Page 18

Broc

Broc squared his shoulders, wondering what was about to happen. Was he to be sent back to Clan Grant, never to return? Would they send him off to fight Kelvan alone?

Finlay MacNicol clasped his son’s shoulder and said, “You did a fine job getting Logan back here. That wasn’t an easy task. But I recognize that expression on your face. It is not your fault.”

“Da, if I’d been standing on the other side of him or if I’d been behind him, I mayhap could have stopped it. I had no idea she would attack. There’d been no threats, no weapons drawn. We’d seen no guards but the few on the wall. Naught.”

“I believe you. It’s exactly why Glenn was such an evil bastard. It’s in their blood to be underhanded, to kill for no reason. Do not take this on your shoulders. Please.”

“I’ll do my best,” he answered, knowing that it was nearly impossible. They made their way into the keep, passing Avelina as she hurried down the stairs, heading toward the healing chamber. Would she ever speak to him again once she learned the truth?

His sire opened the door to the solar, so Broc took a deep breath and crossed the threshold into the den of inquisition.

He nodded to Maitland who stood at the front beside Dyna.

Also in attendance were his mother seated next to Uncle Connor, Alasdair, and Alaric.

Maitland pointed to a chair near the front, and Broc took it.

Maitland said, “Tell us exactly what happened. Alaric told us what he knew, but he didn’t go inside with you.”

Broc took a deep breath and repeated everything he remembered about the situation, glossing over one part. But Maitland caught him and held up his hand to stop him.

Maitland said, “Who do they want? You said that if they didn’t get the three they wanted, they’d steal the bairns. Who exactly do they want? And which bairns?”

Poor Maitland paled, probably for fear that his son would be stolen again.

“I’ll tell you exactly what they said. Glenna wants Kyla, Logan, and me. We didn’t let on that I was Kyla’s son. Kelvan wants the faery and the lad with the sword, though I’ll add that I don’t think he’s aware that we have his daughter.”

Maitland clarified, “So there was no mention of Grant or any of Dyna’s bairns? No seers, no wee bairns? Naught like that?”

“Nay. They said if they turned us over, they would not kidnap any more bairns.”

“And how long do you have to do that before they attack?”

“A sennight.”

His father spoke up immediately. “Neither one of you are going. Don’t even think on it.”

His mother said, “Finlay, Broc and I could go. I know it’s not ideal, but I do not wish to hear of any more bairns taken.

That’s simple cruelty. If Broc and I go along in a sennight, it would give you the time to gather forces to attack on the mainland.

Do you not agree? That would give plenty of time to ready your warriors. ”

Uncle Connor said, “I agree with gathering forces, but nay, sister. You are not going. That clan has tortured you enough. I’ll not allow it.”

His mother stood and said, “You don’t control me, Connor. I’ll do what I need to do.”

“Kyla, don’t be foolish. She nearly killed Logan. What the hell do you think she’s got planned for you two? Vengeance. Plain and simple. Neither of you are going. We’ll come up with something.”

Broc’s father paced in the back of the solar, tugging on his beard. “Nay, nay, nay. Do not even think it, Kyla. I agree with Connor.”

Eli stepped inside quietly, making her way over to Alaric.

Dyna stopped and asked, “How is he, Eli?”

“He’s holding up. I sewed him, but he didn’t flinch. Whether he was passed out or withstanding the pain, I couldn’t tell. But we have another problem.”

“What?” Alasdair asked.

“I don’t have enough of the poultice that keeps the fever at bay. I’m nearly out. I was going to send a messenger to Aunt Jennie or Aunt Brenna, but now we will need it soon. Verra soon.”

Dyna said, “We already sent a messenger to Clan Ramsay and to Clan Drummond. I suspect Micheil will be here soon. Mayhap Aunt Brenna will be here too. But I’ll send another message to Clan Ramsay.”

“We can only hope,” Maitland said. “I’m sure Uncle Micheil will get here as soon as he can. Aunt Brenna? I’m not so sure.”

Uncle Connor said, “I think I speak for all of us, Broc, that we are grateful that you were able to get Uncle Logan back here in time. It could have been much worse. Alaric told us how Logan wished to go in on his own, but the two of you argued with him. I’m glad to hear you will stand up to him.

Logan can be a bit stubborn, as you know.

We thank both you and Alaric for your quick thinking and action. ”

His back was thumped a few times, but Broc said, “I should have been able …”

Uncle Connor stood and said, “I’m going to stop you right there, Broc. There is no one I know who is more clever, more astute, wiser, or better to have with you going in to battle than Logan Ramsay. If he didn’t see it coming, no one would. None of what happened is your fault, yours or Alaric’s.”

