Highland Thirst. Lynsay Sands
of speaking.”
“Wheesht, I think I have been looking for demons in the wrong place. ’Tis certain Angus and the laird have enough dark evil in them to be the devil’s men.”
Restricting her response to that of simply a nod, Brona fetched Sir Heming a tankard of wine. It pleased her to see him smoothly sit up and take it from her hand, to drink without aid. She still found the idea of drinking blood a little chilling, but could not subdue a touch of pride that her blood had done such a fine job of bringing Sir Heming back from the brink of death.
“Where are we exactly?” Heming asked.
“Deep beneath Rosscurrach,” replied Brona. “This is where the women and children are to hide if the walls of Rosscurrach are breached. I realized that my father ne’er told Hervey about it and few of those who did ken about it are still alive. We ne’er had to use it, ye ken, and so Hervey ne’er had to learn of it. I begin to think my father didnae fully trust the mon he had to name as his heir.”
“It would seem not. Why are we here and nay away from this place?”
“Because we must leave on foot and I didnae think we would get far ere Hervey and his men found us. Especially not with both ye and Peter so weak. I am hoping the hunt for us will soon spread to places away from Rosscurrach and allow us a chance to slip away.”
Heming nodded and settled himself back down on the bed. He was feeling stronger and could feel his wounds healing but he knew the danger of believing himself fully cured. He had just looked death in the eye and had no interest in doing so again for a very long time. Certainly not when he had not even been in a battle. Nor did he wish to waste the gift Mistress Brona had given him.
“A good plan, mistress,” he said. “’Tis best if we try to keep as close a watch as possible on Hervey and his men to see just when that search for us moves away from this land. When the chance comes to flee this place, ’tis wise if we do it as swiftly as possible.”
Brona sighed and looked around the large stone chamber they sheltered in. “Aye, verra wise. As welcome as the safety of this place is, I dinnae wish to linger here any longer than I must.” She smiled at him. “Do ye wish something to eat?”
“Aye, I believe I would though it should probably be weak fare for now.”
After Brona had him settled with a bowl of surprisingly tasty broth, she took Thor for a walk through the passages. Heming finished his food, handed the wooden bowl to Colin, and settled himself back down intending to have a rest. He frowned at the opening Brona had left through as he began to wonder how she would save herself from any consequences of her mercy.
“And when we can flee this place, do any of ye ken where Mistress Brona intends to go?” he asked the three men still watching him carefully.
Colin scowled. “Nay, she hasnae said anything of her plans, but she must have some, aye? She cannae stay here. The laird beats her for the smallest sin as it is. He would kill her for this.”
Hervey Kerr dearly needed killing, Heming thought but said only, “Then when the time comes for us to leave here we will be sure she has a safe place to go ere we all run off to our own chosen havens. Mistress Brona must ne’er fall into that mon’s hands again.”
When all three men grunted in agreement, Heming closed his eyes. He would find out where Brona thought to go and hide and then convince her that his choice of haven was far better. He had no intention of letting her go anywhere without him. Mistress Brona Kerr may not know it yet, but she had done more than save his life by giving him her blood, she had tied them together in ways she could not even begin to understand.
Five
Heming grabbed his sword at the sound of someone approaching. He calmed a little when he noticed that the dog did no more than briefly cock his head before returning to his nap and the cat did no more than twitch one ear. Even so he remained tensed for battle until Colin, Fergus, and Peter strolled into the chamber. They looked very pleased and, as Heming set his sword aside, he felt the thrill of anticipation go through him. It appeared that they were returning from their sortie outside the walls with good news. He hoped that after five days of hiding in the ground beneath Rosscurrach, they would finally be able to leave the cursed place. By the look upon Brona’s face, he could tell that she felt the same.
It had been almost a fortnight since he and Tearlach had been taken from the inn and he did not know his cousin’s fate. Despite knowing he had had no choice, had been a prisoner, had then needed to heal from days of torture, and had had to wait for the right moment to escape the keep, Heming could not fully dismiss a sense of guilt. He dared not think what his cousin had suffered or was still suffering. That way lay madness. He could only hope that Tearlach had also found someone with too kind a heart to allow such abuse.
“They have ridden away at last, mistress,” Colin told Brona.
Brona stood up from the pallet she had been sitting on. “For but a short hunt or a long one?” she asked as she began to put away the chess pieces she and Heming had been playing with.
“Long one,” replied Peter as he moved to his pallet and sat down. “A large force left, but they split apart soon after they were out of the gates. Some ride to your aunt’s, mistress, to be sure she didnae lie when she said ye werenae there, or to see if ye have arrived there since last they went. Some go to a place just o’er the border into England. Although what possesses the fools to do that, I dinnae ken.”
“They probably return to the place I was taken from,” said Heming. “Was Hervey with that group?”
“Aye, him and that swine Angus,” replied Peter.
“I suspicion they ride to the village where I and my cousin were taken prisoner. My cousin is being held near there by a mon called Carbonnel.”
“Weel, ye will need help rescuing him from that Carbonnel fellow for the mon will soon have some hard fighters added to whate’er men he already had guarding his lands.”
“Then I had best go to Cambrun first and tell my kinsmen what has happened.”
Colin frowned. “Are they all like ye are?”
Heming sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. He had hesitated to tell his companions much about himself or his kinsmen and they had asked few questions. Yet, after spending five days with Brona Kerr, he was beginning to think she was his mate. He ached for her and the heady taste of her was still a strong, sweet memory. Everything about her held his interest, even when she argued with him. He knew that if they had not been sharing their quarters with these men, he would have been doing his utmost to make sure she was not sleeping alone. He would have been heartily feeding that hunger she stirred within him.
These three men were her men, loyal unto death. They had also accepted his having that taste of Brona. Since he had a growing hope of keeping his little savior by his side, it was probably time that he ceased to hold so tightly to all of his secrets.
“Aye and nay,” he replied. “I am what is referred to as a Halfling. Nay a kind term as ye may be able to guess. Full-blooded MacNachtons are called Purebloods and can be a little arrogant about it. My father is nearly a Pureblood, having only a wee drop or two of Outsider blood, and my mother is an Outsider, a woman of the Callan clan. Ere I was born our laird decided that we needed to marry Outsiders for we were finding it difficult to remain hidden from the world and we had ceased to breed. My father was the first child born to them in forty years and he had but one child with an Outsider. We were slowly dying, like some mythical creatures.”
“We are what ye are calling Outsiders, arenae we?” asked Brona, getting the distinct feeling that with at least some of his clan that was a grave insult.
“Aye, and up until our laird made that decision we had as little to do with ye as possible,” Heming said. “My mother’s clan has its own secrets. They are descended from a druid shape-shifter, a woman who could become a cat. If ye met her and her clan ye wouldnae finds that so hard to believe e’en though they dinnae change anymore.