Still scowling, Telford nodded, as did the other two.
"Go then," Alpin barked.
The men trotted away, over the brown pine needles, and disappeared into the dimness. Alpin glanced at the remaining guards, MacRaes. They sported bloody clothes and a few minor cuts, as did he. That might be enough to prove they'd had a horrible fight, but 'haps they should embellish the story.
"All of you fought hard to protect your laird," Alpin said. "Gavin's force was huge in number—three dozen or so. We could never have defeated them."
The guards nodded.
"You, pretend you have a great pain in your back," he told one of them. To the guard with a bruise and cut on his forehead, he said, "You are knocked out. Those two will carry you in."
The guards eyed each other as if Alpin had lost his senses.
"If you don't convince his mother of this story, we could all be hanged. She is a vicious harpy… and, some say, a witch."
They nodded, for they knew the truth of it.
"Let us go." Alpin ran out of the wood and across the grassy field toward the locked portcullis of Raeglen, the others following. "Guards! Allow us entry!"
Once inside the walls, he dropped to his knees upon the cobblestones, gasping for breath. "We were ambushed! They murdered the chief!"
A few of Lady MacRae's henchmen helped him up, asking many questions at once, while others assisted Silas's injured guards. Several times, Alpin repeated the story he'd concocted, having to invent new details as the questions continued. As he'd suggested, two of Silas's men lay upon the ground, pretending to be knocked out or injured.
He caught sight of Lady Wilona MacRae in the torchlight, still an attractive woman in her mid-forties, with copper hair and fierce emerald eyes. When she descended the steps, his stomach clenched. Hell, he had to do his best performance.
"What happened?" Gaunt but deadly, she rushed toward him, then stopped a few feet away. "Where is my son? Where is Silas?" she demanded, nearly hysterical already.
Alpin shook his head, thinking how much he would miss his best friend. "We were ambushed, m'lady."
Her mouth gaped, wrinkles forming between her brows. "Where is Silas?"
Alpin braced himself, then blurted, "Gavin MacTavish killed him."
Rage contorted Lady MacRae's face. "What? He murdered Silas?" Gasping, she could hardly get the words out. She swayed. The bodyguard behind her caught her arm to keep her upright.
"Indeed." Alpin nodded emphatically, trying to appear aggrieved. "Gavin and his army ambushed us in the wood while we were stalking deer. They had dozens more men than we did. They slaughtered several of my guards, and Silas's guards are injured." He motioned toward them lying upon the cobblestones of the bailey.
"Nay!" She shrieked, grasped his shirt front in both fists, and dragged her pale, lined face within inches of his. "You, go get him! Bring his body back here immediately! How dare you leave him out there?"
Alpin tried to draw away from her. Clutching her wrists, he attempted to break her grip on his shirt. "Pray pardon, m'lady, but 'tis turning dark. Andtheyare still out there."
"Do you think I care?" She shook him, her eyes turning dark. "Go get him now, you cowardly lackwit! Take the guards and clansmen."
"As you wish, m'lady. I'll go now." Alpin blinked, eyeing her until she released him from the death-lock.
Wilona ran up the steps of the keep. At the top, she let loose a keening scream and disappeared inside the great hall.
Saints, the woman might go mad in truth.
∞∞∞
After Alpin and the MacRaes retrieved Silas's body, the other two slain MacRae guards, and the horses, they returned to the castle. Gavin and his cohorts had been nowhere in sight, and Alpin was glad. He didn't want another battle with them.
Lady MacRae banished everyone except her favorites from the keep, where they mourned the whole of the night. Alpin spent the night in the barracks with the guards, grieving the loss of his best friend in his own way—by guzzling copious amounts of whisky.
Now, 'twas morn, and Lady MacRae had sent for him. His head paining him, Alpin entered the solar where she stood by the window.
She faced him, her eyes swollen and red with tears, her lined face looking haggard in the daylight. "Tell me everything that happened," she ordered, clutching a handkerchief in her fist. Her sharp green gaze speared into his, searching for someone to blame. He had to make certain she directed her rage at Gavin. Aye, she would have his loathsome cousin killed, making Alpin's path to the chieftainship easier.
