Chapter Twenty

Dugan paused after only a few steps into the forest.

He didn't want to stop, but there was no way to know what direction to take. Brody and the others were peering intently at the branches, looking for signs that men had passed through.

Dugan was grateful to have their help.

And he was proud too, for these men knew the highlands and the wilds. Tracking was an art, and they were accomplished in it.

It was still going to take divine intervention for them to find Braylin.

Dugan closed his eyes, seeking help from heaven. It was by far the most sincere and earnest prayer he'd ever sent.

When he opened his eyes though, the thicket was still a mass of branches and limbs that appeared to all run together. He backed up to the edge of it, thinking to look at the bigger picture. The forest remained unchanged but something next to his foot grabbed his attention.

Dugan bent down. What had first appeared to be just another dead leaf sitting on top of the snow was, in fact, a little curl of cloth. It had landed on a little patch of new snow, making it stand out. The scrap was thin but when he opened it, Dugan saw the distinct colors of the Hay tartan.

"What is it?" Brody asked.

His friend ventured close, squatting down so he could see what Dugan held. Something was needling Dugan, a feeling that he was close to what he sought. All he had to do was see the path to take.

He looked back toward the kitchen yard. Five paces away, there was another little curl of fabric sitting on the new snow. Brody got up and headed toward it. He picked it up, flattening it to see that it was indeed another little slice of Hay tartan.

"It's a trail," Dugan announced.

The rest of the men gathered around to look at the two scraps.

"It might be bait," one of the retainers cautioned.

"Aye, but it is the direction I am heading." Dugan faced his men. "Braylin is me wife. I stood at the church doors of me own free will. I will not order any man among ye to join me, for I have not yet earned yer loyalty." He turned toward the forest.

"Yer lady has proven herself a worthy mistress in noticing the injustices being done by the head of house. I will help to bring her home."

Dugan turned his head to see every retainer ready to follow him. Just which one had spoken, he wasn't sure, but they were all nodding in agreement. The determination on their faces was more praise than Dugan could ever recall being directed toward him.

He hoped to be worthy.

But it would be worthless without his wife. She was the other half of his soul.

"I found another scrap," Brody called from inside the forest. He held it up.

Dugan went toward it as if it was the very light of heaven shining through the darkness. Even if it was a trap, it was the way to Braylin.

And nothing could stop him from going to her.

*

"This is the spot," Murdo announced.

Braylin ordered herself to maintain her composure, but it felt like she was trying to swallow an apple, whole. Still, she had to keep her wits about her.

She had to find a way to warn Dugan.

Murdo was looking up the trail and back down it. He appeared to be judging something.

"Watch her," Murdo ordered Ewan. He handed the end of the rope to him.

Ewan nodded, winding the rope around his hand to prove that he had a firm hold on it. He waved his partner onward while he caught his breath, his breath coming out in little puffs of white. Murdo climbed up the side of the ravine, disappearing from sight, but Braylin heard the crunching of the snow beneath his footfalls.

They were heading nearly straight up. The steep incline had been cut by the flow of water that ended in a river somewhere down below them. Far, far below them.

Ewan was still panting. Braylin looked at the incline.

Could she just pull him off-balance?

You might break your neck on the way down.

It was a risk she was willing to take. Braylin reached out and caught the rope between her fingers, then widened her stance, getting ready to yank on the rope with every bit of strength she had.

There was a snap behind her, heralding someone's approach.

Ewan reached out and grabbed her skirt, yanking her in front of him. "Ye stop right there, or I'll slice her throat!"

Someone was coming up the trail. Braylin could see them through the thick limbs of the trees that still had needles on them. "They are going to kill you, Dugan!" she cried out, not caring about her own safety.

"Quiet!" Ewan barked, dragging her backwards. His knife was at her throat, the blade stinging her when it cut into the delicate skin.

She smelled blood and dug her fingers into Ewan's arm. "There is another, Dugan… Another man. They were sent to kill you!"

Ewan was panicking, pulling her in different directions. Braylin caught a glimpse of a figure on the trail. Braylin heard a soft whoosh and then a cry of pain.

Ewan snickered. "Ye hit the mark Murdo!"

Braylin was suddenly free. Ewan shoved her to the side with a little whoop of victory. He scrambled down the trail, his knife raised up high to finish the job.

No…

Braylin lunged after him. She collided with his back, knocking Ewan off his feet. Then they both started tumbling down the steep trail.

