"'Tis a name he invented. He is a MacKillican."
"Hell. I remember that name," Bryce growled. "The traitors to the crown who held Rhodie years ago."
"Aye, you were a lad, too young to fight in the battle. Red is the son of the last MacKillican chief. A few weeks ago, he was at Bearach, fighting on the side of a man named Blackburn MacCromar. When Red Holme saw me, he recognized me from the battle over ten years ago. He tried to kill me but ended up fleeing here to take his revenge and rage out on Da by shooting him like a coward from the bush."
"Saints," Bryce hissed.
Colin hadn't recognized the archer. He didn't think he was one they'd fought in the cave near Bearach. If Holme had recruited him along the way, he could have several more men than the two he'd left the Moidart area with.
"The archer in the dungeon is naught but a pawn, someone he enlisted recently. I have to get this bastard," Colin said through clenched teeth.
***
Wearing a black cloak and perched atop a cliff in the wood a mile or two from Rhodie Castle, Red Holme watched the search party below. It consisted of a dozen men, headed by none other than Colin Cameron himself. How he hated the thieving whoreson. Holme narrowed his eyes, his muscles tensing.
He hoped MacAlpin, the archer, hadn't revealed his identity. When MacAlpin had signed on, he'd sworn to never reveal Red Holme's identity, nor his own, if captured. The man had been the son of his father's head archer, another man dead now because of Colin's father.
Holme had been lucky to find MacAlpin living in a village a few miles away from this area. The man had wanted a way to escape the life of menial labor he'd been doing for the past few years.
The Camerons had gotten a lucky shot when their arrow had struck MacAlpin. Holme had hated to abandon him, but there had been no other choice. His followers well knew it was every man for himself. Holme wasn't going to risk losing his opportunity for revenge just to save MacAlpin's life.
All of these Camerons had to be eliminated. Every last one.
At the moment, Holme only had four men—Scroggie, Dobson, and two more from the disbursed MacKillican clan he'd found in the same village where he'd run into MacAlpin. He'd hired them using the money from the sale of one of Kristina's earrings. Alas, he had lost the other one, but no matter. What he couldn't buy he would steal.
The Camerons were following a small shaggy dog that sniffed the ground. Fortunately for Holme, he was downwind and far above them.
He silently lifted his bow from the ground. Should he shoot Colin Cameron now and be done with it? Or wait and kill several dozen of his clansmen along with him? Craving revenge, he ground his teeth but forced himself not to move. Victory would be sweeter when he could watch them all fall.
Where was Lady Kristina? He had not seen her traveling with the Camerons. He'd made sure before the last ambush. He'd been certain Colin was so besotted with her he would marry her, but… maybe she hadn't survived that last strike to the face Holme had given her.
If she was dead, she deserved it!
Although he tried to force himself to believe that and to be angry with her… something gnawed in his gut. What was it? Regret? Deep down, he hoped she still lived. Strangely enough, he liked the prickly, disfigured witch. She retained a beauty and strength he admired. She reminded him of himself—half normal and half damaged. A survivor despite all odds.
But he would likely never see her again. Revenge against the Camerons was far more important than having a lass beneath him. He was willing to give up his life to gain the revenge he'd craved for a decade but had been too afraid to pursue. Fear no longer ruled his life. His father, God rest his soul, would finally be proud of him. But Holme didn't think he would have to give up his life, in truth, for he had a plan.
Having grown up in Rhodie Castle, he knew every nook, cranny, secret passage and escape route. Upon viewing the castle from a short distance away, he saw that the Camerons had made additions in the past decade, but the main keep appeared the same. Now he simply had to bide his time and wait for the perfect opportunity to slip inside.
Holme grinned, imagining all the Camerons screaming and running for their lives. To his way of thinking, Colin and his father deserved every pain they received, as did the rest of the clan. And he planned to unleash a wrath upon them such as they had never imagined.
***
At Bearach Castle, Kristina sat at the high table during supper, eating and listening to the musicians while Anna and Neacal sat nearby, conversing quietly. On her other side, Maili and her husband, Shamus, also talked. She missed Colin all the time, but especially at times like this when each of the others had a loving companion but Kristina did not. Every day she missed Colin more than the day before… and more than she had thought possible. She'd believed it would get easier with time, but the opposite was true. And it had only been five days.
A messenger had arrived the day before with a missive from Colin, saying his father still lived but was critically ill with fever. And they had not caught the assassin. She prayed his father would improve soon.
In that moment, all sound faded away, for Kristina noticed something with another of her senses… her vision. It almost seemed that she could see the flame of a candle to her right. She blinked, pressed her eyes closed, then opened them again. Aye… her heartbeat sped up with excitement, for she could see the dim flickering flame of what had to be a candle. Tears filled her eyes, and she knew not what to do. She feared the image would fade away if she moved. What if it was only temporary?
She turned her head toward the left and saw the more distant impression of another flame burning there.
A pale, blurry form moved across in front of the high table—a servant refilling her wine goblet.
"I thank you," she murmured to the servant, and then burst into tears of gratitude for her returning sight.
Thanks be to God and his angels.
"Good heavens, Kristina, are you well?" Anna placed an arm around her shoulders.
