Chapter Twelve

S everal trees had been felled and hauled from the nearby woods, their trunks stripped of all bark and any useless branches. The great logs lay in the grasslands, arranged in neat rows that ran parallel to the army's tents. This open space, teeming with activity today, separated the army's encampment from the keep and its outbuildings. The perimeter of the planned fortifications had been carefully marked off with ropes, tracing the boundary where the wooden palisade would soon stand.

Men of the de Graham army moved with purpose, some wielding axes to shape the logs into uniform lengths while others dug deep post holes into the earth. The sounds of sawing, chopping, and the thud of mallets echoed through the air. Horses, straining against their harnesses, pulled the logs into position, while carts loaded with tools and supplies creaked under their weight.

A palisade would not long stand a large siege—the de Graham army would have made quick work of it—but it would have some use, defining and controlling the area, and more crucially, it would serve as an initial barrier, slowing down an enemy, preventing a cavalry charge, and allowing defending archers to wreak havoc on a stalled attack.

Returned from the keep and his encounter with Raina, Torsten worked alongside his men, happy to take out his frustration with an axe, splintering the end of the long logs until they were spears and could be struck into the ground as the skeletal framework. He was still furious with Raina for placing demands on him, for expecting him to care. At the same time, he was furious with himself also, for some small but persistent voice inside him that nagged, suggesting mayhap he didn't only want their union to be in name only. Having teased himself with one taste of her sweetly innocent kiss, could he live all the rest of his life without seeking another?

He was mid-swing when a scream drifted toward him. ?Twas not overly loud, was distant and ended so abruptly that he wondered if he'd heard it, or if the sound of the sea, ever present as a background noise, only played tricks on him. But then he noticed that others had paused as well. Men turned toward the north, their brows uniformly knitted before they looked between themselves, asking with their expressions but not any words if anyone else had heard that abbreviated shriek as well.

He swung once more before an uneasy feeling inside him and his steadfast sense of responsibility pushed him to investigate the sound, knowing that dangers lurked everywhere. It was only ten days ago that he and his army had ridden unchecked into Lochlan. Who was to say that another army did not now attempt the same?

Striking the axe into the trunk on which he'd been working to trim, Torsten collected the tunic he's stripped off and returned his belt and sword to his waist. As he strode across the tall grass toward the stables close to the keep, he spied Peigi emerging from the door to the hall. She appeared anxious, her hands wringing in her apron even as she glanced around urgently and stumbled forward .

She changed direction when she noticed Torsten, heading straight for him.

"Have ye seen Lady Raina?" She asked with some urgency.

Instantly his hackles rose, and Torsten quickly closed the distance between himself and Lochlan's housekeeper. "Nae for almost an hour. Where did—?"

"I just heard someone scream—I trow that was a woman's scream," she fretted. "And Helen said she saw the mistress leave out the back door, following the lad, Geoffrey, out along the cliffs."

His blood curdled. "How long ago was this?" He asked, moving again, striding with purpose toward the stables now.

"Quarter hour ago, mayhap more," Peigi answered, struggling to keep up with his long strides.

He paused just outside the entrance to the shadowy stables and turned, hollering out for Aonghas and James to come.

"Bring an entire unit!" he shouted. "Now!" Without waiting for them, he stepped inside and approached the first stall, where his destrier was housed. Hurriedly, he proceeded to saddle the big black.

He wasn't sure why Peigi had followed him, but thought to say, "She's angry with me. Any chance she simply went out to clear her head, or expend energy?"

Peigi snorted. "Aye, I ken something got under her skin. Should've figured it was ye."

Torsten paused only long enough to turn a nasty scowl onto the housekeeper.

"But nae, she took out all her frustration on the wee cabbages, chopping away with that knife as if they were someone's head. She'd settled down though before she left the kitchens. "

Torsten rolled his eyes at this—at Peigi's cheekiness, not at Raina wanting to work out her frustration, since he'd been doing the same.

