Young Remus nodded. “He hasna shut up.”
“Give me the key to his cell and go to the great hall to get some ale.”
“But Laird Alex…” another guard began.
“I will deal with my cousin. And I am more than capable of keeping Duncan safe.”
Remus eyed Duncan, then Jamie. “He cursed the lady—called her a worthless whore. If I had the right to break his wee neck, I would.”
After the soldiers left, Jamie unsheathed one of his dirks and started to clang it between the metal bars of Duncan’s cell. Startled awake by the noise, Duncan sat up on his raised pallet, staring at Jamie.
“Where have the guards gone? I am hungry and thirsty.”
Jamie cast him an evil grin. “Ye lied about Lady Helen.”
“I dinna. And who are ye to accuse me of anything?” Duncan climbed to his feet. “I demand an audience with Laird MacKay.”
“Denied,” Jamie growled. “If ye have anything to say, I will listen.” He sat on a three-legged-stool situated only feet away from the cell door and pulled a wineskin from within the folds of his cloak. The blasted cold in the dungeon always made him thirsty for spirits. He uncorked the skin and drank greedily.
“Why are ye here?” Duncan asked.
“To watch ye squirm like the wee worm ye are.”
“If there weren’t bars between us, ye’d not speak so recklessly.”
Jamie grunted. “The way ye curse a helpless woman?”
“What are ye talking about? Ye’re drunk.”
“Did ye nay call Lady Helen a whore?”
Duncan edged closer to the front of the cell, squinting at Jamie in the dim torchlight. “I merely described the woman as I know her to be. She’s betrothed to my uncle and ran away. Only one thing could drive a noblewoman to leave the safety of her home in the middle of the night, alone. She has a lover. And before my uncle makes the mistake of marrying her, I will expose her for what she truly is.”
Jamie stood, Duncan’s damning words about Helen a call to battle in his mind. “To a sensible man, Lady Helen did what any poor lass in her situation would do, run as far away from yer devil-of-an-uncle as fast as she could.”
Duncan shook his fist at Jamie. “Why do ye disrespect Laird Monroe in such a way?”
“I have more of a right to disparage him than ye do a right to question Lady Helen’s chastity.” Though somewhat wobbly on his feet, Jamie unbuckled his heavy weapon belt and let it fall to the floor. He held up the key to the cell door so Duncan could see it. “This is yer only chance at freedom, Duncan Munroe.”
“W-what do ye mean exactly?” The man’s voice trembled as he eyed the key.
“I am at a serious disadvantage at the moment,” Jamie said. “Drunk and out of my mind with lust. Makes me an easy mark, doesna it?” He chuckled. “But spirits also make me more intolerant of men like ye.” He paused and slipped the key into the lock on the cell door and waited to hear it click open.
Realization hit Duncan, and he backed away from the front of the cell, hiding in the shadows as best he could.
“Light will shine out of darkness.” Jamie opened the door and stepped inside the cell.
“Doona come near me,” Duncan called.
Jamie ignored his weak command, his cowardly-voice. “I will set ye free if ye can knock me down.”
“Knock ye down?”
Jamie paused and stared at Duncan. He wasna overly large or small, thin with beady eyes and black hair—actually resembled an underfed crow. “Have ye ever fought a man?”
“With a sword?”
“With yer fists.”
