arm while another ensnared her brother by the scruff of the neck.
“No!” she screamed, fighting to keep hold of the lad and wrapping an arm around his waist. “Release me!”
The tyrants tried to pry them apart. Gnashing her teeth, Ailish held tight while Harris kicked his captor. “Let go!”
No matter how much she resisted, her efforts were in vain. It took three knights to peel the lad away. The boy fought like a hero, stretching his arms out to her. “Don’t let them take me!”
She twisted and struggled to break free, but she was no match for the two brutes gripping her by the arms. “I will find you!” she shouted as they dragged her to a pillar and tied her wrists around it while Harris disappeared out the door.
Herbert looked her up and down with a nasty sneer before he turned.
“You cannot kill him,” she spat. “Harris is the true Earl of Caerlaverock.”
The imposter stopped and glared over his shoulder. “You are quite mistaken. I am earl. And if you cannot own to it, you will suffer the same fate as your father.”
As she clenched her fists, every fiber of her body turned to fire with the force of her hatred. “You are a deceitful liar!”
Her uncle pointed his sword at her throat. “Your arrogance is exactly why you are unfit to care for the boy. You are just like my brother.”
Ailish stopped fighting and glared at the cur while a flicker of hope flashed through her mind. If she was unfit to care for Harris, then what did her uncle intend to do with the lad? “Where are you taking him?” she demanded.
“Far away from here. The whelp must learn respect for the crown.”
Her brother would live?
Refusing to allow a modicum of relief to show on her face, Ailish narrowed her eyes and curled her lips. “You mean Edward?” she said as if the King of England’s name were a curse.
“I most certainly was not referring to the murdering, self-proclaimed King of Scots.”
“Robert Bruce is the king—he’s the only true heir.”
“You and your misplaced sense of birthright.” Herbert snorted, sheathing his sword. “Your cowardly king is not only in hiding, he sanctioned James Douglas to sack Clifford’s keep. The lunatic murdered His Lordship and impaled his head on a spike above the main gate. And, by God, Douglas will meet his end in the Tower where he’ll join his father in hell.”
“Clifford?” Ailish jerked against the ropes. Sir James had begun his raids with his own castle? And sacked it? “Lord Clifford was a tenant at best.”
“And you will never be tamed.” Herbert backed out the door. “But Edward might have a place for your father’s devil. If he cooperates.”
***
No sooner had the doors of the church slammed when Coira dashed to the pillar and untied Ailish’s bonds. “Are you hurt, m’lady?”
“Only my pride.” Rubbing her wrists, she was far more concerned about her sister, now sobbing in Sister Louisa’s arms. “More importantly, is Florrie well?”
The child wiped her eyes and sniffled. “T-that man hit me.”
“There’s a bruise coming up on her cheek,” said Sister Louisa.
Ailish examined her sister’s face. There was a red mark on the side of her cheek, but the strike hadn’t broken the skin. She kissed the lass’ forehead. “Are you sore anywhere else?”
Florrie shook her head.
Ailish bent down and looked her sister in the eyes. “I need you to be strong for Harris. Can you do that for me?”
“A-aye.”
“You have the strength of the Maxwell Clan running through your blood. I want you to return to the dormer with Coira. She’ll mind you whilst I have a word with the prioress.”
“After vespers has concluded,” said the mother, clapping her hands and urging the nuns back into their pews.
No matter how much Ailish wanted to argue, she took to her knees. But now she prayed for God to protect Harris, remaining in place until the service concluded and the nuns filed out of the nave.
“Come,” said the prioress, leading Ailish to her chamber. “We cannot abide soldiers forcing their way into the priory and taking children.”
“No, Mother.”
“Your uncle must have discovered Harris was here when you went to Scone.”
“Nay.” Ailish clearly remembered seeing her uncle’s man’s face in the gate’s viewing panel. “’Twas when the soldiers demanded food a few weeks past. I recognized one of them.”
Mother sat at her writing table. “Well, whatever the reason, your brother is gone. I must write to Bishop Wishart at once.”
“Agreed, the bishop must be informed.” After