Page 4 of The Dark Highlander’s Heart (Thorns Of The Highlands #2)

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B ryan Black, the captain of the guard for the Oliphant Clan, whistled as he made his way down into the dungeons.

In truth, the happy tune on his lips in no way reflected the feelings in his heart.

Rather, he forced himself to whistle jauntily, especially when passing the sentries on the way into the dankness and gloom. It represented his best effort to hide how uneasy it made him to venture down there—from others, and from himself as well.

He was not accustomed to feelings of fear, having guarded the Oliphant Castle for so many years. He’d patrolled the borders of the land, clashed with bandits, even faced death upon fields of battle. He was largely known by his fellows to be unflappable, able to smile and laugh in the presence of danger. It was a facade he’d worked hard to cultivate; not out of ego or fear of being thought weak, but largely because he felt he owed it to those under his command. No one willing to take up arms in defense of their clan ought to see his captain cowed, and feel a sharper panic as a result.

The dungeons, though. They were another matter entirely, not that he’d ever confided those feelings to anyone.

It would have been easy enough for Bryan to blame the harsh chill in the air, the maddeningly constant sound of dripping water, the moans, and screams of the prisoners, or even the skittering rats and spiders for his dread. And true enough, all of those things contributed to it in their own small ways.

But more than any of that, it was the idea of the accursed place.

Bryan had long since made peace with the notion of his own death. His entire purpose was to lay his life on the line for his clan, and he accepted the risks gladly. It might come from an arrow in the line of duty, or from being captured and executed. Even injuries that would leave him unable to walk or function on his own did not necessarily frighten him, for he’d seen such fates befall comrades, and he had likewise seen them endure.

The notion of losing freedom, though, or being forever condemned to a hellish place of shadow and sickness and misery, sent a shudder through him; one he couldn’t seem to shake.

He knew he would never spend a day in these dungeons as a prisoner, naturally, given his loyalty to his laird. That did not guarantee that he would not see the inside of some other clan’s dungeons in the fullness of time, and in his most private moments, he fervently prayed he would never be taken alive.

Therefore, it was to conceal all of that doom in his mind that he made his best effort to appear cheerful and carefree, for he had business with one of the prisoners.

Not that he expected a different result from the ones he’d gotten the previous dozen or so times he’d made the trip down to see her.

Oh, Romilly McGregor was a stubborn one, and no mistake. She was hard as a coffin nail, so much so that Bryan had to admire her on some level. Most men would have gladly confessed by now to earn better living conditions for themselves, let alone women. Still, there she sat, time after time, implacable, unwilling to concede even the smallest piece of useful information. Her face remained stony, but for the blackness of the sheer hatred in her eyes at the sight of him.

I might just as well have saved myself the walk down here , Bryan thought, as I am certain of the outcome .

Except that wasn’t true. Laird Alex had specifically ordered him to make another attempt, and Bryan could no more disregard an order from him than he could spontaneously detach one of his own limbs.

He stopped just outside the cell, took a moment to compose himself, then entered.

Romilly sat on a slab of cold stone in her fraying and filthy dress, her hair matted, her skin pale and chafed, her fingernails chewed down to the bloody quick. Her back was straight, though, her shoulders squared, her posture defiant as ever.

“Come tae waste a bit more time with me, haven’t ye, Captain?” Her tone was almost cheery.

Bryan suppressed another shiver. How could she remain so damnably calm in such surroundings? For that matter, how could he be expected to?

“I dinnae find our time together tae be a waste at all,” he replied, keeping his tone casual. “I have been most impressed by ye, as it happens.”

“Oh?” She laughed hoarsely. “Not by my looks, surely, for despite the dearth of looking glasses down here, I can be reasonably sure those departed me some weeks ago. It has been roughly a month, since my imprisonment, has it not?”

Yes. A month had indeed passed since Romilly McGregor’s treachery had been revealed, and she had been clapped in irons. Bryan would not give her the satisfaction of confirming that, though. He was well aware that being unsure of the passage of time was one of the defining punishments of this ghastly place. It unsettled him all the more.

Instead, he said, “Nay, not yer looks. Yer strength of heart. I have known few people who would endure such hardship as ye have, and remain resolute.”

“Ye have known few McGregors, then,” she answered, “for we are none of us weaklings like the Oliphants.”

“Weaklings, eh?” He rocked back and forth on his heels, as though calmly discussing the weather. “Well, despite any weaknesses ye may feel we possess, we still seem tae have prevailed over ye in the current situation.”

“Only momentarily,” she sneered.

Bryan stopped rocking, his eyebrows raising slowly. “Do ye mean tae say that ye intend escape, or that yer father intends invasion of our lands tae retrieve ye?”

For a moment, it looked like she might be about to respond, but then she set her jaw and looked away, remaining silent.