"Did ye check the beach?" He asked, knowing the cliff's edge was only ten yards from the entrance to the kitchen at the back of the keep, and that the door on fine days was mostly kept open.

"I did," she said, just as Aonghas and James arrived, jogging into the stables. "Nae one there. Even the fishermen are gone for the day."

"My wife seems to have been going with or chasing some lad along the beach," Torsten informed his men, "without reason as we ken. Let's investigate that scream—if that is indeed what we heard."

Aonghas turned and gave the same information to the men coming in his wake, sending them back to the horse line to retrieve their own steeds, as only the officers' horses were kept in the stable.

Just as Aonghas and James began to saddle their steeds, Torsten walked his destrier outside the stables and vaulted into the saddle. "Search the entire keep," Torsten advised Peigi, who was yet close on his heels, "lest Lady Raina was merely overlooked inside." With that, he kneed the destrier into motion and took off in search of his wife, skirting first around all the debris and supplies related to the palisade's construction before he gave his horse his legs.

He rode fast but not at a breakneck speed, imagining plenty of plausible reasons for Raina to have followed the lad, and for the scream itself. Peigi had said the beach was clear, vacant, so the idea that someone, even Raina, had fallen over the edge was unlikely. The scream had come from the north, where the path and slope were gentler. A fall there would land someone in a sand dune. At most they'd be scratched.

Christ, if this was Raina pretending again to have injured herself simply to garner sympathy and another kiss, he'd wring her neck for the fright she'd roused.

His men had just caught up to him, more than fifteen of them grouped together with a few more stragglers galloping to catch up, when he entered the woodland that overlooked the lower cliffs at this location. Naturally, his mind returned to the scene here a few days ago, that most stunning kiss.

He recalled the way she'd responded, at first with some stiffness, as shocked as he was by his kiss. But Jesu , how swiftly and sweetly she'd melted into him, clinging to him, eager and astonishingly innocent. He shook his head to clear the memories, refocusing on the task at hand. The shadows of the trees danced around him as he guided his destrier along the narrow, twisting path inside the woods.

They rode for half a mile before the trees cleared, opening up onto another vast expanse of meadow. While inland the landscape was flat and unchanged as far as the eye could see, the ridgeline along the cliffs rose and fell, was sandy and soft and then jagged with rock. He spied a group of riders galloping hard, cresting a knoll and then disappearing as the terrain dipped low. They were at a great distance, far enough that they appeared only specks on the northern horizon, but Torsten's instincts warned that they were somehow related to that scream.

"There!" He called out, pointing to the riders. "Spread out!" He couldn't be sure at this distance but thought there weren't more than eight or ten riders .

He and his men gave chase. The wind whipped at his face, and he leaned low over the horse's neck, his fury and curiosity aroused. Just as he wondered who these men were and what their business inside Lochlan might be—nefarious was his guess, based on their swift ride—he realized that one of those fleeing horses held two people and that one of them was garbed in dark wine garments, the skirt of which billowed alongside the horse as it ran.

At the same time Torsten's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, recognizing the color of the léine Raina had worn today, Aonghas shouted above the thunder of galloping hooves.

"?Tis Lady Raina!"

Torsten's muscles tensed and his fists clenched tighter on the reins, as angry as he could ever recall being.

The destriers were no match to the speed of the sleek chargers being ridden by Raina's captors; in the open field, the chargers would outrun the destriers all day long. Yet, while the chargers excelled in speed and agility over relatively flat terrain, the mighty de Graham destriers had been trained for war and compensated for their slightly slower speed with their strength and endurance in rugged, challenging landscapes. Torsten hollered and pushed his steed to give more, to go faster, to get to her. Giving up was not an option; he would ride the horse dead before he abandoned his pursuit.

Still, the pursuit went on for miles and gaining ground was slow, and truth be told, if not for Raina's help, they might have ridden for hours and eventually lost ground, as the destriers' disadvantage was that they were capable of endurance over short distances and intense engagements, of which war was mainly comprised .