*

Dugan heard a woman cry out.

The sound pierced his heart. It sounded like a fatal wound. He hung his head. He would not—could not—accept that Braylin was dead.

Not yet.

He scrambled up the trail toward the sound. Ahead of him, he saw a woman crumpled on the ground, twisting and turning while clutching at an arrow that had pierced her shoulder.

There was yet hope to be had.

"Braylin!" Dugan shouted. The last few steps were longer than miles. He dropped down beside her, seeing nothing but the bright red blood covering her.

"She's there…up there…." Leana gasped out a warning.

Dugan pulled his attention off her wound to look at her face. "Leana?"

Before he got the chance to think about what Leana was doing there, another whoosh split the air. Leana hooked her fingers into his coat, pulling him down on top of her.

"Archer!" Dugan cried out the warning to the men behind him.

Dugan knew he had precious little time before the archer might fit another arrow into his bow. He pushed up off Leana and rolled over his shoulder, stopping in a crouch. The archer would be looking for any movement before he loosed his next shot. Dugan tried to catch sight of the man, but what he saw were two bodies tumbling down the trail. They landed near Leana, the man snarling as he fought to get his feet beneath him.

"Ye bitch! I am going to enjoy slitting yer throat!" Ewan declared.

The man was about to carry out his threat. Dugan saw the naked steel of his blade when he raised his arm.

Before he could drive the blade home, Dugan sunk his fist into the man's exposed belly. Ewan's breath escaped in one hard sound. He sagged over Dugan's shoulder as two more arrows cut through the air. He felt Ewan jerk when the arrows sank into his back.

But Ewan wasn't about to die. He bared his teeth and brought his knife down toward Dugans's neck.

Time had a strange way of slowing down when men were spilling each other's blood. Dugan had experienced it before. Today was the first time he was glad to be ending a life, because this man had touched his wife. Even if he had to die himself.

It was a cruel fate, for he'd only just learned to live for himself.

But the blow didn't land. Dugan felt his lungs inflate with another breath and looked to the side. A pair of bound wrists were at his eye level. Braylin met his gaze as she held Ewan's arm up in the air as he finally succumbed to the arrows, and his life seeped out of him.

Without a doubt, heaven had answered his prayer.

*

Ewan slumped to the ground, lifeless and Braylin didn't feel any remorse.

She stared at Dugan, fearful of moving, least she pop the bubble they were encased inside of. Here, he was alive. But there was movement around them. She blinked, noticing the other retainers and Brody.

Several men had charged up the trail after Murdo.

"Here lass, let me cut this binding," Dugan muttered softly.

He handled her bound wrists carefully, expertly inserting his knife blade into the space between them so he could cut the cords of rope binding her.

"Good riddance," one of the men muttered as he gave Ewan's body a soft kick.

"How did you find me?" Braylin asked.

"Leana followed you," Dugan answered.

Braylin looked around, remembering the cry she'd heard. Leana was sitting on the ground, while Brody used a strip of cloth to bind her shoulder. The arrow was on the ground, its tip bloody and the shaft broken in half.

"Ye're doing fine, lass… Just bear with it," Brody encouraged Leana.

Brody had always seemed such a hardened warrior. She'd never had guessed the man had a softer side.

But she was witnessing it now as he knelt at Leana's side, kindness etched into his expression.

Braylin suddenly realized how many retainers were there. "Thank you." Her voice was just a croak. Heat burned her cheeks as embarrassment nearly strangled her. "I was not careless, I promise you. Truly, I am sorry to have put you all in danger."

"You owe no apology, lass." Dugan touched the side of her face to gently turn her toward him. "No man was ordered to come with me."

Braylin felt her eyes widen. She turned her head back to look at the assembled retainers. They all reached toward their caps to tug on the corner in respect.

"Ye have earned the respect of yer house, Braylin, something Lady Alice has never done."

Braylin looked back at Dugan. "Murdo and—" Her gaze went toward Ewan. "—and Ewan. They were Sinclair. They wanted to kill you, to prevent your bloodline from threatening Lady Alice's children. I was simply bait."

Dugan grunted. "They made a mistake in bringing their fight to Black Moss Tower." He curled his fingers around her forearms to keep her close to him. "I'd kill anyone who tried to harm ye. Ye are more precious to me than the breath in me lungs, Braylin."

"Precious?" Braylin asked in a whisper. "I was forced upon you, and now, you nearly died because of me."

