Page 14 of Trapped with the Vicious Highlander (Falling for Highland Villains #5)

CHAPTER 14

Ava froze as the voice called for Brodrick once again. They both took a few steps away from each other and turned around almost at the same time.

Flora was walking towards them, her eyes bright, and for a second, Ava wondered if she had seen anything. Her eyes darted to Flora’s hands. There was a thick blanket nestled between her fingers, and Ava could tell how soft it was from just looking at it.

“Ye’re nae asleep yet?” Flora asked, finally stopping before them.

Ava could see her grip tightening on the blanket.

“I just put Margaret to bed,” she explained. “And Brod—the Laird said he wanted to see her as well.”

“Och…” Flora trailed off, and Ava could see the mild look of disappointment on her face.

“What is it?” Brodrick asked.

“I intended to give this to Margaret,” Flora replied, extending the blanket towards him. “I thought ye might give it to her for me… but ‘tis all right. I can always wait till tomorrow.”

Ava chuckled. “You can give it to her yourself, you know?”

Flora blinked. “Ye really think so?”

“Yes. You can check if she’s still asleep, otherwise just walk in and hand it to her. I think she trusts you well enough now to know you will not cause her any harm,” Ava reassured, her voice gentle.

“Are ye certain?” Flora asked, hesitation plain on her face.

“You’re her aunt, Flora. Of course, she trusts you. Walk in and hand it to her,” Ava urged.

Flora nodded, took a long and deep breath, bobbed a little curtsy, and made her way to the little girl’s room.

Ava sighed. It did not exactly look like Flora had seen anything. Or maybe she did and was choosing to ignore it? Something about that gnawed at her for some reason, and she wasn’t certain she would be able to ignore it for long.

“Ava—” Brodrick started again.

“Good night, My Laird,” Ava mumbled, cutting him off.

She knew what he was going to say, and she would rather he didn’t.

She stepped towards her room, pushed open the door, and walked in, refusing to spare Brodrick the briefest of glances. She shut the door behind her and walked to her bed, several intense thoughts still bouncing around in her head.

She’d come close today. She’d come really close, and she wouldn’t let it happen again. The resolution echoed loudly in her head as she pulled back the covers and slowly climbed into bed.

It was not going to happen again.

She was going to make certain of it.

* * *

The next morning, Brodrick stood with his men in the common room.

The common room was one of the biggest rooms in the castle. It was also one of the highest. This was where Brodrick held court with his men to discuss war strategies and plans. He had been discussing that with his men for the past few months, and so far their meetings had been rather fruitful.

Usually, his men were calm, gentle, and quiet whenever they listened to him speak, but for some reason, today the common room was in chaos. Men from all corners kept yelling at each other due to the giant difference of opinion they had.

“We cannae let them get away with this.”

“We have to strike harder and strike more. These people are get to learn their lesson.”

“Since they only understand violence, we must give it to them.”

“Enough,” Brodrick whispered, his ears practically unable to stand it anymore. The roars continued from all corners of the room.

“Maybe we can burn more roofs. That should get them talking.”

He’d been in this room for the past thirty minutes, and he had only been able to speak for twenty minutes. His man-at-arms, Darach McEwan, had gone to check on the armory five minutes ago because he had some suspicions.

“The armory is fine, Darach. It’ll be just as ye left it.”

“It has never hurt anyone to check, M’Laird,” Darach had responded, and of course, Brodrick had let him leave.

He should be in the armory by now and see that nothing was wrong. In a few minutes, he should walk through the door and maybe, just maybe, he would be able to help Brodrick put a stop to the arguing.

“Enough!” Brodrick called, his voice slightly louder than before but still not enough. It was immediately drowned out by the voices of the loud men, all arguing strategies with each other.

He rested his elbows on the wooden table before him, rubbing his temples and feeling the noise echo in his skill. His head started to pound, and for a second, he wondered if he could just leave the room and head to Irene to ask for something strong.

