Wymon bowed low and winced with the effort. ‘I have come as instructed.’
‘Did you bring the money?’ said Rufus.
‘I did indeed, and now I can claim my betrothed.’
Someone had to tell him the news if her father was not inclined to. ‘But, Laird Carruthers, Cecily has vanished. We do not know where she is, and there has been no news of her.’
Wymon regarded her with a steady grin, and Rowenna’s stomach lurched as her father’s trap clanged shut. Her legs almost went from under her, and bile rose in her throat.
She turned to her father. ‘No. I will not. Never.’
‘I…er…what is going on? You said the lass was willing, Rufus,’ whined her awful suitor. ‘I want her, and I have come ready to pay.’
Rufus rose from the table. ‘Of course, she is willing. Rowenna will be honoured to be your bride and unite our two houses.’ He cast a look at her - craven, shameless - then shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘Better wed than starving here, lass.’
‘But it is Cecily, you want, Laird Carruthers. She might return any day now,’ said Rowenna.
‘She’s not coming back,’ said Bran.
Rowenna mouthed at him. ‘Please, Bran. Help.’ But he ignored her.
‘We all know this union will strengthen our two houses,’ said Rufus. ‘Just think of all the fine dresses and jewels you shall have, Rowenna. My hearty congratulations, Carruthers, for winning my daughter’s fickle heart.’
Her father was so weak that he would take the easiest course out of their problems, even if it meant selling her like an animal. And judging by Morag’s smug expression, she was in on the plot. Rowenna almost exploded with rage at her family -if you could call a nest of snakes a family. No, snakes were more worthy. Her family was a tangle of slimy, slithering worms.
There was a sudden clatter of boots, and Jasper Glendenning burst in with his men, scattering Wymon’s men like a flock of startled pigeons. With a cold glance at her and a dismissive glower at Wymon, Jasper marched right up to Bran, took hold of him by the throat, and lifted him off his seat. With a stab of satisfaction, Rowenna watched the smile melt off her brother’s face, her father’s too. A gurgling sound filled the hall as Bran tried to take a breath, and when her father stepped forward to intervene, swords scraped against scabbards.
Jasper glowered at Rufus while choking Bran. ‘I have come to call in my debt, MacCreadie, and get answers about your allies, the Gunns.’
‘Gunns?’ yelped her father. ‘What’s this about Gunns? Hold, please, Glendenning. We can satisfy you, I am sure.’
Jasper dropped Bran to the floor like a stone and spat his words in her brother’s face. ‘Do you have my money, wretch?’
‘No…I…but I can get it, I swear…and….’ Before he could continue, Jasper hauled him to his feet and threw him across the table with astonishing strength. Bran landed on the other side with a thump and a groan. Jasper followed, grabbed him by his jacket and began pummelling him with his fists. ‘I want answers, MacCreadie. Did you raid my cattle and slaughter them. Did you kill my villagers, carry them off?’
‘No, never,’ groaned Bran. ‘I would not dare.’
‘Not good enough,’ snarled Jasper.
The hall echoed with the thud of Jasper’s fists meeting Bran’s flesh until Rowenna shouted, ‘Stop. Please, before you kill him.’
Jasper let go of Bran and marched up to her. Blood stained his knuckles and plaid. There were several spots of it on his face. He was terrifying.
‘Stay out of this,’ he snarled, and then, as if he came to his senses, he looked about the room, taking in Wymon and his men. His brows knitted. He jerked his chin at Wymon. ‘Who are you? Are you collecting on a debt too, or just conniving with these rats?’
The old man stepped forward. ‘My name is Wymon Carruthers, and I am not collecting a debt. I am here to claim a prize.’
‘What prize?’
‘Her,’ said Wymon, his bony finger pointed at Rowenna. ‘We are betrothed, and I have come to fetch my bride.’
A rushing sound filled Jasper’s head. He could scarcely believe what he was hearing. He glared at Wymon until the old man looked away. The thought of the lass being polluted by the filthy old goat, with fumbling hands and wrinkled cock, filled Jasper with loathing. So, it must be unbearable for Rowenna to face such a fate.
‘Is this the best you can do – a withered old man?’ he hissed to her. ‘Surely, a lass as comely as you deserves better?’
‘I beg your pardon,’ shouted Wymon, with misguided courage.
‘You’ll not have my pardon,’ sneered Jasper over his shoulder with casual contempt, still holding Rowenna’s gaze. ‘So it seemsyour father is open for business again, lass, selling you to the highest bidder.’
