SHELTER AND A SAFE PLACE
The wind was cold. Brodgar glanced at Ettie where she stood beside him, praying his threadbare cloak was warm enough to help to preserve her body against the draining cold. He glanced up at the soaring walls.
“Here we are,” he said. The comment was more for himself and his own assurance than because it was useful: nobody could fail to notice Lochlann Castle.
The road leading up to it was cobbled, one of the minor trade routes in the region. It led straight to the imposing gateway, guarded by sentries.
Brodgar cleared his throat, ready for inquiries.
“Halt!” Alex, one of the sentries he recognized, called loudly. “Make yourselves and business known to us!”
Brodgar sighed. His head was fuzzy with poor sleep and lack of food and he could scarcely see straight.
“It's Brodgar, son of Broderick, thane of Lochlann. To see my sister. This is my companion, Lady Henriette. We have business for my sister's hearing only.”
Alex's brow shot up. He looked well-rested and warm and in that moment Brodgar could cheerfully have smote him. He had a cheek! And he was warm, which was reason enough in this moment to be jealous of him.
“A likely story! Bunch of flea-ridden travelers, you lot. Go round the back. Lord Dougal's dispensing alms this morning.”
Brodgar felt rage flood him like hot water. He felt Henriette's hand on his arm, which was the only reason he didn't hit the man and lose them their precious chance at getting inside.
“We're not lying,” she said softly.
“No,” Brodgar agreed. Her words reminded him that he had proof. “I am the thane's son. Would you care for a token to prove it? Besides, were I not, how did I come by such a fine jennet? Tell me that, if you can.” He indicated the magnificent white jennet horse who was his mother's, Snow-soft, whose bridle he held.
“Stole her?” the second sentry asked. He was rewarded with a glare from Alex. “You have a token?” he asked sternly.
“I do,” Brodgar said stubbornly. “But I'm damned if I'm showing it to someone as myopic as you, Alex Farley. Don't you recognize me?”
Beside him, he heard Ettie gasp in surprise and then saw her lips move as if to hide a grin. He wanted to laugh himself. He had no idea where the sudden audacity had come from, but he was pleased it had, as the assurance altered things.
“My lord?” Alex said. He leaned closer, putting a hand on his shoulder; Brodgar had to bite back the urge to strike it off. Impudent fellow! He was peering into his face, clearly thinking hard.
At length, he stared. “My lord. It is you. Welcome.”
“Damn it, Alex,” Brodgar sighed. “It took you time.”
“My lord.” Alex looked contrite. “I am sorry. Begging your pardon, but you are an awful mess. I'm not surprised I dinnae ken ye.”
Brodgar laughed and he heard Ettie chuckling beside him. “Yes, I'm a mess,” Brodgar agreed. “I hope I can fix that soon. If you could take us to my sister? It's horribly cold outside.”
“Aye, my lord. That it is. Come. Come, inside!”
Suddenly completely solicitous, the man led them through into the vast courtyard of Lochlann. He issued a few calls, and soon men were running to take Snow-soft away.
“See that she's well fed and warm. Bran mash and a hot blanket,” Brodgar commented. He walked after Alex, his arm in Ettie's, trying to keep up. Damn it, but why was he so tired?
“My lord, his lordship and your sister are in the solar,” Alex said after consultation with the guards at the entrance to the great hall. “Bronn here will escort you up.”
“I know the way there, but thanks, Alex.” Brodgar sighed tiredly. “Go, get warm.”
As he followed Bronn into the castle, the sudden warmth of four walls and fires to heat them close now, he discovered he didn't resent anyone being warm. He was exhausted, starved and cold and all he wanted was a place to sit, a fire, and a meal. In any possible order.
His head swam and he turned to look at Ettie, who smiled back. She was pale and thin-faced and she had big bruises around her eyes from lack of sleep. His heart ached for her. If not for him, she would not have suffered.
“My life,” he whispered, squeezing her hand as they followed the silent guard upstairs together. “Forgive me. I can't forgive myself for making you suffer this – it's my fault.”
“Brodgar,” Ettie whispered. “We're together. This caused it. I regret nothing.”
Brodgar felt those words warm his heart. He squeezed her hand, feeling his body respond to her closeness despite his utter exhaustion. They went down the hallway, through the colonnade and went left.
Heat. Warmth. The scent of spices. Somewhere, a woman's voice.
“Brodgar?”
Brodgar, blinking, focused his swimming vision and found himself looking into big gray eyes the image of Alina's. “Sister!” he whispered.
“Dougal, my dear. For pity's sake fetch the physician! And get Greere to bring ale and broth. These two are dead on their feet!”
