The Laird's Daughter (4 page)

Annie had fetched Bryce’s sister, Alyce, from the Lobban croft where she’d cauterized what remained of the limb and bound it. With any luck and no infections, Aaron would live. Even now the smell of burning flesh and the man’s screams mingling with the midwife’s angry incantation haunted Annie. Though she’d objected to the decision to attack the Campbell reinforcements, she bore the guilt for their failure. She had no qualms that Alyce would be discreet as she tended the wounds of their enemies, but at this moment, Annie wished herself in the barracks. No Campbell soldier would be left standing.

Remorse did no good. Nor could she actually inflict death on a wounded, defenseless man even were he her enemy. Better that she set her thoughts on some other means of bringing down Sir Archibald and his lapdog, Rafe Campbell. With renewed determination, she climbed out of the hay wagon and went in search of Bryce. He was bent over the heat of a fire, pounding a bit of iron into a horseshoe. He set aside his hammer when she approached. His face was red from the flames, his eyes black with anger.

“Where are the dead?” she asked her second in command barely above a whisper. “Have you hidden their bodies well?”

“Aye, we took them high into the mountains and covered them with stones.” Bryce lifted his head and met her gaze.

She saw the agony there. His brother had been one of the men lost this day.

“Ye fetched Alyce to tend Campbell wounds.” His words were more an accusation than a query.

“Aye, we had no choice.” Annie looked around to make sure no one could hear her speak. Maintaining her disguise as a harmless, mute goose girl grew more tiresome every day. Yet, she could not give it up now without raising dangerous suspicions. “Rafe Campbell requested the midwife since we have no surgeon on hand.”

“May they all die and rot in Hell.” Bryce brought down his hammer in a ringing exclamation to his sentiments. “We lost two good men this day, and Aaron will never be a whole man again.”

“Without both arms, Aaron is a whole man,” Annie whispered fiercely. “Don’t underestimate such a man as he.”

“I saw the bastard that did it. He rode in the lead and wielded his claymore as if it were a part of him. But in the next battle, I’ll take his life for those he took today.”

Annie seized his arm and shook it. “Don’t let your emotions rule your head now, Bryce. The next time, we’ll choose our targets more carefully. Rafe Campbell brought more men than we expected. We were outnumbered. Next time, we’ll attack when his men ride alone or in small numbers. Don’t you see? We must whittle away at his warriors as we have Sir Archibald’s forces.”

Reluctantly, Bryce set aside his hammer and turned to face her. “By God, Annie, at moments like this, I’m always surprised at your beauty and fire. You play the part of the simple mute well while you extract information about the comings and goings at the castle we’d not have access to otherwise. But behind your meek, tattered appearance I know is a mind as quick as any man’s. I see how your green eyes glitter with purpose; and your jaw is set as a hound who’s found a bone and won’t give it up.”

He paused and took a step toward her. “When I first went to the priest and asked for you to join our band, I’d only thought to use you as a rallying point. But in fact, it’s your plans we follow. Even today, you warned us against attacking a force we knew little about, but we didn’t listen. Now my brother is dead. Once again you were right, m’lady,” he said humbly.

“Shh.” She glanced around. “Don’t address me as such. There are ears everywhere. We’ve proven that ourselves.”

“I only wished to show you my respect. We’ll bide our time and do it your way.”

“Good.” She placed a hand on his arm and would have said more, but the scrap of leather against stone drew her around. Rafe Campbell stood regarding them with a calculating air.

“I was told you’re mute, lass,” he said shortly. His eyes were steely gray pinning her with his displeasure.

“Aye, she is sir,” Bryce spoke up quickly. “Though she tries her best to say things now and then. She even moves her mouth, but nothing comes out. I think she was injured at birth.”

Annie lowered her head and let her hair fall forward to shadow her eyes. She would have to take care. Rafe Campbell was no fool.

“Pity.” His voice held no real sympathy, but he seemed content with Bryce’s explanation.

“Do you need something, sir?” Bryce asked roughly.

“Nay, I but came to see that my men are well settled.” He strode closer and Annie drew back as if shy and intimidated by his presence. Rafe ignored her, his attention resting on the blacksmith. “Has the running of Dunollie always been thus?”

