Chapter Five
Hamish would have liked some time alone to mull over this turn of events, but he knew it was not to be. As soon as the front door closed behind him, he sensed the wall of Alaric’s displeasure.
The dark-haired warrior was waiting for him at the bottom of the wide stone steps, his arms folded and his eyes flickering dangerously.
“Does Siegfried speak the truth?” he demanded, before Hamish had fully descended the steps.
It had been cold all day, but mayhap Hamish had grown overly used to the warmth of the fire inside, for now the freezing air wrapped around him like a vice.
I dinna have a cloak, he realized belatedly. He had flung Gaunt’s livery onto the flames, then grown distracted by the golden-haired beauty sitting beside him when he meant to reach into his pack and fetch out his own cloak.
The cloak of the Laird of Greenock. It had seemed pressing important to remind himself—as well as the lady—who he rightfully was.
For Isabella de Neville made him feel like a peasant with her haughty ways and sharp gaze.
With her calm demeanor and air of assurance, which had not faltered even when she realized the gravity of her situation.
She took his breath away.
“Well?” Alaric barked.
Hamish would not allow one of his own men to rile him. “Well what?” He reached the bottom step and came to stand quite deliberately in front of the younger man.
“Does Siegfried speak the truth?” Alaric repeated.
“Aye, most often he does.” Hamish put his head to one side as if considering the matter.
Alaric hissed, “Ye know what I mean. Must we stay in this cursed land e’en longer?”
“This land isna cursed. I’ll wager on a clear day, ye can see Scotland from yon highest part of the moors.” Hamish pointed to his left, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around him to preserve what little bodily warmth he still had. “Where is Siegfried?”
“He is feeding the horses.”
“Whilst ye wait here in the cold for me?”
“I want to know what ye have planned. I didna join yer ranks to live on an English farm.”
“Ye dinna have to set a single foot inside the place. Let us go now and see if sleeping quarters can be found in the barn.” He clapped a hand on Alaric’s shoulder and forcibly turned him away from the hall.
’Twas not for want of keeping his word to Isabella. At least, ’twas not only that. Hamish had a strong urge to keep Alaric away from her.
He did not trust him. That was clear enough.
And he felt an overwhelming need to protect her.
That was an ongoing source of confusion.
Hamish shook his head, wanting to clear his thoughts. Happily, Alaric seemed willing to walk with him into the barn, which Siegfried had accessed through the stables and opened from the inside. Chickens scratched about their booted feet and the air smelled sweetly of hay.
“The horses are settled and fed. There is plenty of animal feed,” Siegfried declared, looking up from a barrel and answering an unspoken question.
“Enough to last us a sennight?” Hamish gazed about at the well-swept floor and tidy shelves.
“Enough to last us till spring.”
Alaric bristled with frustration. “The plan was to seize the lady and return to Greenock, where we belong.”
“Plans change, laddie, as ye know well enough.” Hamish kept his voice light.
“So we are ter stay?”
Hamish could not guess at Siegfried’s thoughts on this. His Seneschal replaced the lid on the barrel as if this was all in a day’s work.
“For the moment, aye.” He sighed with cold and weariness. The barn roof was high and the wind whistled around the rafters.
“Why do we not ride for Greenock with all haste, put a knife to the lady’s throat and demand the return of Scottish land to Scottish men?” Alaric kicked at a chicken who scuttled out of the way just in time, clucking and shaking its feathers.
How can I answer that?
“Dinna take out your frustrations on a dumb animal,” Hamish said quietly, but he could see by Alaric’s lowered brow that he would not be so easily distracted.
“Have ye a better idea?” Siegfried offered.
Hamish could have hugged him.
“I believe I might.”
Alaric tutted and crossed his arms. Hamish ignored him, walking over to the row of barrels and perching atop the nearest. Once again, he cursed himself for forgetting his cloak.
His tunic was tailored from the finest cloth, but it could not withstand the chill of a winter’s eve in these northern lands.
“There are three of us,” he began. “’Twas always going ter be a risky business, storming Greenock Castle with just three men bearing arms.”
“We can recruit others along the way,” Alaric argued.