The smell of wood and leather permeated the room, accompanied by the voices of almost thirty men trying to speak over each other. He looked out the window behind him, which overlooked the cleaner part of the courtyard. The place was filled with nothing but fresh grass, a few dry logs, and a metal swing he had placed there when?—

He swallowed. Now was not the time to start thinking about that . For now, he needed to find a way to keep his men quiet. Deciding to resort to the very last weapon in his arsenal after calling for order twice, he reached for the handle of a small dagger attached to his belt, pulled it out, and threw it as hard as he could across the room.

The dagger whizzed through the air, barely missing the faces of some of the men who had suddenly frozen in shock, before landing on a metal plate attached to the wall on the opposite side of the room.

The silence that followed was extremely thick as all heads turned to the metal plate. They watched the knife fall flat on the ground right before them, and whatever words they were about to say died on their tongues.

Brodrick was a sharpshooter. One of the best, if not the best in the entire clan. He knew how to shoot a crossbow, how to throw a knife, and how to make sure the knife did as much damage as he wanted it to. If his knife grazed, it was because he wanted it to graze, and if his knife killed, it was because he wanted it to kill.

The silence grew even thicker as the men slowly turned their heads away from the knife and to Brodrick himself.

“Somebody get me that knife,” he called, his voice cutting through the thickening silence in the room.

One of his men, who almost got cut in the face by the blade, reached for the knife, grabbed it, and walked straight towards him.

“Now that I have yer attention,” Brodrick continued, taking the knife from the man, “I would like to say that I can see very clearly that what we’re currently doin’ isnae workin’.”

He was met with even more silence.

Usually, his men would descend into more arguments, but he must have really rattled them this time.

As he opened his mouth to speak again, Darach walked in, his face glistening with perspiration. He crossed the room straight to Brodrick.

“And?” Brodrick prompted, raising his eyebrows as his man-at-arm sat down beside him.

“It was just as ye said, M’Laird.”

“Of course. If only ye believed what I said.”

“Never hurts to be careful,” Darach responded.

Brodrick turned back to his men. “We need a change of strategy. We have been burnin’ through villages, lookin’ for the man who killed me wife and kidnapped me daughter, and yet we havenae found him. Why do ye think?”

Silence descended over the room.

“Nay one?”

Even more silence.

“I’ll tell ye. Because news gets to that bastard before us. So he always has the time to prepare. We raze through several villages once a day. We burn and burn and burn the roofs of several houses and search several abandoned castles, yet we never find him. The reason is easy—we are too predictable. And that needs to change.”

“We could start attackin’ the villages from the back of the Scottish border instead of the front like we usually do, M’Laird,” one of the men, Gavin, suggested.

“Nay. It willnae work. It will be the same thing. Do ye nae see? He doesnae need to escape to the border. He can just go back to the villages we have razed.”

“We may post guards at each village once we leave. If he returns, they can keep him prisoner and send word.”

“M’Laird, we dinnae ken what he looks like. How will they ken who to imprison?”

“What if he’s stronger than them? What if he kills them?” another man asked.

Slowly, the arguments rose again, and Brodrick palmed his face. Silence punctuated by brief murmurs ensued.

He knew his men didn’t dare start another argument. Instead, he studied their faces, the way their eyes flickered at his words. He then turned to Darach, who was simply watching the commotion.

“What do ye think?”

Darach leaned closer to him and whispered in his ear. The men watched attentively, stillness and complete silence dominating the atmosphere.

Darach leaned away, and Brodrick took a heavy breath. “Here’s what we’re goin’ to do. And it will serve ye well to listen attentively,” he said finally.

All eyes turned to him.

“We continue to look for the culprit,” he started.

As the murmurs of the men started to grow, he raised his hand, cutting them off.

“But in secret. We will nay longer make a spectacle of the villages. If we have to burn and pillage, we’ll only do it when it is extremely necessary. Am I understood?”

