Page 219 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

He was livid, almost wild.

"Ainslee, lass, who did this to ye!" he demanded. Right then, Ainslee did not want to tell him, but then he looked at her, unsure.

"Is there another man, lass?" he asked, his fiery breath crackling in his throat. "Did he do this?"

Ainslee shook her head. It was natural, perhaps, for Malcolm to think she had someone else, but the amount of hate involved in it unsettled her.

Watching his face, Ainslee sighed. "Nae, nae other man," she said, shortly. His eyes reached to hers, but she looked away, abruptly.

"Twas just Bruce, on the first day I delivered the blade to him," she said, finally.

There was a moment; an intense silence descended upon the barn. For a minute, Malcolm said nothing. Then, grabbing the new sword, he moved toward her, resolute.

Ainslee felt her heart turn cold. This was not the man she knew. Blinking, Ainslee watched Malcolm transform. With a sinking heart, she realized there was no way back for him. He was lost. And so was she.

"An' I will deliver the blade back to him - in his throat!"

CHAPTER 18

He just walked straight in.

With no fanfare, or introduction, Malcolm entered the Duncan keep, the chill gusts of winter blowing him in.

The wind conspired with them, pushing their horses and blowing them closer. Dismounting, Malcolm cast a long glance at his childhood home. A shiver ran through him.

"Nae going back now," said James, cheerfully. But in the back of his voice there was caution.

Malcolm nodded, as they went to the doors.

Amazingly, they just walked right in. The gate posts were quiet. Just a sleepy guard on duty, who nodded them in through the drive. He believed, without question, they were chapmen, making a circuit with their wares.

Passing through the entrance, Malcolm checked himself. There was no one. The doors creaked back, letting in light to the shut up hall.

James peered uncertainly around the heavy doors and sneezed. Then did Malcolm, and a ton of cobwebs collapsed on top of them, sending dust all around.

"I heard it was run down, but I nae expected anything this bad!" said Malcolm, as James gawped.

Heart thumping, Malcolm looked at the walls and the corridors that had been his home. It was so different. The heart of the place was gone. The sconces were weedy and barely lit. Most of the candles were missing, and, by the look of things, so were the servants.

But, as they neared the great hall, he heard a jangling. Someone was approaching. In a snap, Malcolm turned.

"Halt there! Who goes here?" A man's voice came at them, through the dark.

Malcolm stopped in the corridor. It was almost a relief to be approached. He waited, silently, as the servant - or guard - it was impossible to tell in the dark- caught up to them.

"Sir, what want ye?"

The man's question was bold, but Malcolm did not falter.

"We're here to see the laird. He is expecting us. We have quite a load!"

Malcolm tapped his travel bag, nudging to James to do the same. The servant's eyes went greedily to Malcolm's sack, and then back again.

Nodding, James concurred. "Aye, muckle bonny trinkets, an' whatnots," he said, slipping the guard a wink. "Plenty for the lasses! Some bonny ribbons for yer sweeting!" Malcolm smiled.

The slender guard appeared nervous. For the first time Malcolm saw his features, he was young, and small.

"Och," he said, taken aback. Slyly, his eyes strayed to James' bag, bulging with unknown wares. James grinned, pulling out a single string of jewels. The lad gasped.