But either out of sheer will to escape or because she realized Torsten's pursuit and meant to assist in her own rescue, Raina struggled fiercely with her captor. Several times, the horse upon which she rode veered or jerked suddenly, signifying an upset in its riders. Torsten saw her bound hands swinging wildly at one point, resisting her captor's attempt to subdue her. She kept fighting and soon enough, went tumbling from the saddle.

Not all of the kidnappers stopped, but half of them did—there were eight, Torsten was close enough to count now.

"Keep fighting, lass," he growled between his clenched teeth as he raced toward her.

And she did. Though two men, including the one with whom she'd ridden, had dismounted to recapture her, she jumped to her feet and stumbled wisely inland and not toward the sea cliff, where there was nowhere to run. It was only seconds before hands seized her again, but she did not crumble with defeat, but continued fighting, kicking her legs and punching blindly with her trussed hands.

As Torsten and his men were nearly upon them, the two mounted men took off and one of the men trying to control Raina glanced at the coming fury and decided to save himself, leaping onto his horse's back and galloping away. It took the last man another second to decide to give up the hostage to save his life. But he'd hesitated too long and another few seconds and more ground were gained as his horse was spooked by the frothing, charging destriers, dancing away as the man tried to mount. He did eventually gain the saddle and made haste to depart.

Torsten thundered past Raina for the moment, as did his men, intent on catching those who had abducted her. When he was close enough to the last man to touch her, Torsten launched himself from the saddle at the man. They tumbled off the far side of the running horses, smacking hard on the ground and rolling several times with the momentum of Torsten's attack. The man fought uncontrollably, with flailing arms and by bucking his body as Torsten obtained the upper hand, rising over him. He struck the man across his face, and then again from the opposite side with his left hand.

"Nae one takes what belongs to me," he roared, his eyes blazing with the intensity of his righteous fury. "She is mine," he growled as he swung his fist again. "And I protect what is mine with blood and steel." With the man pinned beneath him, it was not difficult to pull his dagger from his belt and sink it into the man's chest. His lip curled, Torsten spared only a moment to watch the life ebb from the man's desperate gaze before he pushed himself off the body and went to Raina.

He landed hard on his knees at her side, where she'd last fallen and lay still, carefully turning her over. "Raina?"

Her eyes were wide with fright above a grimy rag that had been shoved into her mouth, attached with a kerchief around her face, her mouth forced open, the binding tight. Lifting himself on one knee, he reached over the back of her, frantically addressing the knot at the back of her head while she collapsed against him, the crown of her head meeting with the top of his chest. She clutched at his tunic, one hand grabbing his flesh as well. Her fingers trembled against him.

"?Tis done," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "?Tis done, lass. Ye're safe. All guid." He kept talking, meaning to assure her. "Let me get this bluidy knot out." Her hair was tousled and tangled around the binding. "There," he said, and gently pulled the soiled fabric from her. Taking her by the shoulders, he pushed slowly until there was some space between them. At the same time, Raina reached up with a shaking hand just as Torsten gently pulled the gag from her mouth, tossing it aside.

" Jesu, lass," he breathed. "Who were they? What did they want with ye?"

Tears fell. She shook her head. "I don't know. Th-they didn't say. They hardly spoke. One man just said, ‘take her'."

"But what brought ye out to them?"

"Geoffrey, the bailiff's lad, came to the keep. He said you had fallen from your steed," she whimpered. "He said ye asked for me. I...I thought ye were gravely...I didn't think. I just ran. I followed Geoffrey, imagining the worst."

Christ, they'd laid a trap using him as the bait, or his name as pretense.

"Yer mouth is bleeding," he said, livid now for the fright gleaned in her gaze. "If they struck ye, I'll—"

Shaking her head again, Raina admitted, "I bit him, before he put the gag in my mouth."

Enough to draw blood, obviously. "Well done, lass. And the scream that tore from yer throat. We'd nae have...." He let that trail off, unable to even conceive what might have become of her if she'd not managed to scream.

Gazing up at him with tear-stained eyes and cheeks scratched and dirty, she asked, "Is he dead?"

