Highland Avenger Page 5

  What she had never been able to accept, or forgive, was how thoroughly the boys’ parents had ignored their sons. Claud’s family barely stopped themselves from spitting on the children in their disgust that their precious heir would sully himself with some common wench. But this did not seem as great a crime as the way Claud paid no heed at all to his own children. Her boys had been set aside or scorned by every person who should have cared for them. Arianna could not bear it if the boys thought she, too, had deserted them.

  “Michel and Adelar will be safe, will they nay?” she asked softly as she listened to Brian settle down between his own blankets.

  Brian could hear the fear she held for those children in her voice. He had to clench his hands into tight fists to resist the need to reach out for her, to comfort her. Her love for her false husband’s bastards was something he could only admire.

  “My kin will protect them with their own lives,” he said. “As will my whole clan.”

  The words carried the force of a blood vow. Arianna knew her ability to trust had been badly damaged by Claud’s deceit. Yet, she trusted in the words Brian uttered, the promise to keep her boys safe weighting every word.

  “We are a false trail,” she whispered, suddenly fully understanding his plan.

  “Aye, and my dearest hope is that your enemy sends most of his men after us. We will lead them straight to their deaths.”

  Chapter 4

  After making certain Sir Brian had left, Arianna groaned softly and rubbed her aching backside. Aside from a few fading bruises and the ugly remnants of some of the deeper scratches, she was fully recovered from her ordeal in the water. Since it had only been three days, she realized she had not been as injured as she had first believed. Spending three days in the saddle had left her with many a new ache, however.

  She had not worried much about the riding for she often rode and had done so since she had been a small child. The aching in her backside and thighs told her that regularly meandering around her family’s and then her husband’s lands on a placid mare was a far cry from the riding she was doing now. Arianna hoped she toughened up soon even though she was not sure that a lady should want such a thing. Her husband had certainly made enough cutting remarks about how often she rode to make her believe men did not want their women to be toughened, either.

  “But then he was ne’er truly my husband,” she said as she moved to rub down her horse.

  Her steps faltered a little when Arianna realized that the hurt and shame she usually felt upon confronting that harsh, ugly truth had eased. In the months since Claud had died and everyone had discovered the truth she herself had only just uncovered, the sting of the shame that had so crippled her had weakened. Anger, however, still flared hot whenever she thought on the matter.

  “And I have every right to be furious,” she told the horses as she moved to rub down the packhorse. “That cowardly bastard Claud used me, lied to me, and betrayed me and my clan. I wasnae his wife; I was his unwilling mistress. Aye, and he and his cursed family stole from us for they took my dowry and have ne’er offered to repay it despite the fact that I was ne’er married to their wretched son. And did his family e’er apologize for what was done to me? Nay!”

  Warmed by her anger, she did not even try to push it aside as she had been doing for far too long. Arianna gave each of the horses a pat on the flank and then moved to gather wood for a fire. She had carried the weight of her false marriage and Claud’s betrayal on her shoulders for long enough. She had also accepted the increasing derision and disregard of Claud’s close family, wondering if they were right to think she was to blame in some way for their heir’s folly in staying married to some woman they thought so far beneath him.

  Her family would be utterly stunned by her forbearance. Arianna knew better. It had not been forbearance; it had been utter defeat and shame that had kept her so cowed that she did not even defend herself. Those weakening emotions had begun to possess her from the moment she had discovered that her new husband, the man she had thought she could build a strong marriage with, perhaps even a loving one, had a mistress.

  That still stung. Arianna had wanted to experience that passion the women of her clan so loved to talk about. It was one reason she had married Claud even though it had meant she had to leave her home. He had seemed so kind, gentle, charming, and sweet. She had believed he would show her that passion. The few kisses they had shared before their marriage had hinted at it.

  However, she had experienced nothing but discomfort and coldness in his arms. No fire, no tenderness, no secret whispers in the night. His kisses had been a lie. In truth, everything about Claud had been a lie. Claud had been cold and critical, always critical, from the moment the marriage had been consummated. When she had gotten with child and Claud had insisted upon leaving her bed, she had been relieved, only to suffer a crushing guilt for feeling that way.

  Setting down the wood she had found, she began to build a fire as that thought reminded her of the child she had lost. Grief for the loss of the child she had wanted so badly, for the loss of that barely begun life, still cast a shadow over her heart. She had learned all about the healing arts, as was tradition for the women in her clan, and knew it was but nature’s way, that there was a good chance there had been something wrong, that her husband’s seed had not rooted correctly. Her mind accepted that but her heart still mourned. She could not completely shake free of the fear that something was wrong with her. After all, her husband had returned to her bed to try again, though not very often and with little enthusiasm, for almost a year, but she had not conceived again. Considering the fertility of the women in her family, that did not seem right to her. She also had to wonder how it was he could give Marie Anne two strong, healthy boys, yet give her no child at all.

