"I know not if he will have me, after my rejection. He may never forgive me."
***
"Who is this Lady Kristina you spoke of earlier? The one whose earrings Holme had stolen?" Bryce asked while they ate a quick supper in the great hall. Though Colin had little appetite, he forced himself to eat the venison stew and bread.
Hearing Kristina's name was like a kick to the gut. He'd just been thinking about her, as he did at least a hundred times per day, remembering the joyful times they'd shared.
"She is Neacal's new wife's sister. Blackburn and Holme had taken her hostage in Stirling and brought her to Bearach to try to force Anna to come with them. With the help of our clansmen, I snatched her from Holme. She is blind and scarred from Blackburn's severe abuse two years ago." Colin relayed the rest of the story as briefly as possible, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.
"Poor lass. I'm glad you were able to save her life."
"Aye. She's a strong and remarkable lady." If only she'd wanted to spend her life with him. If only she would've let him prove that her blindness didn't matter. She was so precious to him. Having her by his side right now, during this difficult time, would've made a world of difference.
"Is she beautiful?" Bryce asked.
"Aye," Colin answered without thought.
"I suspected as much."
Colin tensed, wishing he'd kept that last observation to himself, then scowled at his brother. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Bryce lifted a brow. "I have a gut feeling the lass means more to you than you're letting on."
Colin glanced away. 'Twas true, but he was not ready to reveal all to his brother. Everything inside him was too raw and painful to talk about. If he didn't keep it all buttoned up tight inside, he was afraid he would disintegrate.
"I don't wish to speak of it." Feeling annoyed, Colin shoved back from the table and stepped down from the dais. He strode across the great hall and out into the light drizzle at gloaming, headed toward the dungeon. He had to focus on something other than Kristina. Finding Red Holme was the only thing he could control right now. And no matter how difficult a task it was, he had to accomplish it.
Of course, he loved his brother and trusted him, but now was not the right time to speak of Kristina. He'd wanted to tell his father about her before anyone else and ask his advice, but that was not possible.
After descending the steps, he let his eyes adjust to the gloom and torchlight of the dungeon. Upon his bedroll, the archer shifted and grimaced. Hearing footsteps, Colin glanced around to find Bryce coming down the steps.
They both watched the archer for a long moment. "Are you awake?" Colin asked.
"I curse the very name of Cameron." The archer turned his head and glowered at him.
"The curse will be mirrored back to you," Colin said, forcing himself to remain calm. "I know Red Holme is behind both ambushes. And his real name is MacKillican."
The man's eyes widened briefly, but Colin saw it.
"Red Holme shot my father! Did he not?" Colin demanded. "Or was it you?"
"You're all bloody thieves," the archer growled low.
"Where is Holme now?"
"How would I know? I've been in here for days!"
Rage and desperation clawing at his soul, Colin grabbed hold of the iron bars and shouted, "Where has he been staying? You will answer if you want to make it out of here alive!"
"Go ahead and kill me now, you whoreson!" the man roared.
Colin ground his teeth, sore tempted to give the man what he asked for. He felt exhausted of a sudden, completely drained. He could not remember ever feeling so defeated and frustrated. He hung his head. He could not think of all the challenges and disappointments facing him now, or he would never crawl out of this dark abyss.
"Come." Bryce laid a hand on his shoulder. "Get some rest. Mayhap he will talk later. You've gotten very little sleep this week."
That was true enough. Besides, he could not stand this dank, suffocating dungeon one second longer. He turned and forced himself to climb the stone steps. He should drink himself into oblivion so he could forget it all for a while. But he was not that type of man. His family and clan might need him at any moment.
As they crossed the wet, torchlit bailey, a wild-eyed, anxious servant rushed toward them. "Her ladyship requests your presence in the laird's chamber."
