The Scot's Pursuit - Keira Montclair Page 0,41
forgo it. He could leave on the morrow without upsetting anyone, he was certain.
John clearly liked the idea of “pwacticing” because he took a running start at Alick, laughing with glee.
“By the way, I just thought I’d let you all of know I married Branwen before I arrived last night.”
Alasdair set his goblet of ale down and nearly spit out what was in his mouth. “You what? You married someone without us? And you’re only telling us now?”
He was about to explain it all, but Gaufried came through the door with an awful look on his face. Emmalin noticed immediately, motioning for the steward to join them. “What is it?”
“There’s a messenger at the door,” he said. “Shall I bring him in?”
“Tell us first,” said Grandsire, his expression already thunderous.
Gaufried cleared his throat and said, “The English have stolen Kyla.”
Alick stood up abruptly, nearly knocking John over. “My mother? They kidnapped my mother?” His stomach clenched at the thought, and he took a step forward, full of purpose. Intent on getting to the stables, although for a different reason.
Grandsire took hold of his forearm and said, “Nay, you’ll not leave yet. Gaufried, bring the messenger in, please.”
Alick glanced up at Grandsire to see how he’d reacted to the news, and the old man’s clenched jaw told him all he needed to know. Kyla was his mother, but she was his grandfather’s eldest daughter.
His bairn.
Gaufried moved back to the door, opened it, and a man wearing a Grant plaid came inside. “Magnus,” Alex said. “Pleased to see ’tis you. Give us the details. How were they able to do such a despicable thing?”
Magnus said, “Jamie and Finlay will be here on the morrow. They sent me ahead.”
Emmalin waved to a serving girl and said, “Ale and a meat pie for him, please.”
“The details,” Grandsire prompted.
“There were five of them. They came in through the back, killed four guards, then snuck upstairs. Two of them held Chrissa out near the outer archery field, and the other three waited for Kyla to go to the cellars and surrounded her there.”
Alick thought he was going to vomit. They had his sister, too? He was definitely leaving.
“They threatened to kill Chrissa if Kyla refused to go with them. They wish to exchange her for you, my laird. I’m sure you’ll get a missive soon, as most everyone knows you are here.”
Alick said, “Where is Chrissa?”
“She’s fine. All five of the men left with Kyla on horseback. It was about an hour into the night.”
The group digested this for a few moments, and then Grandsire said, “That bastard Edward.”
“Och, I forgot the other news. King Edward is dead. His son is king, and ’tis he who sent the men after Kyla.”
Alick stood up and said, “I have to leave as soon as possible.”
But which way did he go?
After his mother or his wife?
***
Branwen fired another arrow, surprised to hit the apple in the tree, knocking it down. She ran to pick it up, biting into the sweet fruit before she handed it to Lora. “Here, you finish it.”
Lora said, “I still can’t believe you were trained by someone who learned from Gwyneth Ramsay.” She nocked an arrow and it flew wide of the target. “I’m not verra good at this.” Her shoulders slumped.
“You cannot give up. It takes many, many attempts before you see improvement. Keep practicing, though you should stop for a bit when your shoulders get sore. We need to get used to it.”
“How I wish we could kill a rabbit for something to eat. I’m hungry,” Lora said. They’d slept another night in the cave, and although Jep had given them some food, it wasn’t a lot when shared between two.
“Mayhap I can shoot down a couple more apples for later.” She aimed and fired, once, twice, thrice, missing with the first two arrows but connecting with the third.
Lora ran over to retrieve it. “This one is big and juicy,” she said with a sweet smile. “We can share it for this eve. ’Tis enough for both of us.”
“Do you miss your brothers or your sisters, Lora? I’ve always wished to have a sister,” Branwen said, pausing to stare off into the bushes, alert for any signs someone might be watching them. Nothing.
Lora stopped to think, tipping her head. “Only Coira. The others are all so mean, and they love to pick on the wee lass. She’s only three summers, but she has a big heart. I feel guilty for leaving her there.