“I don’t know your meanin’, sir.” Bryce pretended ignorance and took up his bellows to rebuild the heat of his fire.

“I mean, has the land always been so poorly managed and the villages neglected? No crops have been planted, no building repaired. Even the castle wall is beginning to crumble.”

“’Tis not my place to notice such things,” Bryce said sullenly.

“Aye, but have not you and the others had instructions as to the upkeep of this holding?”

“Sir Archibald does that, when he’s feeling well enough.” Bryce fed his fire with peat and placed the iron in the glowing coals.

Rafe looked frustrated. “Today, we were set upon in the Oban forest. Have you any knowledge of outlaws in these parts?”

“I’ve heard nothing about such men, although a stranger came through and said there were raids and killings on the other side of the mountains.” He raised his gaze and met Rafe’s, making no effort to hide his animosity. He held a glowing piece of iron between them. “Mayhap, the outlaws have crossed the mountains to plunder here.”

Rafe returned his glare until Bryce lowered his eyes and returned the iron to the fire. “Thank you for the information. My men and I will take extra care not only to protect ourselves from further attacks, but the villagers as well.” He turned on his heel and strode away.

“Why did you bait him so?” Annie demanded in a low voice. “This is not a man to mock.”

Disgusted, she brushed past Bryce and limped down the dirt lane. Bryce was hotheaded and tended to take chances, and he was becoming harder to control every day. His recklessness would betray them all if he weren’t careful. Rafe had been summoned because Sir Archibald needed help. Their task to disrupt and overthrow Campbell rule of their lands would be made harder now.

In the distance, Annie saw a bent figure urging a ragtag collection of sheep down from the hills and hurried forward to lend a hand. As she approached Father Cowan, she worried as she did many times about his years. But despite his stooped shoulders and thinning hair, he seemed little different than he’d always been—a little mellower perhaps.

“Lass, why have you come out here?” he called irritably. “Why didn’t you go make my food? I’m hungry, and you run about the hills like a hare with naught to do.”

Well, he hadn’t grown mellower, Annie decided. That had been wishful thinking on her part. Still, she’d grown to have some affection for him, and he for her she guessed for sometimes she saw his expression soften when he looked at her.

“I came to help you bring down the herd,” she said when she was close enough to speak quietly. Voices carried in the hills.

“Don’t you think I can bring them down myself?”

“Aye, I just thought you’d be a bit weary with the wind blowing against you all day.” She cast a quick appraising glance at him and noted his cheeks were ruddy, and his fierce, blue eyes, though watery and fading with age, showed no signs of ailing. “Besides, I made a pot of stew early this morning. I have only to build up the fire and warm it for you.”

The old priest was silent for a moment then nodded his head. “You’re a bonnie lass, Annie.”

Surprise left her speechless for a moment. “Aye, I am.” She knew her cockiness brought a gleam of humor to his eyes, though he would scowl and talk to her about pride before a fall.

She walked beside him, silent and companionable. Only the tap of his herding stick against rock and the wind whistling through distant pines broke the quietness of the day.

“Did you go against the Campbell reinforcements?” he asked finally.

She’d been expecting his query.

“Aye, against my better judgment. We lost two men and Aaron Lobban lost an arm. I think he’ll live, thanks to Alyce’s skills, but he’ll not be much good to himself or anyone else for a while.”

“Poor lad. I’ll go by and see him this evening and say a prayer or two.”

“That will ease his wife’s mind, Father, but be sure ye tell Aaron we’ll see to it that he and his family have food and the things they need until he recovers.”

“I will.” The priest muttered under his breath. “The fools must listen to you, Annie. You must bring them to hand.”

“I can’t hold the reins too taut, Father, or the men won’t follow the plow. Today was a mistake, and our price was heavy. But the next time, mayhap the men will listen to me and support me.”

“I pray God will make it so,” the old priest muttered, “else all will be lost.”

“Have you yet received a response to your message to the Lairds of Badenoch?”

“Aye, lass. Their emissary stated that Robert the Bruce ails. They’ll lend their forces when the time comes.”

“Thank the good and loving God,” Annie breathed then because their footsteps had brought them close to the village and castle, she hung her head and regained her limp in keeping with her disguise.

