He said it as if that were a bad thing. “I notice that has not stopped you from drinking it,” she said. “Drink it all down. It will help warm and calm you.”
He obeyed and downed the rest of the sweet, tart wine. He seemed quite normal about it until Corisande reached out to take the empty cup. Instead of handing it to her, he grabbed her hand and yanked her hard against him. The cup clattered to the ground and, in an instant, his hairy arm was across her neck.
In an instant, the tables turned. The captive was now in control and the sounds of swords being unsheathed echoed against the walls.
But Canmore was prepared.
“I’ll kill the lass if ye dunna drop yer weapons!” he growled, backing up against the wall next to the hearth and draggingCorisande with him. “Do ye hear me, ye bloody Sassenachs? I’ll kill her if ye dunna do as I say!”
Corisande yelped as he gave her neck a good squeeze and she grasped his arm, trying to keep him from strangling her. All she could see was her father and brothers in front of her, various stages of outrage on their faces and weapons in their hands. Ares was positively red with fury. But her father forced them to back away and she found herself looking at Cole de Velt.
He moved to stand right in front of her, absolutely fearless.
“I did not think you were this stupid, Canmore,” he said in that deep, grumbling tone. “You disappoint me. My father still holds your wife. If you release Lady Corisande, I will not tell him of this, but if you refuse, I will send word to my father about your behavior. It will not go well for your wife.”
Canmore was trembling all over, his edgy gaze glaring at the man with the unusual eyes. “Ye’ll send word tae yer father tae release her or I’ll snap this lass’ neck and ye’ll no’ be able tae do a thing about it. Do as I say!”
Cole didn’t move. His gaze was fixed on Canmore like a hunter sighting prey– unblinking, unmoving. After a moment, he smiled, but it was humorless.
And terrifying.
“Give her to me and I will not tell my father what you have done,” he repeated. “If you do not, do you want me to describe what my father will do to your wife? And do you wish for me to describe what will happen to you? I hope pain is something you enjoy because you will have your fill of it. And so will your wife.”
Canmore’s trembling seemed to grow worse and his grip on Corisande tightened. “Ye dirty, lying bastard,” he said. Then, he looked around the chamber at the faces gazing back at him, but he mostly focused on Alastor. “All of ye are dirty bastards. De Bourne, I made ye a fair offer and this is how ye repay me? Doye no’ realize that the Northmen are coming tae reclaim their lands? If ye dunna stand with them, ye’ll die. All of ye will die.”
“You first,” Alastor growled.
Canmore sighed heavily, his nasty breath on Corisande’s neck. “Ye’re the descendants of the Bloodaxe,” he said as if the man were a dolt. “These lands belong tae ye. How can ye no’ want what is yer due? We’re offering tae help ye. Can ye no’ see that, ye fool?”
Alastor stepped forward, standing next to Cole. “’Tis you who are the fool, Canmore,” he said. “I do not know who has been feeding you tales of victory, but this is a battle you cannot win. There is a whole massive country to the south with thousands of men who will come north and drive you and your Northmen allies back into Scotland. They’ll drive you all back into the sea.”
“Tis our right!”
“’Tis madness.”
Canmore’s mouth was working furiously. “This was once the land of the Picts, long ago,” he said. “The Northmen came and took Lindisfarne and Berwick, and they ruled for many years in the north. They are willing tae share this land with us– and ye. Yer bloodlines come from the last King of Northumbria. Eric Bloodaxe was a bloody ruler, a strong ruler. Would he no’ want ye tae reclaim yer right?”
They were arguing the contents of Alpin’s missives to Alastor for all to hear. This was everything he’d sent to Alastor in those hastily scribbled missives he’d been sending over the past year. But Alastor was grateful for the opportunity to discuss them because he wanted to make it clear to Alpin, as well as his allies, where he stood.
He had no time for delusions of conquest.
“Do you know where our family name comes from?” he said. “Abourneis a stream, a brook that runs through the land. An ancestor took the name de Bourne because it was said that EricBloodaxe killed so many, and was such a vicious and evil ruler, that there were streams of blood running all throughout his land. I have no desire to continue his legacy as such. There will be no blood on my lands as long as I am head of the House of de Bourne, and I shall not rebel against the English, of which I am one. We are united, and the north is peaceful for the most part. I will not engage in a war I know I cannot win.”
Canmore shook his head as if the man were a complete idiot, but his trembling was growing worse. That wine he’d sucked down so rapidly was already filling his veins and going to his head, making him unsteady.
“Then ye’ll die a fool’s death,” he said. “There are others that dunna feel as ye do. They are prepared tae join us.”
Alastor was careful in his reply. “Other Englishmen?”
Canmore snorted, pulling tighter with his grip on Corisande, who had thus far remained silent and still. But she winced when he squeezed tighter, something that made Ares and Atlas lurch in her direction as Alastor held up a hand to stop them.
Not yet, lads…
“Answer me,” Alastor said. “There are other English? They must not be very powerful. There is no one in the north that I know of who would join you. The Normans rule here, Canmore.”
Canmore made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. “Ye know nothing,” he muttered. “Tha an fhìrinn ann am Bearaig.”
Alastor didn’t speak Gaelic, but he was coming to the end of his patience. He wanted his daughter back and it was clear that the wine Canmore had ingested was making him tipsy. The frost wine had that effect on even the strongest of men.