Brodgar closed his eyes momentarily, swaying where he stood. Now that they had reached shelter, it seemed his body had decided to collapse utterly. He couldn't stay upright. Couldn't see straight. He leaned on something – later he recognized it as Joanna's arm – and felt himself guided to the settee. Ettie sat down beside him and the world went misty.
Moments later, he woke to the scent of food. As his body went through the motions of eating – oaten bread, blood pudding, and broth, warm and salted – he felt his mind wake up.
“We have got the men together,” Joanna was saying, “and we can provide an escort to Dunkeld as soon as you say the word. Mother must be frantic with worry. I would love to hear how you two came to be on the road alone, in this state!”
“No,” Brodgar said. He meant it to be loud, but a strained whisper emerged. He cleared his throat and tried harder. “No escort. No message. Let us explain.”
Therefore, fitfully, between mouthfuls of broth and bread and sausage, they told her the story. Henriette filled in the bits Brodgar didn't know. Dougal returned and joined his wife on the settee opposite them and together they listened raptly.
By the time Brodgar had finished talking, he was drained. His mouth felt like sandpaper and everything hurt. He looked at his sister. Her serene face was still.
“So?” Brodgar asked. “Will you hide us? I know that what I ask is no small thing. I know you risk your safety. All I ask is one day. So we can recover and get warm and tend our hurts. Then we'll leave. I promise you.”
“No, brother,” Joanna spoke softly. She reached out a hand to him, her own slender fingers strong, pale and warm. “Stay for a week.”
“We cannot,” Brodgar whispered. “It's too risky.”
“No one will find you here,” Dougal spoke up. A tall man with fine black hair, a solemn face and big dark eyes, he was a strong, grave presence. “The chance of word going from here to Bronley is slender. And from what you say, they are preoccupied there searching the woods. You did well with your diversion,” he added, giving Henriette a smile. Brodgar tried not to feel jealousy when she smiled back. He succeeded, if narrowly.
“Dougal is correct,” Joanna said softly. She was greeted with a raised brow and grin from him. “Well, yes, you are!” she added, digging him in the ribs and making the solemn face kindle with grinning. “You two are welcome here as long as you need. It's much safer for you to be here than to go to Dunkeld. From what you say, the woods are impassable. To say nothing of miserable and deathly-cold. You'll stay in the north tower as long as you need. Our people won't carry tales to MacDonnell lands. And there is, after all, no reason for me not to entertain my brother in our own hall,” she added, with a smile at Dougal, who nodded.
“Welcome, both of you,” he added.
Brodgar sighed. “I can't thank you,” he whispered. “It's too great for so few words.”
“Nonsense,” Dougal snorted. “It's nothing. Castle's plenty big enough for fifty times your number. We rattle around in it all day, don't we, dearest?”
“Speak for yourself,” Joanna teased. “I'm too preoccupied with Amabel for much rattling around.”
Amabel was Joanna's firstborn daughter, named for their mother. Brodgar smiled.
“I'm sure you are,” he said. His brain was fogging over. He felt his eyelids drooping. Why was he so tired? He forced himself to sit up and look at his sister. “Thank you again,” he said.
“Nonsense,” Joanna interrupted briskly. “Now, both of you! I know it's early yet, but you've not slept for days. To bed with you! Glenna?”
“Yes, my lady?” a maidservant said, coming through the solar's arched doorway.
“Take these two to the northern tower, please, and see that they go to bed.”
Brodgar smiled at his sister – that was typical of Joanna, to take charge of them like this! He stood, swaying, and let the maid lead them through the long, cold stone-flagged hallways.
“Here we are, my lord,” she said, stopping outside a door. Brodgar looked at Henriette, who looked back. For a moment, he felt his loins flare at the thought that mayhap his sister had assumed them already joined by a marital bond. In which case...
“My lady, if you’ll follow me? Your chamber's on the left, overlooking the woodlands...”
Brodgar felt his heart sink. Impulsively, he drew Henriette closer to him. His mouth came down on hers hard and passionately and, as her lips parted warmly to admit his probing tongue, he felt his body ache with longing. “Goodnight, my lady,” he said. He smiled, knowing it was day. “See you soon?”
“Goodnight, my lord,” Henriette whispered. Her eyes were shining and Brodgar had to force his stare away, knowing that the longing would swamp him if he stared a moment more.
He let Glenna lead him over the threshold and to the vast bed warmed with a brick, then leave softly. He undressed himself, warmed his feet at the fire and then collapsed onto the bed, eyes heavy with the urgent need to sleep.