Brian grinned at the note of respect in Sigimor’s voice. His cousin was one of the few who would find the MacFingals’ skill at stealth one to admire. Sigimor and his brothers were very good at it as well.
For a moment he wondered if he was letting foolish pride lead him. After what had happened the last time he had ridden away from Dubheidland with no escort, he feared he could be risking Arianna’s life. Then he inwardly shook his head. He would leave Sigimor and his men to keep an eye on their backs until they were out of Cameron territory. After having been beaten twice he was certain that Amiel and what few men he had left had headed for Scarglas and the others, needing the aid of the other men now more than ever. He would work to get Arianna to Scarglas and her boys as quickly as he could and this time he would never let her out of his sight.
“We are verra good at it, aye,” he agreed, and laughed softly when Sigimor tossed a piece of bread at him. “Arianna begins to show a true skill at it as weel.” He poured himself some cider. “We will leave as soon as she packs the things your wife gave her. Every instinct I have tells me the DeVeaux ken exactly where the lads are and that is where this will end.”
“So ye really do think they will all gather at Scarglas?”
“From what Arianna heard while that bastard held her, aye, that is their plan. He was headed there when he stumbled across her. She is certain that Lucette’s plan was still to try and use her to bargain for the boys, despite what the DeVeaux want to do with her. Unfortunately she was nay fully conscious when he and his men argued over what the DeVeaux had planned.”
He took a deep drink of cider to try and cool the rage that still burned hot in him when he thought of what had been done to Arianna. Brian doubted he would ever forget how she had looked, bruised and bloody as she struggled to rise up off the ground. It galled him that Lucette had escaped punishment for the blows he had struck, a punishment that would have had the man dangling from the end of Brian’s sword.
“We will do our best to keep them running for their lives and hiding from us as ye get that lass to Scarglas,” Sigimor said. “My lads are eager for the work.”
“That is what I am hoping for, that they will be more concerned about ye and yours and nay take time to try and find us. Although, they may have already reached Scarglas. They have certainly had enough time. But, if ye do happen to stumble upon them because they stopped to lick their wounds, or have been so busy trying to avoid ye and your men they have done naught but run around in circles, I would appreciate if ye gave me the courtesy of leaving Amiel alive. I dearly want to be the one to end that bastard’s life.”
“Aye, that is how it should be. And, I ask again ere ye leave for ye may have given my words of wisdom a wee bit of thought by now. What do ye plan to do with the lass when ye have ended the threat to her life?”
That was not really a question Brian wanted to answer. He attempted to keep his attention firmly on the simple chore of finishing his morning meal. It was a ridiculous ploy to ignore his cousin. Brian often wondered if Sigimor ever noticed when someone ignored him and then sighed. His cousin had a too sharp wit so of course he noticed. Sigimor just refused to be ignored.
“I can wait longer than ye can pretend ye dinnae hear me.”
Brian glared at his cousin, but Sigimor just crossed his arms over his chest and cocked one ruddy brow. “I dinnae ken yet what I will do save to reunite her with her family, which has been what she has sought from the verra beginning.”
“It pains me to have to lay claim to such an idiot of a cousin.”
“I begin to think ’tis ye who doesnae listen. Why cannae ye see that she is better born than I am?”
“Because I didnae ken that the Murrays had their bairns differently than we do. Do they use special herbs? Mayhap only birth their bairns on a particular sort of linen. Mayhap the women dinnae sweat or groan or curse the mon who set them on the birthing bed.”
“I often wonder how it is that ye have lived so long. There must be hundreds who have dreamt of killing you.”
“Nay, I dinnae ken that many people.”
It annoyed Brian that he wanted to laugh. “Sigimor, ye cannae ignore the simple truth that she is higher born, richer, and from a clan that continues to gain power and honors. I am a MacFingal, a son of Fingal MacFingal who, whilst apart from his clan because he had a feud with his brother, decided to breed his verra own clan. He bred so many bastards it makes even the greatest of lecherous goats gasp in shock.”
“Might be envy.”
Brian ignored him. “He thinks an argument is polite conversation, says whate’er is in his mind without one thought to the consequences, and he paints himself blue and dances naked round a stone circle when the moon is full.” He narrowed his eyes when Sigimor chuckled. “Aye, laugh. Ye dinnae have to claim the old fool as your fither. Ye also dinnae have to have people looking at ye as if they fear the madness they are certain inflicts the old mon might be running in your veins.”
“Nay, I just have to claim him as my uncle, something I worked verra hard to do despite his refusals, if ye recall. So, if your wee lass doesnae grab those lads and run screaming from the place once she kens whose seed ye sprung from, I ask again—what will ye do?”
Brian dragged his hands through his hair. “Cousin, talking to ye is much akin to slamming my head into a wall. I repeat, no land, no house, and little coin. A bonnie Murray lass such as she is can do far better than me.”
“As could the daughter of an English earl do far better than a laird with more kin depending on him than most would tolerate, but that didnae stop me. I won her.”
“Naught can stop ye. Ye are like some thick-horned bullock,” Brian muttered.
“And it should nay stop ye, either. She already wed as her family bid her to once, didnae she? And just where has that gotten the poor lass? A puling coward of a husband who wasnae really her husband, who betrayed her and scorned her, and now a hard run to save her life and her husband’s sons from the greed of the bastard’s brother. The family that should have welcomed her as a new bride, as a new daughter, that spat on her and still took all her dowry. Are ye telling me that, even with that old fool we must both claim as blood, ye cannae give her better than that?”
“Oh, aye, I could, but I doubt her clan would want a mon like me to have her. If naught else, once they met my fither, they would fear madness ran in the blood.”
“Ye mean that clan that let a daughter marry an Armstrong? Another marry that mad MacEnroy? And another wed your brother Gregor? And let us nay forget that some fool of a Murray let one of their lasses wed my cousin Liam. That clan?”
“All those lasses didnae have much choice as they were maids who spent far too long alone with an unwed mon. It doesnae matter that they wanted to marry the men. E’en if they hadnae someone would have demanded it. Arianna is a widow. We both ken that the rules are a wee bit different for such women.”
“I believe Liam’s wife Keira was a widow.”
“Sigimor ...” Brian struggled to think of what else he could possibly say to shut the man up.