  “And once I discovered him with Marie Anne,” she muttered, hesitated as a wide variety of bloodthirsty plans for her late husband’s punishment went through her mind, and then shook her head, still embarrassed by how she had instead tried to lure him back to her bed. “I but thank God that madness didnae last long.”

  Annoyed by how her mind wanted to torment her with memories of her marriage, her humiliation, and her loss, Arianna concentrated on cutting up what was left of the last rabbit Sir Brian had caught. Tired of simply gnawing on rabbit cooked on a spit, she decided she was going to make a stew. It would still be yet another meal of rabbit but it might taste a little different, especially with what she added from the supply pack.

  “And how that mon keeps that pack so full all the time is a true mystery,” she said, and shook her head again. Sir Brian MacFingal certainly had a gift for foraging.

  Determined not to be afraid as she waited for Sir Brian to return, she worked to make as tasty a stew as possible. It was not easy to ignore all the noises in the wood surrounding her, but she found some comfort for her fear in the calm of the horses. The animals would warn her if danger drew near.

  She also tried hard not to worry about Sir Brian. The man knew a lot about surviving and hunting, she reminded herself. He had proved that admirably over the last three days. He had also shown that he knew the art of slipping through village and forest silently and unseen. Her curiosity about that skill had her biting her tongue against asking how he had acquired it. Arianna was not all that sure she wanted an answer to that question.

  Glancing at the dark wood surrounding her, she wrapped her arms around her body and prayed he would not take too much longer to reconnoiter the area. There was a lot of danger in trying to hunt down the enemy and see what they were doing. Arianna could only pray that Sir Brian continued to be as good at sneaking around as he had proven to be thus far. The mere thought of losing him made her insides clench with terror and her blood run cold. She told herself it was just because she would then be alone with no one to help her fight her enemies but a little voice in her head whispered that she was lying to herself. An attempt to shut that voice up by admitting that she would not like to see a good man hu
rt, or worse, while fighting for her did not work either, but Arianna did not want to think much on why that was.

  “He will be back soon,” she said, and looked at the horses as if they should nod in agreement with her. “He will.” She knew that if he did not return, she would not be able to stop herself from hunting for him, and that terrified her.

  Brian paused just inside the trees, stroking the neck of his mount to ensure that the animal remained silent. He hated leaving Arianna all alone but it was important to keep a close eye on the enemy tracking them down. Unlike them, he could move more quickly and easily through the countryside for he knew it well. He also knew exactly where to position himself to watch the little village below without being seen, and what he saw now made him relax a little.

  The men who had been following them were obviously going to settle in the village for the night. There was no doubt in his mind that the men he now watched were Arianna’s hunters for they were certainly not his countrymen. There was no real need to hear them speak, either. The clothes told him what he needed to know. After working with Captain Tillet for so long, he now knew what they wore in France—something he had never imagined might prove very useful aside from helping him to decide what goods he wanted brought in.

  He dismounted, secured his mount, and began to creep down the hill. Brian needed to get closer, needed to try and hear what the men were talking about. What he most hoped to learn was whether or not the men knew what direction he and Arianna were headed in. It also would not hurt to get a closer look at a few of them, he mused.

  By the time he reached the inn, the men were inside. Brian hesitated, realized none of these men knew what he looked like, and slipped inside. Moving to a shadowed corner, he sat on a bench. One of the serving maids quickly appeared and he paid her for a tankard of ale. It gave him something to hide behind as he watched the ones who were so anxious to kill two children they would ride around a country they did not know just to find them. Brian wondered what tale they told when they tried to get information.

  One of the men acted as if he was the leader, although the men with him showed him only grudging respect, and little of that. Brian wondered if the man was the Amiel Arianna spoke of for he could not believe the men would be so carelessly disrespectful of a DeVeaux, not if even half of what Arianna had told her about that family was true. If it was Amiel, Brian then wondered just how closely the man resembled the brother he had killed. He could see little about the man—who wore clothes more suited to a court appearance than to riding around a rough countryside—that would make one think him a man capable of killing his own brother, or hunting down his own nephews for the slaughter.

  “I will pay for three rooms and the stabling of our horses,” the man Brian thought was Lucette snapped. “I will take one of the rooms and the rest of you can decide who will sleep inside the inn and who will sleep in the stables with the horses.”

  “My lord,” began one tall, almost too lean man.

  “I do not believe I asked for your opinion on the matter, Sir Anton. Do as I say and leave Jacques here so that I might have someone to see to my needs.”

  That had to be Amiel Lucette, Brian decided. There was no one else who appeared to be leading the men. Some women might consider the man handsome, but his voice and manner would be enough to make most men want to kill him. The way the men eyed Amiel when the man was not looking their way told Brian that Lord Lucette was lucky to still be alive. Brian suspected only the man’s alliance with the DeVeaux was accomplishing that miracle.

  Everything about the man was thin or narrow, although Brian knew that did not have to mean that the man was some weakling. His hair was black and shoulder length, pulled back from his long, narrow face. There was a sullen curve to the man’s full lips as well. He had the look of a spoiled child.