Torsten nodded, a wee offended she might imagine he would allow the man to live.

"Are...are they all dead?"

Torsten glanced around. Only a few de Grahams surrounded them, their gazes sharp on Raina. James grimaced as if he felt Raina's fear and was troubled by it .

"If they're nae, they will be. The lads'll nae give up until they're caught, each one of them."

He thought now, belatedly, he should have advised that at least one remain alive; he would have liked answers to the questions of who was behind the abduction and why.

Raina dropped her head to her chest and wept, keening softly, her shoulders drooping. Whether she cried for the fact that the brigands were dead or merely in relief that her ordeal was over, Torsten did not know.

Holding her shoulder lest she fall without him to lean against, Torsten stood and easily took Raina into his arms, carrying her to his steed. Over the top of her head, buried limply against his chest, he inclined his head at Aonghas, one of several to have since returned from chasing the other kidnappers. "Find the lad, this Geoffrey. Bring him to the keep."

Aonghas mounted and departed, instructing the others to stay with their laird.

"Double the guard as soon as we get back," he said to James, who walked with him, his concerned gaze on Raina.

"Aye. I'll set ?em up at the beach and in these woods."

"And put a unit on the road from Montrose," Torsten ordered, since that was the largest, closest burgh. Whoever had attempted to abduct Raina might have originated from or convened there.

James held the destrier's harness while Torsten set Raina in the saddle and then climbed up behind her. Raina collapsed against him as soon as he sat. James handed him the reins and Torsten urged the horse into a light cantor, eager to get her home .

"What do ye ken of the bailiff?" He thought to ask as they rode, partly to distract her from any residual fright.

"Very little," she answered. She straightened a bit, losing a bit of what had been a shrinking fear and what had seemed a vast dreadfulness. "Ronald, he is, the bailiff," she said, her voice less halting. "He was retained or elevated while I was in Glasgow. He mostly oversees the cattle outfit. I have little interaction with him."

Torsten did not press her for more and they continued on in silence.

He was acutely aware of Raina's presence in his arms, of her slight frame pressed against his chest. The steady rise and fall of her breath was felt along his forearm wrapped around her middle. Her hair, soft and fragrant, brushed against his chin. He inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of lavender and the subtle sweetness that he'd learned was uniquely hers. ?Twas an intimate closeness he'd not anticipated, and despite or mayhap because of the gravity of the situation, it stirred something deep within him. While the cadenced motion of the destrier had some part in soothing his frayed nerves, he understood that Raina nestled in his arms brought him a larger relief. She was here, with him, shaken but ultimately unharmed. The terror he'd felt, the wild fear that had gripped his heart when he had witnessed her being abducted, slowly ebbed away.

Rather than dwell on what fear he had known—and the reasons behind the depths of it—Torsten focused on what his response to such a vile and daring, if incomprehensible, plot would be. Doubling the guard would only be the beginning, he guessed; more measures might be employed to protect Raina and Lochlan after he'd spoken to the lad, Geoffrey. Having no idea what he was up against, he couldn't afford to take any chances, and yet visions of watchtowers manned with skilled archers and equipped with signaling devices for rapid communication floated around his mind. He considered the importance of alliances and thought he might seek to create ties with neighboring clans, negotiating mutual defense pacts as the de Grahams had done for centuries around Glenbarra Brae. There, they'd enlisted the locals as informants, and they were rewarded for their loyalty and vigilance in reporting any threats.

As Aonghas had preceded them, by the time Torsten and Raina rode up to Lochlan Hall, the work of several dozen on the palisade had stopped and they had quite an audience.

The post-hole diggers and tree-cutters stood grouped together around Aonghas, who had yet to dismount. To a man, their faces were etched with the hard lines of experience and the grit of countless battles. They were men who thrived in the chaos of combat but whose eyes now softened slightly, wearing expressions of deep concern and fierce protectiveness. While he didn't imagine their concern was entirely personal, they had embraced Raina as one of their own, and her tribulation was perceived as a threat against a de Graham, which she now was. The bond of loyalty they felt for Torsten extended naturally to his wife, and her safety would be a matter of honor for them, the lack thereof an affront to every fighting de Graham man.

