Page 14 of When a Highlander Weds a Hellion
Donell jerked to his feet and turned to his father. “Why would ye ask these men to sup with us and sleep in our home? Why?”
“Because, my son,” Kinntoch said, his tone placating, “the Blackswells will try to hide their serpent faces and make us seem evil. I would give the Beast a chance to see how our family truly is.”
Broch despised being called the Beast, but he clenched his teeth on complaining now that Kinntoch appeared to want to be at least somewhat reasonable, even if that reason was driven only by the Kinntoch’s desire to have Broch take his side.
“I dunnae judge any man without evidence,” Broch said pointedly. “Nae yer family, nor the Blackswells.”
He half expected Kinntoch to say something derisive to him, but the man smiled and spread his palms wide. “Good. My family dunnae have anything to hide.”
“Except a daughter,” Broch replied.
Kinntoch’s nostrils flared, but then he chuckled. “Aye, except a daughter. If ye one day find ye once had two daughters and then ye only have one, and the one ye lost died by the hand of the verra man who wished to claim yer second, I’d hazard my life that ye too would do all in yer power to protect the daughter who was left to ye.”
Broch’s chest tightened thinking upon Katreine and the love that Kinntoch clearly had for his daughter. He nodded, acknowledging the man’s words. “I would, I’m certain. I understand why ye did what ye thought ye must, but I’ll tell ye what I told yer daughter: if she dunnae appear for the wedding, the king will give the disputed land to the Blackswells, and his wrath to ye.”
“Think ye I care for land above my daughter?” Kinntoch demanded. The laird shook his head, sorrow twisting his features. “To my eternal shame, I placed gain above my eldest daughter, and she forfeited her life. Nae ever again”
“Nae again!” Donell echoed.
“And what of yer clan?” Broch asked gently. “Would ye sacrifice yer entire clan’s existence to keep yer daughter from wedding the Blackswell heir?” He could practically hear Kinntoch grinding his teeth and see the internal war on the man’s face of having to make a choice between his daughter and his clan.
“I will do what I must,” Kinntoch choked out.
The man would not ever willingly send Katreine to wed the Blackswell’s son. If it came to pass that she must, it would be up to her to see it through to save her family from the king’s anger. “Let us see what I learn of the Blackswells before any hasty decisions are made,” Broch suggested.
“Aye.” Kinntoch nodded. “I’m certainly amiable to that. Now, come.” His tone and face suddenly became pleasant. “Ye must show my sons and me yer legendary fighting skills. Perhaps, ye could even spend a bit of time today teaching the men some moves? Did ye train with the MacLeod?”
“He did!” Cadyn exclaimed, shoving back a lock of red hair that had fallen in his eyes. “But I heard ye went and lived with the Dark Riders of Conan Forest.”
“Aye, he did,” William agreed, and by the worshipful look the man gave him, Broch realized in that moment that William wanted to go to the Dark Riders. Perhaps he’d planned this eventuality all along. By coming on this journey with Broch, William was halfway to Conan Forest where the Dark Riders lived, and he had the means to get the rest of the way there with the birlinn. Broch stared at the cunning man, contemplating. When had William intended to tell him, if at all? Had he thought to simply take the birlinn and leave Broch to find a way back to the Isle of Skye? Broch arched his eyebrows questioningly, and William’s face turned red.
His attention was drawn from William by Kinntoch, Donell, and Lannrick making the sign of the cross as they all stared at Broch, openmouthed. Broch swallowed his laughter. Some men, he knew, considered the Dark Riders evil. They were not evil, but they did hold special powers, which Broch had seen firsthand.
Lannrick was the first to speak. “Did ye do that willingly?”
“Of course he did nae!” Donell spat before Broch could answer. “Who in his right mind would go live with the Dark Riders? They are abominations. They get their strange powers from the devil.”
“They are nae abominations,” Broch growled, not commenting on their powers, as he had sworn on his life never to reveal what he had learned. He had no doubt, if he did let anything slip, the Dark Riders would somehow discover it and come to collect his life. He thought they were men born of love between fae women and warriors, though he could not say for certain, and in the year that he lived in Conan Forest with the five riders, he had seen things which could not be explained, and hardly believed, but were so. “I went there of my own choosing. I was nae punished and sent there.”
“Why in God’s name would ye live in Conan Forest?” Donell demanded. “’Tis rumored to be deep in the bowels of the Earth, with ground made of broken rock, rivers that rush so fast ye risk yer life merely stepping into them, and swampy meadows that ye must wade through to even get to the forest.” Donell’s voice had gone low, as if he were telling a spooky story around a campfire to his brothers. “’Tis said that in the meadow lie snakes and creatures that will pull ye under the muck, which will fill yer lungs and kill ye.”
Broch snorted at that, though it was all true. Then he repeated that which he had vowed to say of his time there. “I did nae ever see any creatures in the meadows, but they are most assuredly swampy and full of snakes. And the thick slime does surround the forest, which is unusually made up of rocky ground and precious little mossy green. The river does rush fast and deep, and it’s so cold yer bollocks dunnae drop for an entire day after ye’ve been in the icy water.”
Lannrick, Cadyn, and William groaned in unison at that, to which Broch grinned.
“So why did ye go live among the Dark Riders?” Lannrick inquired.
The question stirred memories Broch had long refused to recall. He’d gone when he was a lad of fourteen summers, after an instance of being particularly humiliated for being a bastard. Broch locked gazes with William once more. It had been William’s older brother Stein who had given Broch the beating. Stein was not a good man.
William hung his head in shame for an act he had no part of. Broch had already told him not to carry the burden, but he saw now that William carried all the weight for the sins of his family. Stein had taken offense to the lass he liked having a tendre for Broch instead of himself. The older boy had handily defeated Broch in one-on-one combat in the tournament that the MacLeans had been participating in, but that humiliation had not been enough for the man, Stein.
Stein and his friends had gone into Broch’s tent that night while he was sleeping, had stripped him naked, dragged him outside, and tied him to a post in the center of the tents of all the clans gathered for the tournament. They painted the wordbastardon his chest in sheep’s blood. They’d left him there until the next morning for all the clans to see.
Broch would never forget the bone-deep, burning humiliation. Iain had been so furious, Broch had feared it would cause a war between the MacLeods and the MacLeans, who had long been allies. Instead, Alex MacLean, the laird, had cast Stein and all who had helped him out of the MacLean clan, saving the clans from becoming enemies. And Alex, four summers older than Broch, had advised Broch to train harder and become as undefeatable as any man could be, because there would always be fools who used the fact that Broch did not know who his father was as a reason not to respect him. Unless he could demand it.
When Lannrick cleared his throat, Broch realized he’d been standing there lost in his memories and had not answered the man. “I went because I wished to create a name, as I had none that was truly my own. I kenned that if I became a great warrior, I could. I’d heard of the Dark Riders, same as ye. I’d heard they were feared warriors that had never been beaten in battle, and that they had unusual training methods and sometimes took in outsiders if they deemed the outsider worthy.”
“How did ye get them to take ye in?” Cadyn asked, awe in his voice. Broch noted the way William stilled and leaned in as if not to miss a word.
