Alex Grant sat in his solar, mulling over all he’d just heard. His eldest sons and acting lairds were there, along with Quade and Logan Ramsay, and the group that had returned with the news—his youngest son, Connor, and Roddy and Braden.
Logan had just returned from a journey intended to uncover new information about the mercenaries and Buchan’s plot—a mission that had proved unsuccessful. The man had started pacing the room the moment he'd entered it, and he now turned to the younger men and barked, “What the hell were you thinking, taking Kyla straight to the enemy? I could order lashings for all five of you. And Finlay? I’ll kill him with my bare hands. You’ve given the enemy just what they wanted, something to use against us.”
“Admonishments will get us nowhere at this point,” Alex said. “They used the innocence and inexperience of our young people against us. Now, we must do what’s necessary to right the situation. The bastard has my daughter, and we need to settle on a strategy to get her back. Jake, make a call to arms. Three hundred men will march with me on the morrow. Get them ready. Get their mounts ready. Jamie, find messengers and send them to Menzie land and Drummond land. I would ask for one hundred guards from each of them. Micheil has likely brought Gavin and Gregor back to Drummond land with him, but we can send another messenger to Edinburgh to be sure. And someone should be sent to Cameron land telling them we’re coming and bringing our women for safety. Aedan’s to keep his guards at home to protect his land and the abbey. Dusk outside Buchan land on the morrow.”
“Send a messenger to Torrian,” Quade added. “Tell him to ready two hundred.”
Jake and Jamie left the room to carry out their instructions.
Logan continued to pace. He stopped for a moment and said, “Alex, are you sure you’re ready to sit on a mount for that long? It will take nearly a day to get there.”
“Aye, ‘tis perfect. We’ll attack at night while half of them are in their cups,” Alex said.
Connor said, “I doubt they’ll be in their cups. We saw no evidence of such.”
Logan sat down and said, “Connor, Roddy, Braden. Tell us every detail of what you know.”
The door opened and the Grant’s brothers came in quietly and sat.
“De La Porte and his mercenaries had just arrived,” Connor said. “We saw no more than two hundred men.”
A knock sounded at the door. Brodie said, “I’ll go.”
Alex nodded. His brother opened the door to find Maddie standing there.
“A messenger,” Maddie motioned to the door.
Brodie returned a few moments later, holding a scroll. “A messenger handed me this and hustled away.” Maddie followed him in.
All conversation stopped as they waited to hear what Brodie had to say. Alex motioned for Maddie to come to him behind the desk.
Brodie read the message on the scroll. “This is from Glenn of Buchan,” he said, looking up. “He has Kyla and promises no harm to her in exchange for…” he paused, reading it again as if to convince himself of what it said.
Alex pulled Maddie down onto his lap, afraid she would collapse onto the floor. He could feel her fine tremors. This was too much for his wee wife.
Robbie stared at him. Alex said, “Go ahead, Brodie.”
“He’ll return Kyla to us safely when we relinquish Grant Castle to him. We have two days to decide.”
Maddie gasped and fell against Alex, but after a moment, she stood up and squared her shoulders.
She folded her hands in front of her and said, “Husband, you need to put a dagger in that man’s black heart.”
***
Finlay sat down on the pallet in his prison after accepting more oatcakes and ale from the lad. “My thanks, Gillie.”
He fell flat onto his pallet after the lad left. His exhaustion was complete. Every muscle in his body hurt, and he knew he’d sleep as soon as he lay back—but probably not for long.
According to his calculations, if Connor had made haste back to Grant land, the earliest he could return with a sizeable force would be late tomorrow, but only if there were no obstacles. The one thing in his favor was that the Ramsays were still on Grant land because of their hesitation to travel in the current conditions. Aedan Cameron had returned home but left Jennie behind to visit with family.
There would be plenty of reinforcements from the clans they were linked to through family. Camerons. Menzies. Drummonds.
Help should be arriving on the morrow. All he and Kyla needed to do was survive one more day, and they’d have a fighting chance.
One more day. After he finished his meager food, he settled back on the pallet, his eyes drifting shut in an instant.
A voice wrenched him out of sleep.
“My lord, my lord!” The urgent whisper came from the small window in the door.
He bolted up off his pallet and reached the door, staring down at Gillie standing in the passageway. “What is it?”
Gillie glanced in both directions before he spoke. “He beat her bad.”
“Kyla?” His fists clenched at the thought of anyone touching her.
“Aye. She’s alive, but she’s bad off, my lord. You must help her, please. She’s in my laird’s chamber, and he’s gone to visit his daughter.”
Raucous laughter rang out from the end of the passageway, so Gillie took off. “Sorry, my lord. They’d kill me.”
Finlay understood, but he thanked the Lord the lad had come to him. He’d take care of it in his own way. He picked the stool up and pounded the door with it, making as much noise as he could. He let out a Grant war whoop in the hopes of bringing any fool his way.
