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Now Hugo chuckled. The sound of his mirth at the dastardly thing he had done made Sorcha cringe. “I’ve nae a doubt I can overcome Katherine’s party and kill her,” Hugo said. “They are headed through the Caledonian Forest on the westernmost side, following the trail of the Marching Oaks.”
Sorcha’s stomach roiled at Hugo’s offer. The man never did anything that he did not think would benefit him somehow, and she had a horrible suspicion…
“What would ye wish in return for completing the mission that was assigned to Finn by myself and the others?” Sorcha’s father asked, waving a hand toward the two men who still sat at the dais.
Other rich nobles, she presumed, angry that King David was taking their land and giving it to commoners he thought more loyal. Of course, he was right. Her father and these “others” were not devoted to King David. In truth, they detested him because he would not let them influence the way he ruled.
Hugo turned to face the dais. “I would do anything to aid ye,” he said and glanced to her father before looking back at the dais, “and my lords Stewart and March in your quest.”
It was just like Hugo to avoid a direct question. He had to want something quite important to show such reluctance to reveal what it was until he felt certain of her father’s answer. Sorcha did not miss how Hugo’s gaze flicked to his father, the Earl of Ross, nor how the earl gave an almost imperceptible nod of approval at his son’s words. The churning in her stomach turned so violent that she doubled over a bit, feeling sick.
“Of course ye would, Hugo,” Sorcha’s father said lazily. “We all ken ye want what’s best for Scotland, as each of us certainly does. The king surely does, as well, though he seems to have forgotten that having us, the nobles, work with him to ruleiswhat’s best for Scotland.”
Sorcha barely resisted the urge to grunt her disgust. Now that she knew who the noblemen in attendance in the room were, it was undeniable that each of them—from her father to King David’s own nephew, the Steward—were not gathered here out of concern for Scotland. They were here to ensure they kept their power, just as she had guessed. Apparently, they had decided to strike at King David through his mistress to show the king they could hurt him despite the fact that he was king.
“Still,” her father spoke again, “for risking yer life to help us tell David that without us by his side nae even his beloved mistress is safe, we—” her father waved a hand behind him to the men who sat silently on the dais “—would wish to reward ye for yer aid. Tell me, what sort of reward would ye care for?” It was a command more than a question; he was clearly weary of Hugo’s stalling.
“If it pleases ye, my lord, I’d like to marry yer daughter,” Hugo responded, finally revealing what he had been after.
A gasp escaped Sorcha, and she slapped a trembling hand over her mouth. Her pulse raced when Hugo’s gaze shifted in her direction. For one long moment, she felt his eyes searching the darkness, and she feared greatly that somehow he could see her. She held her breath, but he looked at her father again. She exhaled, placing her palms flat against the walls to either side of her because her legs felt as if they might buckle beneath her.
“That certainly pleases me,” her father replied so easily that tears instantly pricked Sorcha’s eyes. He knew she did not wish to marry Hugo, did not even care for him, but none of that mattered to her father.Shedid not matter to him. He had bartered her away without so much as blinking.
Her throat tightened as the tears blurred her vision then slid down her cheeks in twin paths of warm, wet betrayal. She swiped angrily at them. She had understood for many years that Father considered her and her sister possessions to be used for gain, but she had never feared greatly what might come to pass because she believed Mother would somehow influence him. Sorcha had foolishly relied upon that knowledge for her future. But Mother was gone. Constance was gone.
Father clapped Hugo on the shoulder. “Once the deed is done, return to me and Sorcha will be yers, along with Blair Castle, which I will give to her as a wedding gift.”
“Father!” Finn burst out.
Sorcha flinched, fearing what was to come, and within a breath, Finn’s head jerked violently to the right when the back of their father’s hand struck his cheek.
“Ye’re nae worthy to command Blair Castle,” Father snarled.
She cringed at the words. Blair Castle had been given to him by King David when he had helped negotiate the king’s release from captivity in England just three years earlier. Father had promised the castle to Finn when he finally proved himself a worthy warrior.
