Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

T he trail Ryan followed was easy enough to see, once he pointed it out to her. It led across the MacLean lands, doubling back a few times and winding through wooded areas, but still plainly visible. It finally terminated at a rundown building.

Ryan grunted. “I shouldnae be surprised. This is an old border barrack. ‘Tis sometimes used as a waystation for patrols and scouts, but otherwise abandoned. Nay one would think o’ using it in winter.”

“Or guarding it.” Alayne swallowed. It didn’t escape her notice that the abandoned barrack was perilously close to the border between the MacLean and Ranald lands.

“Aye. Stay here, and I’ll take a couple men tae scout it out.” Ryan waved two of the warriors forward.

Alayne waited nervously, as the two went close to the barracks. She was about ready to take her chances with climbing down from her horse and making a run for the door when there was a shout. “Master Ryan! We’ve found the laird!”

Ryan stepped forward. “Anyone else?”

“Nay. ‘Tis only Laird MacLean inside. He’s bound and unconscious, but alive.”

Alayne didn’t wait to hear any more. She scrambled off her horse and hurried toward the doorway. Ryan was only a step or two ahead of her as they entered the barracks.

Inside, Darren was sitting bound in a chair. One of the soldiers was working to release his bonds. Alayne felt her breath stutter in her throat as she beheld her husband’s body.

Whoever had captured him might have left him alone, but they’d clearly not wanted him capable of fighting. His face was a misshapen mask of bruises and blood, from a cut on his forehead to a split lip, a purpling jaw, and two black eyes, as well as a bloodied nose that looked like it might be broken. Alayne feared his body was in no better shape.

She went closer and found him breathing shallowly, but steadily. She shook him, but got no response.

“He’s unconscious, and nae waking up. ‘Tis either severe wounds, or some sort o’ sleeping drug. Might be a combination o’ both.” Ryan looked grim. “And there’s this.” He held up a piece of paper. “As the lady o’ the clan, ye should have this until Laird MacLean recovers.”

Alayne took the paper and opened it.

To Clan MacLean,

Ye ken we’ve stolen yer laird from ye, from right under yer guard. And ye ken we can dae it again, when ye dinnae ken who we are or where we’ll strike next.

Ye have yer laird back fer now, but if ye want tae keep him, ye’ll do as we command and bring 2,000 gold coin to this barrack within the next seven-day.

If ye choose to disregard our warning and refuse tae bring it, we’ll strike again. And next time, we willnae leave yer laird alive and whole fer ye to find. We’ll be watching tae see yer response.

Save yer clan’s fortune, or save yer clan’s laird. The choice is up tae ye.

Alayne read the note twice through, then folded it and tucked it into her belt pouch. She had no idea how much wealth the clan had, but that much gold would beggar anyone.

Could Donall be behind such a ludicrous demand? She didn’t want to believe it. On the other hand, she had no evidence to the contrary. It would require more thought on her part.

For now, however, they needed to take Darren home and tend to his wounds. She didn’t think the wounds were fatal, but that didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous. And of course, there was the risk of a brain swelling, or an infection if he wasn’t tended to promptly.

She set the note and her suspicions aside, and went to help the warriors care for her husband.

Darren woke with the foul aftertaste of a sleeping potion in his mouth, a throbbing headache, and more pain than he’d felt since the last time he’d fought his father. A cautious assessment confirmed that his upper body was bruised and battered, as well as his face.

He vaguely remembered getting hit across the face by someone. And the potion. But what had happened after that? He was no longer bound, or sitting in a chair, he could tell that much.

“Me laird? Are ye awake?” The familiar voice of his clan healer made him open his eyes. It took more effort than he expected, and there was a stiff, heavy feeling that told him he had two black eyes on top of everything else, but he managed.

“Evina.” he looked around. The familiar sight of the healer’s cottage at MacLean Keep surrounded him. “How did I come tae be here?”

