Charming the Shrew (17 page)

“What say you?” Broc pulled him roughly to his feet, and Tayg began to look for an escape.

“I do not know the lass you speak of, and if she is evil tempered, why would anyone take her anyway?” He quickly noted that the fifth brother was there, though standing back from the others as if he only watched. “Is she a great heiress?” he continued. “An astonishing beauty? Well versed in bedding a man?”

The last earned him the angry outcry of the four brothers surrounding him. He realized the depth of his mistake when they began pummeling him with meaty fists. Tayg was no stranger to a good fight, and he landed a few well-aimed punches, bloodying at least one nose, splitting a lip on another, doubling one of them over with a vicious kick to the groin.

But he was badly outnumbered.

With a mighty backhand, Broc sent him spinning into the snow. Tayg pushed to his hands and knees. Blood dripped from his nose and lip, staining the snow. Before he could rise, a roughly shod foot landed squarely in his ribs, sending him sideways into more snow. Another kick landed just where the first one had. Pain knifed through his side, and he curled to protect his ribs from further abuse. Someone reached down and dragged him to his feet again, shoving him roughly against a stone wall.

Tayg gasped for breath as he watched the man’s arm slowly pull back, the fist clenched tightly, then speed toward his face. Just in time Tayg rolled to his right, feeling the wind of that punch just as he heard the dull crunch of fist against stone wall. A howl went up.

Tayg used the confusion of the howling man and the cover of thick snow and darkness to limp as fast as he could toward the nearest doorway. He was jerked to a stop by a hand in his hair. Another brother appeared in front of him and proceeded to rain punches to Tayg’s stomach and ribs. Tayg tried to defend himself, but there were too many of them. When the one punching him stepped back, the hair-grabber let go, dropping Tayg into a groaning heap at his feet.

“Now perhaps you’d like to tell us where Triona is,” Broc said, his voice low and menacing.

Tayg’s head hurt as he tried to decide if she was worth dying for. If the brothers took her back to Assynt, who would be harmed? Anyone within striking distance of Cat’s dark temper. And the king, he reminded himself. He tried to push himself to his knees, buying himself time. The king and Cat would be the worse for it.

His stomach clenched at the idea of Broc trussing Cat up to haul her home. His gorge rose at the idea of Dogface kissing her, bedding her…breaking her fiery spirit. Damn! Cat didn’t deserve that fate.

Tayg shoved himself to his feet, his fist swinging upward into Broc’s chin so hard the man was knocked off his feet and onto his arse. He turned and punched another in the gut and managed to land another fist to one of their noses, but there were too many. Quickly they had him pinned to the cold ground again, Broc kneeling atop him with his knee on his chest so Tayg could barely breathe.

“Where is she?” Broc demanded again.

If keeping Cat’s whereabouts a secret—not so hard to do, since he didn’t know where she was at this moment—kept her from Dogface and these rogues, he would keep his silence—or better.

“Do you mean that shrew who was at Fionn,” he gasped, “dark hair and a tongue like a well-honed claymore?” He sneered and hoped his face showed as much disdain as Broc’s did.

“She left Fionn with you,” one of the brothers said. Tayg didn’t take his eyes off Broc, though. It was clear who was in charge of this rabble.

“She did not. She disappeared during the evening. I left alone at dawn. ’Twas a braw lad she wandered off with.”

A kick to his side knocked the breath from him and made his vision go black for a moment.

“Truth, you bloody bastard. No one would go off with Triona.”

Tayg grunted his agreement.

“Where is our sister?” This from a brother who had said nothing so far. His voice was quieter, firmer than the others, and somehow more dangerous.

“What passes here?” a hesitant feminine voice called from the top of the steps leading from the great hall.

For a moment Tayg thought all was lost, but then he realized it was Isobel, not Cat, who called to them. He allowed himself a moment of relief as the men hesitated. One of them landed one last kick to his ribs before they all turned to face Isobel, blocking Tayg from her sight.

“What are…” She approached them slowly, peering around them when she got close enough. “Bard? Bard!” She barged around the men and knelt beside him.

