Chapter 17

“Tell me everything,” Tad said darkly as he stepped out into the courtyard. His eyes went first to Ilyssa who was being tended to by the village healer. She shivered in the cold, so Tad shrugged off the fur he’d thrown around his shoulders and wrapped it around her instead. “Now,” he added, turning to face Bran.

Bran had been patched up too, though his face bore some bruises, almost as bad as those on Tad’s own face.

“Cillian’s soldiers,” Bran said. They were suddenly back to what they had been before. There was no trace of Bran’s fury being directed at Tad at this moment. All that fury was clearly saved for Cillian. “There were too many of them. They ambushed us.” Bran shifted his weight uncomfortably. “They took Catreena.”

“It’s nae yer fault,” Tad said, feeling as if he could reach his friend’s mind.

“Nay?” Bran scoffed, shaking his head. “Who else’s fault is it? I took her from a place where she was guarded and safe, out tae the moors, where she wasnae protected. Nay, Tad, let me feel for one moment just how much I am tae blame fer this.”

“Blame gets us naywhere.” Tad felt his gut writhing. He kept looking about the courtyard, his heart praying that at any second Catreena would run up to them, that she would be perfectly safe. His head knew it was a foolish prayer.

“There is something else,” Bran muttered. He stepped away from Ilyssa and moved closer to Tad, lowering his voice. “After they knocked me out, Cillian told Ilyssa that if we wanted Catreena back, we had tae go tae the Valley of the Stags at dusk.”

Tad’s eyebrows raised.

“I ken,” Bran mumbled. “It’s a trap, isnae it?”

“Aye, but fer all of us? Maybe. Come, we need tae speak tae the council at once.”

Tad felt purpose in his stiffness. He was a now man of war, of battle, as he had been so many countless times before in his life. First, he spoke to Callum and sent scouts to the Valley of the Stags, to see what they could make of that area that bordered their clans. Next, he summoned the whole council to sit on their discussions. Bran barely said a word. He swayed every now and then, uncomfortable and dizzy after the strike to his head. In the end, Tad grabbed him by the shoulder and thrust him down into the chair beside him at the head of the council table.

Bran didn’t thank him for it, but he knew it was ridiculous to ask Bran for anything in that moment.

Bran is wrong, this isnae his doing, it’s mine. I should have protected Catreena, nae driven Bran intae taking her away.

“What more can we dae?” Callum asked after the conversation had gone around and around in circles.

“Let it go.” One of the older council members spoke up. “It’s a bluff. Cillian Grant simply wants tae get ye both there.” He waved a hand at Tad and Bran. “He has reason tae hate ye both, reason tae want revenge on ye both. If ye go, he will surely take his vengeance.”

His words sent a ripple around the room. The men agreed with him, murmuring stern whispers and even nodding.

“Listen tae yerself,” Tad snapped. He stiffened in his seat, feeling sick as he leaned forward, towering over the men at the table. “Ye would sacrifice a woman’s life, and fer what? Fer our lives?” He waved a hand between himself and Bran. “I think I speak fer both of us when I say we’d be happy tae lose our lives if it meant bringing her back home.”

The men around the table now nodded, leaning forward and acknowledging what he had said.

“Nay, we have nae choice.” Tad stood, looking down upon the elderly man that had spoken. “We will go, and we will bring her back again.”

“Ye have nay heir!” the elderly man suddenly cried, his voice quivering. He stood from his seat, leaning heavily upon a walking stick. “If ye die, what becomes of this clan then? Hmm? Yer first loyalty is tae the people of this clan.”

“The people of this clan dinnae expect me to hide behind a woman tae save me own skin,” Tad said with disgust. “As fer me heir, that is Ilyssa, me sister. The line continues with her. Meeting adjourned.” With these final words, Tad swept away from the table.

He burst from the room, so much anger in his stride that he ate up the distance between him and the study fast. His footsteps were so loud too, he hadn’t even noticed that Bran had followed him, not until they were in his study together.

“Curious,” Bran murmured as he leaned upon the door, looking quite exhausted as his eyes slid shut. “Ye would die fer her, eh?”

“Ye ken I would.”

“I didnae ken that. I dae now.” Bran opened his eyes again, sighing as he stepped off the door. He rubbed the bruises on his face and moved toward Tad. “I cannae believe I am about tae say this, but…” His eyes met Tad’s. “If we all live through this, ye have me blessing, Tad.”

It was so sudden, such a shock that Tad dropped down into the seat beside his desk, the wind taken out of him.

“I dae?”

