Page 97 of Cottage in the Mist
“She was putting on her boots—her back to me, and then someone grabbed me. I tried to fight back, but there were three more of them and I knew I dinna stand a chance.”
“And Lily?” Bram asked, pacing in front of the fire.
“She’s a brave one, yer wife. First she argued with the man.”
“Frazier?” Alec interjected.
“Aye. He wanted the ring. But Lily said she’d given it to Bram.” He cut his gaze to Bram’s hand and the silver ring he wore. “Frazier was none too happy. But he said that Malcolm would have to do with her instead.” William blanched. “I tried again to fight my way free. I was still in the bushes; Lily couldna see me. And before I could do anything to get away, the man who held me stabbed me. I managed to twist away, but in so doing, I fell and hit my head. The last thing I remember is Frazier saying he would make use of having Bram’s bride.”
“And how long ago was that?”
William glanced up at the sun. “Too long, I’m afraid. They’ll have made good time. I heard horses. I’m sorry, Bram. I’ve failed you. And worse, I failed Lily.”
“What’s done is done,” Iain said. “What matters now is that we take action to get her back.”
“Unless I miss my guess, they’ll be headed for Malcolm and Dunbrae,” Ranald interjected.
“That’s only about an hour’s ride from here,” Alec confirmed.
“Then what the hell are we waiting for?” Bram asked, already signaling for his horse. “The bastards have my wife. We haven’t a moment to spare.”
“You realize we’ll be riding into a trap,” Iain said. “Malcolm will be expecting you to try and rescue her.”
“Aye, that I do.” Bram clenched his fists. “I can’t ask you to risk your lives for me and mine. Not like this. But you have tounderstand I canna sit back and let my uncle threaten my wife. Even if it means my death.”
“We ride with you.” Ranald’s tone brooked no argument. Behind him, Bram could see the Mackintoshes already beginning to ready themselves for battle. “Iain just wants you to be aware of the facts.”
“Even if your uncle knows for certain that you’ll come,” Alec added, “he canna be sure that Iain’s men will follow you. And he definitely willna believe that mine will ride with you as well.” At that, he too signaled his men to ready themselves.
Bram’s heart threatened to leave his chest and despite his anguish and fear, he felt humbled. These men—his family and Lily’s—were willing to risk everything on their behalf. Lily was right; despite all that they’d lost between them, they’d found not only new family but friends as well.
Bram took the reins of the horse Dougan brought him, swinging up into the saddle as the others mounted around him. He turned his mare to the northeast. Toward Dunbrae. To his wife—to Lily. And as he rode from the clearing, Bram prayed that he wasn’t too late.
Lily awoke to the pungent smell of sweat and urine. Combined with the wracking pain in her head, the odor had her stomach churning. Her eyes flickered open and she gingerly touched her head, her fingers coming away sticky with blood. For a moment, memory failed and then she remembered.
Frazier.
She jerked upright, her stomach revolting with the sharp motion, but fear was a stronger motivator and she scooted across what appeared to be a straw-covered floor until her backwas firmly against the room’s stone wall. A fire flickered in the grate on the opposite wall, pale sunlight streaming in through two narrow oblong windows. Lit torches sat in bronze sconces at equal distances around the room, the fire doing little to alleviate the chamber’s gloom.
A large wooden door stood partially open. She shifted slightly so that she could better see the room beyond. A great room possibly. She could see tables. And what looked to be a large group of men. There were platters of meat and pitchers of ale. Conversation rang out, punctuated with bursts of laughter.
At least someone was having a good time.
Gritting her teeth against the pain in her head and using the stone wall for leverage, she managed to push to her feet, the room spinning with the effort. She stood for a moment breathing in and out until the whirling subsided. Inching along the wall, using it to maintain her balance, she made her way over to the door and cautiously peered outside.
She’d been right; it was a great hall. The floor was littered with reeds and rushes and other things she’d just as soon not identify. Torchlight barely illuminated the giant room. The small windows were all shuttered for warmth or protection—or both. A great fireplace dominated the room, half of a tree trunk burning inside the yawning cavity. And like the room she’d awakened in, this one smelled of dirty bodies. The sights and smells served as a rude reminder that she was far from the world of modern conveniences. Seemed people here couldn’t even be bothered to find a bathroom.
Unless she missed her guess, this had to be Dunbrae. She shivered, forgetting about creature comforts. Frazier had said he’d take her to Malcolm. And it appeared he’d succeeded. Fortunately, they’d not bothered with a guard. But then again, maybe they hadn’t needed to. The room she was standing in held only the one door. And the only escape from the great hallappeared to be a large door in the opposite wall, that and an adjacent staircase going up.
Still, she couldn’t just stand here waiting to be discovered. If the only way out was across the great hall, then she’d just have to figure out a way to get there. She scanned the men in the room. They were sitting in clusters. Most of them armed. And all of them eating and drinking. Twenty, maybe thirty altogether. Not exactly great odds.
Moving amongst the men were several women. Like the men, they seemed to be in a jovial mood, refilling a glass here or a platter there. She watched as a man pulled a woman holding a platter down for a bawdy kiss and a pinch on the rear. The woman offered no resistance, but she soon pulled free and moved on to serve another, a smile on her lips.
Lily fought a wave of dizziness, pressing her hands against the cool stone wall until the vertigo passed. Her head was pounding, but she knew she hadn’t the luxury of waiting until she felt more stable. Frazier would come for her sooner rather than later. She scanned the room for her captor, relieved to see no sign of him. Nor was there anyone sitting at the main dais. Surely if Malcolm Macgillivray were present he’d be holding court at the table befitting his position as laird.
Which meant that just maybe, if she was lucky, she could make her way around the edge of the room to the doorway. It was a long shot, but it beat the heck out of staying here and meekly awaiting her fate. Removing her plaid from her shoulders, she wrapped it around her waist, fashioning it into a long skirt, using the broach to secure it in place. Then she reached up and pulled the ribbon from her hair, shaking it free of its braid. With her dark curls hanging around her face and shoulders, her hair would effectively screen her face as long as she kept her head down.
Sucking in a fortifying breath, she stepped into the great room, grabbing a pitcher from the nearest table. Hopefully they’d mistake her for a serving girl. At least long enough to get her through the door and out of the room.
