Chapter Four
“I thought Da was going to strangle ye,” Weylyn said from his stool at the bottom of the ramp.
Cinnia paced along the small dungeon corridor, face in her hands. “There was grease off the bacon.” She stopped in front of Mairi, who stood on the other side of the iron bars from her. “It caught on fire, and then the fire caught the baskets that our cook used for biscuits.” She threw her hands wide. “Suddenly the whole kitchen was a flaming oven.”
“Ye’re not burned, are ye?” Mairi asked.
Cinnia shook her head, tears in her eyes. “Ian dragged me out, and Da showed up with Kenneth shortly after. The three of them put out the fire before it could spread to the upper kitchen or any other buildings, but the lower kitchen is scorched.”
Weylyn kicked the wall in an annoyingly even rhythm. “Aye, and now I have to help her clean it, even though I wasn’t there.”
“Family helps family, Weylyn,” Mairi said. Her heart hurt for the girl. She knew how it felt to be a disappointment. It was a hollow feeling between your heart and your bowels. A hole, which half the time she wished to disappear into and half the time desperately wanted to fill with duty. Was that why she’d said yes to Geoff when he’d asked her to marry him?
It wasn’t the work to clean the kitchen that brought tears to the girl’s eyes. It was the disappointment from her father. “Did he say anything to ye?” Mairi asked, her fingers curling around the cold iron bars. If she could reach Cinnia, she’d hug her.
“Nay,” Cinnia said. “He gave me his silent stare.”
Weylyn stopped kicking and shook his head. “The stare is the worst.”
Mairi sighed, leaning her forehead into the space between the bars. “My da used to yell all the time, but sometimes I think that’s better than silence.”
Cinnia nodded vehemently.
“Our da doesn’t yell,” Weylyn said. “Except in battle. He orders people around a lot because he’s the chief, but he never loses his patience.”
So, the man was as disciplined as he seemed when she watched him work with the dogs in the courtyard. “Come here,” Mairi said and grasped Cinnia’s hands through the bars. She rubbed the girl’s knuckles with her thumbs and dipped her head to catch her sad gaze. “I am glad ye weren’t harmed. I’m sure your father loves ye. Sometimes men have a hard time showing it.”
Although, who was she to say anything kind about the monster who’d stolen her and locked her up. The one who’d kissed her so passionately that she’d dreamed of him, his muscled arms wrapping around her, his lips kissing down her neck. Stupid, traitorous dreams.
She forced a smile for the girl. “Ye need to learn to cook. Something simple and delicious.”
“How? I know nothing, and there’s no one to teach me. Not even lessons to read.”
Mairi straightened up. “I will teach ye.” She wasn’t the best cook, but she knew a few simple recipes that Cinnia could master. “Let’s start with stew, no grease involved.” She looked up at the boy. “Weylyn, fetch us a pot.”
“Why should I help ye? Ye’re our prisoner.”
“I might also be the one to fill your stomach tonight,” Mairi countered, hands on her hips as she stared him down. The boy was lazy, as young boys often were when they weren’t trying to prove themselves to someone. But even a lazy boy knew it was better not to be hungry.
“Humph, she’s got a mean stare, too,” he said to Cinnia, but headed up the ramp, a scowl on his face.
Hope filled the young girl’s eyes. “Thank ye.”
“We lasses need to stick together,” Mairi said, scratching Daisy on the head.
…
“They gobbled it all up,” Cinnia said, her smile wide as she squeezed Mairi’s hands through the bars. “Just like the stew, the baked fish, and the roast goose.” It had been nearly a week of daily lessons from Mairi, and Cinnia was doing exceptionally well considering Mairi was stuck in the dungeon and unable to teach her in the kitchen.
“Ian saw me reading a book and told Da that he thought I’d found a cook’s journal.” The girl bounced high on the toes of her slippers and let go to spin around. “I didn’t correct him.”
Daisy’s nails clicked on the ramp as she ran down, jumping up to dance on her back legs with Cinnia, making the girl laugh. “Off,” Weylyn scolded the dog as he followed, his arms full of chain links.
“Does no one notice ye bringing things down here?” Mairi asked, glancing at the articles she’d been collecting in her cell over the last few days. Weylyn hefted the set of chains through the bars to pool on the stone floor, his payment for Mairi mending a pile of his clothes.
“There’s no one about to notice,” Cinnia said and picked up the folded pile of bedclothes, including a set of velvet drapes to hang around the bed that Mairi would suspend from the chains. “Da goes into the village every day, leaving Ian or Kenneth to watch us. Ian’s easier to avoid as he just works with the dogs or cleans the livestock pens. Kenneth spends time in the great hall, so we have to make a showing there.”
“Sometimes he teaches me with the practice sword,” Weylyn said.
“Not as much as Mairi’s been training ye with her sgian dubh,” Cinnia said and handed the bedclothes through to Mairi.
Was it wrong to teach the children of one’s enemy how to wield a short but lethal sgian dubh, like the one Alec had left her that first day? Cinnia would never use it against her, and even Weylyn was warming up to her with every lesson. It wasn’t Mairi’s fault that their father spent more time with his dogs than his children. The poor bairns definitely needed care and were very grateful for Mairi’s attention and lessons, bringing her various furnishings from the empty bedrooms.