Raina stiffened a bit, giving Torsten some sense that she abhorred so much blatant attention focused on her. When she drew herself up further in the saddle, he supposed she also disliked being viewed as a victim. Though she'd just endured a harrowing ordeal, she didn't want to be pitied or coddled, he guessed. She held her head high, her gaze fixed on the men as they passed, no doubt silently proclaiming to any watching that she was not broken.

Peigi awaited them in front of the keep, flanked by several of the newly hired household lasses, these ones with a more personal concern for their mistress. Though the housekeeper had cried no tears, it was clear she'd been worried, approaching the horse and riders before Torsten had reined in the big black, her large eyes shining with relief as they fixed on Raina.

Torsten wasn't needed to aid Raina in dismounting; Peigi's take-charge nature took over immediately, her movements brisk and purposeful. She reached up, her strong hands ready to assist Raina down from the saddle, her garrulous demeanor scarcely subdued by the gravity of the situation.

"Ah, lass, there ye are," Peigi exclaimed, her voice a mix of exasperation and relief. The gap between her front teeth became more pronounced as she smiled—the smiled was both forced and pained, by Torsten's assessment. "Gave us quite a scare, ye did. Abducted? And by whose orders, I'll be wanting to ken," she said fiercely. "And just ye wait until I get my hands on the lad, Geoffrey." She paused as Raina set her feet on the ground. "Come here, see. Let's have a look at ye. No worse for wear, I hope." She brushed a lock of hair away from Raina's face. "Dinna cry nae more, lass," Peigi said, looking as if she might now join Raina in tears. She glanced up at Torsten, giving him a quick nod of acknowledgment before she returned her steady regard to Raina. "Yer husband recovered ye, and nae surprise there. All that fierceness, all that meanness probably put to guid use against them villains." With an arm around Raina's shoulder, Peigi steered her toward the keep, calling for the lasses to follow. "Come along, girls. A hot bath and a warm meal are just what she needs now." Though she kept walking forward, Peigi called over her shoulder to Torsten, "And dinna ye worry about a thing, we'll have her right as rain in nae time."

Torsten nodded.

Peigi's deep concern shone through every word and gesture, and Torsten was grateful—for Raina's sake—for the housekeeper's unflinching attachment and her nurturing care, which were exactly what Raina needed now.

Torsten dismounted and in short order, convened his officers inside the hall, which was vacant now as it was still hours before supper. He alerted those that hadn't heard, Gilles and Rory included, about what had nearly befallen Raina.

A collective gasp rippled through his men, and the officers exchanged alarmed glances.

Gilles was the first to respond vocally. "Abducted? But...why? Jesu, was the lass harmed?"

"She's shaken but unhurt," Torsten replied, his eyes flickering with his persistent anger. "We were able to intercept them ere they got too far. Peigi has her abovestairs, she's in guid hands."

Rory MacLeod was equally stunned. "We have patrols and lookouts. How did this happen?"

At the same time, Eòghann wanted to know, "How many?"

"Was it locals?" Uilleam inquired.

Torsten raised a hand to calm the rising tide of questions. "We ken verra little, save that Lady Raina was cajoled out of doors, away from the keep, by a local lad name Geoffrey. It appears they knew precisely when to act. They were only a group of eight. "

James spoke up. "They're dead now, of course. I dinna recognize any man." He paused and looked at Uilleam, who'd been there as well. "Ye neither? Nae, they were nae locals."

Uilleam suggested, "Mayhap have a few from the village brought out to where those bodies are, they might be able to identify them."

Torsten agreed. "Uilleam, you and Rory take care of that. Gilles, make sure every de Graham man is told what nearly happened. I want them vigilant. And I want ten men in Lady Raina's shadow any time she leaves the keep." He would, naturally, dissuade her from doing so until more was known. "Aonghas is taking a unit to the village to search for the lad, Geoffrey."