  “I cannot understand how they keep slipping through our fingers,” muttered Lucette, halting Sir Anton’s attempt to slip away. “These barbarians should not be able to thwart us so.”

  It was a good thing he was speaking in French, Brian thought, or he would be dead. That sort of sneering insult was very akin to what many English aristocrats were fond of saying. Since Scotland and France had been allies more than enemies for many, many years, it surprised him that there was such distaste for his people among the French aristocracy. But then, most of the time all they wanted was extra men to fight their battles and to keep their old enemy the English beleaguered at home.

  “This is their land, Lord Lucette,” replied Sir Anton. “And their skill at fighting is well known, my lord. They have long made up some of our mercenary force.”

  “As arrow fodder so that good Frenchmen might stand back until it is safer. No, this puzzles me. I also think it was wrong for us to divide the men. We only need to catch hold of one of the men helping that bitch and my brother’s get and that one would soon tell us where the boys are.”

  “Why should they? This is not their fight and they gain nothing from it.”

  “So why should they fight or die for either that red-haired bitch or those two common little whelps?”

  “They may feel it honorable to assist a woman and two children.”

  Lucette waved a heavily beringed hand, sniffed the tankard of wine the maid gave him, and wrinkled his long nose in a clear sign of disgust. “I should not be so surprised that there is no good wine in this heathen land. If we had gained hold of Lady Arianna or one of the boys upon the beach, we would soon have had the lot in our hands. Those men would bargain with us. The message we received from Lord Ignace said this MacFingal clan has little money and is known to be very odd. That wench has no coin to pay them, does she? What coin she may have stolen from my family is undoubtedly at the bottom of the sea.”

  “No, she has no coin but she is very pretty.”

  “Not so pretty that one of these savage fellows would not turn her over to us for a nice, full purse. My brother certainly did not find her worth much in bed or he would have left that slut he married. Her dowry was a hefty one though, although this mess Claud left behind could cause the Murrays to demand it returned. And that is another good reason to see that she does not return to her family.”

  Lucette badly needed killing, Brian decided, and had to fight the temptation to try and fulfill that wish. He began to get a clearer idea of what Arianna’s life had been like with the Lucettes, and it was not good. Things she had said had let him know it had not been a happy time for her, but listening to this fool talk made it all chillingly clear. She had never been accepted.

  “I will settle the men, m’lord. After a good night’s rest, we can begin the hunt again. We should also have word from at least one of the other groups soon. I will send a man to the meeting place to see if word has come. If one of the others has managed to find the boys, we could end this and go home.”

  “Only the boys? Your lord wishes to catch the woman, too. I thought you knew that. His family is eager to pay back the Murrays for things that happened in the past and she would be a very good weapon to use. I cannot see the DeVeaux giving that up. That family lives for vengeance.”

  Sir Anton just shrugged and walked away. A few moments later a tall, broad-chested man joined Lucette. As Brian watched Lucette order the man to see to his food and drink as well as make certain a bath was prepared, he decided he would gain no more information now. Lucette’s mind had turned to his own comforts. Brian was also running a risk by lingering too long. His family was not completely unknown in the area.

  Despite the danger of being caught showing far too much interest in a party of visiting Frenchmen, Brian meandered by the stables. Hoping the stable hands would say nothing, he grabbed a shovel and began to clean out one of the stalls. When an older man came over to stare at him, Brian tensed but just winked and kept working. His tension eased when the man simply collected a bridle, sat down near him, and set to work on it.

  “So what is your interest in these fools?” asked the older man the moment the stable was clear
of Lucette’s men.

  “Mayhap I have just taken on a job here,” Brian replied as he set the shovel aside and looked at the man.

  The man gave a short bark of laughter. “Dinnae try to fool me, lad. I own this place. I do the hiring. Now, what is your interest in these men who think we are all naught but swine?”

  “Ah, ye speak French.”

  “Mother was French. Father brought her back when he was done fighting one of their battles for them.” His sharp gray eyes remained fixed upon Brian’s face. “Ye are verra good at nay answering questions, m’lad.”

  Brian considered his answer for a moment as he studied the innkeeper. The man looked honest enough, his gaze straight and clear. The deciding factor, however, was that the man had not exposed him. One word and Brian would have been fighting for his life, a fight he might well have lost against so many. Lucette’s men might not know who he was but they were strangers in his country, hunting three innocents with murder on their minds. They would have viewed anyone unknown as suspicious and a threat to their plans.

  “Just here to try and discover how close they are to the bonnie wee lass I am trying to get to Dubheidland.”

  “Dubheidland, huh. Ye dinnae look like one of those cursed Camerons.”

  “I am from the dark side of the family.”

  “Ah, one of old Fingal’s lads. Ye do have the look of him. Odd mon, that Fingal. Always was.”

  Since his father had been born and raised in this area, Brian was not surprised that the older man would know who his father was. “Aye, odd, but verra virile.” He grinned when the man laughed heartily and slapped his knee.