“I’m fine, lass,” he said, slowly rising to his feet. “These lads mistook me for someone else.” He rubbed away the blood trickling from his nose with the back of his hand and tried to stay steady on his feet. He glared at Broc, daring him to sully his sister’s virtue by revealing the truth.

“You should find them a warm place in the hall,” Tayg said to Isobel. “I’m sure they will be grateful for a hot meal and plenty of ale.” He turned, needing to get away before he said something that would get them all in trouble.

“I shall send your sister to tend you,” Isobel called after him as she herded the brothers away from him.

He could well imagine the reaction of the brothers MacLeod to that remark. He raised a hand in a wave, but limped as fast as he could toward the far tower.

’Twas not the most heroic exit, but at least he was still walking.

For now.

C
ATRIONA PACED THE
small confines of Isobel’s chamber. The fire did little to warm her, though sweat made her clothes stick to her. How had Dogface found her? Was it just coincidence, or was he after her? It didn’t matter. She would never marry the man. She must get away from here now and find the king. Immediately. But Tayg was still in the hall, entertaining her nemesis. Didn’t he know who Dogface was? Hadn’t Tayg seen him sitting right there in their midst? Nay, he was too busy flirting with Isobel.

She glared at the leather sack she had packed. Somehow she had to get Tayg out of the hall, and they had to escape before Dogface realized who the wimple-clad woman he had spoken to was. But Tayg-the-flirt wouldn’t come looking for her even if she had left precipitously. He was having too much fun. What did it matter if the man who could ruin her clan and her life sat across from him? He wouldn’t leave until he was ready. So she would have to convince him he was ready, but she couldn’t risk going back in there.

Face-to-face with Dogface once was too much. She wrapped her arms about her, trying to stop the trembling that had started in the pit of her stomach and was quickly spiraling out until her hands shook and her teeth chattered. That had been too close. She wouldn’t give Dogface another opportunity to figure out who she was.

If only there was someone she could send. Someone who would help her…

Isobel.

Isobel would help her. She had said they were friends. But Isobel was probably still in the hall herself, so that wouldn’t help. Catriona bit her lip to keep herself from wailing out loud. There was no one else to help her.

There was no one else to help her.

If the bard wished to stay there a minute longer, he could face Dogface all he wanted. He deserved as much. If she had to continue on alone, she would do just that. She didn’t need him. She could do perfectly well on her own.

She would leave now while Dogface was sitting addle-brained in the hall with Tayg and Isobel. No one would discover she was missing until morning.

If anyone would miss her at all.

The bard certainly wouldn’t. She should have known the kisses they had shared hadn’t meant anything. It was abundantly clear where his interest lay. If he could convince Dogface that he knew nothing of her, he would be safe. Even if Dogface did discover the truth, Tayg would tell him ’twas all her doing. She was daft and difficult and no one he’d ever willingly travel with. He’d be extraordinarily happy to rid himself of her company, just like everyone else always was.

And Dogface would believe him. What choice would he have since Tayg clearly spoke the truth?

Very well. She’d go alone. Tayg could take care of himself. He didn’t need her and she didn’t need him. She didn’t need anyone.

Catriona wiped her hand impatiently across her cheek where one fat tear had escaped. Tears were useless. It wasn’t like she’d never been betrayed before. She would live. She had little choice.

Catriona yanked on her confining wimple to cover more of her chin, donned her heavy cloak, grabbed her travel sack, and slipped out of the chamber.

The passageways were empty save for the eerie flickering of torchlight scattered here and there along the way. Everyone must still be gathered round Tayg, listening to his stories, surely not his songs. She tried not to think about the grin he’d have on his face, the waver in his voice when he got to a tricky part of a song, or how, when he told a story, his words could wind around her like a lover’s embrace, warming her, transporting her away from herself.

She swiped another errant tear from her cheek and called Tayg every evil word she had ever heard her brothers utter. Somehow, it didn’t help.

She made her way down the tightly turning stair, not bothering to silence her muttering.

“Where are you off to?”

