Already, he had wormed secrets out of her, ones he could use to manipulate and control her. Maren’s pity evaporated and became a mist of hate.
‘I came here expecting to find the man you once were, a man who could strike terror into men’s hearts, and instead, I find a disappointment. But I have said my piece, and if Drayton comes for you, this warning might just save what is left of your worthless life. I have paid my dues to the Devil, and now I am going. Go rot in Hell.’
Her father swept back his arm to strike her, but Maren pulled out her musket and aimed it at his face. ‘I am not some soft lass any more. Do not think to strike me and still breathe, old man.’
‘Keep your shrewish tongue from wagging then, for I’m not too old to thrash the life out of you. I will give you some leeway, seeing as we have not been in the same room for years. Leave the fop cooling his heels awhile, and let us talk.’
‘No. I must go.’
‘Sup with me. Come, sit. I have not seen your bonnie face for years, and it is a welcome sight, no matter the bile that spews from your nasty mouth. I can see your mother in you, Maren.’
‘Aye, but she left long ago, and now I am doing the same. Goodbye, Father.’ The man hardly merited the word.
Maren hurried away with no surety that he would help her, but she had done her best and would not tarry. To spend another moment in his company was unbearable.
***
Bryce kicked at the dirt in the yard impatiently. The house was impressive – a fortified manor, three storeys high. It sat, bullying its neighbouring cluster of meagre thatched cottages, which comprised the rest of Durness. A patchwork of green fields separated by grey stone walls surrounded it, and with no trees for miles, there was nothing to stop the wind from tearing at him. The only sound was the bleating of sheep and the hiss of the ocean in the distance, punctuated by raised voices inside, now and again.
He could not know what was being said, but he hated leaving Maren to face her father alone. Part of him knew that it was shame on her part. She did not want him exposed to her horrible family. But he didn’t care where she came from or who her father was. Love had the power to sweep away all those considerations and render them trivial.
He heard the clatter of footsteps, and Maren rushed toward him, followed by a man with dark looks who strode right up to him. It had to be the Baron.
Bryce looked into the face of the man who had terrorised Inverness. It went against everything he held dear not to throttle the brute, then and there. But he had made a promise to trust in Maren, and he would not break it, no matter what it cost him in pride and integrity.
The man was burly, with a thuggish air and low cunning burning in his eyes. His contempt for Bryce was all too apparent in the curl of his lip and the way he spat on the ground. He wore arrogance like a cloak, and Bryce was sure he had not one jot of kindness or love for his daughter lurking in his hard heart. What she had said of his behaviour was borne out by his demeanour. Maren would have had a miserable upbringing with this animal.
‘So, you are her man now?’ His voice was a dog’s wet growl.
‘Leave him be,’ cried Maren.
Colm McEwen waved away her protests. ‘Answer, fool,’ he snapped.
‘I am her protector, and I intend to be her husband.’
‘No matter that you are high born and she, very low indeed,’ said the man, with a smirk.
‘From what she tells me, her mother was a lady,’ said Bryce meeting his gaze and holding it.
‘Aye, a lady of sorts. But Maren is clearly no lady, and I am no gentleman.’
‘One look, and I can see that Maren takes after her mother, not you.’
‘Do you play with her, leading her on like the fool she is, just so that you can get in her skirts, eh?’ countered Colm McEwen.
‘I do not lead her on. I love her.’ Bryce’s eyes met Maren’s, which were wide and fearful. ‘And I would thank you not to call Maren a fool. She is anything but.’
‘No, indeed, for she has managed to hook you, and what a nice fat fish you are. What did she lure you with, I wonder?’
‘Father. Stop it.’
‘Leave it be, girl. You came to me, so you will suffer my interrogation of this fine fellow here.’
‘I will not.’
‘I am sure he can take care of himself, and if he can’t, he has no business claiming you. And why be so soft with him? What did I always say? Once a fish is well and truly on the hook, there is no need to keep feeding it maggots.’
A coughing fit followed this last jibe, and the Baron doubled over and spat bloody sputum into the dirt.