Dugan slowly shook his head. "Ye have shown me how to love, Braylin. It is a deeper love than I have ever known in me life!"

"You…love me?" Braylin realized she was shaking. "How…it isn't possible. I was thrust upon you. Your family honor was at stake."

There was a snort from Leana. "Laird Hay sent me here to destroy your faith in your new husband by compromising him. There was no honor involved."

Braylin looked over at Leana in shock. Now that she was tended, the woman had gotten to her feet and stood staring back at Braylin.

"Oh, Leana, I have failed to thank you," Braylin exclaimed.

Leana lifted an eyebrow. "You are the first person who has treated me with kindness and respect. I will happily suffer ten more wounds if it means ye are safely recovered. Black Moss Tower needs ye as its mistress."

"Aye."

"Well said."

"Ye are a fine mistress."

The compliments turned her head for sure. But Braylin discovered that what stirred inside of her wasn't pride, but gratitude, and with it came the desire to always be worthy of the looks she saw on the retainers' faces.

It would a lifelong task and she fully intended to be devoted to it.

*

Braylin was in her own bed.

With her husband.

She smiled. She was exhausted and yet, she didn't want to surrender to sleep just yet. No, she needed to savor the moment.

"Why are ye not sleeping, Wife?" Dugan asked from beside her.

Braylin turned and saw Dugan, on his side, his head resting in his hand, watching her.

"I am still marveling at the fact that I am here with you," Braylin answered honestly.

His lips twitched up at the corners. As far as smiles went, it was small but there was so much genuine feeling in the little expression, she felt breathless.

But there was a hard look in his eyes.

"Forgive me," Braylin muttered. "This is a grave matter concerning your family. I do not mean to make light of it. You must be torn over how to proceed."

A little hint of surprise entered his eyes, but his smile grew larger. "Ye are worthy of the respect the retainers showed ye today, Braylin. Ye have a true skill for seeing and hearing the unspoken needs around ye."

She did? Braylin worried her lower lip while attempting to understand just what he meant.

Dugan chuckled. "Do nae worry wife. Ye are doing very well just being yerself. Yer mother would be proud of ye."

Her mother…

Braylin stiffened.

"Och…now I am the one forgetting facts." Dugan smoothed her cheek with his fingers. "Ye must miss yer family, lass. I promise to find a way to get a letter to them, but it will have to wait until spring."

Braylin realized Dugan was watching her intensely.

"Many brides travel away from their homes," Braylin said, trying to be cheerful.

"But not by force." Dugan's eyes glittered with renewed anger. "Lady Alice has gone too far this time. I cannot allow her wicked schemes to be swept aside again."

"Are you taking Murdo to your father?" Braylin asked.

Dugan's face tightened. "Ye deserve justice, Braylin. I understand ye must think I should hang them—"

"I have everything I desire," Braylin said, interrupting him. "Right here in this tower—in this bed—I have far more than I ever dreamed was possible. My heart is too full to be troubled by anything."

"He should be executed." Dugan wasn't giving up so easy.

"That is not for us to decide," Braylin said, adamant.

Dugan's eyes narrowed. "He took ye from me, Braylin." His gaze lowered to the thin cut on her neck. "And I am in charge of ensuring this house is secure."

"He only followed the orders of his laird," Braylin answered. "So…take him to your father and let men of station deal with one another. I will be most content to live here at Black Moss Tower, well away from all of the power struggles."

"As would I, lass, but as master of this place, I have to protect those who live beneath its roof." Dugan nearly growled with his frustration. "Lady Alice will not stop until I am removed from the line of secession."

Braylin knew he spoke the truth. She thought for a moment. "Do you not have a brother?" Braylin asked.

"Aye, but in Scotland, a grown son might always take the lairdship if there is an untimely death. My father became laird in just such a way," Dugan explained. "I suppose there is a valid reason in the way Lady Alice is forever concerned over the matter. She could not rightly cry foul if her place was taken away in the very same fashion as she landed there. More than one would say it was justice."

"And you would live your life always looking over your shoulder," Braylin said.

"Aye, and I want none of it," Dugan declared.

Braylin wanted to believe him. She searched his eyes, seeking confirmation.

"What is it ye want to see, lass?" Dugan asked her softly. "I have already told ye that a life here with ye is all I crave."

"But you barely know me at all." Braylin failed to keep her emotions from spilling out. "Perhaps you should just keep Murdo here for the winter and think upon the matter…."