Catriona froze then squinted into the darkness at the bottom of the stair.

“Were you leaving without me?” Tayg’s voice, laced with teasing, but something sharper, too, washed over her.

Relief surged through her. He hadn’t abandoned her. Hadn’t betrayed her…or had he? She tried to press the relief back until she was sure why he was here.

“Why aren’t you entertaining? ’Tis early yet for a bard to leave his hosts.” Catriona let all of her anger and fear loose in those few words. She moved slowly toward the bottom of the steps, keeping out of his reach, but trying to get a clearer look at his shadowed face. If she could see his eyes, she could tell his intent. She was sure of it.

“It seems you are sought after,” he said.

“And yet you dallied?”

Tayg leaned against the door, his face deeper in the shadows cast by the flickering light of the torch. “I was detained.”

Catriona flinched at the anger in his voice.

“You’d do well not to return to the hall,” he said.

“I’ve no intention—Tayg!” She watched as Tayg slowly slid down the door. Catriona dropped her bag and rushed to him, dropping to her knees next to him. “What happened?” she whispered, trying to control the shaking that was starting in her voice and rapidly spreading once more to the rest of her body.

Catriona reached out and smoothed his hair away from his face. She gasped at the damage she found. “Did Dogface do this?”

“Nay, not your betrothed.”

“He’s not—”

“Your brothers did this.”

She sat hard on the stone floor. “My brothers?” she whispered.

“It seems there are many who seek your company.”

“But none who want me.” Damn. Why did she say that? She did not want to sound so pitiful. “They have found us, all of them.”

“They have not. They have only found me. They do not know you are here, at least not yet. Unless Dogface recognized you.”

“I do not think so.” She lightly touched his cheek where the clear outline of a set of knuckles showed. “Why?”

“Why did they do this?” he said, wincing when she once more reached toward his battered face. “They suspect you are traveling with me. For some reason they did not believe me when I said I did not know you.” Half a grin peeked out of his bloodied lips.

“How dare they!” Catriona got to her feet and hauled Tayg to his. “You wait here. I’ll teach them to hurt my bard.” Her statement quivered in the air between them. “You would think they’d know me well enough to see this is my fault,” she said quickly, hoping he’d not noticed her rash words.

Tayg held her shoulders and forced her to look into his brown eyes. “Nay, lass. You do not want to go after them. Dogface is out there as well. Even with your formidable temper, they have the advantage over us in numbers.”

Panic welled in her. Dogface and her brothers, all here. The walls closed in on her and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. But she could. She must. Tayg was hurt, and they were trapped unless they left immediately. Catriona looked back at the packed sacks she had carried down with her. She had all she needed, but she couldn’t leave Tayg here to take more abuse from her brothers nor from Dogface.

“Can you walk?” she asked.

“If I must.”

“Let us go now, while we can.”

“There’s a storm on out there, Cat. I don’t know how far I can walk.”

“I’ll not go without you,” Catriona said, her voice sharp.

Tayg tried to smile, but he winced when his lip began to bleed again.

Catriona grabbed her sacks. “Where is your drum?”

“In the hall with my belongings. I had to leave everything there as I could not appear to be leaving.”

“We’ll have to leave it then. We dare not go back to the hall to fetch it. Perhaps I can find another cloak for you.”

Catriona pressed her side to his and hooked an arm around him. He hissed as her hand brushed his tender ribs, but she said nothing. Her mouth was set in a grim line.

“If you’re determined to go out in that storm, you’d best leave me here, lass.”

“I said I’ll not leave you. Broc will kill you the next chance he gets, and you’re in no shape to defend yourself. I’ll not have your death on my conscience,” she said, striving for a teasing tone.

She pushed away from the door, pulling him with her. A floorboard creaked over their heads, sending panic spiraling through her. Desperate to protect him should Dogface or her brothers come looking for him again, she rapidly searched her mind for options. They could not chance being seen by whoever walked overhead, yet they could not leave until she had at least the rudiments of travel clothing for Tayg.