Inwardly, Bryan cursed himself for not taking things more slowly. If only he had eased into it instead, he might have tricked her into giving an answer. But he’d come to know that look of tight resolution on her face enough times before to know that the interview might as well conclude, for she would offer no further words—except perhaps for oaths and curses.

As he stood up, he decided to try once more anyway, if only so he could assure Alex that he had, “Lady Romilly, yer steadfastness is remarkable as ever, and ye have a sharp mind to go with it. We could use someone like ye on our side when the fighting begins. For that matter, perhaps with yer help, we might avoid bloodshed entirely.”

At that, she smirked, and there was an evil gleam in her eye. “There will be bloodshed, by the gallon. Oliphant blood. Yers shall be first, if I have any say in the matter, but either way, ye shall die along with all of yer kinsmen!”

He sighed. So much for that, then.

Bryan plodded back up the steps to the main floor of the castle, and as he did, he felt the tight gauntlet of anxiety around his heart loosen. He hoped this would be the final time Alex would order him to speak to a prisoner, at least for a good long while.

When he reached the top of the stone steps, he was surprised to find Alex waiting for him.

“How did it go?” the laird inquired.

“Oh, it was bloody marvelous,” Bryan quipped. “She gave a tearful apology for trying tae murder yer bride, Isla, and she drew out a map of all the weaknesses in the McGregor defenses. Then she danced a hornpipe and sprouted wings from her.”

“Aye, ye’ve made yer point,” Alex chuckled wryly. “Still, the attempt had tae be made.”

“She’ll never talk tae us,” Bryan said more seriously. “If we’re tae have a chance against the McGregors, we shall need tae come up with a different strategy.”

“And we’d better do it soon,” the laird mused. “We’ve no way of knowing when or how they will come for us.”

“We can assume it won’t be as an army in full force,” the captain replied. “Their armies would nay be a match for ours, especially now that ye have allied us with Isla’s clan. Laird Angus may be a swine, but he’s clever enough tae know that. He’s used his oldest daughter as his weapon, bribed our own people tae betray us from within. His methods are devilishly subtle.”

“That is what makes them so dangerous,” Alex agreed. “And ‘tis all the more reason for us tae act quickly, before he has a chance tae do it again. If only we could end this peacefully somehow.”

“We still have not told Laird Angus that Romilly is in our dungeons. Perhaps if we do, he’ll be willing tae negotiate for her release? Perhaps he’ll forswear any violence?”

“Even if he did, we could nae trust him. He is not a man known for his honor, and he would nae hesitate tae offer his word with every intention of breaking it later. Meanwhile, we’ll have given up our only bargaining token.”

“We must take some action, that much is obvious. What shall we do? Kidnap the other daughter?” he asked jokingly.

Alex raised an eyebrow.

Bryan laughed incredulously. “That is yer plan?”

“Why not?” Alex replied. “It seems ye were right all along in saying that we must be willing tae do something drastic to stop a war before it starts. Angus used one of his children tae strike at us, and he might just as easily use the other as well. We can eliminate that possibility if she is in our custody. Then Angus shall have no remaining legacy tae call his own, and he will have tae agree tae our terms. Aye, and stick tae them too, for now he’ll know that his daughters are nay safe from us.”

“Dinnae mistake me, Laird Alex, for I am always happy tae hear ye agree that I was right about things,” Bryan quipped. “However, it seems tae me that the plan might be easier said than done. How can we be sure that such a mission can be carried off with no danger tae the younger daughter’s life? That would be a tricky bit of business, it seems tae me.”

“It is,” Alex agreed, “which is why I intend tae send the only man who could be trusted with such a delicate mission.”

It took a moment for Bryan to understand what Alex meant. When he did, his eyes widened.

“I would not risk asking it of anyone else. I understand how important it is for nothing tae go wrong. And there are no other soldiers or guardsmen who have shown yer talent for stealth. Which is how this must be accomplished, else we ensure open war after all.”

“Let me be certain I understand ye,” Bryan said slowly, still stunned by the strangeness of the request. “Ye are ordering me tae ride into enemy lands, sneak into the McGregor Stronghold, into the bedchamber of one of the laird’s daughters, and steal her off into the night? Ye expect me tae achieve all that, and without anything going wrong?”

“Almost.” There was a twinkle in Alex’s eye. “Ye shall ride into their lands, that part is true enough; I have no doubt at all that ye can do so while escaping detection. I have seen how ye can make yerself nearly invisible to enemies when that is what ye wish tae do. However, ye shall not need tae infiltrate the McGregor Stronghold, for Lady Katherine will not be within it when ye spirit her away.”

“How on earth can ye know such a thing?” Bryan demanded with a laugh. “Do ye have the birds and squirrels of the McGregor Clan working as yer eyes and ears?”