“Aye, ye dae.” Bran smiled sadly. “Any man willing tae die fer her is worthy of her. Well, that’s what I think at least. Whether the rest of me braithers give ye their blessing, is another matter.”

“Thanks,” Tad said drily, though it was not something that mattered now. All he could think of was how the hell he was going to get Catreena back.

Catreena’s eyelids felt heavy. It was a hard thing to open her eyes at all, though when she eventually managed it, she scrambled to sit up. She could feel something trickling down the back of her head. It was warm, most likely her own blood. She also felt a little hazy, not completely able to focus on what was around her.

Focus, Catreena. Where are ye?

She blinked, remembering the strike to her head when they had been attacked on the road. After, there had been nothing.

Turning her head back and forth, she soon saw why it was so difficult to move anywhere. She was tied up in what appeared to be a hunting croft. The stone walls were damp with moss and mold at this time of year, the window practically frosted on the inside. Sat on the cold hard floor, her hands had been bound with rope to an iron loop fastened to a hearth where a fire poker usually stood. There was no fire today.

“Ye are awake at last.”

The sharp voice made her flick her head around again. She moved so sharply that the wound at the back of her head ached. She stiffened, her gaze focusing enough to see that at the far end of the room, Cillian Grant sat on a stool.

He stared at her, his eyes unblinking, with a dirk balanced precariously in the palm of his hand.

“Why am I here?” she managed to utter, her mouth dry, for she had not drank anything in hours.

Slowly, he stood and moved toward her. He crouched down and she backed up as far as she could, pressing herself into the cold stone hearth.

“Ilyssa wouldnae marry me. I need a bride… an heir.” His eyes traveled down her. “Who better than the woman who spoiled me plans last time? Who saw what she wasnae supposed tae see?” He lowered his head an inch toward her.

Disgusted, Catreena spat at him. It was surprisingly violent, and he flinched back. His hand raised swiftly and slapped her across the cheek, but she did not give him the satisfaction of yelping in pain. She turned her head swiftly upward again, meeting his gaze.

“Me Laird?” a voice called from the door.

Catreena stiffened. It seemed that Cillian still had men who were loyal to him, those happy to think of him as a laird.

“They’re here, the braither and the dear family friend.”

Cillian’s eyes darkened at his soldier’s news.

Catreena tried to pull at the ropes around her wrists, begging silently for freedom, but it was no use. The ropes were fixed fast.

She swallowed around a sudden lump in her throat.

“Show them in,” Cillian said and took a step away. The soldier exited through the door.

Catreena didn’t give up pulling at the ropes, even with Cillian watching her attempt to do so. She didn’t even care if he thought her pathetic, all she wanted was to keep fighting.

Her fingers scratched her own skin, drawing blood from the sheer fervor of her actions, that was when she heard it. Bran’s and Tad’s voices.

“We’ll come quietly,” Tad barked. “Just take us tae see her.”

Cillian smiled as he watched Catreena.

“Like lambs tae the slaughter, eh?” he said, for her ears only. He walked toward her, just as the door was kicked open by the soldiers. Flanked by two men, Tad and Bran walked in.

Any hope Catreena might have felt at seeing them both faded within an instant. Tad was still heavily bruised, and he now didn’t even carry a weapon for the soldiers had taken it off him. Bran looked injured too, and hardly steady on his feet. Tears sprang to her eyes at the sight of them. She fought them, refusing to let them fall.

Her lips parted to say their names, but then something cold and hard met the underside of her chin.

“Nae a word,” Cillian ordered, his lips revoltingly close to her ear. “Stand,” he ordered, his voice firmer now. He drew her up with that dirk pressed to her throat, until she stood in front of him. “Outside,” Cillian said to his guards. “We can have this conversation alone.”

The soldiers stepped out, sharing uncomfortable glances, though Catreena felt Cillian smile behind her, his lips practically pressed into her hair in a way that made her shiver in fear. He wanted control of this room, and he wanted no one else to see but his enemies.

“Dae ye ken? I never thought I could hate someone this much. I was wrong. I detest yer clans, and ye both,” Cillian said with derision. The dirk shifted on Catreena’s chin, and she felt a thin trickle of blood run down her skin.

Her eyes found Tad’s. His widened a little, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he watched her.

“What better way tae get revenge, eh?” Cillian said with a disconcerting laugh. “Tae torture the man who killed me faither.” His gaze was set on Tad, for she could see Tad’s flicked back to meet it. “And the best way tae torture a man, is tae take a woman he loves away from him. And whether that is sisterly love or romantic love I ken nae, but I have a feeling it may be the latter as ye brought her tae yer castle tae protect her.”