Keeping his expression stiff and unreadable, Sawny waited for the man to continue. Men like Kelso always took an opportunity to hear themselves speak and inflate their importance.
At least he now knew where he was. The next challenge was learning if his family knew where he was, or if he might escape his prison.
Had Kelso sent a message or requested a reward for Sawny’s return? Given the arse-kissing grin on the man’s lips, Sawny presumed ‘twas a resoundingnay.
“Thus, we are to sit here, across from each other, until ye tell me what ye know of the letter.”
Something about the man’s tone did not sit well with Sawny, but he could not place his finger on it. Did the man already know what the MacDonalds knew? Did he know that while Adaira’s family had Mungo’s box, it had held naught but spiders and dust?
Perchance. But if that were the case, why ask Sawny about it?
Or was the letter merely an excuse for this abduction, and Kelso was trying to flex his political muscle, taking his aggravations regarding land disputes and the constant conflict with the Keppoch MacDonalds out on him?
Sawny pursed his dry lips. That circumstance seemed far more likely.
And he knew Kelso was planning to do a lot more than sit patiently across from him until he talked.
Sawny leveled his gaze at the pinched-faced man. “We are men of the Highlands, Kelso. Lies dinna become us.”
Kelso was a weak MacIntosh, and the Keppoch MacDonalds had readily reived his cattle, pushed against the man’s land boundaries, and thoroughly thrashed any MacIntosh who had dared to trespass on MacDonald lands.
Of course, the man wanted his pound of flesh as a measure of revenge. He wanted more than to merelytalk.
“Weel, we shall sit here until I bore with ye, then use other means to extract the information.”
Despite the staid expression on his face, Sawny’s chest fell into his belly.
Torture? Because the Keppochs had stepped on his toes? And obtaining information about the letter might impress the Earl of Breadalbane?
Is this what the greatness of Scotland had become?
Sawny suddenly felt completely justified in thieving this man’s sheep and cattle. The feckin’ lout deserved it.
“But we canna have ye bleeding out before ye have the chance to speak, so . . .”
Before he could move, Kelso’s men grabbed his hands and secured them with rough rope to the sides of the chair. Sawny fought, twisting and snapping his teeth, until one man caught his jawline with his fist. Sawny’s head lolled across his shoulders as he tried to stop his head from spinning.
He heard a tearing sound and realized the MacIntosh men were tearing at his tunic.
Really? I would have taken it off . . .he thought sourly. His cell was cold enough as it was without the loss of his tunic.
Then a hissing filled the room, and Sawny twisted his head toward it, his heart slamming against his ribs. One of Kelso’s toadies had wrapped his hand in a cloth to remove an iron bar from the fire. Its tip glowed fiercely orange in the torchlight, and Sawny could not take in enough air. He was suffocating as he tensed, hating the knowledge of what was to come next. He thrashed against his captors.
The other man bent over him, holding Sawny’s writhing head still under his arm and holding his torn shirt open.
The searing pain that followed as the man touched the iron against his bloody wound was all-consuming. Any thought or image of Adaira was shattered by the wracking pain of having his skin seared together. He shook and wailed under the second man’s arm, squealing like a suckling pig as if he might expel the pain out in the surge of breath, but the waves of agony only increased and washed over him harder.
The shocking and bone-shattering pain clung with sharp claws until Sawny’s shuddering body finally stilled and he mercifully passed out.
When Sawny awoke again, he was in nearly the same position as when he woke in the dungeon the first time. The only difference was this time his jailers tried to position him on his peat pallet so he was not sleeping against the chilled stones.
Time was flimsy in his misty thoughts. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious — hell, he barely remembered what had transpired right beforehand . . .
The screaming pain in his side slowly dulled to a low throb, and moving as delicately as he could, Sawny got himself up into a seated position and leaned against the stone wall. He should have been chilled, but the stones were cool against his back and his discombobulated mind briefly wondered if he was getting a fever from his injuries.
Feck,Sawny thought.A fever will take me more quickly than Kelso MacIntosh and his goons ever would.
His tunic had stuck to part of the seared wound, and he grimaced and hissed as he tugged lightly at the fabric, peeling it away. Once his skin was clear of tunic, he looked down to assess the damage.
