"The one Uncle Lunn had made at great expense?"
"The very one." 'Twas a gift for his birthday when he'd turned eighteen summers.
"And then what?" Alpin asked Wilona.
"Fetch it with great haste, and ask no questions."
"Very well." Alpin bowed to her and left the room.
Gavin didn't know how to give up the person he loved most in the world. The person who made his life worth living. But at least she would be safe in her old life.
"This is the perfect resolution, I'm thinking." Wilona cackled. "You'll feel wretched, and I'll have my keek-stane. Plus a magical sword."
∞∞∞
Alpin and the MacRae guards rode through the open portcullis at Caithmore Castle and into the deserted bailey.
"Anyone here?" he shouted, his voice echoing off the stone walls.
No guards. Not even a stable lad. Humph, mayhap they had gone to rescue Gavin and his bride, though he hadn't passed any of them. They could've been hiding. Two or three against dozens of Lady MacRae's men would be futile. They would die before nightfall.
Smiling at the realization this castle would soon be his, Alpin trotted up the steps, opened the door, and entered the empty great hall. No fire burned in the hearth. Were the servants gone too?
Frowning, he made his way to the armory and found the door open. When he entered the dim room, Gavin's claymore snagged his attention, displayed in a stand in the far back corner. Morning light gleamed off the polished blade. Alpin had coveted the expensive weapon for years. As youths, he and Gavin had practiced with two-handed swords, their blades wrapped in leather to render them less harmful. As they grew used to swinging the heavy swords, they became stronger. They had bulked up with muscle as their skills had improved.
Alpin lifted the claymore from the stand. It didn't feel heavy at first, around five or six pounds. But after swinging such a sword for a half-hour, 'twas evident how much strength and endurance a man required to wield it.
He glanced around the room. Only a few of the basket-hilt swords remained from his youth. Perhaps they had run low on funds and sold them. Or maybe the clan members had taken them when they'd abandoned Caithmore. Regardless, once he served as chief, Alpin would restock and restore everything.
Leaving the armory, he strode through the great hall, closed the door, and descended the steps. In the bailey, he glanced up at the grim façade of the keep. The lime harling had flaked off in many places, exposing the bare gray stone beneath. He would get that repaired. Aye, soon this empty hull of a castle would be his, the clan would return, and his life would be all he'd dreamed it could be.
∞∞∞
Dani unfastened the strap of the sgian dubh's sheath from her thigh and devised a way to wrap it in a crisscross fashion around her forearm. She buckled it, then pulled her sleeve down, hiding it. The hilt lay near her wrist, within easy reach. Though she had no training in using a weapon of any kind, she would do whatever she could to save Gavin's life.
Her stomach aching with worry, she paced for what seemed hours in the chamber. Where had Gavin gone? What was he doing?
Hearing men's voices and horses' hooves clattering outside, she stopped at the window to stare down into the bailey. At one point, Alpin left on horseback with a few guards, then returned an hour or two later.
Fifteen minutes after that, the chamber's door burst open. Startled, she jerked around.
"Her ladyship demands your presence in the great hall," the gruff guard informed her.
Dani swallowed hard and proceeded out, her stomach knotting. Was this the end? Would she face life or death?
In the great hall, her gaze locked on Gavin, standing before the high table. His hands were tied, but thank God, he appeared fine. He turned to watch her approach. The concern and angst in his eyes made her heart ache. She would get them both free; she had to.
"Halt, wench," Wilona ordered.
Pausing, Dani glared at her where she sat behind the table, the remains of her breakfast before her. Alpin waited over to the side, amusement glinting in his eyes. The silent guards and servants stood around, watching. What sort of show did they expect? An execution right here in the middle of breakfast?
Remembering her small knife, Dani clasped her hands before her, trying to appear demure. Glancing down at Gavin's bound hands, she calculated how to cut the rope without injuring him. She already knew the sgian dubh had been honed to razor sharpness. Her warrior husband wouldn't own a dull weapon.
Dani met Wilona's gaze straight on, determined not to buckle under her intimidation.
"You are no longer needed here." Wilona motioned at something to their left.
Leery of what she would see, Dani turned her head. One of the guards held up a massive claymore … the one she had picked up in the clan tent. He offered her the grip.
