Chapter Nineteen

Leana was in the kitchen at first light.

Braylin smiled in welcome. The other staff was stirring slowly, for a storm had closed its grip around Black Moss Tower during the night. Outside, the wind was swirling. The clouds were so low, they seemed to touch the very ground. Tufts of snow, just starting to fall, would soon become a blanket of white on the ground that would stay until spring.

It was magical.

Bitter for sure, yet there was a freshness to the air which matched the happiness fluttering inside her.

"I'll gather the eggs."

Braylin didn't give anyone a chance to argue with her. Her belly was rumbling, and Leana was bent over near the copper, lighting the fire which would bring the water up to boil. A hard cooked egg sounded perfect to Braylin, so she lifted a basket off the table and went out the back door.

Her cheeks tingled.

And her breath came out in a puff of white.

The hens didn't think it was too cold. The birds were out, searching for bugs or worms to eat. They began to cluck, hopeful that she was bringing them some kitchen scraps to eat.

"You will not be disappointed," Braylin said. She emptied the basket onto the ground to the delight of the chickens. They lunged in toward the vegetable and apple skins, pecking at them.

Getting the eggs would be much easier now.

Braylin headed for the far side of the walled-in yard which was behind the kitchens. Here, there were nest holes built into the wall. A couple of hens who had still been inside their nests squawked in annoyance when they realized that they were missing a treat.

Braylin reached inside the boxes, searching for fresh eggs. She worked her way along the wall and out of the opening to where a few more nests were. Now that the season was changing, these nest holes would likely be abandoned but the hens, with their coat of feathers, were not yet cold enough to share the inner nest.

She found two eggs and stretched up onto her toes so that she might reach into the back of a hole that was on the high, arched portion of the wall.

Suddenly, a hard thud hit her on the back of her head. Braylin dropped the egg onto the ground. She felt the pain traveling through her like a bolt of lightning so bright, it was blinding. When it hit her between the eyes, she dropped like a stone.

*

Leana used a wooden plate to fan the growing fire beneath the copper.

The flames caught and grew brighter with the addition of more air. She watched for a good amount of time to make sure the wood had caught, then, with a nod of satisfaction, she closed the door in front of the fire and straightened up.

Her lower back popped.

She smiled, looking at the water in the copper. The water, essential to the running of a kitchen, would simmer all day.

The hens in the yard started making a ruckus, their squawks hard and sharp in warning to one another that a predator was nearby.

Their little bird brains couldn't differentiate between those who tended them and a fox or wolf.

Leana looked toward the door, but Braylin didn't appear.

So, what were the chickens raising an alarm over?

A tingle touched her on her nape. The air was icy and the day gray. There was no reason for Braylin to linger in the yard.

A jaded life had taught Leana to look closer at things that didn't seem right. Seeing the wrong thing easily translated into an untimely death for someone like herself.

But Braylin had looked at her without judgement. A need to be worthy of that stirred inside of Leana. Perhaps Braylin had slipped on the icy stones while trying to carry a full basket of eggs.

Leana moved to the door and looked out. The hens were all near the opening in the wall which went around the kitchen yard. The birds were still agitated, their feathers raised while they talked to each other about something Leana couldn't see.

Leana looked behind her, but the kitchen was empty. The boys had gone to the stables to help with the morning chores and the other women were being slow about rising. She stepped into the yard and walked toward the opening in the fence. The basket was there, on its side, with fresh eggs scattered all over the ground. Some had cracked, proving they'd fallen.

But Braylin was not there.

Leana looked around and caught sight of two men carrying Braylin off in the far distance, looking as if they were about to disappear into the woods. She had only a moment to decide to follow or risk their direction being lost because the snow was coming down so hard. There was no time to run back into the kitchen to raise the alarm and the snow wasn't thick enough to leave a trail.

Leana surged forward, hurrying to close the gap between her and the men who had her mistress. As the snow crunched beneath her feet, she unsheathed a small cutting knife that was on her belt and began to cut bits of her arisaid off to use as a trail. She sliced her finger because she was looking at the men, but Leana didn't stop.

Whoever they were, the mistress wouldn't last long in their keeping.

*

Dugan expected his wife to be at the table.

But Braylin wasn't there. Shavon spotted him the moment he arrived though, proving that the head of house had taken his warning to heart. The sound of her snapping her fingers at the maids bounced around the inside of the hall.

Dugan caught sight of Erin. She was walking toward the head table, carrying a pitcher.

"Where is yer mistress, Erin?" Dugan asked.

Erin looked up at him. "I've just come from the stables with the milk, as is my assigned duty."

There was an edge to Erin's tone. She looked toward Shavon.

The head of house was quick to defend herself. "The mistress has not yet given any instructions on who shall be her personal staff. This is a small house with a large number of retainers to feed. There is a great deal to be done each day to see the table filled and the mud kept outside the doors."

Dugan felt the muscles between his shoulder blades tightening up, promising him pain from the tension. Truthfully, he had been too harsh in his thinking toward his father's plight.