“Angus is nay the only one who can use spies tae suit his purposes. I have learned from certain less-than-loyal members of the McGregor Clan that on certain days, Lady Katherine rides out tae the villages and farms tae instruct the young women in sewing and other such skills. She remains there until just before the sun sets, more often than not, and then rides back tae the stronghold. ye shall catch her in transit, where the path is distant enough from people tae ensure ye are not caught at it.”

“Are we tae believe she would travel unguarded on these excursions?” Bryan challenged doubtfully. “That she would make herself vulnerable tae such an attack?”

“That is what I have heard, aye.”

“And if ye’ve been lied to? What if there’s a struggle, and she’s injured or worse in the attempt?”

“If ye find the task impossible, ye may simply return and say so,” Alex told him evenly. “I trust ye tae make yer best effort short of that, as ye always have.”

There was nothing else for Bryan to say; it was clear that Alex had made up his mind, and he would do all he could to see it through, such was his absolute loyalty to his laird. Even if the details of the plan sounded like madness to him.

“Very well,” Bryan sighed. “I shall set off tomorrow at first light.”

“Excellent.” Alex nodded, clapped the Captain of the Guard on the shoulder, and walked off.

Bryan contemplated the task at hand for the remainder of the evening, still doubtful that he would succeed. What sort of laird would allow his youngest daughter to ride about without guardsmen, knowing that his older daughter was likely being held captive by a bitter rival?

If Angus cared so little for Lady Katherine’s safety, then how likely was it that he would involve her in any schemes against the Oliphants? Would that not make his errand folly?

That was not the only disquieting notion in his mind, though.

This was a lass who was open-hearted enough to spend time with the lowborn of her clan, assisting them. Could that be the same lass who would engage in villainy at her father’s behest?

Had he counseled decisive action before? Yes, certainly. In his mind, that had taken the form of riding toward the McGregor Stronghold in force, and negotiating peace at the point of a sword if need be. He had believed that sheer numbers and intimidation might have done the trick, and he’d prepared himself for that.

But this? A man alone, risking his neck to grab a woman during daylight?

No, he did not like this mission one bit.

The sun rose upon the next day, and when it reached its zenith, Lady Katherine made her customary journey to the same towns she always visited. The people who gathered were even happier to see her than usual, for they had greatly missed her company during the previous month when she’d been imprisoned in her own room. She was glad of that; it made her feel as though she had done the right thing after all, sticking to her principles instead of giving in to her father.

The old laird had been even more miserable and mean-spirited than usual since word came of Romilly’s imprisonment. He rarely slept or ate, and he spent most days wandering the corridors with his appearance in disarray pale, haunted, muttering to himself like a madman. From the few words Katherine could catch as he passed, it seemed he was fretting about the fact that he had not received any demands from the Oliphants—or, indeed, any direct word from them whatsoever, no acknowledgement that they even had Romilly in their dungeons.

He could not seem to make sense of that, and from what Katherine could tell, he worried day and night that a message would finally come in the form of Romilly’s head. For what else could they possibly intend by keeping her so long without word, except as a prelude to execution?

At one point, she took her father firmly by the shoulders, forcing him to look into her eyes. “Father, won’t ye at least try tae negotiate with them for her freedom? Won’t ye send any message at all tae break this-this stalemate?”

He peered at her as though her head had fallen off mid-sentence. “Are ye daft, lass? Tae do that would be as good as an admission of guilt. How else could I claim that I know they have her? And once such a thing is confirmed, once they know I’ve tried to meddle in their affairs, how do ye think they’ll bloody respond? For God’s sake, have I raised some sort of simpleton? Do ye nae know that that’s exactly what they want us tae do?”

Katherine saw that it was hopeless to try to reason with him, and so she released his shoulders and allowed him to toddle along on his way, mumbling and weeping to himself. Angus was desperately trying to think his way out of this quandary, and the mental labor was evidently driving him insane.

Despite their past problems, Katherine still hated to see her father wasting away in such a fashion. She was equally dismayed that the small amount of time her mother had previously spent outside of her room had dwindled entirely. Now she never emerged, and the meals the servants brought her were generally sent back uneaten.

Finally, Katherine could stand it no longer. She was terrified that her mother would suffer a lonely and terrible death from grief and self-neglect, and so she tried the door one day and found it unlocked.

“Mother?” She took a step into the dark room, then another. “Mother, are ye ill?”

Annabel was lying on the bed, but when she heard these words, she sat bolt upright, exclaiming, “Romilly? My darling lass, are ye home?”

Then she saw that it was Katherine, and her face twisted into a mask of horror and rage.

“Get out,” she shrieked, grabbing a hairbrush from the table next to her and flinging it at Katherine. “Get out of here at once. Go!”

The brush hit Katherine’s forehead, and she cried out from shock, withdrawing immediately. She barely made it to her room before crumpling to the floor in tears, and she never made such an attempt to check on her mother again.