“Master Ryan and Lady Alayne followed the trail yer captors left behind and found ye. Ye’re wounded, so they brought ye tae me immediately.”

Darren grimaced, then winced as the shift of facial muscles pulled his cut lip and made the bruises throb. “How bad?”

“Yer skull was soundly thumped, but ‘tis nae cracked, and thank God fer the MacLean hardheadedness. As fer the rest, ‘tis mostly bruises and abrasions, with the exception o’ a cracked lower rib. Ye’ve seen worse, though ye’ll certainly be feelin’ the beating ye took fer some days.”

“How long was I unconscious?” That was important.

“Just over a day. But ‘twas nae yer injuries that caused yer sleep. Ye were dosed with a strong sleeping potion. Enough valerian and other medicines to put a stable full o’ horses tae sleep.”

That explained the foul taste in his mouth. But in a way, he was glad. Injuries that left a warrior unconscious for so long were dangerous, and he knew Evina wouldn’t hesitate to confine him to the cottage if he’d been that badly injured.

He started to move to sit up, and found his other hand weighted down to the bed. He turned his head, just in time to see Alayne blinking sleep from her eyes as she sat up. His left hand was held securely in both of hers, and she’d clearly been using their joined hands as a pillow.

Their eyes met, and Alayne shot into a sitting position. “Darren! Ye’re awake!”

“Aye.”

Her eyes searched his face. “Are ye in pain? Dae ye need a potion fer those wounds? They look painful.”

“They are painful, but I’ve had worse.” He smiled gently at her.

To his surprise, Alayne reached out to hug him. “I’m so glad ye’re alive, and back home safely.”

“Ye’re nae the only one.”

She looked as if she was about to say something more, but the door opened and Ryan entered. His grim expression lightened a fraction as he saw Darren awake and sitting up. “’Tis good tae see ye awake and moving around. I was beginning tae get sore worried.”

“I’ll live. Evina said ye found me and brought me home. Were there any clues tae who took me?” He vaguely recalled the conversation he’d heard, or thought he’d heard, but he didn’t mention it. For one thing, memories could be unreliable after taking a blow to the head. For another, he wasn’t sure what any of it meant. If there was any chance that Ryan might be involved, no matter how unlikely, then it was best for him to keep the matter to himself.

“Just this note.” Ryan pulled a folded scrap of paper from his sash and handed it over.

Darren read it, then blinked and reread it. “They cannae be serious.”

“The condition o’ yer face says otherwise, tae say naething of how they drugged ye. A wee bit more, or a stronger dose, and ye’d have fallen intae a sleep nae one could wake ye from.” Ryan’s expression was solemn. “And we still dinnae ken fer certain how ye were taken.”

“Hit on the back o’ the head while walking toward me study. And I thought…” Darren frowned, trying to recall what he thought he’d glimpsed. “I was near the Western Tower, thought I saw someone…”

“We’ll check and see if the tower’s been accessed recently.”

Darren sighed. “Dinnae bother. I took Alayne up tae show her the view, the day I was attacked.”

“There might still be some clues.” Ryan nodded toward the note. “How will ye respond?”

“By ignoring it as the useless, idiotic drivel that it is. Nay man with any sense would demand 2000 gold coin from a clan like mine. And I’m nae mad enough tae consider paying it, nae when it would beggar me entire clan fer years tae produce that sum.” Darren almost sneered, before he remembered how much that expression was likely to hurt.

“Ye could borrow from yer braithers, and even from Laird MacMillan. They’d help ease the burden, if ye let them.”

“Aye, by taking the debt themselves. Nae thank ye. ‘Tis one o’ the worst ways tae fracture a clan, by havin’ debts between kinfolk.” Darren shook his head, then winced at a renewed throbbing in his skull.

He couldn’t do anything while he was in the healer’s cottage, and it was clear that whoever their enemy was, they were three steps ahead. The measures they’d planned out wouldn’t be enough.

