Loki (8 page)

Mayhap she would see Brodie in Perthshire or Ayr. At first, she had considered requesting to go along with him, but she knew she’d be turned down since it was expected she’d attend the small wedding. There were lads’ clothes tied up in her satchel, so she could switch into them once she got to Perthshire. She had also packed the small dagger Loki had taught her how to use.

Aye, she would find Loki Grant if it killed her.

Chapter Nine

When Loki awakened, the first thing he noticed was that only one eye opened. The right one was swollen shut. Fortunately, he appeared to be alone in the dungeon. He reached to feel his head, hoping to determine how badly he was injured, only to discover he had iron shackles around his wrists. Squelching his need to bellow to the rooftops, he decided his best course of action was to keep his mouth closed.

When he attempted to sit up, the pain that rippled through his body told him exactly how much damage the fools had done. He remembered the look of sheer enjoyment in Hamish’s eyes as the man delivered punch after punch. Apparently, that enjoyment had continued well after the scum had knocked him unconscious. Hellfire, he’d just been through this not long ago with the reivers. Mayhap it was finally time to change the way he lived. One thing would definitely change—he was done seeking out his parents.

He could only imagine what his life would have been like if he’d stayed with his sire instead of running away to Ayr. Fleeing had been the best decision he’d ever made, for it had led him to Brodie and Celestina Grant. Now that he knew his sire’s true nature, he had to wonder at the veracity of his story. Had Loki truly run away in fear?

He shoved his back against the cold stone, the only possible position that would allow him to sit up and move his arms. Dried blood stuck to his chin and caked over his injured eye. A large swelling was also on the back of his head—likely from falling—and it was probably the primary reason for his raging headache. Noticing a container full of water nearby, he grabbed it and took a drink of the cool liquid, then poured it over the blood on his hands. Every inch of his body screamed in pain.

He wondered how long he had been out, and how much more time would pass before Logan returned. He had to survive until then, he just had to… He was more driven than ever to return to marry his Bella. The hell with her sire, they’d marry and be happy together. His adoptive father was right—some things in life were too important to lose.

The door slammed open at the top of the stairs, and his sire came down the stairs, chuckling all the way. “Well, I see my son has awakened. I’m glad they didn’t kill you yet.”

“You have a strange sense of loyalty.” Loki spit blood out of his mouth, feeling for all his teeth to make sure he hadn’t lost any. “Amazing you could treat your own son this way.”

“I tried to talk you into staying here where you belong for a couple of months, but you were not interested. I had to convince you to stay. I’ll get some coin for you, it’s my just due.”

“What? Why would the Grants owe you anything? They took in your own kin when you treated me like dirt. You owe them; they owe you naught.”

“The Scots owe me. The king should have given me a much larger castle than this one. I made him piles of coin during the war with the Norse. I knew how to send the right goods out and smuggle others in to keep the money flowing to build ships, only I didn’t get just compensation for all I did.”

“Sounds like the Lowlanders owe you and your king, not the Highlanders. Leave them out of this. Just let me go and all will be forgotten. I’ll be certain never to come within your sights again.”

Loki stared at the earl, sad to see that all his searching, all his desires had come to this. If Bella’s father would be appeased by learning Loki was the heir to this man, then he had all his priorities wrong.

His sire tossed him a couple of oatcakes through the bars. “Here’s your dinner, lad. I’ll see you on the morrow.”

Loki managed to catch one oatcake, but the other rolled out of his reach. No matter, he had work to do. This was not the first seemingly impossible challenge he had faced and bested. Staring at the iron manacles attached to the wall, he reviewed each small detail about his prison, until finally the answer clicked…

He just couldn’t wait for Logan Ramsay. He knew what to do to get himself out of this predicament.

