knox Stuart of Clan Stuart. Knowing Knox would take good care of her, he had finally felt able to close the smithy and leave town.

Now he here was, outside the Castle Ferniehurst, praying Tav was still alive. Bane’s sole preoccupation was rescuing him and taking him home. He had decided the best way to achieve it was to do a little abducting of his own. In fact, he planned to abduct Laird Kerr’s precious daughter Lady Agnes and use her to bargain with the laird in exchange for Tav.

He had been elated to have resolved the initial difficulty. But now there was another, perhaps more serious setback to his plan. Until it was resolved, he was stymied, yet the pressure was on to act. He knew that the longer he delayed his action, the higher the chances were of his being detected by the laird’s men. If that happened, he knew he would be lucky to leave the castle alive.

But if the laird had her guarded everywhere she went, how would he ever get the chance tae get a hold of her? The question nagged at him as he worked at sharpening his blade, his brow set in a frown of concentration. Thoughts of how to surmount the obstacle that had presented itself went around and around in his mind, to no avail. Eventually, tired from thinking, he dozed off, the whetstone falling from his hand into his lap as he slept.