He looked to Ryan. “Are Adrian and Bard back from their missions yet?”

“Nay. Taemorow or the next day, I’m thinking.”

That made getting his work done even more important. Darren moved to stand, grimacing as the movement reminded him that he’d taken a number of bruises to the body as well as his face.

“Ye shouldnae be moving around.” Ryan scolded him, but he must have realized that Darren was going to rise with or without help. The MacMillan warrior clasped his arm and assisted him to his feet. Darren grunted as he stood, but his legs held him, and after a moment, the throbbing pain in his skull subsided back to a dull ache.

Alayne rose at the same time, and he could see the weariness in her movements. He reached out to caress her cheek. “Go get some rest. I’ll join ye later.”

Together he and Ryan made their way to the study. Once inside, he took a seat at the desk. “What happened?”

“I dinnae ken all the details. Ye were taken around the supper hour, two days ago. As near as we can tell, ye were attacked in the corridor, close tae yer study. There were signs o’ a struggle, and blood on the floor.”

“I recall that. I took a blow tae the back o’ the head. Two actually.” As if to punctuate his words, a renewed throbbing went through his skull. He resisted the urge to rub the injured area, knowing it would only aggravate the wound.

“Ye were carried out through a servant’s passage near the Western Tower, and taken to an abandoned barrack near the Ranald Clan border. I dinnae ken why they chose that location.”

“Mayhap because Ranald’s the clan we feuded with most recently.” Darren tapped a hand on the desk. “The marriage was supposed tae end hostilities, but I wouldnae be surprised if some o’ Conor Ranald’s older followers were holdin’ a grudge.”

“Ye think they’d act against the interests o’ the previous laird’s daughter?”

“If commanded by the current laird, or if one o’ them thought they had a chance o’ taking over the clan in the absence o’ any members o’ the main family.” Darren felt a twist of annoyance pass through him. He didn’t know the bloodlines and familial relationships among the Ranald Clan members, not well enough to guess who might be next in line for the lairdship.

The only good news was that he was certain Alayne and her brother weren’t part of the attack. Alayne was his wife, and their relationship was improving by the day. Donall was safely in the king’s gaol. It was possible he’d been permitted to write to his clan, but Darren would have expected him to write to his sister first.

Darren sighed. He wanted to do something, but there was too little information for him to make any plans other than the ones he’d already enacted. The best thing he could do for now was get some rest, and allow himself to heal.

He raised his head to look at Ryan. “Was there aught else tae find where ye found me?”

“Nae. Just ye and the chair ye were tied tae.”

Darren nodded. “I cannae add much more tae what ye ken. I was unconscious most o’ the time. The one time I did regain awareness, I wasnae able to open my eyes afore I was knocked unconscious again. But I did learn two things that may help.”

“Aye?”

“Aye. There were two men involved, at the least. One o’ them, I never heard the name o’, but he called his acquaintance Cyprian. I dinnae ken if it was his real name, but…”

“But ‘tis something tae go on. ‘Tis a name he might have used afore now, and we can see if there’s records o’ someone by that name coming across the firth recently.”

“’Tis a good plan.” Darren considered a moment, but there was nothing else he could think of to do. He pushed himself wearily to his feet. “There’s naught else tae be done for now. We’ll send someone tae speak tae the ferry-master taemorrow. For taenight, I think ‘tis time fer me tae seek me bed, and ye as well.”

“I’ve some tasks I wish tae complete, but aye. I wish ye a pleasant rest, me laird.” Ryan raised an eyebrow. “I trust ye’ll actually make use o’ a bed taenight?”

Darren managed a small smile. “Aye. That I will.”

And mayhap Alayne would be willing tae give me another massage, and put some bruise ointment on some o’ me wounds.

Ryan left, and Darren made his way to his bedroom. He was longing for a hot bath and his wife’s touch. But all his anticipation disappeared, turned into concern, as soon as he opened the door.

The room was empty, and there was no sign of Alayne.