“No damage.” He pulled another chair over beside her and sat in it. “The bastard means to rattle us into surrender.”
“I’ll no' give that son of a bitch the satisfaction.” Catriona’s eyes widened at her own words and she pressed her fingers to her lips. “I mean…”
“I ken what ye mean well enough and I agree with ye.” He motioned to the door as he looked at Father Alexander. “Would ye be so kind as to show the elders and Sawny in, Father?” He shifted his gaze to Mrs. Aberfeldy. “Ye may leave.”
“Why, I—”
“Nay, woman. Come with me now. There’s no time to argue.” Scrawny Father William grabbed hold of the housekeeper’s plump arm and forcibly led her from the room.
“I dinna trust that woman,” Alexander said under his breath.
“Aye, Neither do I since her visit with me whilst they held me captive.”
“Has she harmed ye?” Alexander rose, ready to string the old housekeeper up by her thumbs.
Catriona frowned at the closed door to the sitting-room, pondering the portal as though it held answers to questions she’d yet to ask. “Nay. But things she said and things that Tom and Sawny shared with me about her in the caves. I canna put my finger on it but I ken well enough that I willna share any confidences with her ever again.”
Alexander reached out, took her hand, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Ye may always trust your confidences with me, love.” He wished to hell this was all behind them so he and Catriona could get back to behaving as man and wife with their greatest worry being what they’d name their children.
At that moment, the sitting-room door opened. The three elders, Munroe in the lead, along with Sawny and Tom entered.
Sawny made a half-hearted gesture toward Tom. “I thought mayhap Tom could help. He knows the keep better than me.”
“That’s fine.” Alexander nodded to the two older men standing beside Munroe. “Your names?”
“Jock Neal,” said the taller of the two. The man looked like a great knob-kneed water bird with a long beak of a nose and a frame so thin he risked disappearing if he turned sideways.
“Cuddy Neal,” replied the other man in a voice so soft that Alexander leaned forward to hear him.
Still holding Catriona’s hand tight in his own, Alexander scanned the faces of the trio of old men and the two young boys. “I need to ken every secret this keep holds. Passages. Caves. Double walls. Jameson Campbell intends to starve us out so what ye tell me here today could be the key to our survival, ye ken?”
“Aye,” they all replied in unison then Sawny stepped forward. “Me and Tom had an idea that might help sway the odds in our favor. Would ye care to hear it?”
“Aye,” Alexander replied without hesitation. What could be more creative and devious than a pair of twelve-year-old lads itching to make a name for themselves in this world?
“We figure them c-cannons got a lot t-to do with ole Campbell thinking so high of himself,” Tom said. Determination and fire flashed in the lad’s dark eyes.
The boy’s fervor surprised Alexander. This was the first time he could remember hearing the lad string together more than a couple of words and speak them whilst looking him in the eye. Alexander gave him a nod to continue.
Tom wet his lips as though his thoughts were making his mouth water. “The six of us c-could do it.” He looked at his friend. “Daren’t ye think so?”
“Aye,” Sawny replied, his reddish brows knotted above his narrowed eyes.
“Do what?” Catriona shifted, her gaze flitting from Tom to Sawny.
“Clear our glen of the cannons,” Sawny answered then grinned. “Oakie’ll help us. Ye ken how he loves gunpowder.”
“Who is Oakie?” Alexander asked, not entirely certain he truly wanted to know judging from the leery look on Catriona’s face.
“Our f-friend,” Tom supplied with a gap-toothed smile.
Catriona pulled in a deep breath and released it in a huffing sigh. “Young Oakie has always loved fire since he was little more than a bairn.” Catriona seemed to be having a great deal of difficulty finding the words. She gave Alexander a pained look and a sheepish shrug as she squeezed his hand. “But he loves what it does to gunpowder even better.”
“Aye,” Sawny chimed in. “Murtagh nearly skint him when he blew up the fencing in the east paddock last summer. Said it knocked the horses off their feed for most nigh a month.”
They intended to blow up the cannons. These boys and four of their friends. Alexander shifted to the edge of his seat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him. “The two of ye think ye can do this without getting yourselves killed?” He hated the thought of sending little more than children into such a dangerous situation.
“Master Duncan said he was f-fourteen when he took to f-fighting,” Tom defended, astutely guessing what was giving Alexander pause. “S-Sawny and me be thirteen n-next month. Oakie and the others are b-bout the same. S-some a little older.”
Sawny stepped forward and went down on one knee before him. “Ye have our fealty, my chieftain. Please allow us to defend our clan.”
The boys’ creativity and sincerity touched Alexander’s heart. After studying them a long moment, he agreed. “Aye, lads. I trust ye to protect us but I’ll be sending Magnus along in case ye have need of his wisdom.” Alexander held up a hand to stay their protests. “No argument. And may God go with ye.”
