Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
Foulis Castle
“E stevan dun Tarh!”
The shout came from the direction of the keep just as Estevan dismounted his steed. It had been an easy ride to Foulis Castle, though it was approaching sunset, so he knew he’d be spending the night here. But it didn’t matter. He hadn’t seen Padraig or his sons in quite some time, and by the time he turned around, Padraig rammed into his belly with a shoulder, threw his arms around Estevan, and lifted him right off the ground.
It was like being smothered by a bear.
Estevan was a big man, so the fact that a man twice his age was lifting him off the ground was some feat, indeed. But the man’s big shoulder was right in his gut, and he could hardly breathe as Padraig tossed him around joyfully.
“Christ, Padraig!” Estevan said, finally pushing off the man’s head to break his grip. “Ye’re going tae kill someone with that greeting.”
Padraig wasn’t deterred in the least. He laughed heartily, grabbing Estevan by the head and kissing his cheeks. Just when Estevan managed to peel the old man off him, he was hit from all sides by two Munro sons, both of them delighted to see him.
“Estevan!” Calum Munro shouted in Estevan’s ear as he threw his arms around him. “It’s been years, lad! Where have ye been keeping yerself?”
Estevan was sandwiched between Calum and his younger brother, Guthrie. He simply stood there, suffering through their hugs and kisses, suffering through those hugs until he could hardly breathe. He was afraid they were going to break his arms the way they had him pinned, and then he’d be of no use to anyone.
“Lads,” he muttered, his lips twisted because Calum was pinching his face. “If ye dunna let me go, ye’re going tae break bones.”
“We’re simply glad tae see ye, Estevan,” Calum said without moving his pinching fingers. “Are ye not glad tae see us, too?”
“Release me, ye fools, or I’ll wipe the ground with ye.”
That had Calum and Guthrie and Padraig laughing uproariously, but they did as Estevan asked and let him go. Grinning weakly, Estevan had to shake some feeling back into his arms before he could return Padraig’s embrace.
“Ye’re a ridiculous old man, Padraig Munro,” he said. “If I dinna like ye so much, I’d light yer farts on fire and happily watch ye burn alive.”
That only drew more laughter from Padraig. “Ye’re a kind man, lad,” he said. “Thank ye for sparing my life.”
“Ye’re welcome.”
“Tae what do we owe the honor of yer visit?” Padraig said. “Ye dinna send word ahead. Why not?”
Estevan gestured toward the hall. “Feed me and I’ll tell ye,” he said. “I’ve come with news of a situation we need yer help with.”
That wiped some of the humor off Padraig’s face. “Oh?” he said. “Serious?”
“Serious enough.”
“Is yer father well, laddie? That’s all I care about.”
“He’s quite well.”
“Good,” Padraig said. “Then drink my ale and tell me all about it.”
The old man had a solid grip on Estevan as he pulled him toward the hall of Foulis. It was a long, skinny hall with two access points, and once Estevan entered, he could see that it looked like a typical Scottish hall, with old rushes on the floor, dogs scattered about, and a firepit in the middle. Smoke escaped through vents in a roof that had enormous timbers spanning the ceiling.
As they neared the table on the far end of the hall, Padraig began shouting for food and drink. Male servants dropped what they were doing to comply, men who had been sweeping the hearth and repairing the legs of one of the tables, among other things. Estevan sat heavily, as it had been a fast ride from Blackrock, and removed his leather gloves.
“This place gives me comfort,” he said.
Padraig sat across from him. “Why is that?”
Estevan looked at him, a twinkle in his eye. “Because it never changes,” he said. “I find comfort in that. I remember coming here as a wee lad, and it seems tae me that it has hardly changed at all.”
Padraig looked up at that soaring ceiling. “It was the same when I was a lad, too,” he said. “It has been the same since the days of my father, Jamison, and probably well before that.”
“Ah,” Estevan said, “the Red Lion. The great Jamison Munro. I’ve seen my father weep only twice in his life, and one of those times was when he received word of Jamison’s passing. He was quite fond of him.”
Padraig smiled faintly. “As was I,” he said. “I miss him.”
“And yer mother?”
Padraig motioned in a southerly direction. “When my father passed, she returned tae Four Crosses Castle on the Welsh Marches. ’Tis where she was born, and she had a desire tae return, so she did. She’s still there.”
“Will she ever return tae Scotland?”
Padraig shrugged. “Who can say?” he said. “She and my father were very close. His death hit her quite hard. I think she plans tae return someday, but being here reminds her of him, and that is painful for her.”
“Understandable.”
Drink appeared along with trays of cheese and apples and bread. Padraig sat back, watching his sons grab at the food and Estevan pour himself a healthy measure of ale, before speaking.