"I love ye, Braylin." Dugan laid his hand alongside her face to make certain their gazes were locked. In his eyes, she saw that truth. "Murdo must be dealt with—that is my duty as the master of this house. No one should ever believe that attacking a member of this house will go unpunished."

"You are correct. Duty must be done," Braylin agreed. "For this house will be better for both of us facing the more unpleasant aspects of running it."

Dugan surprised her by grinning. "Does that mean ye are agreeable to remaining my wife?"

Braylin felt her cheeks heat. "I confess, I am well and truly under the spell of the Midnight Well. My heart is yours in this life and the next."

"Eternity…" Dugan whispered against her lips. "Only eternity is long enough to suit me."

*

Black Moss Tower had cells within its bowels.

Hours after Braylin had fallen asleep, Dugan found himself unable to join her in slumber. He wasn't sure what he was doing, only that his restlessness had refused to be sated and now, he was on his way to where Murdo was being held.

Was he about to spill the blood of the man who had dared to take his wife?

Dugan didn't honestly know. But he wanted to think he was more than a blind follower of rage. The hot flash of vengeance never lasted very long. And when it was burnt out, a man had to find a way to build a future in the very same world where he'd allowed his temper to ignite.

As much as he loathed them and their actions, he knew it would be wise to keep the Sinclairs at his side. Just how to accomplish that was what was needling him so badly that he couldn't sleep.

Lady Alice had failed to have him killed. So now, Dugan was going to make his own path.

He wandered down the narrow steps, winding his way beneath the hall to where the cells had been built. They had been dug out of the solid stone the towers were built upon, and had been intended to hold those who crossed the border between clans.

The moment Dugan made it to the ground floor, he heard the grating sound of chain on the stone.

"Come to see me in the dead of night?" Murdo asked.

There was more grating. Murdo materialized from the darkness of one of the cells. A thick chain attached to a shackle around his foot. The light from the torch Dugan held flickered and danced, illuminating them both.

Murdo looked past Dugan.

"So ye've come alone, bastard?" Murdo chuckled softly. "Ye must want something from me. I won't betray the Sinclair."

Dugan placed the torch into a holder on the wall. In spite of the arrogance on Murdo's face, the man looked at the torch with a little gratitude in his eyes. He jerked his attention away from the dancing flames when he realized Dugan was watching him.

"Speak yer mind, bastard," Murdo grumbled. "Not that it will do ye any good."

Dugan was silent for another moment. "What crime was Laird Sinclair willing to pardon ye from for doing this chore for him? There couldn't have been many volunteers. Sinclair retainers might spill blood on the battlefield when needed, but this is far different—more of a coward's way, taking a man's wife and spilling his blood when he comes for her. I'd be surprised if some of your fellow Sinclair retainers would welcome ye back after committing such a foul deed. Who would want to close his eyes next to you, knowing what ye will do to further yer own cause?"

Murdo spit on the ground in answer. "I had the better end of the bargain. I promise ye that, bastard."

Dugan looked around the dungeon. "From the look of yer circumstances, I don't find myself agreeing with ye."

Murdo snorted. "Are ye here? Without yer men and a priest?" he chuckled. "Ye are…because ye don't dare kill me. Fine, ye have me chained but at some point, ye will have to give me back to yer sire and he will not cross the Sinclair. Every house has spies. Me kin will learn of me fate, have no doubt about that."

Murdo crossed his arms and leaned against the rough rock wall. "One winter is a fine trade for what I needed in return."

Murdo's attitude made Dugan's temper flare. The desire to spill the man's blood was almost too great to resist.

But a leader always used his head.

"Since I do nae want anything from my sire, I don't need to court his good favor," Dugan answered.

"Every man needs his family," Murdo answered seriously. There was a hint of bitterness in his tone. "We all do what we have to in order to please those set above us. Ye'll bend too. But ye already know it. That's why ye came to see me alone. Displease yer laird and ye'll lose Black Moss Tower."

It was the truth.

Dugan battled the rise of his frustration. He needed to think, to find another way. He and Braylin had come so far—he had to find the path which would lead them to the future he'd promised her.

Murdo was still smirking but there was bitterness etched into his face as well. "Ye are no stranger to obeying Lady Alice," Murdo muttered. "Her brother is no' any easier to serve."

Whatever Dugan had expected to find in the dungeon, a compatriot wasn't it. But Dugan didn't care for how much he had in common with Murdo.

