Page 16 of When a Scot Gives His Heart
Three
The flap of the Callum’s tent opened just as he tilted up his leather pouch to take a drink of mead. He swallowed the liquid as Brice strode in, a fierce scowl on his face.
Brice set his hands on his hips. “We’ve a problem.”
“What is it?” Callum asked, turning the pouch down to voice the question.
He’d been competing in the tournament for five days now, and today had been especially brutal. But every battle he won earned them much-needed coin, and it kept him so occupied he didn’t have to spend much time with Coira. Her constant complaining defied belief and had become increasingly harder to tolerate with each day that passed. She also had stirred up trouble with the kitchen lasses. It seemed his future wife was cold but jealous. She’d tried to rid the kitchen of all the young lasses she considered pretty because she did not want them serving him. He’d had to intervene and tell her, in no uncertain terms, that he was the only one who held the power to dismiss a servant.
“Has Coira done something else?” he asked.
“Nay,” Brice replied, but his pacing did not set Callum at ease.
“What then?” Callum inquired.
“Cedric Ainsworth won two women as a purse in a passage-of-arms contest. The man who put out the call to fight him wagered the women instead of coin.”
Callum frowned. That was unwelcome news. Not only was the Earl of Ainsworth’s son known to treat women cruelly but Callum disliked the practice of wagering women. He forbade it in his own clan, though he knew it went on in some others and often among men with no clan allegiance. “Where is Cedric? I want to speak with him.”
“I thought ye might say that.” Brice paused a beat. “Now, ye ken we kinnae anger him or we risk the alliance with the earl.”
“I ken it,” Callum said. The Earl of Ainsworth had proven to be a fine man, honorable even, but it had become apparent since he had arrived here with Coira and Cedric that the earl indulged his son, ignorant to the fact that the man was immoral. “The women who were wagered, what do they say?”
“I dunnae. Cedric took the women to his tent for a rest before he faced his next opponent. He refused me entry to speak with them.”
As laird, Callum could demand entry to the tent, and he could even dispute Cedric’s “winnings” if the women protested it, but it would require treading very carefully. If it came down to it, he could simply take up the challenge that Cedric had issued. He felt confident he could beat his future brother-in-law, but it would make the prideful man angry. Yet, if he ordered Cedric to release the women, that would make the man angry, as well, and he likely would refuse to comply.
Callum picked up his sword, having learned long ago to always be prepared. “I’ll speak with him and see how best to sort this.”
“Ye’ll be fighting,” Brice replied with a shake of his head. “I’m certain of it. Ye must make it seem that one of the women he’s won has captured yer fancy, and ye can bid him to wager them both. He’s nae a man who would expect ye to be true to his sister. Trust me.”
“Ye’ve thought this through,” Callum commented, impressed.
Brice nodded. “Aye. As I came to find ye, I tried to determine the best way to free the women without Cedric kenning what ye were really doing.”
“The only problem with yer plan is Coira. She dunnae want me, yet she dunnae want me to so much as look at another lass. I believe she may fear I will lie with another lass,” Callum said, exiting the tent to a bevy of noise. The grassy plain to the east side of his home was filled with tents for the warriors who had come to compete in the tourney his clan hosted. Banners hung on poles in front of tents, fluttering in the wind, and identified which tents housed which clans.
“Mayhap she only has acted cold because she senses ye are nae open to caring for her,” Brice said, falling into step beside Callum.
He said nothing, just kept weaving his way through the narrow passages between the rows of tents. The smell of cooked meat filled the air, making his stomach growl. He saw his mother to his right, and he offered an obligatory wave. She stood near the earl’s tent, and Callum tensed at the prospect of seeing Coira. When they were well past the hill, he felt his shoulders relax.
Brice elbowed him. “This response is exactly what I mean. Ye scowl at the possibility of seeing yer future wife. At first, I felt sorry for ye, but now I’m feeling sorry for her.”
Callum made a derisive noise. “Ye have too much time to sit around contemplating my life, let alone Coira’s. I want ye to start training the men every morning with me. It’s quite apparent I have nae given ye enough duties.” He looked at his brother and raised a brow. “Now, let’s make haste. I’d rather get this done and ken the sort of trouble I face.”
“Get off me!” Marsaili snarled, kicking out and connecting her foot with Cedric’s gut. They were alone in the tent now, as he had ordered one of his men to take Maria to the place where he would fight any man who answered his challenge, to use her as an enticement as part of the prize. Marsaili, he had declared, he would keep for himself. She shuddered inside. She would not live like this, nor would she allow Maria to do so.
The journey to the tournament had been fast, bumpy, and hard, but at least the Black Mercenaries had a code of honor and did not use any woman they were to deliver for coin. It was a twisted sense of honor, but it had served to protect her and Maria from being ravaged. Now there was no protection. Upon arriving at the castle—she still had no idea which clan owned it—she’d asked Lucan where he had brought them, but he’d ignored her as he sought out the most despicable man he could find, just as he’d said he would.
It had all happened so fast, her head still spun from it. She needed food and sleep, both of which she had obtained little of over the past few days. Anguish for Maria, herself, and her son filled her chest, and as if Cedric could sense her weakening state, he shoved her foot away and pressed himself on top of her, covering her mouth with his. She did the only thing she could think of and bit down as hard as she could on his tongue, which had plunged inside her mouth.
He rose up with a roar and swiped a hand across his mouth, smearing blood over his lips. “You bitch!” he bellowed and pulled his hand back to hit her.
Fear sent a surge of strength through her, and she scrambled off the pallet and to her feet. She turned to flee only to knock into a hard, unrelenting, immovable wall of warm flesh and bone. Tears sprang to her eyes as she unseeingly brought her hands up to pummel the chest of the man who blocked her escape. He had to be one of Cedric’s guards.
“Ye kinnae keep me here!” she screamed.
Strong hands captured her wrists and deftly stopped her blows. A sob of despair tumbled from her lips. “Release me,” she begged, pulling on her wrists to no avail.
