Page 21 of Dark Side of the Laird
Month’s before, a scout was found fraternizing with the enemy, allowing a trebuchet to be built in his territory and then used to take down part of our castle walls. The deed could not go unpunished. He’d been found guilty of treason and his sentence was death. No man wanted to face the angry-cat, a leather cat-o-nine tails with jagged stones at its ends. The weapon wasn’t meant to keep a man alive. I frowned at the memory—of both being betrayed and having to take a man’s life.
After what happened to the last scout, all the men went out of their way to show their loyalty.
“What is your report of the borders?” I asked.
“Nothing pressing, my laird. The neighboring clans are sticking to their own lands. A group of laborers were traveling along the south side of the castle, staying close to the loch. The sheep and cow herders were told to keep the animals close and not to wander up the mountains.”
“In what direction did the laborers continue?”
“They were continuing south west.”
“Did your scout speak with them?”
He shook his head. “Nay, my laird. They followed to see that the men continued off of Grant land, and once they were gone without incident, he returned to his post.”
“And they haven’t been seen since?”
“Nay, my laird.”
It was entirely possible that the group of laborers were simply passing through. Could be they were looking for work, but it was also conceivable that the men were in fact MacDonald warriors in disguise. Scouting out the lay of the castle and our guards to better aid them in attack.
“Keep your men on their toes. I have a feeling we’ll have guests soon. MacDonald’s men know how well we fortify the castle. Gaining entry through force won’t be an option for them. They will try to gain entrance through other means. Trickery. Or through assistance from someone within.”
I turned to the Master of the Gate. “Ye and your men know well who comes and goes daily. Keep the gate closed at all times. No one new steps through that gate—beggar, merchant, priest—without first being assessed by ye.”
I trudged over to my desk and pulled the cork from a bottle of whisky, then poured each of the men and myself a dram. I handed them the cups.
“These are uncertain times. Our king has gone to war with England once again—and he’s losing. The nobles are all getting skittish. Only more incentive for MacDonald to make his move.” I took a swallow of the whisky, letting it burn a path down my throat. “The northern arse is going to do all that he can to win his bid for the crown, including marrying his family to me.”
Taig cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. He’d not taken a sip of whisky at all.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Where is Baodan? I’d like to speak with him.” Anger edged the man’s lips. Giving me the impression he’d like to do a lot more than simply speak with his brother. Though, I’d a sixth sense it was not directed at me.
“He’s in the dungeon for the time being, Taig. Take a breath and remember your duty to this clan. Ye can deal with your brother later.”
Taig met my eyes. “Ye, see, my laird, that’s just it. Ye are my priority, I know that. I was but hoping I could get to the bottom of Baodan’s motives. ’Haps shed some light on it.”
I cracked my knuckles studying the man. Considering my only sibling was a spoiled king I couldn’t get through to, it was hard for me to assess whether Taig talking to Baodan would do any good. But in the end, I relented. “Ye may go to him now.” I nodded to Gregor. “Ye go with him. Hang in the shadows.”
I dismissed the men and turned to Ewan. “Bring her to me.”
“Lady Isabella?”
“Aye. ’Tis time her and I had an understanding.”
“Aye, my laird.”
Once the door was closed, I turned back to the empty hearth, staring into nothingness, but seeing so much. Emma staring at me in bed, her heady expression enough to make me hard now. She wore the black, sheer lace gown—the one that someone had so callously torn apart and left on our doorsteps months before. I’d have to see that another one was made. Then her expression changed, staring back at me was Emma with disappointment in her eyes. Damn, but I didn’t want to let her down. Disappointing her would also be letting down my clan. It would mean that MacDonald had won. And that I could see, too. Burning buildings and screaming clansmen, women and children. Horse’s carrying MacDonalds as they raced through the villages burning buildings and mauling children. Suffering because I’d been too much a coward to do the right thing.
With the king busily planning his next strikes on England, he’d not wanted to listen to me rant about MacDonald. As I saw it, I might have to take these matters into my own hands. Bring the fight to MacDonald. But I couldn’t do so without first talking to James. At least trying once more to reason with him.
I needed some proof from Isabella. Something that I could take with me to the king to give him reason to side with me, and allow me to move forward with my plans. Proof that she was but a pawn, that she meant to honor her uncle’s plans. Proof of what those plans were.
A swift knock sounded at the door. A glance through the eyehole showed Ewan and Isabella standing in the corridor. He had the woman by her elbow and though she looked contrite, the way her eyes shifted about, I could tell she was scared. Her eyes were wider than normal, mouth in an obstinate bow. Hands held tight together at her waist.
I opened the door, allowing them both entrance.
