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Chapter 18
“Niven, I need to use a bush,” Fia said, already planning a way to get back to Alastair. She had to do this. She’d told Caitlin she would make sure her father returned, plus Fia wanted to use herself as a trade to help Alastair. Clan Grant, to her knowledge, liked to fight. The Gordon sept where she grew up in the Lowlands liked to bargain to get what they needed. It had taken her father a long time to realize that fighting was not always the answer.
“All right,” said Niven, coming to a stop. He got off the horse and helped her dismount. Cerberus watched anxiously, thinking they wanted to play. “The horse could use a break. I’ll wait here for ye, but dinna go far. I am supposed to keep an eye on ye every minute. Cerberus, ye’d better go with her.”
The dog whined and lay down with its nose between its paws.
Fia took off, hiding behind a bush, wondering how she was going to get back to Grant Castle on foot. She needed the horse, but Niven was standing there with the reins in his hand. So, she decided she would have to cause a little distraction. And who better to help her than the king of distraction himself?
“Cerberus,” she called softly, but the dog was wandering around sniffing the ground and didn’t hear her. She picked up a rock and threw it. It landed right in front of the dog’s nose. His head sprang up. When he saw her, he ran over. She reached out and petted him, at the same time spying a squirrel up in the tree. “Look at the squirrel,” she said, knowing the dog would go crazy. Sure enough, Cerberus started to bark, trying to get up the tree to get to the squirrel.
“What’s goin’ on?” Niven called out, but Fia didn’t answer. “Fia?” he said, tying the reins to a branch and venturing over. She hid behind a tree and waited. When Niven got close to the dog, she raced out, mounted the horse and rode away.
“Fia, come back here,” shouted Niven from behind her. “Laird Alastair is goin’ to have my head.”
“Dinna worry, I’ll talk to him,” she said, waving a hand through the air. “Take care of the hound now.”
Fia picked up the pace, heading back in the direction from which they’d come. If luck were on her side, she would get to the castle right after Alastair and his men and, hopefully, be able to do something to make a deal and save his father.
* * *
“MacPherson,dinna cross my bridge unless ye want a fight,” called out the laird of Clan Grant.
Alastair gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, knowing the time had come. He was out of options. The best chance of saving his father at this point was to do it forcefully. “I’ve come for my faither. If I have to fight to bring him home, then I will. But I will no longer put up with yer antics.”
“If ye want yer faither, ye need to give us somethin’ in return,” called out their chieftain, Hamil.
“How do I even ken my faither is still alive?”
“Fingal, bring the prisoner,” said Hamil with a nod of his head. “MacPherson, enter my courtyard so we can make a deal.”
“Dinna do it,” Brohain warned him. “He will trap us inside his castle walls and lower the gate. We will have no way out.”
“It’s a chance we have to take, although I dinna think he’ll do it.”
“Why did ye send the girl away?” growled Rhodric. “We could have used her as a trade and been out of here by now.”
“Let me see my faither,” shouted Alastair. “And we arena comin’ inside the walls. Ye will bring him out here to me.”
Conversation passed between the Grants. Finally, a man appeared holding Alastair’s father. Duncan MacPherson looked gaunt and pale and had his hands tied behind his back.
“Faither,” Alastair shouted. “What have they done to ye?”
“Dinna fret about it, Son. Have ye brought a ransom?”
“They didna request a ransom,” Alastair told him.
“Then did ye bring somethin’ to trade? Son, I have been here a long time and am more than ready to come home.”
“We want ye back, Chieftain.” Brohain rode forward with Rhodric at his side. “However, yer fool son let the girl go who was to be the trade.”
“That’s right,” added Rhodric. “She is the daughter of one of the Legendary Bastards of the Crown.”
“The late English king’s granddaughter?” asked Hamil with a soft chuckle. “Aye, that might have been somethin’ I would have considered. So, ye have nothin’ of value to trade then?”
“Nay,” admitted Alastair.
“Slap him back in the dungeon and, this time, throw away the key,” growled Hamil. “Actually, ye’d better hold on to the key because I’ll have more prisoners momentarily. Attack,” he cried with a wave of his arm.
