Her silky, sweet voice became harsh as her body stiffened. “If ye mean that serving wench, I cannae believe ye would choose her over me.” Then just as quickly her voice changed again. This time to the voice of a seductress. She ran a finger down his arm, and took his hand, never once taking her gaze from his eyes. “She is an awful, ugly wench. She threw cold water over me head when she was supposed to be helping me bathe. Yer father has punished her.”
Dougall swiftly moved away from her, leaving her with a disappointed expression on her face. “What do you mean? Where is she?” The fear and anxiety he’d been feeling upon first arriving, was back.
“I dinnae ken what he did with her, but she deserved whatever she received. I am a lady and she’s nothing more than a common serving wench.” Greer spun and went back to her sister and Fingall, whose smiles made it clear they thought the whole exchange amusing.
Dougall resisted the urge to shake this infuriating woman. He had to find his father. “Fingall where is Da?” he barked.
“I believe he’s out by the practice field, brother. ’Tis good to see ye, but ye’d best abide by his wishes. Ye havenae been here in years, so ye’ve nae been privy to his temper.”
“I remember it well from when I was a lad,” Dougall growled.
“Aye. Ye always seemed to be receiving the lion’s share of it.” Fingall laughed as he twirled a strand of Gillian’s hair around his finger. “Why do ye nae sit and visit with us fer a while. Ye may find that Greer is more to yer liking than that blonde serving girl ye brought home with ye.”
Dougall didn’t bother answering his brother. Instead he strode to the doors and out into the courtyard in search of Paddraig MacRae. He only hoped he could contain his temper. At this moment he wanted nothing more than to pummel him, no matter that he was his father.
Time was of the essence. Paddraig was no where in sight, so Dougall did what he should have done from the beginning. He headed to the dungeon. He passed his sister Brenna on his way and only gave her a fleeting nod of his head.
“Dougall!” She came hurrying after him.
“Aye. I cannae speak with ye now. I must find Helene.” He continued on down the passageway that led to the dungeon.
“Dougall, ye’ll nae find her. She’s gone.” Brenna was out of breath from running to keep up with him.
He stopped, grabbing Brenna by the shoulders. “Gone? Where?”
“She was in the dungeon and Da had no intention of letting her out, even upon yer return. I helped her escape. Da doesnae ken it yet. He hoped she’d simply wither away and die down there.”
The rage Dougall felt at this news was like nothing he’d experienced in his life. “When did she leave?” His grip tightened on his sister and she yelped in pain, causing him to release her.
“I sent her on her way about a sennight ago. I gave her food and water, but unfortunately she had to leave on foot. Da confiscated her horse and I was unable to get it fer her.” Brenna appeared sincere and even worried for Helene. “I ken ye left me in charge of her and I promised no harm would come to her. I’ve disappointed ye and I’m sorry.”
Dougall leaned his back against the cold stones of the passageway. This was the last thing he expected to find on his return. Brenna had done her best. There was no need to be angry with her. ‘Twas his father that would pay for this. “Thank ye, sister. Did she know how to get back to Breaghacraig?” He knew better than that. Of course she didn’t. She never ventured far from the castle.
“She didnae say.” Brenna bit her lower lip. She reached a comforting hand towards her brother, but he shook it off.
“I must go. I have to find her before ‘tis too late.” The thought of Helene alone and lost was killing him—and the worst of it was that it was all his fault.
“Nae, Dougall. She kens the way of it. She understands ye must marry Greer. It’s best if ye do as Da has arranged and marry the lass,” Brenna pleaded.
“I’ll nae marry her, Brenna,” he shouted. “I love Helene and I intend to leave here to find her.”
“Love is a fleeting thing, Dougall. Ye’ll ferget about her soon enough. Ye’ll see.” His Aunt Saundra joined them and lent her voice to the conversation.
“I dinnae wish to ferget,” he said through gritted teeth. “I wish to marry her. If I see me father before I leave, I willnae be responsible fer me actions. Logan is waiting fer me. I willnae be back.” He kissed his sister’s cheek and his aunt’s. “Thank ye fer helping Helene. I should never have left her here. I only hope she can fergive me fer doing so.”
“Come, Logan. We must leave.” With narrowed eyes and a pinched expression, Dougall pushed Logan out of the way to get to Broch.
“Where’s Helene?” Logan quickly glanced around and then back to Dougall.
“She’s gone. Me father locked her up in the dungeon after we left. He intended fer her to die there.” His voice nearly broke, but he managed to stop the flood of emotions overtaking him. This was no time for weakness.
“She escaped?” Logan seemed incredulous.
“Aye, with help from Brenna. We must hurry. She left here on foot. She may be back at Breaghacraig by now, but if not we may encounter her on the road.”
“Dougall!” His father’s voice boomed at him from across the courtyard. “Yer back. Have ye seen yer lovely bride?” Paddraig jogged over to them with a satisfied smile upon his face.
“Yer a despicable old man. I cannae believe what ye did to Helene.” Dougall’s fisted hands were shaking with the need to do great bodily harm to his father.