Morgan appeared in less than a minute. “What the hell is your problem? You’ll not be allowed out for any reason, prisoner.”
“Get de La Porte. I need to see him now. Tell that weak bastard to come down here, take me on in hand-to-hand combat. I’ve been fighting all day, and I’ll still kill the arsehole.” Fury shot through his body, and he did nothing to slow it down. He needed that fury.
Simon de la Porte strolled down the passageway moments later, his cold laughter filling the space. “You have a problem, captive? Don’t you understand the rules here? It doesn’t matter to anyone what you want, but we would sleep better if you’d shut up.”
De La Porte stood in front of the door, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
Finlay took one look at the raw knuckles on his hand and said, “Do you feel like a tough man when you beat a woman with your fists?”
De La Porte’s gaze narrowed and the smile left his face. “And how would you know who I beat?”
“I don’t. ‘Tis an easy guess. You’re a wee man, so you could only hope to best a lass. Does it make you hard to beat someone weaker than you?”
“Open the door.”
Morgan grabbed the key and scrambled to fit it in the lock, but he dropped it and had to crouch to retrieve it.
Finlay continued to taunt de La Porte while Morgan fumbled about. “Where did you get that wound on your shoulder? From a lassie? I’ll bet my Kyla gave you that, didn’t she? Hah! A wee lass battered Simon de La Porte. I’ll spread the word to everyone.”
When Morgan finally had the door open, he stood back and pulled his sword from its scabbard, though it wasn’t a weapon anything like the Grant swords.
De La Porte held a dagger in his right hand. There was murder in the dark gaze he cast at Finlay.
Moving to the back of the small cell, Finlay whispered a silent prayer that both of them would be drawn inside. They positioned themselves perfectly.
De La Porte opened his mouth and said, “You’ll regret your words, fool.”
Finlay kicked the sword out of Morgan’s hands and then leaped at de La Porte, throwing him against the wall and twisting the dagger from his grip until it fell into his waiting hands. He spun the bastard around until he held the dagger at his throat. “Take me to Kyla.”
“You want to see what I did to your woman after I put my dick in her mouth? I’d be glad to take you to her. She’s a fighter, just like you. Alex Grant teaches you well, but as you said, I took her down. I’ll be happy to show you how she fares.”
Morgan, a stunned expression on his face, glanced from one face to the other, uncertain of what he should do next. He picked his sword back up and took a fighting stance.
“Morgan, you worthless arse. Stand down, or have you not noticed he has a knife at my throat? I’ll relent just this once. Take us to Buchan’s chamber so he can see his sweet lass.”
They made their way down the passageway to another section of the castle, meeting a few others along the way.
“Stand down and do not follow us. Only Morgan goes with us.”
Finlay wished to kill the bastard, but he needed to see Kyla first. Then he’d wrench de La Porte’s neck; he’d take pleasure in snapping it with his bare hands.
Morgan opened the door, lit a torch, and hung it in a sconce. There was a large bed in the center and a small one off to the side. Kyla lay in a heap on the small bed, blood dripping from her face. She looked dead to him, and a fist punched him square in the gut, though not an actual blow by de La Porte.
“Kyla?”
She didn’t move.
He wanted to go to her, but he couldn’t let de La Porte go free. The bastard said, “Morgan, lift her head.”
Morgan moved to her side, his eyes darting everywhere before he finally reached over and tugged her by the hair to do his master’s bidding.
“Kyla!” he screamed. She had to be alive…she just had to be. “Wake up, Kyla. Please, I need you to wake up. I cannot help you if you do not.”
Her eyelids fluttered, and she almost managed to focus on him before they closed again. Morgan dropped her head back on the bed.
She was alive. At least she was still alive. “One day, my sweet. One more day and your sire will come for you.”
“Now,” De La Porte said, “You have fifteen seconds to drop the dagger at my feet, or I’ll have Morgan slit her throat. Your choice. If you’ve a mind to, you can watch her bleed out and gag on her own blood.”
Finlay had no choice. He dropped his blade and Morgan picked it up. Two more men came in behind him, ready to do battle, but he paid them no mind. He punched de La Porte in his face and then wrenched the dagger from Morgan’s hand and tossed him against the wall. Fury consumed him and he pounded every body part within his reach. He kicked one of the newcomers back out into the passageway, and snapped the arm of another, but as soon as he sent two out of the chamber, four more replaced them.
De La Porte kicked him in his bollocks so hard he nearly vomited. “Now, do you think six of you could hold one man?” the Englishman quipped. “Beat him senseless, but do not kill him. Throw him back into the cell when you’re done.”
Finlay drifted in and out of consciousness, giving as many punches as he could, taking down a couple more before he was done. When he fell to the ground, he fell face down. He opened his eyes and Kyla filled his vision. His beautiful Kyla had been beaten to near death, and he could do naught to help her. “Kyla?”
She didn’t move, but all he could think was that he’d never have the chance to show her how much he loved her.