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“Perhaps that is what it will take,” Adelaine’s voice had dropped almost to a hush and Caelan thought he had heard a note of regret in it, but her tone soon cleared up. “Stop with the lies; I don’t want to hear any more.”
With that, she was gone and a pang of guilt began to consume him from within. He should have told her everything but there were things from the tower he did not dare say. Staggering back to his corner, he slid down the rough stone and with his elbows on his knees caged his face in his hands. Agony and desperation were eating away at his chest like acid.
Ye’ve been poisoned Lass, yer faither has taken more from me than ye think. He’s taken ye from me…I love ye, Adelaine with a force I cannae explain. I’ve lost me home and now ye, the woman who’s brought life back to me…I’ve lost ye and the lone chance for escaping had been slammed in me face. I dinnae what I’m going to dae now.
Clan McLagen, Scotland
Artur’s eyes were pinned on the fire burning low in the stone grate. He was sitting in Caelan’s meeting room, waiting on a report from the spies had sent to England a week ago. He had received word from a messenger raven about an hour ago about their pending arrival.
It had taken them a long time to find their chief but Artur did not regret a moment of it. At first, the day after the battle at Solway Moss, the Clan had feared Caelan’s death, expected it even. But when the bloated bodies of the dead had risen to the surface of the loch, and he was not among them, they had gotten hope.
He had sent off message after message to their King, only to discover that he had taken sick. Artur was one of the many who did not have a speck of sympathy to the man. He had sent thousands to die when he had not needed to do so. And when he had passed, no one had batted an eye or shed a tear. It was fitting recompense for sending men to die.
After many delays, they had finally tracked the men to Arnside where the lingering guards who had taken control of the old tower, had told them that a man, Caelan McLagen, had been there. He had been tasked by the Earl of Daffield to save the man’s son but the boy had died and Caelan had been dragged off to England. Elated to know their leader was alive, they were now hell-bent on getting him back.
Artur stood and went to a large stone cast window. Not more than a hundred feet away was the dark, deep waters of Loch Mahrais. The water was an unfathomable blue-black in the night. His eyes lifted from the depths to look at the light coming from the village on the other side of the loch’s bank. The people there needed their Laird to guide them, and their doctor to heal them. Caelan had left a part of him with every person in that village and though he was the Laird in the interim, no one could replace the McLagen.
The door opened and three men came in. Artur turned to them, his eyes moving from one to the other. Three men, three brothers by blood, Rogan, Donnan, and Gregor, were the best spies the clan had. They were also good with a blade too.
“Well?”
“As far we have seen,” Donnan said. “He’s there, locked up in the keep.”
Leveling a curious gaze at the
men, Artur asked, “And how dae ye ken this?”
“The guard first and then a woman bring food there at specific times, early morning and dusk,” Rogan answered. “The last three days the woman dinnae come which makes us think that she shouldnae be doing it at all. What prisoners get two meals a day? The last time I heard, starvation was much more efficient when tryin’ to break someone.”
“And the lass,” Gregor added while massaging his eyes. “Her too.”
Artur’s eyes narrowed. “What lass?”
“We saw a lass, dressed in good clothes and all, coming to the keep almost every day. At first, we dinnae ken who she was but then we saw her huggin’ the Earl as he left off back to London and now ken that she is his daughter.”
Artur’s eyes went comically wide in his shock, “Ye dinnae say.”
“Aye,” Rogan slumped in his seat. “Surprised us too. I cannae ken why she’s going in every day but she is.”
Deliberating on what next move to take, he asked, “Dae ye ken she’s sympathetic to Caelan?”
“Either that or she is going to get him to bow to her father,” Donnan said. “We cannea ken why she’s going but somethin’ must have stuck with her for to dae so.”
“If…” Artur hedged, “if we can get her on our side…mayhap she can be the one to free him.”
A look passed between the three and Artur was drawn to it. “What?”
“When we left there was a celebration in the making,” Rogan said. “If we had gotten the message to her and if, mind ye, if she was agreeable, she would have done it when all the attention was on the house.”
“Damnation,” Artur cursed. He raked a hand through his hair. “What else can we dae?”
“Aside from storming the Earl’s home with the few soldiers we have left and the ghosts of the others, I dinnae see any way out tae get him,” Gregor said. “The lass might be our only hope, but it’s a gamble. If she is loyal tae her faither then our cause is lost…but…”
“Aye,” Artur said while grabbing a sheet of paper and his quill. “…let’s put our hopes on but.”
Chapter 19
The Christmastide celebration in the massive ballroom was filled with the top tier of the ton. Halfway to the dance floor, Adelaine surveyed the glittering scene and the people there. Music was in the air and the ballroom had light blue, light grey, and white banners streaming from every angle of the room, cleverly reflecting the winter theme.