Running a household was beyond difficult.

But something else was bothering him. Dugan dismissed his irritation with Shavon in favor of trying to identify what it was that was needling him. There was a burning in his gut that he'd learned to trust. He swept the hall once more. The tables were back in the middle of the space. The retainers were sitting down as the maids dashed back and forth with the first meal of the day.

Braylin was not among them.

The empty place beside him bothered him greatly. That sensation in his gut turned into a sense of foreboding.

Dugan stood. His chair skidded back, making a loud skidding noise. Conversation died down and his men turned in his direction to see what he wanted.

"Who has seen my wife this morning?" Dugan asked.

Most of the retainers had slept in the hall, so they hadn't yet gone outside. They looked at one another, but no one spoke.

"I saw her—the mistress…"

Dugan wasn't sure who had spoken. He looked around the hall, his attention settling on one of the kitchen boys. The lad was tall and rail-thin, proving he was not one of Shavon's personal friends. His shirt was patched and frayed and the sleeves were a full two inches too short for his arms. When He realized Dugan was looking at him, he snatched his bonnet off his head and nodded in respect.

"I saw the mistress going out to collect the eggs." The lad's voice was steady and strong now. He had obviously found some courage.

Dugan headed for the passageway which connected the hall with the kitchen. Brody was at his back. Shavon had spoken true, for the kitchen was full of women in a flurry. There was a crash when one of them dropped a bowl because she'd been startled to see the master of the hall heading into the kitchen looking so intent.

Dugan didn't have time to reassure her.

"Where are the hens?" Dugan demanded.

The woman who had dropped the bowl was halfway down to the floor to pick up the mess. Her eyes were large and wide in her face. She lifted one hand and pointed to the far side of the kitchen where there was a door.

Dugan pushed it open so hard the door hit the outer wall of the kitchen. Outside the snow was swirling. He strode straight forward without flinching.

Braylin was nowhere in sight.

There was a spot where scraps had been left for the hens. The snow hadn't covered it yet and a couple of birds were still pecking hopefully at it. Most of the birds had moved away, telling Dugan that too much time had passed since Braylin went to gather eggs.

"Dugan—the basket." Brody pointed toward the end of the yard which enclosed the kitchen. Just a corner of a basket was in sight through the opening.

Eggs were scattered on the ground, snow sticking to them. Dugan felt his belly heave. He looked up but already knew too much time had passed for him to catch sight of whoever had attacked his wife.

Worse yet, the snow was only now collecting on the ground, so there were no tracks. He wanted to rage against the unfairness of it but didn't dare waste the time to do it.

He knew life wasn't fair. The best a man might hope for was to have the cunning to keep his wits about him when he had something to face.

He turned and looked at Brody. "Get someone up to the mews to see if the master saw anything or if there is sign of a trail."

Most of the retainers had followed them outside. Brody pointed at one who tugged on his cap and turned so fast his kilt swirled away from his body before he charged off to complete his task.

Most of the maids had followed as well. One of them was already rushing to gather up the eggs. Dugan caught sight of Erin.

"Erin, come here," he said, pointing at the girl. She gasped but Dugan didn't have time to be compassionate. The retainers thrust the girl forward, closing their ranks behind her.

"Who else came with ye to Black Moss Tower at me stepmother's direction?" Dugan demanded.

Erin was terrified.

Dugan hardened his heart against the girl's terror. He stepped toward her. "Tell me who took my wife."

Erin was shaking her head. Fear seemed to have made it impossible for her to get a word out but his men weren't letting her escape. They formed a solid wall behind her, lending their hard looks to Dugan's demands.

"Speak up girl." Brody squeezed her shoulder.

Erin let out a squeak. "Letters….I was just told to write letters! I would never hurt the mistress! Never!"

The maid was shaking. Dugan swallowed the bitterness trying to soften him toward her. When it came to Braylin, he would do whatever was necessary.

"Who else arrived with us?" Brody looked at the surrounding group. "All of ye… Out here where I can see ye."

It didn't take very long. The retainers who had been at Black Moss Tower knew one another well. They parted and pushed the newly arrived members of the household forward. Dugan swept them all, looking for any sign of nervousness.

"Where's the lightskirt?"

It was Shavon who asked the question. Men parted so that Dugan could see the head of house. Shavon looked straight back at Dugan, clearly eager to earn some goodwill from him.

"There was a lightskirt here," Shavon informed him bluntly. "She likely didn't think I knew what she was, but a head of house needs to know details. I made certain to check into everyone who arrived with ye."

"And yet ye failed to tell me Lady Alice had sent her personal maid." Dugan cut Shavon's attempt to gain glory for herself off at the knees.

Shavon wrung her apron for a moment but gathered up her composure rather quickly.

"The lightskirt…Leana…" Shavon pointed at the people standing in front of the retainers. "She is not here, and she was newly arrived along with ye. There isn't any reason to look further. A woman who sells those types of services is not one to be trusted."

