Therefore, it was to conceal all of that doom in his mind that he made his best effort to appear cheerful and carefree, for he had business with one of the prisoners.
Not that he expected a different result from the ones he’d gotten the previous dozen or so times he’d made the trip down to see her.
Oh, Romilly McGregor was a stubborn one, and no mistake. She was hard as a coffin nail, so much so that Bryan had to admire her on some level. Mostmenwould have gladly confessed by now to earn better living conditions for themselves,let alone women. Still, there she sat, time after time, implacable, unwilling to concede even the smallest piece of useful information. Her face remained stony, but for the blackness of the sheer hatred in her eyes at the sight of him.
I might just as well have saved myself the walk down here, Bryan thought,as I am certain of the outcome.
Except that wasn’t true. Laird Alex had specifically ordered him to make another attempt, and Bryan could no more disregard an order from him than he could spontaneously detach one of his own limbs.
He stopped just outside the cell, took a moment to compose himself, then entered.
Romilly sat on a slab of cold stone in her fraying and filthy dress, her hair matted, her skin pale and chafed, her fingernails chewed down to the bloody quick. Her back was straight, though, her shoulders squared, her posture defiant as ever.
“Come tae waste a bit more time with me, haven’t ye, Captain?” Her tone was almost cheery.
Bryan suppressed another shiver. How could she remain so damnably calm in such surroundings? For that matter, how couldhebe expected to?
“I dinnae find our time together tae be a waste at all,” he replied, keeping his tone casual. “I have been most impressed by ye, as it happens.”
“Oh?” She laughed hoarsely. “Not by my looks, surely, for despite the dearth of looking glasses down here, I can be reasonably sure those departed me some weeks ago. It has been roughly a month, since my imprisonment, has it not?”
Yes. A month had indeed passed since Romilly McGregor’s treachery had been revealed, and she had been clapped in irons. Bryan would not give her the satisfaction of confirming that, though. He was well aware that being unsure of the passage oftime was one of the defining punishments of this ghastly place. It unsettled him all the more.
Instead, he said, “Nay, not yer looks. Yer strength of heart. I have known few people who would endure such hardship as ye have, and remain resolute.”
“Ye have known few McGregors, then,” she answered, “for we are none of us weaklings like the Oliphants.”
“Weaklings, eh?” He rocked back and forth on his heels, as though calmly discussing the weather. “Well, despite any weaknesses ye may feel we possess, we still seem tae have prevailed over ye in the current situation.”
“Only momentarily,” she sneered.
Bryan stopped rocking, his eyebrows raising slowly. “Do ye mean tae say that ye intend escape, or that yer father intends invasion of our lands tae retrieve ye?”
For a moment, it looked like she might be about to respond, but then she set her jaw and looked away, remaining silent.
Inwardly, Bryan cursed himself for not taking things more slowly. If only he had eased into it instead, he might have tricked her into giving an answer. But he’d come to know that look of tight resolution on her face enough times before to know that the interview might as well conclude, for she would offer no further words—except perhaps for oaths and curses.
As he stood up, he decided to try once more anyway, if only so he could assure Alex that he had, “Lady Romilly, yer steadfastness is remarkable as ever, and ye have a sharp mind to go with it. We could use someone like ye on our side when the fighting begins. For that matter, perhaps with yer help, we might avoid bloodshed entirely.”
At that, she smirked, and there was an evil gleam in her eye. “There will be bloodshed, by the gallon. Oliphant blood. Yers shall be first, if I have any say in the matter, but either way, ye shall die along with all of yer kinsmen!”
He sighed. So much for that, then.
Bryan plodded back up the steps to the main floor of the castle, and as he did, he felt the tight gauntlet of anxiety around his heart loosen. He hoped this would be the final time Alex would order him to speak to a prisoner, at least for a good long while.
When he reached the top of the stone steps, he was surprised to find Alex waiting for him.
“How did it go?” the laird inquired.
“Oh, it was bloody marvelous,” Bryan quipped. “She gave a tearful apology for trying tae murder yer bride, Isla, and she drew out a map of all the weaknesses in the McGregor defenses. Then she danced a hornpipe and sprouted wings from her.”
“Aye, ye’ve made yer point,” Alex chuckled wryly. “Still, the attempt had tae be made.”
“She’ll never talk tae us,” Bryan said more seriously. “If we’re tae have a chance against the McGregors, we shall need tae come up with a different strategy.”
“And we’d better do it soon,” the laird mused. “We’ve no way of knowing when or how they will come for us.”
“We can assume it won’t be as an army in full force,” the captain replied. “Their armies would nay be a match for ours, especially now that ye have allied us with Isla’s clan. Laird Angus may be a swine, but he’s clever enough tae know that. He’s used his oldest daughter as his weapon, bribed our own people tae betray us from within. His methods are devilishly subtle.”
