Page 33 of Rebellion's Fire

Of course, themain difficulty about learning from his surroundings right now was to stay conscious for long enough to observe anything, let alone to escape to do anything about it. Pain devoured Adam. His ears sang with it. Inside, his whole body shook. He knew that if he relaxed, he’d tremble outwardly, too, and yet darkness beckoned, promising at least a temporary respite from pain.

He forced his eyes open again. But already Cailean was calling out for a drink, his voice both frightened and determined.

Adam liked Cailean. Behind his youthful desire for glory lay a sound mind and a perception lacking in many of his lieutenants. Adam would probably have attempted to rescue him, whoever he was, and even if the idea of observing from within hadn’t come to him. But he hadn’t bargained on Cailean returning the favor. Being Malcolm MacHeth’s son should preserve Adam from execution, but that wouldn’t help Cailean, who, of lesser value, could be slain as unnecessary. And so Cailean, already recognized, had to be the important hostage, and Adam toounimportant even to kill.

Although he might die anyway, despite the visions which denied it. Why the devil had the boy come back? Now he had to get both of them out of this, and he wasn’t sure he could, not like this…

Something hard and cold touched his lips. Someone held a cup for him. Wine trickled over his lips and down his throat, strong and reviving. More than that, he recognized the taste. He smiled as he took some more. He was in Cairistiona’s home, drinking the wine he’d given her, had even tasted on her lips one sunny market day in Rosemarkie. He knew that had been real.

He could manage the pain now. And the shaking. He might even be able to think through the fuzziness.

He opened his eyes on Cailean’s worried face and grasped another truth. It wasn’t just duty or the loyalty he’d been born with that had brought Cailean back to defend Adam. Adam understood such loyalty, but for the first time ever, it struck him there might be more. Bonds like those that tied him to Donald. And to Somerled. They had always been there. But others, those forced upon one by birth, could become genuine. That was why Findlaech and the others looked out for him, even covered for him when his mind slipped too far from the present. It might even have been why he’d jumped in to rescue Cailean in the first place.

Interesting, but it didn’t matter. Loyalty was absolute.

Uncomfortably, he shifted his gaze from Cailean’s pale face to take in the servant who’d brought the wine. Not Sigurd this time, but another local man with real, personal fear behind his concern.

Adam nodded by way of thanks, jerked his eyes to Cailean, who seemed about to protest, and then, under Adam’s gaze, drank anyway before returning the cup to Adam. This time, Adam could hold it for himself. No one was watching. The soldier who was meant to be their guard was gazing at the breasts of the girl cleaning cobwebs away. She’d been doing this for a very long time. She must like the soldier, Adam thought. It got complicated, living with your enemies…

Male voices, hurried thudding footsteps, a word in French drifted through the nearby door. Terror flared harder in the servant’s face. Adam shoved the cup into his hands, and he fled. He was well away from them before the door opened and Sir William de Lanson strode through with their captor, whose name, Adam remembered, was Henry.

Adam rested his head back against the wall as Lanson halted inside the door and stared at the prisoners.

“Are you sure he’s one of the MacHeths?” Lanson said doubtfully.

Beside Adam, Cailean stiffened, but they weren’t looking at Adam. To them, MacHeths were everyone associated with the family.

“He looks different to me,” Lanson said.

“Better dressed, sir,” Henry answered. “But it’s the same man. I’d know him anywhere.”

“Having sat back and watched him and his captain take my wife,” Lanson snapped.

Shame colored Henry’s face. Adam felt an urge to defend the quality of the knight he’d defeated that day, though it was an impulse easily squashed. Adam’s approbation was unlikely to help either of them.

Lanson didn’t so much as glance at Henry. He was still staring at Cailean. He scowled. “What the hell are you doing on my land?”

“Visiting,” Cailean replied, also in French.

“Visiting whom?”

Cailean smiled. “You.”

Lanson’s slightly puffy eyes narrowed. “I hope you’re enjoying my hospitality.”

“I’ve known worse,” Cailean lied.

Lanson shifted his body, as if suddenly impatient. “Where are your men?” he demanded.

“All over Ross,” Cailean replied. He glanced at Henry and around the men-at-arms who’d followed their lord into the hall. “Except here,” he allowed.

Lanson smiled thinly. “Well, the pleasure of your company is unexpected, if not unwelcome. All I have to decide now is what to do with you.”

Adam could almost see the slow, brutal brain turning over his options. Keeping Cailean prisoner, he risked attack from without and possibly treachery from within. Several local people were employed here and more came to the hall to speak to the lady, according to Cailean. Lanson could only guess at how important Cailean might be to the earl’s sons. But killing him would not end the MacHeth rebellion. In the short term, it might bring them all down on Lanson, who surely understood now that if it wasn’t for the MacHeths’ favor to his wife, he would never have held this land at all.

“Or,” Lanson said, “there may be more personal advantage. Advantage there undoubtedly is. Please, enjoy your stay.” Bellowing with laughter, Lanson walked away.

Cailean spoke an obscene word under his breath, adding, “I pity his lady.”

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