With their help, Mairi had created a suitably comfortable bedroom behind bars. They’d brought wood, nails, and a hammer for Mairi to fashion a table. A thick rug now covered a large area of the cold floor, and Mairi slept on a clean mattress that they’d managed to stuff between the bars. Daisy would watch on as if perplexed about why they couldn’t slide in and out like her.
Thank goodness for the dog, who nuzzled up to her during the night. She was a nice distraction from the ever-present ghost of Alec MacNeil and his damnably kissable mouth and her own idiocy in letting herself be captured. By the fifth morning of watching Alec train his dogs through her window, Mairi had stopped berating Alec MacNeil and started blaming herself for her predicament. How could she have been so thoroughly fooled when he’d come to her room at Kilchoan? Enough to kiss him and then not alert someone, anyone, before he stuffed the gag in her mouth. She deserved to be imprisoned for being an idiot.
A wet nose pushed against her cheek, and Mairi realized she’d set her head in her hands.
“Are ye angry again?” Weylyn asked and passed a fresh flask of water for Daisy through the bars.
Mairi stood and poured the water into the bowl. “It’s hard not to be angry when stuck sitting behind bars,” she said and scooted the table under the iron loops to hook the chains around her bed.
“Ye’re actually standing,” Weylyn said, grinning.
She grunted, standing on the table to attach the chain to the ceiling. “And stinking in this dress.” She’d removed the stomacher after the first night, but the dress kept her warm in the dampness of the dungeon. Thank goodness it was summer or she’d surely freeze down here.
“I can get ye some clean clothes,” Cinnia said. “And we could heat some water for ye.”
Mairi smiled at her, pointing her finger. “And for that I will teach ye to make berry tarts.”
“Berry tarts?” Weylyn’s eyes grew round. “We’ll heat the water right now.”
…
“I could have added a bit more sugar,” Cinnia said as she watched the three men chewing her bilberry tarts.
“Nay,” Kenneth said, the purple juice sitting on his bottom lips. “’Tis perfect. Where did ye learn to make them?”
Ian pointed at her, swallowing. “That book had the recipe, didn’t it?”
Alec watched his pretty daughter blush and look down at her clasped fingers. With two braids coiled around her head, she looked very much like her mother. The lass must miss her. “Cinnia,” he said, waving her over. She perched on his knee, making her seem younger and further away from leaving Kisimul one day. “These are delicious. I think ye may have a talent for cooking. Ye’ll be such a help around here.” That was, until she left. Everyone left Kisimul. He shoved the dark thought away.
His daughter’s smile lit her whole face. “I need practice.” Her smile faded. “Just not with bacon.”
“I’ll teach ye the right way to handle grease,” Ian said, grabbing another of the tarts. “’Tis my fault for not watching ye closer.” He slumped forward, chewing slower as if guilt soured the sweet pastry.
Bloody hell, he should feel guilt, Alec thought, but said nothing more than he already had after the kitchen fire. He’d nearly lost his daughter, and Ian hadn’t suffered enough yet from scaring years off Alec’s life.
“What do ye think of your sister’s baking?” Kenneth asked Weylyn.
The lad sat back, rubbing his stomach that already held three of the berry treats. “’Tis the start of something wonderful.” He smiled, making the two warriors laugh heartily.
Kenneth looked to Alec. “Ye should send one down to the MacInnes lass. Maybe she’s ready to hear ye out, and a tart might tempt her after a week of discomfort and loneliness.”
Tempt her? Hadn’t that been what she’d thought of Alec when he’d shown up in her room at Kilchoan? That he was there to entice her with a kiss? Could she possibly know how that kiss had led to a week of temptation for him?
That damn kiss. One breach in discipline, and he’d paid for it with unwanted dreams of Mairi MacInnes. Those soft, honeyed lips; silky waves of golden hair; warm, smooth skin. Last night he’d even dreamed that she’d let him trace the spaces between the fairy-kiss freckles across her nose and cheeks. It had taken every bit of his restraint to stay away from her for the week. Seven days of making himself continue his routine, rowing to Barra, so he wouldn’t break his plan by going down to see her. He’d spent extra time each morning in the back courtyard outside her window, willing her to call out for release. Surely by now she must be ready to do about anything to free herself from the dismal, lonely dungeon.
Cinnia scooted off his knee, her smile gone. “Ye should make her wait another day,” she said. “It’s only been a week.”
Alec studied her, raising one eyebrow at his suddenly anxious daughter. She was usually of a forgiving nature, never wanting him to discipline the dogs with temporary exile from the pack. “Do ye wish me to keep her locked down there longer?” Even though Cinnia hadn’t said it, she’d been angry with his plan to capture Fergus MacInnes’s widow. Yet now she seemed content in keeping Mairi locked below.
“I… Perhaps just a bit longer,” Cinnia said, her gaze shifting to Weylyn, who pushed up straight.
“A few more days might make her more receptive to your offer, Father,” Weylyn said, his face too serious for that of a seven-year-old boy.
