Mist Warrior (52 page)

Last night had been nothing more than a glorious dream.

At least with Beth staying, Catriona had some company. Beth mourned the death of {the aligher husband
,
but she was bearing up admirably. Usually the day did not pass without the two finding something to laugh about.

Catriona stretched and groaned. God she was sore
,
but pleasantly so.

Branan
,
when will we be free of this? When can we simply live our lives and love each other without hardship?

Catriona shrugged her questions away, rose from her bed, and prepared to meet the day.

Bastard of Strickland

David Strickland watched two rats fighting over a small, foul
,
hunk of food that had somehow escaped the maids. Normally, his impe
ccably clean hall remained that
–but rats managed a foray now and again. He should whistle for his dogs and enjoy the hunt
,
but right now the battle of the rats provided entertainment. They were ferocious creatures
,
to be sure.

The two rats snarled and snapped. At first
,
it appeared to be mostly blustering, but one rat grew bold, threatening to impose himself between the other and the food. It was then that David realized
,
the first rat was a male and the second a female with suckling kits.

The female turned violently on the male. Never underestimate a wench with babes at breast. She attacked with ruthlessness that would have made a wolf envious. The male rat shrieked as the female's teeth sunk in its foreleg in a telling strike. This was not a warning nip
,
but an attack with injury.

David laughed as the female rat seized her hard won prize.
“
Zeus, Athena!
”
he called for his favorite hounds. The two dogs leaped from their place nea ~the ad">r the kitchen. David merely pointed toward the rats. The dogs spotted the movement of the female trying to escape with her prize and the male trying to retreat with a damaged foreleg.

He
chuckled as the dogs made short work of the vermin. Unfortunately, the female's kits would wait a very long time for another meal...probably die waiting. But such was the way of life.

David turned from his forgotten entertainment. He thought only of his morose existence. He hated being known as the bastard of Strickland. Although the term twisted his gut and soured his heart, he did have one comfort.

Historically, William had been known as the Bastard before he became known as William the Conqueror.

He
resolved that was exactly what they wou
ld call him after this was over
–the conqueror. Although
, David
wouldn't have the glory of conquering a kingdom, he would bring Inglewood to heel and destroy the Scottish swine known as the MacTavish.

“
But how?
”
he muttered, brooding over a cup of wine in the great hall. He couldn't find the whelp and no matter the abuse the people suffered, they refused to give him up, like some glorified Robin o'the Hood. David scoffed over the injustice of it all. Granted he may have been a bastard
,
but how could the people want to put a Scottish half-breed in the Wardenship? At least
,
David had the honor of being of English blood.

David tortured his brain, trying to come up with ideas. The thought of marrying Courcy's widow had been a wonderful one. But he never imagined she could be such a stubborn bitch. He had been certain that a few well-placed threats would have cowed her instantly. Yet her defiance only made him want her more. The thought of the beautiful hellcat screaming in his bed as he broke her was enough to send fire through his loins and harden his shaft on the spot.

He had toyed with the idea of abducting her and taking what he wanted. That would surely pull the Scottish demon out of hiding. But his forces still felt the losses suffered at Brackenburgh keenly. The battle had cost him and because of continued raids, David did not have the resources to recoup men and supplies.

The damnable raids.

That was the crux of the matter. The raids kept David off balance and financially unstable. He never knew where MacTavish would strike next. David had tried to divine a pattern
,
but the
MacTavish remained infuriatingly unpredictable. He knew he had to change the rules of the game and do it quickly.

David took a long drink. How did one hunt what couldn't be found, what couldn't be tracked, what might as well not even exist? Abruptly
,
he scowled. Not by stalking
,
but by making it come to him. Abducting the bitch would accomplish that
,
but he did not have the manpower.

So, what else did MacTavish want?

He wanted the Wardenship, along with David and his father dead. David sat up sharply. Was that it? Would that be enough to draw MacTavish out of hiding and into a trap?

David chuckled softly. Setting himself and his father as bait would be risky indeed. But it would cause MacTavish to finally become predictable–and once David was sure of the Scotsman’s motives, David could predict quite a bit. He rose from the table and went to find his father.

