Halvard’s patience thinned like a fraying rope. It didn’t take long for him to lose that patience in the best of days, and he was certainly not having a good day.
“Dinnae lie. Ye were armed, prepared, waitin’ on the path like ye kent she’d come. A lad used as bait. Ye werenae stealers of coin. Ye were hunters.”
The man looked up at Halvard, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. Now that Halvard stood close to him, he could see the damage Sten had done—a bruised eye, shut from the swelling, a broken nose, scrapes and cuts from the ring he wore.
And yet, the man smiled.
“Hunters, eh? That’s nice,” he said. “I find myself quite flattered, my laird.”
Halvard’s eyes narrowed, but he tried to push down the rage that threatened to bubble over inside him. He couldn’t lose his temper, not now. He couldn’t allow himself to get distracted by his fury when he needed answers.
“Tell me who sent ye.”
“There isn’t enough gold in the world that would pay for this answer.”
Halvard’s hand shot forward, gripping the man’s throat—not choking, not yet, but enough to remind him who held power there. There was no need for gold; there never was. He wasn’t going to bribe the man when he could simply deal with him in a much easier, more direct way.
Terror flickered in the man’s eyes then, just for a moment, before he masked it. “We were meant to take a woman. That is all.”
“A woman,” Halvard repeated slowly. “From Brochel Castle?”
Silence. But silence was not denial, and that was enough.
Halvard released him with disgust. The man coughed, gasping.
“Ye speak with an English tongue,” Halvard said, standing tall again. “Ye were paid. Trained enough tae ken how to ambush without losin’ yer own hide too quickly.”
The man said nothing. He only stared at Halvard in silence, his good humor now gone, replaced instead by a glare. In the dim light of the cells, his blue eyes flashed with rage, and Halvard could see the shadows over him as he strained, as if he was trying to get out of his bonds.
But the rope held fast. And as he sat there in that rickety chair, the man surely realized there would be no escape. There was nothing waiting for him but the gallows, and yet when Halvard looked at him, he never once found his resolve crumbling.
He’s loyal tae his master. He willnae speak.
But that didn’t mean Halvard couldn’t come to a conclusion on his own.
He glanced at Sten, his voice a low whisper as he said, “This reeks o’ Harcourt.”
Sten nodded grimly, without hesitation. “Aye. A bairn used as bait? That’s a noble’s tactic… someone who kens what’ll pull a lass like Elsie from safety an’ someone who daesnae care about the bairn.”
A fresh wave of fury rolled through Halvard’s veins. Sten was right, and Elsie had been right, too. In his haste to blame someone, he had blamed the boy, when he was only a child and had been used by Harcourt. Who knows what could have happened to him had it not been Elsie who followed him, had he been caught by someone? Who knows what he could have endured if one wrong move had threatened his life.
Or even ended it.
But it was Harcourt and his schemes. He had dared to send English men onto Highland soil to drag Elsie from his land; to take her back to England by force at best—and at worst, to get rid of her entirely.
Tae replace her with his own daughter.
The bastards had planned it well—if Halvard hadn’t returned early, if Elsie had vanished without witnesses, Bowen could have spun any tale he wished to the crown. The king would have believed him; why wouldn’t he, after all? He had no reason to believe Halvard if he claimed it was all because of Harcourt. Even now, the only proof he had was in his gut, in the feeling he carried with him. If this man didn’t speak, which was the most likely outcome, then Halvard would have to find other proof—something solid, something he could use against Harcourt when the time came.
Halvard turned back to the prisoner. “Where’s the rest o’ yer group?”
The man pressed his lips shut but Halvard didn’t miss the fear behind his stubbornness. Maybe, just maybe, he or Sten could get the man to talk. But that would surely take long. Even if the man caved, he was loyal enough that Halvard doubted all it would take was a few punches and a few threats. They would have to wear him down and then, if they were lucky, there was a chance he would speak.
But until then, he couldn’t rely on him for information.
“Nay matter,” Halvard said coldly. “I’ll find them afore the night is done.” He motioned to Sten, nodding his head towards the man. “Keep him alive. I want him tae remember the price o’ lyin’ tae me.”
The man’s eyes widened as Sten rolled his shoulders. Fear coursed through him—as it should. Sten was not a gentle man when it came to protecting his people.