She glanced to her brother and bit her lip, hoping he would not do or say anything that would make the situation worse. Finn turned so that she had a direct view of his face, and much to her relief, he pressed his lips into a thin white line as his cheeks turned a blotchy red. His hands curled into fists at his sides, but he did not speak.
She started to exhale a relieved breath when Father spoke. “Ye are nae worthy of the Stewart name, Finn. So help me, I will make a warrior out of ye if it kills me. Ye will ride with Hugo to hunt Katherine’s party, ye will watch how a real warrior completes a mission, and then ye will return and serve as guard to yer sister as she makes her way to Blair Castle to rule it by Hugo’s side.” He paused. “And when Hugo deems ye to finally be a true warrior, ye may return to me and command my men, and someday, when I die, you may rule this castle. But if ye’re never deemed worthy, as God is my witness, I’ll give this castle and all others to the children Sorcha bears Hugo.”
She cut her gaze to Hugo, who was struggling not to smirk. Panic swept through her at what was unfolding. If Hugo was successful and she did nothing to stop him, she would be a party to murder, not to mention she would become the man’s wife. She could not live with herself if she did not try to prevent an innocent woman from being murdered, and she certainly did not want to be chained to Hugo forever. Yet, if he wasn’t successful and he was captured, or worse, Finn was captured, they may well all hang by the king’s command once he traced the order back to the lords in this room.
She ground her teeth. She knew where the trail of the Marching Oaks was, and if she fled now, she had a very good chance of reaching Katherine before Hugo, Finn, and the others. She thanked heaven that her uncle Brom had secretly taught her how to ride a horse. She was an excellent rider, but if she did this, there might very well be no returning home if her betrayal was discovered by Hugo or his men. They’d tell her father and he’d brand her a traitor, and she shivered to think how Father might punish her. Marriage to Hugo surely would seem a blessing.
She pushed the fear out of her mind. She had to save the king’s mistress, not to mention herself from Hugo and her brother from doing something so dreadful as to be party to the murder of the king’s mistress.
Taking a deep breath, she crept out of the shadowy alcove and raced out of the castle. She had intended to take the most direct path to the stables, but to her horror, Hugo’s men were already gathered in the courtyard, dressed battle-ready like Hugo and mounted on their destriers, as if waiting to depart as quickly as possible when the order came. She ducked back into the castle and made her way quickly to the rear door that led to the gardens.
Running now, she raced through the gardens toward the stables. She burst through the door, not at all surprised to see her uncle sitting on a stump talking to the horses. Brom was more comfortable around animals than he was around most people, so he was in the stables much of the time. He turned toward her, a childlike smile pulling at his lips. His eyes had always reminded her of Father’s, but Brom’s were kind, unlike his brother’s. His gaze darted all around her, yet never settled on her. Her throat tightened with emotion. She could flee to her aunt Blanche’s home if her betrayal was discovered, but Brom and Finn were the two reasons she had not done so after her mother had died and Constance had been married off so callously by Father.
Brom had the big, burly body of a strong warrior but the mind of a child, and Finn had the mind of a man but not the will of a fighter, nor the spine to stand against Father. She feared what would become of both of them if she left. Sorcha was the only one other than Mother who had ever been able to calm Brom when he was agitated and could get him to talk at all. Her fears for Finn were entirely different but just as real. There was a desperation in him that had grown more and more each year, fed by Father’s criticism and the pressure to become a coldhearted warrior—and man. She feared he was becoming just that, and she could not idly watch it happen.
She walked slowly toward Brom, though the urge to hurry swirled inside her. She had no idea how long she had before her brother, Hugo, and his men departed, but approaching Brom quickly had always been a sure way to agitate him. She paused close enough that she could get him to look at her but not so close that he would strike her if he became fearful and swung out. Brom would never intentionally hurt her, but when he was fearful, he became crazed.
“Brom,” she said firmly, clapping her hands to get his attention.
His gaze flittered over her, then came back to her and settled. The small smile on Brom’s face grew huge. “Sissy,” he crooned.
She’d told Brom more times than she could remember that she was his niece, but in his mind, he always thought of her as his sister. “Brom, I need to ride out quickly. Will you help me ready Summerset?”