A few minutes later, David located his father and watched him stroke his beard thoughtfully as he offered his idea.

“
Risky,
”
his father agreed.
“
But I like it. Making the Scottish demon come to us is a good idea. But we need to take it all the way. With proper planning we can finish this.
”

“
How so, F
ather?
”

“
You will spring your trap on MacTavish. No doubt
,
once he is captured
,
some of his men will go to Brackenburgh in an effort to reinforce and protect that little whore of his. I will be waiting with the rest of the men. They will have to open the gates and when they do, I will take control of Brackenburgh.
”

“
Are you sure, father? Our last attempt did not go so well.
”

“
That is because we failed to account for reinforcements. I vow the MacTavish conjured them out of thin air.
”

“
Aye.
”

“
Son, you must be prepared, MacTavish
will bring all
of
his forces against you. My taking Brackenburgh will be simple compared to what you will face.
”

“
I know
,
father
,
but don't worry, we will have the advantage of surprise.
”

“
This is all pointless if you die.
”
He thought for a long moment.
“
David, I'm going to do all I can to see this succeeds because if it fails, we are finished.
”

“
What are you planning, father?
”

“
One last financial gambit to ensure we have the men we need to defeat MacTavish once and for all.
”

****

A fortnight after their glorious rendezvous, Branan gazed at Catriona's letter and rubbed his jaw. Because of all the people coming to Brackenburgh to trade, she had excellent resources into rumor and gossip.

Now rumor had it Strickland and his bastard grew desperate. They threw the last of their finances into men and weapons
,
as well as enlisting the aid of a Jewish money-lender. Although
, Strickland
had tried to keep the situation quiet, they had been forced to contact some of Courcy's competitors. Strickland and his bastard would be near Brackenburgh, arranging the deal with the money-lender. They were going to huge debt over this and the money-lender would not be satisfied with the pact until it was signed in Strickland blood.

At first, both Branan and Catriona were uncertain about the validity of the rumor
,
but decided it was one that bore watching. Then even more rumors surfaced about its untruth. Strickland had plenty of money and there was no way he would stoop to begging aid from a Jew. He had simply chosen not to put Branan in his place because it wasn't worth the trouble.

Branan knew otherwise.

His raids had nearly crippled Strickland financially. Strickland's inability to put a stop to them embarrassed him publicly. Strickland would not live well with Branan's continued claim to the Wardenship. These were only the first items on a very long list.

In her letter, Catriona wondered and Branan agreed, if Strickland's efforts to put these wild rumors to rest meant they had more validity than appearances dictated.

“
There's one way to find out,
”
Branan muttered and called for Gavin and Duguald.

****

Why do people always do underhanded deeds in the middle of the night?
Branan wondered and silently fumed. He was cold, tired and hungry–and getting a serious cramp in his right calf muscle from staying hidden for so long.

He peered through the thick undergrowth at a small hovel hours away from Thistlewood. A tiny glow from a lamp inside reflected golden in the filthy windows. Three men waited in the hovel. Branan was not sure
,
but it appeared to be the money-lender and two guards.

Forty of Branan's men also hid in various locations around the quiet hovel. All of the
m
waited for only one thing – Strickland's arrival.

But he was certainly taking his blasted time.

Branan worried again if something had spooked Strickland. He wondered about the rumor–what if it was wrong? Yet the fact the money-lender was here was a good sign.

Quiet sounds echoed down the trail. Branan scowled, peering through the undergrowth.
Slowly, cautiously, six horses approached. The riders were heavily cloaked
,
but obviously
well-armed
. In the middle
,
rode two men, the first glanced
furtively from under his cowl. The second, a larger man
,
rode stooped in the saddle, his head down.

Branan's mouth went dry and his hand tightened on his claymore.

The men dismounted, leaving only one to watch the horses, then approached the door. The man who had been glancing from under his cowl knocked. The door opened and the light fell on his face.

David Strickland.

Branan's heart soared. No doubt the stooped man behind him was his father.