Which meant he had to change the way he dealt with Lady Alice. It would be a very dangerous move on his part, but Dugan realized that boldness had served him very well since the night of the bonfire.

So perhaps that was the path that he was looking for. It might also lead him to ruin. But he'd rather die with his chin held high than live the way Murdo was willing to.

Honor was a gift a man gave himself.

*

Hay Castle

Cormac looked up to see Dugan entering the great hall.

"Dugan lad!" Cormac greeted him from the high table. "Come and warm yerself! What are ye doing riding in this weather?"

Dugan didn't smile at his father.

None of the men with him smiled either.

Cormac noted the lack of warmth and his smile faded.

He heard the clink of chains, then watched as Brody strongarmed a shackled man forward.

"The Sinclair—" Dugan said, speaking loud enough for everyone in the Great Hall to hear him. "—sent two of their own to kill me at Black Moss Tower. The other one is dead."

Cormac tightened his fingers into fists. "By Christ, they will pay! Black Moss Tower is Hay land!"

Around them, the Hay retainers grumbled, their discontent clear. Cormac gestured to Dugan. "Come to me study. The rest of ye, eat yer fill."

Dugan followed his father into the study. Once the doors were closed, his father eyed him suspiciously. "What game are ye playing, Dugan?"

"No game, father." Dugan stared straight back at his sire. "Ye charged me with running Black Moss Tower. The Sinclair found it a perfect opening to rid Lady Alice's children of any threat to their inheritance."

Cormac was silent for a long time, obviously weighing all possible outcomes before speaking. He was a true laird.

"I do not want to be laird of the Hay," Dugan stated clearly. "It is time to have that put on parchment for all to see."

"You crave that English wife of yers over being laird?" Cormac asked pointedly.

"I do," Dugan answered immediately. "I will swear fealty to Rohan before the clan."

Cormac grunted.

"Father…" Dugan softened his tone. "My English wife brought to my attention how much fear there is in this house. Isn't it time to be done with it? Must ye be as close to yer death as Laird Lindsey before ye realize life is meant to be lived now?"

Cormac pointed at Dugan. "That English wife has brought forth the man in ye, Dugan."

Dugan smiled. "She has. And she craves peace. If I swear fealty to Rohan, the Hay will be settled. Everyone will benefit from that peace. I am content with what ye have given me. In the spring, we'll begin building a fine house. There is naught more I crave."

Cormac flattened his hands on the top of his work table. "Aye, it's a fine thing to see ye content with Black Moss Tower. Ye will be its Chief. Rohan will be fortunate to have ye standing guard on the flank of his land."

*

"Dugan will do what?" Lady Alice sat back, her jaw hanging open.

"Ye heard me," Cormac said, giving his wife a hard look. "We'll have the ceremony tonight. Dugan wishes only to return to Black Moss Tower before the snow gets any deeper."

Lady Alice started to smile.

"Do nae preen, Alice," Cormac warned her. "All ye have done is to blacken yer name, and that of the Sinclairs. All of yer scheming will be a weight on Rohan's shoulders because he has yer blood in his veins."

"I was protecting his position," Lady Alice argued.

"Ye are a fool." Cormac leaned closer to her. "Dugan has found a way to earn the clan's respect while on his knee. Rohan has naught earned that loyalty. Men do nae follow leaders who have not earned their trust. Yer brother has wagered and lost. I will never name ye Regent, for it would be signing me own death warrant."

His wife went pale. She sat back without further argument, at last accepting defeat. But her hand settled on her belly, a soft motion which drew his gaze.

"Aye," Alice muttered sounding defeated. "Yer babe is growing in me belly once more."

Cormac snorted. "Perhaps that is what is needed—something for ye to concern yerself with. Be done with yer schemes, Alice, else I will have to have ye under guard."

"Ye will not!" Alice growled at him.

Cormac stared straight back at her, unwavering in the face of her temper. "So long as ye carry that babe and let Dugan be, I will not sequester ye. But this is yer final warning. I am the laird of the Hay."

Cormac went back to the closed doors of the chamber, pounding on one with his fist. A retainer outside opened it.

"Lady Alice may attend the swearing of fealty if she so chooses," Cormac told his men before he disappeared down the steps.

Alice sat for a long time, torn between the need to refuse to witness Dugan gaining any approval from the Hay retainers and the desire to watch her son stand up straight as the next laird of the Hay.

Her mother's heart won the argument.

Alice stood and hurried out to watch her son take his rightful place.