The only small comfort Katherine could take from any of it was that with her parents so distracted, neither of them heaped their customary abuse upon her. However, she was every bit as worried about Romilly as they were, and the panic and despair of it all gnawed at her spirit until she felt she could abide it no longer.

She fantasized about riding off on her own, going to Castle Oliphant, pleading before Laird Alex, finding some way to bring Romilly back. If she were able to do that, not only would her sister be safe, but her mother and father would finally appreciate her. Angus could no longer sneer that his youngest daughter was worthless, that she merely took up space while doing nothing for her clan.

Then all of them could live together, happily ever after.

She wept as these scenes played themselves out within her mind, for she knew that they would never come true. She had no idea what she could possibly say to the notoriously hard-headed Laird Alex, not if he had caught her sister in the act of something vile toward the Oliphant Clan. And clearly he had, else he would not have detained her.

And what, then, would stop him from tossing her in the dungeon next to Romilly?

The situation seemed hopeless, but during the few hours she could spend with the young lasses of the McGregor Clan, she was able to keep from dwelling on it too fiercely. She hated seeing the sun lower in the sky, for she knew it meant she would have to return to the bleakness of the castle.

So she put it off as long as she could, finding new excuses to remain, new inquiries to make about the women’s loved ones, new sewing patterns and techniques to suggest. She waited until the underside of the swollen red sun touched the hilltops, staining them liquid gold. She even contemplated staying longer still, and riding back after dark. Why not? No one at the stronghold would miss her, and bandits rarely prowled these lands.

Still, she knew it would be irresponsible, and that she needed to remain clear-headed and strong while her family collapsed all around her. She said her goodbyes at last, reminding herself that she would return the next day, and the one after that.

Katherine mounted her horse and rode toward the stronghold, feeling herself wither inside as she drew closer to it. There was little upon the path, except for a horse stable at the halfway point near a copse of trees. Sometimes, when there was no one around to see, Katherine would whistle at the horses and delight in hearing their chorus of neighing in response. It had lightened her spirits when she was younger, made her feel deliriously silly.

Today, though, nothing felt humorous to her. She was merely tired, and sad.

Even so, as her horse galloped past the farm, the others greeted her with loud enthusiasm. It made her feel as though she were a familiar and welcome sight to them, and part of her was wistfully cheered by that, for it was more than she could say about the members of her own family.

Their chortles and snorts filled her ears even once she had passed the stable.

That was why she did not hear the frenzied hoofbeats behind her until it was too late. By the time she had a chance to peer over her shoulder, a muscled arm clamped around her waist and swept her out of her saddle.

Katherine could scarcely draw breath to scream before the powerful arm closed around her midsection, forcing the air back out of her sharply. With his other hand, her assailant produced a musty sack, putting it over her head. The hood was a grisly reminder of her previous nightmare, it drew a quivering groan from her.

Then he slipped what felt like a length of knotted rope around her wrists, tightening it. The entire abduction could not have taken more than five seconds, and now she was helpless, struggling, trying to cry out while he turned his horse and rode hard away from the stronghold.

Toward Oliphant territory.

Her darkest horrors seemed to be coming true. The Oliphants had dispatched someone to capture her as well, to further punish her father for whatever fiendish thing he and Romilly had plotted against them.

“Please,” she gasped, flexing her wrists against her bonds. “I have done nothing, I have taken nay part in the laird’s plans, whatever they may have been!”

“Ye may be telling the truth,” the man answered in a neutral tone. His mouth was next to her ear, and the strange warm tickle of his breath made her skin feel as though ants were crawling upon it. “However, that will likely matter little tae the man who sent me.”

“Tell me, I beg ye, is my sister alive?”

He let out a dry chuckle. “She lives, aye, and with a vengeance. And so shall ye, so long as ye dinnae cause any trouble.”

“But how is she? Has she been hurt?”

There was a tight pause. “We Oliphants dinnae harm innocent women. Pity ye and yers cannae make that claim.”

Katherine did not know what to make of his second remark, but she was flooded with relief that Romilly still lived.

“Will I be allowed tae see her?” she asked.

“That will nae be up tae me. Now, I have a handkerchief with me tae stifle ye. Will I be needing it?”

Katherine shook her head quickly.

“Good. Then we’ll have silence from ye until we’ve crossed over into Oliphant lands.”

Katherine did not know whether her captor was joking about the handkerchief. However, she was in no hurry to find out, so she remained quiet until they left her homeland. By then, night had fallen, and the moon was high. Now and then, the shrieks of owls pierced the gloom and echoed across the hillsides, their sounds giving voice to the sharp pangs of terror that Katherine dared not utter aloud.

What sort of man would drag an unarmed lass off into the night? How could his assurances with regard to her safety possibly be trusted?

What evil things might he do to her along the way to Castle Oliphant if he took a mind to?