“I should have gone with them,” Alaric said, his arms crossed.

“Nay, no more of that. If Logan couldn’t stop it, no one could.”

Broc couldn’t help but think how he wished people would be able to say the same about him someday.

Maitland said, “We’ll meet in two days to decide our plan of action. I don’t wish to wait a whole sennight. If we’re going to attack, there is no reason to wait. Discuss it and come up with ideas. Hopefully, Lennox or Tristan will visit so we can determine what is happening elsewhere.”

Dyna added, “And we’re all praying that Logan heals so he can tell us his own version.

He knows more about the Buchans than anyone but Torrian, probably.

” Logan’s nephew Torrian had almost been forced into a marriage with Buchan’s daughter.

They attempted trickery, but an astute Jennet had saved Torrian from a lifetime stuck in an unwanted union.

Broc was pleased they weren’t blaming him for the attack, but he did resolve to train harder. He’d already trained as hard as he could with his sword; perhaps it was time for him to take up archery. He needed to be skilled at both, so he could do better next time.

Perhaps he could train with Merryn on the morrow.

They made their way into the great hall just as the evening meal was brought out. Sloan clasped his shoulder and said, “I’m grabbing a meat pie and going home. Thane is staying until the morrow. I’ll return to see what you’ve decided to do.”

“Many thanks, Sloan, for all your assistance.”

“I couldn’t have done what you did, Broc. Logan is a beast.”

Broc’s fears lightened a bit. He wasn’t going to be sent away. He scanned the hall and saw Merryn sitting at a table with the bairns. Dyna made her way to join her, so Broc did too, both taking a seat.

Merryn arched a brow at him, and he nodded to let her know that he felt better.

But then Dyna added, “He’s not going to be asked to return to Clan Grant as he feared. It was unanimously decided that if Logan couldn’t see it coming, then no one could. Do you not agree, Broc?”

He nodded, giving Dyna a small smile of gratitude. “It was totally unexpected.”

He’d only feel better if Logan survived. Time would tell.

“Dyna, may I train with you on the morrow? I’m taking up archery.”

Dyna smiled. “Can’t wait for it.”

“Truly,” Merryn asked, her green eyes locked on his. Hell, but every single time he looked at the lass, she grew more appealing. Her skin was flawless, her lips as rosy as they came, but it was her eyes.

Broc could always see it in a lass’s eyes when their gaze fell upon his scar. They would stare at the large imperfection, then look away, their expression changing to one of disgust or revulsion. Their gaze would then return again before they would look across the hall and escape.

Every time. He was used to it. Only his close family members were accustomed to the scar and no longer stared, but the young lasses always noticed.

Merryn hadn’t stared at it yet. It freed his mind from worry. Even though he’d grown his beard to cover it, he knew the scar was still visible, especially up close. Sometimes, if he met someone new, he would count to see how long before they noticed.

He gave up counting with Merryn.

“You wish to be an archer, Broc? I find it challenging. For you, it will probably come easily.”

“I need to make myself a stronger fighter. I was always in awe of the Ramsay guards who were good at both. Logan is a powerful swordsman and an amazing archer. I don’t know how he is so skilled.

His son Gavin, Eli’s sire, was also excellent at both.

I need more skills. I’ve tried archery before, but not seriously.

I must work harder at this. Do you mind if I join you? ” He arched a brow at her.

“I would love it.” Merryn smiled.

He could never allow such a situation again. Dagger, sword, bow—all of them had to come easily. Switching from one to the other would be a challenge. But he was up to it. He had to make his elders proud of him. He reached down to make sure his father’s dagger was still attached to his belt. It was.

Somehow, he had to make up for the travesty he’d just been involved in. He glanced around the hall, pleased to see no one paid him any mind.

Well, no one but his mother, who would glance over at him with Merryn and grin, then she’d whisper to his father. They’d pushed for him to find someone, but it had never happened. He’d blamed his scarring, but was it more than that?

He’d not think on it and instead focused on the lass next to him.

At the end of the meal, Sandor jumped up from his spot and began to run circles around all the tables. In and out he traveled, giggling and pushing against something imaginary.

Alasdair got up quickly and went to Sandor’s side, stopping him. “Is it Uncle Jake again?”

Broc was close enough to hear everything, the shivers traveling up his neck whenever Sandor spoke.

“Aye, Unca Shakie chaseen me aden.” The lad pointed at an empty spot behind him. “Wight dare. Unca Shakie wight dare.”

Alasdair whispered, “Why, Da? Why are you here?”

“Unca Shakie say be weddy. Twouble comeen.”

“How? When?” Alasdair asked.

“Bye, Unca Shakie!” Sandor waved and returned to the table.

What the hell was going to happen?