“Aye, M’Laird,” his men chorused, almost like something had wound around them and made them say it at the same time.

“We shall also use the cèilidh Flora is hostin’ to our advantage.”

Brodrick watched confusion crease their brows.

“I plan to invite as many lairds as I can,” he continued, before turning to look at Darach. “Ye will start workin’ on that, I suppose?”

“Aye, M’Laird,” Darach whispered, nodding in agreement.

“If we are goin’ to draw them out, we shall do this properly. Invite as many as ye can to the cèilidh. Then, we shall all watch them carefully. One of them is bound to give something up, and we will no longer need to destroy more villages.”

“That is quite brilliant, M’Laird,” Darach said, an excited smile spreading across his face.

“And we will all be at the cèilidh,” Brodrick added. “Just in case something goes wrong. Am I understood?”

Murmurs broke out among his men.

“Am. I. Understood?” he growled.

The room filled with low grunts and reluctant “Aye, M’Lairds,” before they all fell silent.

Brodrick let out a slow breath, enjoying the reprieve. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it properly, and that meant using every other weapon in his physical and mental arsenal. If the last thing he did was find this culprit, then so be it.

“We need more weapons,” Darach called, “if we’re goin’ to start thinkin’ of attackin’ the enemy when they least expect it. We need to prepare for any kind of ambush as well.”

Brodrick nodded in agreement. “Send word to the blacksmith. We need as many weapons as we can get. We need food as well. I want strong men, nae men runnin’ on just bread. Are ye goin’ to arrange for that?”

“Aye, M’Laird.”

“Send word to the men at the other edge of town as well. We need them to come back so we can put the new plan into motion. I dinnae want us to waste any time at all. I dinnae want the enemy to get wind of our new plan before he’s caught, ye ken?”

“I agree, M’Laird,” Darach responded.

Brodrick nodded and rubbed his chin, deep in thought. Was he missing something else?

“Och, and get the maids to bring more food for the men. They will gather in the dining hall in a few minutes.”

“Aye, M’Laird. And what about the weapons in the armory? How shall I distribute them?”

Brodrick turned around and looked out the window into the courtyard. His eyes narrowed as he took in the new sight below.

The courtyard was no longer empty and filled with just grass. He could now see Ava and Margaret down there, running. He could see the biggest smile on Margaret’s face as Ava chased her across the fields and to the swing. A rush of warmth bloomed in his chest at that moment, and the world around him faded into the background.

“M’Laird,” Darach called again.

Brodrick didn’t answer. Instead, he continued to watch.

Ava was wearing a bright yellow gown, and the sunlight bounced off it in a way that made her look ethereal. His breath hitched as he watched her. She looked utterly mesmerizing, and the fact that she was playing with his daughter made her even more alluring.

“M’Laird?” Darach’s voice shook him out of his reverie.

He turned around and gave his man-at-arms a wide smile. “I am certain whatever ye come up with shall be incredibly strategic.”

“But M’Laird—” Darach started again.

“Will that be all, Darach?” Brodrick asked.

Darach nodded once, the remainder of his words freezing on his tongue.

“Good,” Brodrick uttered. He stepped closer to Darach. “As I said, make sure the men are well fed. I am off to the courtyard.”

“The courtyard?” Darach echoed.

“Aye.”

“Ye dinnae plan to eat with the men?”

“I will eat later. Dinnae worry about me.”

“What if the men have something to discuss with ye over the meal?”

Brodrick rose and made for the door. “Tell them it can wait.”

Whatever Darach was about to say, Brodrick did not wait to listen to it. Instead, he made his way out of the common room and straight down the stairs.

The castle hummed in the daylight as he walked with only one purpose in mind.

He planned to join Ava and Margaret. As he walked, some part of him couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to be a welcome addition. Will Margaret open up to him, or will he just get in the way of everything?

He quickened his steps, not letting the nagging question weaken his resolve.

There was only one way to find out.