James looked particularly troubled. "We dinna ken who's behind it. We dinna ken if those eight were part of a larger group."

Torsten's jaw tightened. "Nae, we dinna."

Gilles was troubled by the motive. "Why abduct the lass? Aye, the peasants dinna care for her, but...Christ, did they mean to commit murder?"

James discounted this possibly. "Why ride off with her, rather than simply strike her down where they'd met her?"

Torsten knew a primeval reaction to James's words. The very idea of Raina being struck down, the light gone from her eyes, filled him with a rage so intense it was almost blinding. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain composed. "I dinna ken," he said, though his voice was strained. "This is about taking her alive. They have a purpose for her—one we need to uncover."

"If they had want her alive," Aonghas remarked, "then she is a pawn in a larger game."

"Ransom?" Rory suggested, the idea not unheard of .

"If so," Gilles said thoughtfully, his brow furrowed, "then he's the target." He pointed at Torsten. "And what do ye have that they might want?"

"Lochlan, I imagine," Torsten answered.

The discussion lasted for another quarter hour, but too little was known, rendering the majority of their thoughts and words as naught but speculation.

When they dispersed from the hall, each man had been assigned some task or chore. Torsten exited the keep, returning to his destrier, taking a party of forty men with him, intent on surveying the vast expanse of Lochlan for himself.

He was about this for many hours, until the late night summer sun had dipped below the western horizon. After he'd stabled his destrier for the night, he was met by Peigi in the once-more vacant hall, the supper hours having come and gone.

"Go on. Sit right there," she said, pointing to the bare high table. "I'll bring ye a trencher and a horn of ale."

"How is Ra—my wife?" He wanted to know.

"She's scared and who would nae be?"

Torsten sighed and nodded as Peigi strode on toward the kitchen. He stepped up on the dais and sat, lifting his sword and scabbard as he did so before letting it rest on the ground. He rubbed the heel of his hand between his eyes, trying to ease the scowl that hadn't ceased in hours.

Peigi returned after only a moment, laying a full trencher of meat stew in front of him, along with a horn of ale as promised and a pitcher of more.

Torsten gave her his thanks and dug in, tearing off a portion of the bread plate before he realized the housekeeper still hovered at his shoulder. The scowl returned and he turned it upon Peigi.

"Dinna tarry," she said, boldly but quietly. "Ye put aside whatever ye feel about Lady Raina, put aside whatever hatred ye harbor for any MacQueen and Lochlan. Yer wife'll be frightened, will have nightmares nae doubt. Go on then, soon as yer done here, get up there. Dinna leave her alone, stewing and reliving it all in her head. Hold her and tell her everything will be all right, that ye'll make it so."

Maddened by her audacity, he growled at her, "I dinna need ye to tell me—"

"Aye, ye do, by my understanding," she interjected impudently. "Ye've got a fine army; they ken how to hold a sword and ride those big beasts, and they march in a straight line. But will ye teach them to be guid men and guid husbands? Sure and how might that be accomplished when ye are nae yerself?" She fixed Torsten with a steady gaze, her voice ringing with the weight of her conviction. "Ye ken leadership is about setting an example, showing kindness and understanding. Yer men look to you, sir, nae just for orders but for how to live and behave. If ye show nae regard for Lady Raina's feelings, how can ye expect them to respect the feelings of their own wives, their families? A man who commands respect must first be worthy of it himself."

Torsten's jaw tightened, enraged at being admonished—indeed, lectured!—by the woman. He tossed down the chunk of bread, causing a bit of juice to splash onto the table. "I'm warning ye," he said, his voice dangerously low, "ye're about three seconds away from—"

"And I'm warning ye," she shot back with the most astounding lack of fear. "I'm nae afraid of ye. A man too scared to kiss his own wife is nae threat to me."

His mouth twisted into an ugly sneer but before he might have taken her to task or had her thrown in the dungeon simply to appease his mounting ire, Peigi whirled around and strode away.