Seduced by the Laird (Conquered Brides Series Book 2) (2 page)

Wallace has been captured by the English. Be wary of rebels rising and English raiding. Meet the council at Melrose Abbey.

~Robert de Brus

“Damn,” Gregor muttered, blowing out a heavy sigh. The Bruce did not yet know the truth.

He walked toward the hearth and held the corner of the missive to a candle lit on the mantle. The parchment ignited, burning and changing the paper from creamy-yellow to black. He tossed it into the hearth and watched until the entire letter was nothing more than a pile of ash.

“What is it?”

Gregor’s brother-by-marriage and second-in-command, Samuel de Mowbray, entered the Great Hall. Though the man was English, his two sisters were both married to well-respected Scots—the Sutherlands—and he was a double agent, pretending to work for the crown of England all the while spilling their secrets. The knight was lucky not to have been caught yet, and that he’d gained their trust else some of the Scots might have thought him a shady character. But Gregor knew the man well, knew he hated the way the English had invaded Scotland, and given who his sisters were married to, the man was an asset.

How Samuel had managed to get Gregor’s sister, Catriona, to fall in love with him, was another question. Catriona was a right harridan, but she and her husband had proven their worth, allowing Gregor concentrate on the War for Independence. Samuel had been instrumental to Scotland and at Castle Buchanan. And, Gregor rather liked it the way it was. At thirty-two summers, he’d yet to marry, though he’d come close once before. Having his sister act as mistress of the castle worked out perfectly given that he was still a bachelor.

Pouring himself a dram of whisky and another for Samuel, Gregor said, “Wallace has been captured.”

Samuel’s face hardened. “Damn.”

“Aye.”

They both swigged the burning liquid and refilled their cups.

“Can we rescue him?” Samuel asked.

“I’m not certain where he is of yet, but my guess is once they nabbed him they high-tailed it to the border. Likely headed to London where Longshanks can torture him.” Gregor ran his fingers through his hair. “I have to meet the council. ’Tis best if ye stay considering the increased rage toward the English at the current moment.”

“Are ye certain? I might be able to help given my connections.”

Gregor shook his head. “I dinna want to risk your safety.”

Samuel nodded. “I’ll keep Buchanan safe.”

“A shame really since ye’re likely to have information they could use.”

“I’d not heard anything of Wallace. But you’re right, if Longshanks has him, the chances of him still being in Scotland are slim to none. And I’ll warn you, the English king wants Wallace dead.”

Gregor nodded solemnly. “I know.”

With the loss of two important leaders in the War for Independence, first Murray and now Wallace, would Robert the Bruce be able to pick up where those two had left off, or would he simply fall to the whims of the earls who’d sided with the English years ago? Bribes of coin and lands had made the greedy bastards eager for Longshanks leavings. They’d amassed great wealth by betraying their countrymen. Greed was a powerful weapon, one Longshanks knew well how to wield.

“I am leaving within the hour. Hopefully I can get to the abbey within two days at a maximum. There is likely nothing we can do for Wallace now, but we can secure our borders.”

“Let us know if you need anything, and my offer still to ride with you still stands.”

Gregor clapped Samuel on the back. “Ye’re a good man. I will. Give my love to Catriona when she wakes.” His sister had given birth not too many days ago, and was still resting in her chamber—when she wasn’t raising hell. Some things never changed.

“She’ll be mad if you don’t wish her farewell yourself,” Samuel warned.

Gregor grinned. “What woman is not mad when she doesn’t get her way?”

Samuel shrugged with a chuckle. “I know not the answer to that, but if it’s all the same, I’d rather not have her railing at me… Well, maybe not railing at me any more than usual.”

Gregor laughed. “Can ye not handle a wee Scottish lass, Sassenach?”

“She may be
wee,
but she’s the temperament of a jackal of late.” Samuel refilled his cup with more whisky. “God, I love her so damn much though.”