“Now,” he finally said, “what brings ye tae Foulis, Estevan? It must be something serious if ye’ve ridden all the way from England.”
Estevan took a couple of gulps of the ale before replying. “Originally, I came for Darien’s wedding,” he said. “It is supposed tae be tomorrow.”
“ Supposed tae be?” Padraig said. “It sounds as if he’s not getting married.”
“He’s not,” Estevan said flatly. “His bride ran off with her sister’s betrothed. That is why I’ve come.”
Padraig looked at him in horror. Even Guthrie and Calum stopped shoving food in their mouths, looking at him in surprise.
“Darien’s bride was abducted?” Padraig said in outrage. “By whom?”
Estevan shook his head. “’Tis not so easy as all that,” he said. “It appears that the bride was a willing participant. She ran off with her sister’s intended, a lad named Luke Cannich. His family lives at Moy Castle. Even now, her father has men out combing Inverness and roads south looking for the pair, but meanwhile, he and my father have decided that Clan Cannich should pay for the sins of their son. He’s sent me tae ask ye for men to lay siege tae Moy Castle. The situation is a mess, Padraig. My father asks for yer help.”
Padraig could hardly believe what he was hearing. “Who’s the bride’s father?”
“Fergus Moriston.”
Calum and Guthrie started to snort and hiss as Padraig spoke. “Moriston,” he muttered. “I know Fergus Moriston. The bride wouldna be Emelia, by any chance?”
Estevan looked at him, puzzled. “Aye,” he said. “But how did ye know?”
Padraig was reluctant to say, but Calum wasn’t. He answered without hesitation. “Because Emelia took a liking tae me some time ago,” he said. “There’s no easy way tae say this, Estevan, but there was no keeping Emelia out of my bed. I thought she was in love with me, but she wasn’t. She simply wanted tae toy with me, a poppet tae cast aside when she grew weary. I asked for her hand but her father denied me. He had bigger game in mind.”
Estevan groaned with realization, slapping a hand to his forehead. “Darien,” he said—what they were all coming to figure out. “How long ago was this, Calum?”
“About a year.”
“That was around the time she was betrothed tae Darien,” Estevan said miserably. “But I dunna understand. Ye’re the heir tae Foulis. Ye’re a fine prize, Calum.”
“But he’s not a dun Tarh,” Padraig said quietly, eyeing Estevan. “And Lares wants me tae help him punish the family of the man Emelia ran off with?”
Estevan had the distinct impression that Padraig was going to deny him. “Aye,” he said softly. “That is his request.”
Padraig didn’t say anything. He lowered his gaze for a moment, pondering the request, before glancing at Calum, who was looking at his father expectantly.
“Well?” Calum said. “Of course ye’re going tae lend yer support.”
Padraig sighed heavily. “Calum…”
“Dunna be ridiculous,” Calum said, waving his father off. “This is Lares who is asking. Ye support the man, do ye not? He’s an old friend and ally. It doesn’t matter why he needs assistance. What matters is that he does. And ye’re going tae give it tae him.”
Padraig listened to Calum’s plea on Estevan’s behalf. He wasn’t surprised because Calum was loyal that way, but he also thought the man’s heart had been broken by Emelia Moriston. Perhaps he’d been wrong about that. But there was no denying this was quite an awkward situation.
Still, Calum was correct about one thing—Lares was an old friend and ally, and Padraig would do anything for him.
Even lend the man his army in defense of a woman who’d broken his son’s heart.
Or not.
“Aye, I am,” he finally said before looking at Estevan. “How soon does Lares need the men?”
“As soon as possible. My da is out for blood.”
“I can give ye about a thousand lads in the next couple of days.”
“Thank ye,” Estevan said sincerely, but he was eyeing Calum as he spoke. “It seems this is a strange situation for ye, Calum, and for that, I am sorry. I dinna know about ye and Emelia.”
“I know,” Calum said, waving him off. “Dunna be troubled. ’Twas bad enough what she did tae me, but tae run out on Darien is unforgivable. How is he taking the situation?”
Estevan was careful in his answer. “Shocked, like the rest of us,” he said. Then he returned his attention to Padraig. “My da will be in yer debt for this.”
Padraig was nodding even as he drained his cup. A stream of ale ended up running down his chin, and he wiped it away with his hand when he set the cup down.
“I’m glad tae do it,” he said, but his focus turned to Guthrie. “Guth, I want ye tae send messengers out intae the hills tae summon the men. If we are tae leave in two days, then we must get the word out. Start the signal fires. We must prepare.”
Guthrie was on his feet, heading out of the hall even as more food and ale was being brought in. The sun was going down and the feasting was about to commence for the inhabitants of Foulis as the castle closed up for the night.
For Estevan, he had what he’d come for.
Moy Castle would soon feel the wrath of a groom scorned.