***

As soon as they reached Perthshire, Bella’s insides started to do flip-flops in anticipation. Thank goodness she’d thought to ask Catriona to pen a note for her. She knew all the Grant bairns could read and write, and she did not want to leave her sister without any explanation. Her sister would be upset, but at least she would know where Bella had gone. It would save her from fretting unnecessarily or attempting to send guards after her.

Shocked that she had the gumption to attempt such a daring plan, she had to continuously take deep breaths to keep focused on her path. Nothing would stop her from pursuing Loki and finding out what had happened to him. They were meant to be together forever, and she was ready to handle any test they were given. True love would prevail, and her true love was the strongest, most clever warrior out there. He would find a way to escape.

Once they arrived at the castle, Bella dismounted quickly. Morna’s betrothed came out to greet them, but as soon as he saw her on horseback, he rushed forward to help her dismount. “Why are you riding, my lady? You should be atop pillows on a cart.” He snapped at the head of her guards. “Have you no sense? She is of tender sensibilities and should be treated as such.”

Bella had to look away from her sister’s smile. All her life, she would be fussed over and taken care of by others. Bella was so different from her sister, though she did love her. Bella wished for nothing more than to be free to live her life as she wished, either in her own cottage or under the stars. She did not care where she was so long as Loki was with her. If he wished to travel and work for the Scottish crown, then she’d be happy to travel with him.

Morna’s betrothed helped her to her feet, and they put on quite a show—Morna almost fell, but the baron held her steady with both his arms. Bella rolled her eyes, grabbed her satchel, and moved ahead of the lovebirds.

She glanced back at the baron. He was quite a bit older than Morna, and his red hair had thinned in spots, but he was neither particularly handsome nor homely. Plain—that was the best description she could muster. Of average height and well dressed, he took care of his appearance.

They came up behind her chatting. “And how was your journey, my lady?”

Morna replied, “It was quite pleasant, with little rain or snow to cause any problems. The horses had trouble with part of the rocky descent, so we were forced to walk at times, but I managed to keep from turning my ankle with Arabella’s help.”

“Arabella? Who is Arabella? Is this your maid you brought to attend you?”

“Nay, Arabella is my sister. She’s just ahead of us carrying the satchel. Bella’s talented in so many ways. She helped me pack all my things because I could just not find a way to fit what I needed in the small trunk. She’s quite talented as a maid.”

Bella glared at Morna over her shoulder. Maid, indeed. True, she did not mind helping her sister when she was in need, but that did not make her a maid.

“If there are more things you need from home, do not worry your pretty head about it. I’ll send someone to retrieve them later. I’ll do whatever you wish, my dear.”

Morna clutched his elbow, acting as if she needed help to keep from falling, but Bella was quite sure she was just looking for an excuse to lean her breasts against the baron. “Oh, my lord, you are so kind.”

“I’m committed to making your stay before our marriage as agreeable as possible.” He lowered his voice, “I do so look forward to our wedding night.”

Bella swung her head around again to see if the baron was jesting. The baron was quite serious, it seemed, and there was even a glint of excitement in his gaze. Bella felt a bit sorry for missing her sister’s wedding, but it could not be helped. She hoped Morna would forgive her and understand that Loki’s life was at stake. She’d be leaving in the middle of the night, which was only a few hours away. Thank goodness she had a plan in place. She had to get to Ayr to find her love and help him escape.

Loki, I’m coming!

***

“I’d like to see my sire.” Loki issued his request as soon as Hamish and one of the guards descended the curved staircase.

“I’m sure you’d like a good many things, don’t you think, Hector?” Hamish asked.

Hector laughed, “I’m sure he would, too. Can we get you a nice wench to pass your time with? Or mayhap you’d like a meal of lamb, meat pies, and sweetmeats.”

Hamish leaned against the stone wall directly in front of Loki, crossing his arms. “Mayhap you’d like a dagger and a sword, or a nice bath. Hector, did you bring the tub with you?”

“Apparently, the lad does not know the meaning of prisoner.”

“So why are you here?” Loki sat without moving a muscle, not wanting to allow them more entertainment at his expense.