That made Gregor laugh all the more. He climbed the stairs to his sister’s chamber and tapped on the door. At first there was no answer, and then a soft bid to enter.

“Brother,” Catriona said, sitting up in bed, her face flushed with the happiness of new motherhood. Beneath her eyes were shadowed with lack of sleep, but that didn’t seem to make her less than cheerful.

“I’ve come to bid ye well. I must go away for a few days, but I will return.”

Worry flickered over her features. Ever since their castle had been attacked some years before—and after a mighty fight, Gregor had been taken captive while Catriona, with Samuel as escort, had run away hoping to gain help for him—she worried about anytime her brother or husband entered into a dangerous situation.

“Dinna fash, lass. I’ll return shortly. ’Tis simply a meeting.” Och, but he wished it
were
truly simple.

“There has been more than one meeting ye’ve taken where ye’ve ended up hurt.” She frowned harshly, pushing her legs to the side of the bed.

“Aye.” There was also that incident shortly before his abduction… Gregor rushed forward, and scooted her legs back under the covers. “But look at me.” He held out his arms, showing he was still in one piece. “I’m here and well standing before ye.”

Cat rolled her eyes and batted the air. “I’ll pray for your soul, brother.”

Gregor kissed her cheek. “Be well. Samuel is here to take care of things.” He glanced around the room, wanting to get another look at his new nephew, but the cradle was empty. “Where’s the bairn?”

“The nurse took him for a bit so I could rest.”

“Ah, well, give him a kiss for me.” Gregor bent and kissed his sister’s forehead. “I’ll see ye soon.”

“Be well, Gregor.”

“And ye, too, lass.”

He left the chamber, heading toward his library to pick up the other missive along with the wooden box containing chilling contents he’d gotten the day before. It would seem he’d become the bearer of even worse news for his ruler.

Chapter Two

Glasgow

Rain had them trapped.

A torrential downpour so heinous that all the roads had turned to rivers of mud and even the high points were slick enough to fell a horse.

Which was what had happened the night before, injuring one of the men who guarded Kirstin. As a result, they’d been forced to take refuge in a tavern that was less than reputable, and though she had five guards outside the door, they could do nothing about the buggy situation inside the room the innkeeper had rented her and Donna for an exorbitant fee.

The injured Warrior of God was housed in the room beside hers, and a local healer had been gathered to set his broken leg, but even still, he’d not be accompanying them the rest of the way, and Kirstin was not waiting here for the weeks it would take for him to be able to ride again.

As it was, it might be a century before her clothes and boots would dry.

“Put on this clean shift, Sister Kirstin. Might as well be dry all over.”

Kirstin groaned, the skin of her fingers and toes wrinkled and all her limbs waterlogged. She switched out the wet chemise for the one Donna handed her, noticing only a slight difference.

“Seems even our satchels were victims of this wretched rain,” Kirstin grumbled.

Donna laughed, a singsong sound as she laid out their garments beside a small fire lit in an iron brazier. They’d cracked the shutter of the small window, but that didn’t seem to help funnel the smoke out. The room was stifling and now the smoke made it even more difficult to breathe.

Kirstin waved the air in front of her face and coughed.

“Where are we anyway? Did ye hear anyone make mention of it?” Kirstin asked.

Donna cocked her head, thinking. “From what I’ve been able to gather, the horse fell somewhere outside of Edinburgh.”

“What was the name of this wretched place again?”

“Gràinne’s Tavern, I do believe.”

Kirstin grunted. “Let us pray the rain ceases afore the sun shines so we can be on our way.”

“If it will in fact shine again,” Donna murmured peering out the window.

“It will. Dinna be a sourpuss, Sister Donna. Ye’re the chipper one, remember?” Kirstin tossed herself onto the bed, and then hacked at the cloud of dust and other unpleasant things that invaded the space around her, fiercer than the clouds outside.

