Bride of Ice (The Warrior Daughters of Rivenloch #2) - Glynnis Campbell Page 0,15
enemy.
“Is he a Highlander?” Brand’s eyes went wide with amazement as he neared the hostage. “Are you a Highlander?”
Hallie’s oldest brother, named after their grandfather Gellir, arrived next. A year older than Brand and as grim as the grave, he caught his brother’s sleeve.
“Get back, Brand,” he warned. “You should ne’er approach a prisoner.”
Brand frowned in annoyance and pulled free of Gellir’s grasp. But he heeded his brother’s advice, taking a judicious step away.
Meanwhile, in the midst of the courtyard, Isabel was conspiring with three of her friends. She whispered something to them, and all four began staring at the Highlander with dreamy eyes.
“Enough!” Hallie announced, holding up a hand for quiet. It was time to set things straight.
She handed the claymore and the prisoner off to Rauve and waited for silence.
When the crowd hushed, she made the announcement. “You should know, Jenefer and Feiyan have been taken prisoner at Creagor.”
There was a loud collective gasp.
“What!” Gellir snarled. His brows collided. His fists clenched. “By whom?” He looked ready to kill whoever had captured his cousins. And anyone else who got in his way.
“We’ll get them back,” Brand bravely chimed in. “Won’t we, Gellir?” Then his gaze dropped to the sword in worry. “Wait. Do they all have claymores?”
“I can put the hostage in irons,” Rauve offered, “and have the men ready to attack ere breakfast.”
Grumblings of vengeance began to circle the crowd.
“Nay.” Hallie held her hand up again to silence the plots that were hatching throughout the clan. “There’s no cause for war. Not yet. Feiyan and Jenefer are being kept by the Highland laird, mac Giric. And they’re safe for now.”
She hoped that was true. She glanced briefly at the Highlander’s battered face, wondering again about the man who’d inflicted those injuries.
“I’ve stolen his right hand man as leverage,” she told them.
“His right hand man,” Brand repeated in awe, eyeing the prisoner with new respect. “Brilliant.”
“What’s his name?” one of Isabel’s friends called out, eliciting giggles from the group of lasses.
Hallie ignored her. She didn’t know his name. She didn’t want to know his name. Becoming too familiar with one’s foe—like getting too close to a prisoner—was a sure way to give him the upper hand. Even Brand knew that.
But before she could stop him, the Highlander answered. “Colban,” he called out to the crowd. “I’m Colban an Curaidh.”
Bloody hell. Now he’d done it. Every lass at Rivenloch would be whispering the handsome captive’s name, as if he were some kind of tragic hero. Even now, she could hear the murmurs from Isabel’s swooning friends.
She had to put a quick halt to this.
“There will be absolutely no fraternizing with the prisoner. No one is to look at him. No one is to speak to him. And no one is to exact vengeance upon him.” She gave stone-faced Gellir a pointed glance. “He’s here for leverage only, as a means to get Jenefer and Feiyan back.”
“Wherever will you hold him?” cheeky Isabel asked.
Her suggestive choice of words was no mistake. Hold him? Hallie clenched her teeth at the insinuation. She was tempted to hold her little sister by the scruff of her neck.
Rauve replied to Isabel with a glare of warning. “He’ll be under my watch, lass. That’s all you need to know.”
Hallie narrowed her eyes at Isabel. She wondered if there was anywhere Colban would be safe from the attentions of a pack of lusty and determined lasses.
Gellir was still eager for battle. “When do we storm the gates?”
“We won’t be storming the gates.”
His shoulders fell in disappointment.
She didn’t need to explain herself. Until her parents returned, Hallie was laird. The clan was obliged to obey her without question.
But she believed, as did her mother, in leading by reason and inspiration, not by brute force.
So she told them, “We should receive news from the king very soon, establishing once and for all our ownership of Creagor. I plan to hold the mac Giric’s man hostage until then. ’Twould be foolish to attack. After all,” she said, giving the clan folk a cool smile, “we wouldn’t want to damage the castle that will soon be ours, would we?”
The clan cheered.
She hoped she was right about that. Creagor had indeed been awarded to the Highlander. Only by the grace of her mother’s influence over the king would that decision be altered.
Hallie couldn’t help but feel a shiver of doubt as the crowd parted to let Rauve through with the prisoner.