The wall of retainers behind Shavon was not pleased. Their expressions were dark and in their eyes was a promise of retribution.

"Make way. I have word from the master of the mews…"

The retainer Dugan had sent was trying to break through the wall his comrades had formed. He ducked down low and managed to make it through, looking very much like a fox who had discovered a hole in a fence. When he popped up, his eyes glittered with achievement. He swallowed and became serious.

"The master of the mews said he saw a woman heading off into the woods…" The young man pointed behind Dugan. "Half an hour past. He thought it strange, with the snow starting to fall, but said she was hurrying toward the woods as though someone was chasing her. Or she was chasing someone else."

Dugan turned and went to where a maid was standing with the basket of eggs. He reached in and took one. He held it in his hand judging the warmth. Brody joined him, along with a couple of other experienced retainers. They each took an egg to make their judgements on much time had passed since Braylin had dropped the basket.

"We'll not be able to use horses in the woods," Brody said.

"So close to the kitchen, a cry would have been heard," another retainer stated. "They likely knocked her out."

Dugan fought the urge to growl. He needed to be levelheaded. "Carrying her will slow them down."

"Aye," Brody agreed. "But in the woods, there will no' be a trail to follow."

Dugan knew it. The forest was thick. It would take a long time for enough snow to accumulate and form a blanket on the ground.

Whoever had his wife had planned the attack well. He didn't want to waste time thinking but a battle took brawn and wits to win.

And this was going to be the greatest test he'd ever faced.

*

"We do nae have time to rest, Ewan."

"I'm the one hauling dead weight, Murdo."

When she was dropped onto the ground, Braylin regained consciousness, but the pain in her head was blinding.

"We're far enough out," Ewan continued to argue. "Killing that bastard will be simple here. After all, we have his woman to draw him in close."

Braylin gasped. Remaining quiet would have been smarter, but the thought of Dugan being killed tore her heart in half. That pain was a thousand times more than she could bear silently. Her own safety didn't matter if Dugan was in danger.

There was a snort above her. She opened her eyes to get her first look at the two men who had abducted her. They stood over her, sneering at her like they might an unwanted dog.

"Get up," Murdo ordered.

Ewan seemed motivated by the idea of not having to carry her. He reached down to grab a handful of the arisaid Braylin had wrapped around her head and shoulders. Her knees were still a little weak when she made it to her feet, but she squared her shoulders and refused to show any weakness.

She could not allow Dugan to be drawn in.

"Dugan will consider himself well rid of me," Braylin informed them. "You are wasting your time if you believe he is going to venture out in the snow to follow me. He'll likely think I ran off. I've done it before."

Murdo contemplated her from behind an expression that was quite terrifying. Braylin found herself comparing this man and Oran. For as frightened as she'd been when taken from her family, Braylin realized that Oran had never looked at her with hatred in his eyes.

Murdo and Ewan both regarded her as something which had no worth. She was a burden to them.

"He wed ye when his father said he did not have to," Murdo said. "He'll come for ye and when he does, we'll put a final end to the threat against our lady's bloodline."

Bloodline. That was something men did kill over. Lady Alice was a Sinclair, and her blood was fine enough to see her sitting side by side with the Laird of the Hay.

Braylin felt her heart thumping hard inside of her chest. She'd managed to become the perfect bait to lure Dugan to his death.

But how to dissuade them?

"Lady Alice will have you killed…to cover her own plot," Braylin said, finally managing to get her brain to work. But her voice was too tight, betraying how desperate she was.

Murdo raised an eyebrow. "Look closer, woman. We are Sinclair. Our laird will be very pleased to know the pestilence his sister has suffered from is at long last dead. But just in case yer husband is not passionate enough to be clumsy in his approach…."

Murdo reached out and grabbed a handful of Braylin's skirts, yanking her forward. She stumbled, unable to keep her footing. There was a flash of a blade. Murdo pulled a small knife from the top of his boot and sliced her neatly across the top of her lower arm. The blade of the knife was sharp, separating the wool of her sleeve to expose her skin so he could spill her blood.

Braylin recoiled, twisting and turning, trying to wrench her arm from his grasp. Her efforts were in vain. Worse than that, when she looked at Murdo's face, she saw the cruel little twist on his lips which told her how much he was enjoying her plight. The glitter in his eyes made her belly heave.

He turned her wrist over so that her blood dripped onto the snow.

"That should serve to make yer husband just worried enough to make our job simple." Murdo smiled brightly. He looked up at the ridge in front of them. "Let's climb some more. Dugan Hay is strong in a fight. We need to make sure we take him from the high ground."

Braylin tried to resist, but Murdo was too strong. He reached out and bound her wrists together with a length of rope, then started off, pulling her along. The rope was rough and when she resisted, it dug into her flesh until the pain was too much to bear. She stumbled after him, forced into obedience.

Don't come for me… Don't come….

Even as she prayed, Braylin knew Dugan wouldn't heed her. Even if it was only duty which fueled him, she knew he would not fail to come after her.

And she would be the bait which lured him to his death.