“I’ll pen the cattle, girl. Go home and heat my supper,” Father Cowan ordered and she knew his rough tone was meant only to maintain their façade that Annie was naught but a mute. She turned toward their humble croft set inside the village wall and once there, built up the fire.

Still, she smarted at her role. Sometimes she grew weary of the need for such duplicity, but she knew her place within the castle walls was an invaluable asset. She was able to spy easily on Archibald Campbell, and her band’s raids on his men had been more effective as a result. Until today.

Her lips tightened as she thought of Rafe Campbell. As an adversary, she guessed he would be unmatched by any of her men or even herself. She had seen in his face not only signs of leadership and determination but a quick intelligence. He’d not be so easily misled as Archibald Campbell and Baen.

His tall figure denoted power and strength. At the thought, her blood coursed hot and demanding through her body. Such a man would dominate in all ways. The image of two bodies wrapped in a passionate embrace of the eternal sexual struggle between men and women flashed before her eyes. In the flames of her fire she saw him, naked and lean, his muscles rippling with unleashed power as he bent over his partner. He was more beautiful than any man she’d ever seen and her breasts tingled with a painful need to be touched while her muscles clenched at the imagined invasion of her body by him.

She gasped and shook her head, and the image ended. Breathing heavily, she stared into the flames and bent them to her will. She would not think so of Rafe Campbell for one day she must kill him.

* * * *

“Have ye any clues about the men who are attacking ye?” Rafe asked his uncle as they lingered over supper.

Long tables and benches had been set up, and the able-bodied Campbell clansmen relaxed over trenchers and cups of wine. His uncle had set a bounteous table for them with roasted ducks, succulent pigs and a haunch of lamb. Side dishes of vegetables and desserts had filled out the meal. Feast enough for a king, yet Rafe couldn’t help remembering the thin bodies of the peasants they’d passed on the road and in the village.

Ribald laughter filled the room as Archibald’s men related tales of their lives at this stronghold and gathered news of their clan members from Strachur and Loudon. Only Baen glowered over all from his seat on the right hand side of Sir Archibald.

“The bastard!” Gare had exclaimed in dismay when they’d taken their seats. “He’s taken your place, Rafe. As blood kinsmen, ye reserve the right to sit there.”

“Let it be,” Rafe had replied.

Dianne appeared, wearing a finely embroidered gown of rare, blue Sarcenet silk. Her lustrous dark hair was been braided with ribbons that hung down past her waist.

“M’lady Dianne, you look uncommonly bonnie,” Rafe said, bowing slightly and escorting her to a seat at Archibald’s left.

Her smile was luminous, her dark eyes flashing seductively.

“I hoped you might notice, Rafe,” she said provocatively, leaning close so he might feel the heat of her body.

When he took a place beside her, she again leaned close, her long white hands reaching for his arm possessively. The meal proceeded uneasily for those seated at the head of the table. Baen seemed intent on belittling Rafe and his men at every turn.

“Why didn’t you, at least, capture some of the renegades that attacked you?” he demanded, sloshing wine on his jacket. His face was mottled from too much drink and his movements sloppy and uncoordinated.

“We could have gotten information out of them about their leaders and made an example for the rest of the countryside to see we’ll not abide their thieving ways.” He slammed his tankard down on the table, so wine spilled over the brim.

Dianne jumped and let out a squeal of terror while the rest of the assembly fell silent and looked at them.

“They attacked too quickly,” Gare said gruffly, his color high. “No one has ever questioned my fighting before.”

Rafe put a restraining hand on Gare’s arm.

“Ha!” Baen drank deeply.

“Perhaps now is not the best time to speak of such things,” Dianne said, but the men paid her no heed.

“And how much information have you attained from those you captured in these past months?” Rafe asked evenly. He’d partaken lightly of the food and wine. He felt tired and discouraged by all he’d seen. Disappointment in his uncle and anger at the bullying captain who served him sat heavily on his shoulders.

Baen’s face grew red, and his nostrils flared at Rafe’s question.

“He’s not captured many and what he has, he tends to torture to death before they reveal anything.” Archibald spoke up. “They’re a clever bunch, at that, these outlaws. They know how to hide themselves in the woods and rocks, so Baen’s taken their women and children to get information. But they won’t reveal the identities of the renegades, even under torture.”