Something was going on between the two of them. Kenneth and Ian had lost their smiles, having picked up on the tension. Children weren’t good at hiding their worry or guilt. Ian opened his mouth, but Alec was quick to signal him to stay silent.
Alec reclined back in his chair, crossing his arms as if settling in for the night. “I will take your advisement under consideration.” He looked to his son. “And how is Artemis doing? I haven’t seen her about.”
“Well,” Weylyn said, shrugging his stiff shoulders. “She likes Ares. They play a lot, and I exercise her while ye are away during the day.” He propped his lips upward into an anxious grin.
Alec nodded. Aye, the boy was nervous. His eyes shifted to Cinnia, who busied herself with arranging the two remaining tarts on the plate. Kenneth looked pointedly between the siblings, his eyes wide, but Alec gave a small shake of his head.
“I’ll want to see Artemis tomorrow then,” Alec said. “See if she’s put on some healthy weight with proper food and care.”
“Aye, sir,” Weylyn said.
Alec stood, stretching. “Ye two should go up to bed. Dawn comes early in the summer. And Cinnia…”
“Aye?”
“Thank ye for the fine food. Your mother would be very proud.”
She gave him a sad smile and took Weylyn’s hand. Since their mother died, they’d been sharing Cinnia’s bed. The hollow feel of loneliness, which Alec had carried as an only child, ensconced at Kisimul, was so familiar that it was like a forgotten gouge on an old tree with the bark growing up around it. It was good his children had each other.
As soon as the sound of Weylyn’s boots faded on the steps, Ian stood. “Those two are up to something.”
“What have they been doing during the day?” Alec asked, grabbing the last two tarts as he stood.
“They spend time here in the hall,” Kenneth said. “I haven’t seen the dog except a few times when Weylyn took her out to the courtyard.”
“I see them about now and then,” Ian said. “But I’m oft busy keeping the animals alive.”
“I think we need to watch them closer,” Kenneth said. “Even when they aren’t in the kitchen.”
He nodded to Kenneth and Ian. “See ye in the morn.”
“Ye’re going down there, aren’t ye?” Ian said.
“Absolutely.” Alec grabbed the wrapped tarts and lit a taper from the coals in the hearth.
Pushing silently through the door to the dungeons, he was thankful he’d oiled the hinges after depositing the lass down there. He stepped lightly along the declining, stone ramp and paused when he spotted a glow from up ahead. Had the children given Mairi a candle and flint to keep away the heavy darkness? Could that be why they looked guilty? It was a humane gesture that he should have considered. He’d thank the children in the morning for their forethought.
Alec blew out his own candle and treaded silently down the ramp. Would she be sitting on the mattress or pacing? Or standing at the window, waiting for the sunrise and his appearance to finally ask for her release?
A low growl stopped Alec, his gaze shifting to penetrate the deep shadows. An animal? What animal would be free on Kisimul? Only a dog. The growl came again, closer and closer, until he could see the shadowed outline of Artemis. Her tail wagged when she realized it was he, and she ran up the ramp with clicking nails. What was Weylyn’s new dog doing down here?
“Daisy? Come, girl.” Mairi’s voice was relaxed, without strain or fear or even a gruffness that comes with disuse. And who the hell was Daisy?
The wide ramp downward opened up into the dungeon with its single cell. Most of it was still in shadows, but Alec’s gaze was drawn to the illumination behind what looked like a painted privacy screen in the far corner. The dog ran ahead of Alec, pressing and wiggling until she slid through the narrow bars.
“Good girl,” Mairi said from behind the screen.
Alec could plainly see the woman’s silhouette with the bright light behind her. Slender legs and arms moved as she turned, shaking out a garment, which she set over her head to float down over her form. He inhaled and caught the faint smell of roses.
The silhouette picked up something from a chair. A comb? As she raked through her long hair, he could hear her contented inhale. A soft hum issued from her lips, the notes following a gentle cadence that reminded him of a child’s song.
Alec watched in stony shock as the dog trotted out from the screen. His eyes, having adjusted to the darkness, followed Artemis as she leaped up onto…a suspended bed, surrounded by thick drapes. He stepped forward and blinked hard to clear his vision. Blankets and pillows adorned the platform, creating a nest of luxury. His gaze moved about the space. Was that a thick rug across the floor? And a table? How in hell did she acquire a table when Alec was the only one with a key to the cell? His hand pressed against his pocket that hung from his belt and felt the iron key through the leather. Mo chreach! She wasn’t uncomfortable, counting the bloody minutes until she could beg him for her release.
Anger flared through Alec, but his stalwart discipline kept him still as a statue. The light flared brighter as Mairi stepped from behind the screen. Like an angel, her hair flowed around her shoulders, not frizzed with dirt but combed into waves of silk. She didn’t wear her muddied gown, but a clean shift, edged across her full bosom with lace. Her lips opened and closed on the notes of a whispered song. Toes ensconced in slippers, she tread across the woven rug toward her bed and set the oil lamp on the table. As if sensing his gaze, she froze and turned on her slippers toward the bars.
He stared at her, finding his voice. It rasped out against the silence permeating the dungeon. “What the bloody hell is all this?”