Medieval Ever After (103 page)

Dunbraes had already withstood several attempted sieges in the five years since Raef had been charged with holding the castle. Was the Bruce himself preparing to attempt one final siege?

All this flitted through Raef’s mind in a heartbeat, as if he were merely assessing his options on the chessboard.

Gordon cleared his throat nervously, clearly reluctant to answer Raef’s question.

“Speak, man! Has the Bruce returned to Loch Doon?”

“Nay, our scouts don’t believe so, my lord. Despite all the excitement, no army, or even a small band of men, has shown up. And no procession has arrived either. But…”

“What?” Raef said, trying to keep from unleashing his temper on Gordon, though the man deserved it.

“One scout heard a rumor that there is a new lord at Loch Doon, a…a Highlander by his dress. He wears a red kilt with thin lines of green and blue in it.”

A Highlander. In a red kilt.

No, it couldn’t be.

In a flash, Raef spun back to his chessboard and slammed both fists into it, sending the red and white pieces flying. As the pieces landed on the floor and rolled at his feet, he smoothed his sandy blond hair back from his forehead, though one of his hands remained clenched.

After a few deep breaths, Raef turned back to Gordon. The hulking coward had taken a step back from Raef’s rage so that he stood against the closed study door.

“What of Kennedy?” Raef said calmly.

“He is to be sent away, if he hasn’t been already.”

Raef could feel the knuckles on his left hand going white, even as he smoothed his hair again with his right hand. Like Gordon, Gilbert Kennedy was a fool. But also like Gordon, the ineffectual Laird and keeper of Loch Doon had been under Raef’s control. Not only had Kennedy paid a small fortune—of the Bruce’s money—as a settlement to prevent Raef’s men from laying siege to Loch Doon, but he also paid taxes to ensure the castle’s
safety
, as Raef had explained to him.

Now Kennedy was out, to be replaced by…

If he let himself finish the thought with Gordon in the room, he very well might strangle his hapless captain of the guard.

“Double the number of scouts in the northwest,” he said to the man instead. “I want daily reports on Loch Doon. Can you manage that, Captain?”

Gordon nodded quickly. At Raef’s wave of dismissal, he slipped out the study door.

A Sinclair. A Sinclair now ruled Loch Doon instead of Raef’s lackey. A Sinclair was now holding the nearest castle to Dunbraes. A Sinclair was now no doubt plotting against Raef.

And yet, a Sinclair was also now within striking distance.

Raef bent to pick up the red and white chess pieces that littered the floor. His father had given him this fine set, each piece carved carefully out of walrus tusk. Half of the pieces remained tusk-white, while the other half were painted blood red.

His father had taught him how to play on this magnificent set. Of course, within a matter of months, Raef was besting him at the game. Likewise, it had been Raef’s strategic mind and clever maneuverings that had distinguished him among the English nobility as a tactician and military wit. Such skill had earned him Dunbraes and granted him the opportunity to lead a campaign all the way into northern Scotland for the Battle of Roslin.

And if it weren’t for those bloody, barbarian Sinclairs, he would have won that battle and secured himself a position at the King’s side. But somehow they’d managed to outflank him, sending him and what was left of his men back to the Borderlands like whipped dogs.

And then…

Raef ground his teeth as he placed the white queen back on the board.

And then, Robert Sinclair had stolen his intended bride, Alwin Hewett. She was an English virgin, meant for him, but that filthy savage had soiled her, rutting with her and turning her into a debased Scot like Sinclair himself. And he had even thwarted Raef’s efforts to have her murdered so that her death could be used as a rallying cry for the English. Instead, Raef was made to look the fool, his bride married to a Scotsman who plowed her, ruined her, sullied her with his savageness.

Then there was his sister. If he were honest with himself, he cared less about the loss of Jossalyn than he had about the Hewett girl. Jossalyn had always been an annoyance at best, though she did serve well as a bargaining chip for him to gain wealth and position. But another Sinclair snatched her away before Raef could marry her off for his betterment.

Being unburdened of his cowering sister, who insisted on interacting with the sickly and ill in her foolish attempts to heal them, was something of a relief. He no longer had to share a roof with someone who could bring disease and death everywhere she went. But to be bested again by a Sinclair—he nearly spit on the floor of his study at the thought.

That made three times the Sinclairs had embarrassed him. But it wouldn’t happen again. Those Highland barbarians were clearly thick as thieves with the Bruce. To defeat this Sinclair at Loch Doon would not only soothe his ego, but it would also be a blow against the rebel pretender-King.

A thought skittered across his mind as he righted the last piece on the board. Kennedy had a daughter. Perhaps she had something to do with the appearance of a Sinclair at Loch Doon. A marriage alliance, perhaps?

If those bloody Highlanders could use his women against him, perhaps he could return the favor. He would have to get word to his man inside the castle though, which was always a delicate and time-consuming business. Not even Gordon knew about him. Raef always liked to keep a few surprises tucked away.

