Ean flew over the table and grabbed Gordie by the throat. “I’ll not listen tae ye, ye old fool,” he hissed. “I’ve already sent messengers tae the clans tae tell them that my daughter is being held at Gleann na Fola. The English are taunting us by punishing a little lass. That will rally the clans and we will descend on Glenn na Fola, once and for all. We’ll overrun the place and slay every last Sassenach, men and women. All of them will die and victory will be ours. The castle will be ours. De Bourne of The Keld willna dare retaliate, nor will the rest of the de Wolfe properties because they’ll know our strength.”
He was squeezing, but not hard enough. Gordie hadn’t known that he’d already sent word to their other allies—and once the word was out, it wasn’t as if they could refute it. That would only create more animosity against Westerkirk and their chief, who would lie to create conflict. Already, Westerkirk’s reputation was hanging in tatters. The quiet, reclusive clan that everyone knew had become something volatile and untrustworthy.
It was an insult to Arduil.
“Where is yer daughter?” Gordie asked with Ean’s hand on his throat.
Ean didn’t like that his uncle was still able to talk and squeezed a little harder. “With her mother,” he said. “The Sassenach took her.”
“But they sent a message tae tell ye that the bairns were going tae the abbeys,” Gordon reminded him. “Carlisle and Whitby and others. The English commander promised ye that they’d be safe.”
That wasn’t helping Ean’s cause. “And he could have lied,” he said. “The Sassenach have our women and children. They could have my daughter at Gleann na Fola. Who’s tae say they dunna?”
He had a point. The English did take the women and children after the last battle, which Ean was using to his advantage. It was a lie, or it wasn’t. No one really knew for sure. But one thing was for certain:
More death was coming.
And Gordie had had enough of it. He suddenly brought up a big fist and smashed it into the side of Ean’s head, sending the young man flying off him. As Ean went over, Gordie stood up and kicked him in the kidneys for good measure. As Ean lay on the floor, gasping in pain, Gordie loomed over him.
“Yer father would not be pleased with ye,” he said. “Ye’ve made liars out of all of us with yer recklessness. I’ll stand with ye this time, Ean, but after this, ye’ll not see me again. I cannot listen tae a fool with a taste for blood and madness. Ye make me ashamed of ye.”
With that, he walked away, but not before stepping on Ean’s fingers. Others followed until the entire table was empty. Ean lay there, nursing an aching head, back, and stinging fingers as one of the dogs wandered up and licked him on the face. The men around him faded into the darkness until all that was left were those licking dogs and the snap from the hearth.
Ye make me ashamed of ye.
When this was over, his uncle would be eating his words.
Ean was going to make sure of it.
CHAPTER NINE
Gleann na Fola Castle
How could shedescribe it?
Mattie didn’t even know.
She could hardly comprehend what she was looking at. The valley surrounding it was beautiful enough. It didn’t look like a bloody valley, but rather a verdant valley with gently rolling hills. It was quite picturesque. But right in the middle of this valley, in the point where it opened up into some smaller hills and meadowlands, sat a castle that could only be described as a big, dark box of a structure.
It looked like a cube.
The closer they drew, however, the more she could see how positively enormous it was. The truth was that she couldn’t see much because she was riding in her parents’ fortified carriage, which was a heavy conveyance with iron-barred windows and two benches that faced one another. It wasn’t very big. The benches, fortunately, had cushions on them, more cushions still because Gar had wanted to ensure her comfort as they traveled north.
He’d insisted on it.
Even thinking about Gar had Mattie smiling. It had only been a few short days since their marriage, but those days had been full ones. There had been conversations, so many conversations, as they’d come to know one another in an environment that was worry-free and peaceful. There was no pressure of command for Gar, and Mattie was simply enamored with the man she’d married, so much so that she’d quickly become obsessed with him. She could still see that young lad who had saved her from the de Vries brat, but there was so much more to him. He was wise and humorous, a little shy at times, and he was positively mortified when she sang his praises in front of him. The man looked as if he wanted to crawl into a hole and pull the hole in after him.
Speaking of holes, he looked as if he lived in one because of those patchwork linen breeches.
That pale linen had become very dirty, very quickly, but Gar refused to take them off. Mattie had made them and he was, therefore, going to wear them. He wore them everywhere and he even tried to sleep in them. They never came off and they were becoming quite filthy, but she didn’t have the heart to insist he wear something clean because the truth was that she found it very sweet that he should show tribute to her by wearing the breeches she’d made for him. Perhaps he didn’t always know the right words to say, and perhaps he was clumsy with her sometimes, but he knew how to make her feel appreciated with those damnable trousers.
As they traveled toward their destination, with Mattie in the fortified carriage was none other than Winchester himself. He still growled at Gar, and still charged him, but he was becoming a little better about it and Mattie wouldn’t leave him behind, so Gar had had no choice but to bring along his mortal enemy. Maksim was riding escort as well and the dog didn’t make amove against her brother, or Gar’s brother, or even Gar’s father, but he clearly had a loathing for his mistress’s new husband. One little dark spot in what had otherwise been a smooth and agreeable experience.
“We’re almost home,” Gar said, coming alongside the carriage and breaking into her thoughts. “Can you see it?”
He was pointing to the north and she peered between the bars, seeing the dark-stoned structure in the distance. “Aye,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Nor will you again,” he said. “Gleann na Fola was not built like other strongholds, although there is one to the east that has a similar look.”