Donna twirled in her chemise and flopped onto the bed beside Kirstin. “Do ye think it always rains this much here?”

“I doubt it. Just a summer storm as we have on Skye.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Go ask one of the guards to fetch ye some supper.” Kirstin flopped an arm over her face. Would she have to mind Donna like a governess? That would prove most annoying. And even more annoying would be if her own sour mood continued.

“Good idea.” Donna pushed off the bed, another cloud of dusts rising as she left.

Kirstin wished she could tell Donna to go and make the meal herself, better yet, to farm the food they would eat, then she’d not return for awhile and Kirstin could have a few moments of peace. At Nèamh, she did not have to share a chamber with anyone. She often spent much of her time in solitude and reflection. If she’d learned anything, the company of others frayed very easily on her nerves. Perhaps it was all that had happened in her past. An attack on your home as a child, the murder of your parents, and the loss of so many others, even as recently as a decade ago, well, it took a toll. She didn’t want to get close to anyone, perhaps for fear of losing them all over again.

“He’s to bring us something directly,” Donna chirped, running her fingers along the table. “’Tis dusty.”

Kirstin leapt from the bed, ready to say something quite rude, but steadied herself. “How about ye relax a bit and I’ll try to make our arrangements a little more habitable.”

Donna opened her mouth to protest, her position well below that of Kirstin’s meaning she should be the one cleaning, but Kirstin held up a staying hand. “I insist.”

Tuning out the sound of Donna’s chatter, she went to work wiping down the table and chairs with the bucket of water they’d been given upon arrival to rinse the mud from their hands and feet. When that was finished, she moved to the floors. There was something calming in the repetitive movements. The lack of thinking it required. She could move round and round, and work while inside her mind always seemed to solve the problems she faced.

A knock at the door called her cleaning to cease, and Donna fairly flew from the bed to answer it, nearly tripping over Kirstin in the process.

The guard set a tray of food on the freshly cleaned table, then backed out without a word.

Kirstin expected to see moldy bread and half-rotting chicken on the table, but she was pleasantly surprised to see that the bread looked mostly fresh and the meat without a spot of decay. Donna separated the food and indicated for Kirstin to sit down. She poured them each a cup of ale and then went to eating as though she’d not done so in days.

When was the last time they’d had a decent meal?

They’d been traveling for well over two weeks, and Kirstin had barely eaten since they’d left the abbey. In fact, her clothes were starting to hang on her.

“Eat,” Donna said around a hunk of bread. “Mother Superior will have me scrubbing the floors for a fortnight if ye come home half-wasted away.”

Kirstin plucked at the chicken, putting a tiny piece in her mouth and chewing around the flavorless lump.

She’d been able to think of little else save for her last trip to the mainland years before. They’d made it through Glasgow without running into her past, and she thanked the Lord for that every moment. But that did not mean she was in the clear. Nay, she wouldn’t be until she returned to Skye and the refuge Nèamh afforded her.

Not a refuge for any physically in danger, for she wasn’t in any. Nay, it was far more than that. An emotional barrier she’d erected that wavered when she was outside of the walls. She needed the peace the divide of stone and mortar garnered her against the world.

“Can I ask ye a question?” Donna gulped at the ale.

“Ye just did.”

“Another then?”

Kirstin sipped the ale, tasting sweat and old boots. Saints, but who made this? The image she conjured in her mind was of a half-bald, skin-slick man with a protruding belly, yesterday’s supper in his beard, and that day’s breakfast still greasy on his lips. She frowned and set down the cup. “If ye insist.” She didn’t want to answer any questions but she had a feeling she’d not get away with it. Donna hadn’t stopped talking since the moment they’d met and if Kirstin didn’t just answer the question, she was likely going to be tortured with more incessant chatter. “But after I answer, I would like some silence. To meditate.”

Donna nodded. “Aye, that sounds fair.” She flicked her gaze away.

Kirstin was immediately suspicious.