He picked up the red rook from the board and examined it, contemplating his next move. This rook was carved differently than the white one. The rook’s eyes bulged wildly under his helm. Though he brandished a sword like his white counterpart, this one’s teeth sank into the shield he held in front of his chest in a look of utter battle lust and madness. The red rook was called the berserker rook for a reason.

As a boy, Raef had always loved this piece. His father had told him to identify with the king piece, for he must protect it as he would protect himself. But Raef’s style wasn’t as conservative as his father’s. Instead, he had sent his red berserker rook out relentlessly, overpowering and outmaneuvering his opponents with a combination of the berserker’s wild-eyed bloodlust and his own calculated assault.

Setting the piece back down, Raef went to his desk and withdrew a piece of parchment and a quill. With a quick dip of the quill into his ink pot, he began writing a coded message to his man inside Loch Doon.

HIGHLANDER’S RECKONING

CHAPTER TEN

Daniel pressed his
seal into the hot wax on the fourth and final letter in front of him. One was for the Bruce, informing him that he had safely arrived at Loch Doon, had married Rona Kennedy—Rona
Sinclair
, he reminded himself as he blew on the wax to harden it—and had sent away Laird Kennedy in order to bring the castle fully under his control.

The other three letters were going to his brothers and cousin, asking them to join him at Loch Doon for a wedding celebration. Of course, they all knew the real reason for the Sinclairs to gather at Loch Doon. They were needed for a strategic meeting on the Bruce’s plan to lay siege to Dunbraes Castle to the southeast.

The Bruce had communicated his plan to each of them individually, sending only his personal messenger to carry each letter himself. It was too dangerous, especially in the Lowlands, to do otherwise.

As much as Daniel was looking forward to seeing his two older brothers and his cousin Burke, a combination of worry and dread filled him as he stacked the letters on the edge of his desk. The business of sieging a castle was lengthy and dangerous. His whole family would be at risk—including Rona, who would have to stay at Loch Doon while he was away. And he didn’t trust her to be alone.

She’d finally returned to the castle yesterday as twilight was setting in. He’d pretended not to notice her absence and hadn’t questioned her about it at the somber evening meal, but all the while he’d seethed inside.

Perhaps she was just quiet because her father had been sent away a few days before. Or perhaps she only appeared evasive because she was shy.

Daniel immediately rejected that thought. He’d seen the fire in her bright blue eyes and heard the barbs on her tongue frequently enough to know that she wasn’t simply a shy, maidenly sort of lass. Nay, she was far too bold—perhaps from experience that no maiden should have.

She’d complained of a headache and had retired early—again—last night. She was deliberately delaying their consummation, sneaking away, and either lying about what she was doing or simply refusing to explain herself.

He’d made up his mind about what to do as he tossed and turned in his cold bed last night.

“You sent for me, my lord?” Malcolm said in the study’s doorway. Daniel had been so wrapped up in his thoughts about Rona that he hadn’t even heard the slight man enter. He cursed himself silently but beckoned Malcolm in.

“See that these get delivered,” he said, gesturing toward the stack of letters on the desk.

Malcolm nodded silently and stepped forward to retrieve the letters.

“And Malcolm,” Daniel said reluctantly. He’d already made up his mind. Now he just had to follow through.

Malcolm turned back to him, a questioning look on his face. “Aye, my lord?”

“When Lady Rona takes a boat to the village today” —Daniel didn’t even bother saying “if” she went out, so common had her little trips been in the few days since he had sent Kennedy back to his clan at Dunure— “follow her.”

Malcolm’s eyes widened slightly. “Follow her, my lord?”

“You heard me,” Daniel ground out. “I want to know where she goes.”

Malcolm closed his mouth quickly, wisely realizing that to ask more questions would only make things worse. “Aye, my lord.”

“Keep your distance. I don’t want her knowing you’re there.”

“Aye, my lord.”

“And Malcolm?”

“Aye, my lord?”

“Tell no one of my orders.”

Daniel ignored the stab of shame he felt at his words, and at the fact that he was asking one of his servants to follow his wife. But he couldn’t force her to explain herself, nor could he expect to earn the trust and respect of the castle if he was being cuckolded. He could only hope to learn the truth about her activities in as inconspicuous a way as possible. He just prayed that this mess could be contained without scandal or further embarrassment.

Malcolm bowed wordlessly and took his leave from the study.

Daniel hated using the man for such a task, especially considering that only a few days ago he was more loyal to Kennedy than Daniel. But Malcolm could at least be discreet.

He hoped.

The only warning Rona had was the little extra tilt upward of Bhreaca’s wings. Then the peregrine falcon went into her stooping motion, and Rona felt her stomach flip with excitement. Bhreaca folded her wings tight against her body in mid-air, and then dove straight at the ground. The bird fell like a stone, though Rona knew Bhreaca was in control.

At the last possible moment, Bhreaca’s wings popped out. Instead of crashing headlong into the small clearing in the Galloway woods, Bhreaca’s talons scrapped the ground, closing tight around a pheasant. With one swift flick of her beak, the falcon broke the pheasant’s neck. Then Bhreaca flapped a few times, gaining the air once again with the pheasant locked in her talons.