* * *

Ava paused to catch her breath, reveling in Margaret’s laughter. While chasing Margaret around the courtyard had been a hectic and rather grueling experience for her, she was incredibly happy that the girl was enjoying every single moment of it. It didn’t matter if she could die from exhaustion any second. As long as the child was having fun, every breathless run was worth it.

She stopped suddenly and sank into the grass, letting her breathing slowly return to normal. She panted for air, and Margaret, who only got the hint a little later, stopped running around as well. She made her way to Ava and also sank into the grass.

The afternoon air smelled of freshly cut flowers, honey, and a hint of lemon. It made Ava wonder for the briefest of moments what Flora had directed the maids to make for dinner.

“Do you like the blanket? The one your aunt gave you yesterday?” she asked.

Margaret nodded slowly.

“Good. And you’re happy to use it every other night, are you not?”

Margaret nodded again.

“Good. So tell me, what else do you plan to do today? Shall we use the swing?”

Before Margaret could respond, a bird landed just a few yards away from them, its soft and bony feet gently digging into the soil. Margaret, who had the biggest excited smile on her face, pointed towards it.

Ava, turned to it, her eyes widening as well. “Yes,” she murmured, turning back to Margaret. “Yes, that is a bird. Do you know what kind?”

She waited. It was not the first time they had seen that bird. Ava had shown it to her multiple times back in the orphanage, but she only asked because part of her hoped, even if secretly and desperately, that Margaret would respond with words.

It didn’t work. Margaret only nodded, the excited smile still on her face.

“That,” Ava mentioned anyway, “is a pigeon. You remember what a pigeon is, don’t you?”

Margaret nodded.

On their way to Castle MacDunn, one of the first few animals she had written on the parchment for Margaret to cross later was the pigeon. Unfortunately, they could not spot any throughout the journey because they either flew away before the carriage approached or Ava and Margaret just did not look hard enough.

“Do you want to cross it off the list now?” she asked.

Margaret nodded, the eagerness on her face unmistakable.

Ava was about to ask her to go bring the parchment so she could cross the name with her quill, when the door that led to that part of the courtyard swung open. Brodrick appeared in the doorway, a calm smile on his face. Ava watched the smile on Margaret’s face dim slightly.

“Ye seem to be enjoyin’ yerself,” Brodrick called, walking over to them.

Ava gave a brief nod. “Well, someone is enjoying herself, and the other person thinks her stomach is about to be turned inside out.”

She immediately regretted the words that left her mouth.

Why in God’s name would you say that? Of all the things you could’ve said…

“Is it too far-reaching of me if I ask to join as well?”

“Well, ye seem to be in much better shape to be chasin’ Margaret around, that’s for sure.”

Oh, for the love of God.

She did it again. She let her mouth run away with her.

She rose anyway. She wouldn’t let any other words escape her mouth before she made her way back inside. “I shall go take a bath.”

Margaret also rose to follow, already on her heels, much to Brodrick’s disappointment, but Ava stopped and turned around. She took Margaret’s hand and squeezed it gently.

“You don’t need to be afraid anymore, child,” she murmured, wanting to soothe the girl. “You’re home now. No one can take you, not when your father is here. Do you understand me?”

A forlorn look crossed Margaret’s face for a brief moment before she nodded in agreement.

“Now, I am about to go have a bath. I am certain I have sweated a shallow lake just this afternoon.”

Margaret laughed.

“So, for now, you shall play with your father instead. Is that all right with you?” Ava could feel Brodrick’s eyes on her, but she refused to acknowledge him.

Margaret nodded slowly.

“Now, go to your father,” Ava whispered.

Margaret turned around and headed to Brodrick, who gave Ava a look of utter gratitude.

Ava shook her head in dismissal and walked into the castle. A part of her wondered—no, hoped that Margaret would not have any reason to call for her.

The father and daughter time she had created might just be what the girl needed.

As she closed the door behind her, she wondered if she was right about that.