“There is a rumor,” Donna started.

“Spreading gossip is a sin. And so is listening to it.”

Donna swallowed. “Aye.”

“Well, out with it then.”

“Will ye tell Mother Superior on me?”

Kirstin rolled her eyes. “Just ask your question—” She cut herself off before she could threaten bodily harm.

“I’ve heard it said that ye
have
been away from Skye. Even so far as Glasgow. Is it true?”

Kirstin’s mouth went dry, the small chunk of bread suddenly brittle on the inside of her cheek. She took a sip of ale, wetting her mouth enough to swallow the bread, then cleared her throat. “Where did ye hear such nonsense?”

Nonsense.

If only it were. If only she’d never run away from Nèamh, though it had been for a very good reason. She’d needed to find her cousin. Finn had saved her life all those years before when her family’s castle was attacked. He’d taken her to the abbey, and then gone to search for her sister, never to be seen again, though there were rumors that he’d been spotted. That was when she’d escaped the abbey, needing to finally set eyes on him. See that she’d not been the cause of his death. Where her search led her, well… That was a path she wished she’d not taken, and those who’d witnessed it had been sworn to secrecy.

But it seemed someone
had
told Kirstin’s story.

“Why would they spread such if it were not true?”

Kirstin eyed Donna, who had stopped stuffing her face long enough to study Kirstin.

“Sometimes people say things about other people because they want to hurt them.”
Even if the words they mutter are true.

One’s own memories can often hurt the most.

Kirstin took another casual sip of her ale, and worked a smile on her face that she hoped looked disarming, even if it felt brittle. “Who did ye hear that from?”

Donna’s eyes grew oversized. “Oh, nay, I couldn’t share, Sister Kirstin. That would be participating in the gossip.”

“Which ye’ve already done, might I point out?”

Tears brightened Donna’s gooseberry eyes. “Can ye forgive me?”

As unpleasant as the memories were, Kirstin wasn’t heartless. Donna was young and curious. She didn’t mean any harm.

Swallowing away any ill feelings, Kirstin said, “I already have.”

Donna let out an audible sigh, her hands clutching her neck. She shook her head, as though fighting a battle inside her mind and then she finally blurted out, “It was Anna.”

“Anna?” Kirstin pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling.

Anna had been at the abbey when Kirstin arrived fifteen years before, and was there when Kirstin left to look for Finn. Anna was indeed, still there when Kirstin returned, heartbroken and unwell six months later.

Donna’s head bobbed as she nodded, her mousy hair normally pulled back in a severe bun falling loose.

“How old are ye exactly, Donna?” Kirstin asked.

“Eighteen.”

Kirstin dipped her head. “That is about the age I was when I left the abbey for the first time.”

Donna bit her lip, holding her tongue for once.

“’Tis a sin to lie, so I will tell ye this once, and then ye must put it away and never ask me again.”

“I swear it.”

“When I was your age, I did leave Nèamh. I wanted to find my cousin. I had heard a rumor that he was serving the laird at Eilean Donan Castle.” Kirstin tugged at the pins in her hair, running her fingers through her long, knotty, black locks. “I managed to climb inside a merchant’s wagon, and stayed hidden for a day, but they soon found me and threatened to take me back to the abbey. So I escaped.”

Donna looked ready to fall out of her chair, her face pale as she listened. Obviously, Anna’s version of events were quite different.

“I stayed to the woods, running alongside the road, hiding when anyone came near. But two days without food and expending all of my energy left me hungry and exhausted. By the time I reached Loch Alsh, and the mainland was in sight, I had not the stamina to continue. A fisherman took pity on me when I told him I had family at Eilean Donan, and he gave me bread and water, then took me across the loch.” There Kirstin paused, unable to move past the knot swelling in her throat, and the sudden emotional grip that burned her eyes.

“Did ye find your cousin?”

Kirstin shook her head. “Nay, I never did.”

Though she had found something else.