She spied a small door under the stair. That would do. Whether ’twas a storage room or a stair leading downward mattered not. Catriona dragged Tayg to it, awkwardly pushing it open while balancing him against her. She shouldn’t have noticed the warmth of his body pressed up against hers. She shouldn’t have noticed how she just fit under his arm nor how her skin tingled where his heat mingled with her own, easing the irritating trembling that still plagued her.

She shouldn’t have, but she did.

He stifled a groan when he had to bend slightly to pass through the door, bringing her attention away from her own sensations and back to his injuries. Catriona looked around the dark, cramped storage room, unable to see far past the doorway. With difficulty she dropped her sacks, unfastened her cloak, then lowered Tayg onto it.

“We’ve got to bind your ribs, tend to your face, and find you a cloak,” she said, more to herself than to him. Remembering the linen toweling she had used for her bath, she bade him be silent until she returned. Moving quickly but quietly, she raced up the twisting stairs, ducking into the shadows twice as men tramped through the corridor toward the far tower where the soldiers were housed.

When at last she made it to Isobel’s chamber, she paused and looked to each end of the torch-lit hall. No one. She shoved open the thick oaken door only to have it hit something and stop abruptly. A groan came from within the chamber followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the floor.

Catriona pushed the door open far enough to peek around it and into the chamber. Crumpled in a heap on the other side was Dogface. Fear twisted in her gut until she realized he was unconscious. She must have knocked him cold with the door, but what was he doing in Isobel’s chamber in the first place? She pushed the door a bit harder. Despite Dogface’s crumpled form, she needed items from the chamber and she had no time to search elsewhere.

She squeezed into the chamber, avoiding Dogface as much as possible. What if he woke to find her there? Terror gripped her, but she forced herself to move. Quickly she grabbed the linen toweling, now dry from the fire. She could rip it into long strips for binding Tayg’s ribs. She lifted the blanket from the bed, then snatched a candle from the unlit candle stand, squeezed back out the door, and swiftly returned to the stairs. Just as she reached the bottom step the outer door opened. Cat froze, sure she would now face her brothers. What would happen to Tayg if they took her?

A golden head looked around the door, and Cat released her breath. Isobel looked concerned as she pushed the door closed behind her.

“Cat!”

“Wheesht!” Catriona moved quickly to her side, a finger to her lips lest they draw attention to themselves.

“Did you see the bard?” Isobel whispered. “These awful men attacked him, but he seemed so sure they had mistaken him for someone else…I took them to the hall.”

Catriona stood mute. Isobel didn’t know. Somehow she had not figured out they were Catriona’s brothers, that they were after her, nor did she seem to know that Dogface also sought her. She really was still safe as long as she and Tayg could get out of here before her brothers or Dogface found her—or found him again.

Impulsively Cat decided to trust Isobel, not with the whole secret…but with a part of it.

“I do not know who those louts search for, but there
is
another in your hall I wish never to see again.”

Isobel’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “There is?”

“Aye. Come. Help me tend Tayg’s hurts, and perhaps you can help us before that one realizes he knows me or the others pummel Tayg again.”

Isobel nodded immediately. Catriona lit the taper from a nearby smoky torch and led the girl into the storage room.

T
HE THREE MADE
hasty plans while Catriona bound Tayg’s ribs. Soon Isobel left them to await her return in their cramped space below the stair. Tayg dozed off and on, but Catriona kept her vigil, alert to even the smallest sound lest they be discovered. Deep into the night Isobel finally returned with Tayg’s cloak and news that Dogface had stumbled back into the hall shortly after she had returned, a great lump upon his head and a scowl upon his face, but he had said naught to anyone about what had happened.

All the visitors were now snoring in the great hall. Tayg’s horse and his belongings awaited them by the postern gate. It took both Catriona and Isobel to get Tayg on his feet and out to the horse. It was only with his clearly painful help that they were able to push him up into the saddle. Isobel opened the gate, which thankfully swung free without so much as a scrape or a squeal of hinges. Catriona gave the lass a quick, fierce hug.

“I will see you again,” she said.