Page 34 of Cottage in the Mist
Bram swallowed another smile. Clearly Flora and her mistress were of an accord when it came to Frazier. Neither inclined to completely trust this newest addition to the household. With a last shake of her head, she turned and waltzed from the room.
“Women,” Frazier mumbled, stabbing a piece of cheese. After following it up with a swig of ale, he sat back, eyeing the assembled company. “I wasna planning to follow you. I’d thought to fight to the death. To stay and avenge Seamus. But ’twas no’ possible. We were far outnumbered. And they’d no plans to spare anyone.
“After we saw you away, young Robby and I headed back for the tower. The battle had already turned. So many men lost. But we fought on. Determined to take as many Comyns with us as we could. We’d fought our way back into the great room. And were close to surrounded. There were only about four of us left that I could see. Robby, me, Angus Macfarland and his son.”
Bram blew out an angry sigh. Hamish had been not more than a boy.
“I thought for a moment we might prevail. Not overall, mind ye, but at least there in the great room. We had them down in number. But more arrived. Eight, I don’t know, maybe ten. We continued to fight hard, but we were sorely outnumbered. Young Hamish fell first. And then his father.” Frazier looked down at his hands. “And then they took Robby. Not before he’d kilt four of them, mind ye. But I knew he was dead before he hit the floor.” The older man’s gaze locked on Bram. “I know he was yer friend, lad. I only wish that I could have saved him.”
Bram nodded, swallowing his pain. “I am certain you did what you could.”
“If you were surrounded, as you say,” Ranald asked, his voice deceptively mild, “how is it you managed to escape?”
“I got lucky. There was a loud noise of some kind.” He stopped, his hands clenched as he remembered. “I’ve no idea what it was. But as the men reacted, I took my chance.” He paused again, this time regret coloring his face. “I made a run for it. I’m no’ proud of the fact. But in my heart—“ He pounded a fist to his chest, his gaze meeting Bram’s. “—I knew that yer father would expect me to protect you above all else. And there was no way I could do that if I were dead.” He sighed. “So I slipped away through the same gate as you.” His grizzled eyebrows rose as he shot a look across the table at Bram. “I canna say it sits well to have run, but were I given the chance to do it over, I’d have done the same.”
Iain sat forward, his mind clearly turning over the weight of Frazier’s story. “And so you followed him here? Bram, I mean?”
“Nay.” Frazier shook his head. “Too much time had passed. And there had been no time for plans to rendezvous.” He looked to Bram, who nodded in agreement. “But I knew he wouldna goto Dunmaglass. Yer father never had any use for his uncle or his brothers. And I dinna think you’d see it differently.”
“I do not,” Bram said in agreement. “But?—“
Frazier waved him quiet. “’Twas no’ a great leap to see that you’d come here. You’ve idolized yer cousins since you were a wee lad. Even now you talk of little else but the adventures the three of you have shared.”
“Aye, but he always liked me more than Iain,” Ranald said with an affable laugh.
“I dinna like either o’ you much at the moment,” Bram groused. “And Frazier exaggerates.”
“Ach, well, that doesna follow so well with my recollections of you always being underfoot where e’er Iain and I were to be found.” Ranald laughed, and Bram relaxed. He might still be youngest, but he was far from a lad. And there were bigger concerns afoot than his relationship with his cousins.
“Ranald’s right. We’ve always been close. So why not assume I’d go to Ranald’s holding?”
Frazier dipped his head, his bushy-eyed gaze shooting toward Ranald. “Without meaning offense, Iain has the backing of Moy and I knew it would be the wiser move. Besides, ’twas no’ trick to learn that the two of you were only just returning from there. And Duncreag is far closer thanTur nan Clach.”
“I suppose it is,” Ranald grumbled. “But let it be known the wrath of the Macqueens is every bit as fearsome as that of the Mackintoshes.” Despite the teasing tone of his voice, there was a feral glint in Ranald’s eye.
“No one is claiming otherwise,” Iain assured his cousin. “And I agree that coming here was a logical move. But since you obviously had your ear to the ground, Frazier, why did you not go back when you learned that Malcolm had been given Dunbrae?”
“Loyalty,” the old man said simply. “They were saying that Bram was a traitor and I knew for certain that it was a lie. Better, I thought, to find Bram and help him first. Besides, as I say, there was no love lost between the brothers. My allegiance has always been with Seamus. Because o’ that, I canna know for certain that Malcolm would have welcomed me.”
Iain nodded, his expression inscrutable. “Well, then I’d say you made the right decision. And now that you’ve found Bram, what would you have him do?”
There was no hesitation. The old man pushed to his feet, anger and grief cresting in his eyes. “Avenge his father’s death—and the others. Seamus canna rest until the Comyns have paid.”
“Then we are agreed,” Bram said, nodding toward the map on the table. “And to that end we’re already making plans. But apparently so are they. Last night, we were attacked.”
The man drew a sharp breath, his brows drawing together. “Comyns?”
“Aye, looks as though. The colors were true,” Iain said, quickly filling the older man in on the details of the attack. “But considering what you’ve told us about the fighting, I canna see how they got here so fast.”
“Can you no’ ask them?” Frazier frowned, his eyes narrowing.
Iain’s smile held a hard glint of steel as he casually shrugged. “There were no survivors.”
“Just as well,” the man said, clenching his fist, a nerve in his weathered jaw twitching. “For what they’ve done, they deserve to go straight to hell.”
“I canna argue with that,” Ranald agreed. “But it might have proved useful to have had a prisoner to question.”
“It is what it is.” Bram shrugged, impatience rising as his fingers closed around the pin on his plaid.