“You’ve got a few moves in you, Grant. You did more damage to my two guards than I would have expected. I always knew you’d be something special.” Hamish’s eyes carried some secret knowledge Loki wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“When I first arrived, you acted as if you missed me, Hamish. Care to tell me what that was about? And since I have naught else to do, I’d love to hear your version of my life and the reason why I left. I think I deserve that much.” Loki lowered his voice to remove any threat or anger from it, hoping to get some honest explanation. He knew he’d never be back to see his sire again—and he never wanted to admit to being related to anyone other than the Grants—but he was still curious about many things.

A slow smile crept across Hamish’s face as he lifted his shoulders and sighed. “Aye, those were the good days. I do remember you well, lad. You see, I was the one who administered your sire’s punishments, just as I do now. You were a hard one to break, even at the tender age of three summers. You are much like your father.”

“I am naught like my sire. We have naught in common except the color of our hair.”

“Nay? You do not agree? Your father would never speak unless he had something verra important to say. Why, he never expressed his opinions about anything, and I think you are the same. When you were a wee laddie, you would always take a beating without uttering a sound, and now you are careful to hide your true thoughts and any indication of the pain I know you’re in. You hide everything well. Aye, just like your father.”

Loki paused to give Hamish’s words some consideration. Aye, he had a very high pain tolerance, but so did many. Maddie Grant had the highest pain threshold of any person he had ever met. It did not mean he and the earl were true kin.

“You were adopted, but you’ve never thanked anyone for doing it. You never ask for aught, and you never give aught. ‘Tis exactly what your mother worried about. She was afraid you’d become just like your father, never expressing any consideration for aught but yourself. Course, your mother called it feelings, like lasses do.” Hamish nodded. “I see you’re realizing the truth of my words.”

Loki hadn’t thought any of this man’s words could hurt him, but Hamish’s words sliced deep into his belly, more so than he wanted to admit. Was that why he’d never been able to thank Brodie and Celestina? Or thank Alex Grant for giving him the name of Loki Grant? Or why he had such difficulty admitting that he loved Bella more than anything in the world? If Hamish’s words about his sire were true, then mayhap he had more in common with him than he would ever care to admit.

“Your sire’s a heartless man, Loki, and you are the same. Cold and calculating, always looking for ways to outsmart others. You were a clever lad, always outthinking your sire. I believe his fear of your talents was the true reason he…”

“He what?” Loki wanted to grab the bastard by the throat and choke the words out of him. “Finish it, you piece of scum.”

Hamish’s eyes glittered with mischief. “Nay, I’ve said all I care to say.”

“You’ve told me what I got from my sire, then what did I get from my mother?” Loki locked his gaze on the dirt floor in front of him, not wanting to give Hamish a chance to see how much the answer to this question mattered to him.

“Your mother? Hmmm…what did you get from your mother. She was a comely thing, but she was too soft-hearted to survive life with your sire. If the bairn hadn’t taken her, your sire would have sucked the life from her. Naught…you got naught from her that I can tell.”

“You have me chained to the wall. Why can I not speak to my sire? I’d like to see if some of my memories are true. Will you not ask him to come down? You know it will be some time before the message arrives in the Highlands.” Loki decided the only thing that could bring his father down was the threat of his memory returning. Of course, naught had returned to him, but it would interest him to know if his father was threatened by that possibility—and if so, why.

Hamish shoved himself away from the wall. “We’ll pass the word on to your father. See if he’ll consider blessing you with his presence. Glad to see you’re enjoying your chains.” He winked over his shoulder on his way out.

The irony of all that had transpired was not lost on him. He remembered telling everyone in Ayr that his mother had died birthing him, and he’d never known his father. The truth had been that he had no recollection about his past. He realized that faulty memory had served to be a blessing. Remembering his true sire would have made him ill and angry.

Loki would see that Hamish got what he deserved someday.