Hamish could not argue with his logic. In fact, this had been his original plan. He had imagined riding into Highland villages with the so-called Lady of Greenock sitting before him on his horse. He’d cried out for support and his plea had been answered by men wielding swords, axes and pitchforks.
A grand plan that had been. But it all hinged on Gaunt’s desire to save Isabella’s life.
Hamish should have guessed that the English Lord did not have such humanity. ’Twas shrewd of Isabella to realize it.
Brave of her to admit it.
In the silence, Siegfried had turned toward Alaric with a resigned sigh. “Will ye show the Laird some respect? Let the man speak. Or do ye look to lead us now, Alaric?”
Hamish caught his ally’s gaze and shook his head imperceptibly. He did not wish to present such possibilities to a warrior with a strong sword arm and an uncertain temper.
“Gaunt has no long-standing affection for the Lady.” He nodded toward the house. “We could have guessed as much for the paltry guard he sent down.”
“Then we kill her and be on our way. Think of a new plan.” Alaric shrugged with such insolence that Hamish was half inclined to strike him.
“Nay more unnecessary bloodshed,” Siegfried spoke through gritted teeth.
“And nay such haste!” Hamish interjected. “We were wrong about Gaunt’s affections. But the Lady is of good standing. I believe we might yet use her to wield influence.”
He stopped short, not wanting to articulate his full thoughts on this.
He had yet to fully articulate them, even to himself.
Alaric narrowed his eyes. When he smiled, he was a good-looking youth. But when anger showed across his angular face, he had the look of the very devil.
“How so?” he demanded.
Hamish rose from the barrel and drew himself up to his full height, widening his stance on the dirt floor. “Ye misunderstand me, Alaric. I am not asking for yer approval. I am telling ye what we are about to do.” He took a breath. “Ye dinna have to stay.”
In truth, now that he was no longer thinking to storm Greenock Castle, he would almost prefer it if Alaric did not stay. The man was a mighty warrior, but an untrustworthy companion.
Siegfried had been right about that. As he was right about most things.
The Seneschal had wandered over to the open door of the barn. “Methinks we might be wise to stay for a while, in any case.”
Hamish strode over to him but could discern naught amiss. The empty courtyard stretched up to the grand manor house, which was still shuttered up. All was quiet save the gusting wind.
“There is snow coming,” Siegfried warned.
Alaric snorted derisively. “Ye canna tell that. Not with the sky so clear.”
“I can smell it,” the older man stated implacably.
Hamish wanted only to stop this disagreement before another argument took hold. “Either way, ’twill be dark soon.” The slanting winter sunlight which had hurt his eyes had now faded to a colorless half-light. “We must find food and lodging for ourselves.”
“There are sleeping quarters above the adjacent barn,” Siegfried jerked his head upward. “Pallets and blankets all laid out.”
Alaric sniffed again and Hamish rounded upon him. “Are ye forgetting, lad, that we have been bedding down in a cave? Pallets and blankets are luxury indeed.”
He would love to lay claim to a blanket right now.
“One of us must sleep inside and guard the Lady.” Alaric wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“That will be me.” Hamish turned away before he was again inclined to strike him.
“As it should be,” Siegfried decreed.
“We must find food.” Hamish was brisk. “I shall look in the kitchens.”
“I can take care of it?” Siegfried offered.
Hamish did not hesitate. “Ye have done enough for one day. Rest awhile. Both of ye. I shall rustle up provisions and bring them out to ye.”
He deliberately avoided Siegfried’s eye, knowing his old Seneschal would sense an ulterior motive.
Hamish had never thought himself above serving the men who served him in turn. But in truth, he longed to return to the warmth of the hall. To fetch out his cloak and check the security of the building.
But most of all, he longed to return to Isabella.
*
Darkness had fallen and Hamish was busy in the well-stocked kitchen. He had already taken cheese, cold meats and ale out to his men. ’Twas more of a feast than they had enjoyed in days, not that Alaric had thanked him for it.
Now he was stirring a broth for himself and Isabella.
The Lady needed something hot. When he visited her again in the feasting hall, she had seemed frozen half to death, despite the warmth of the fire.
She is too thin, he thought, finding a blanket in a trunk and tucking it around her knees. She had smiled her thanks, but her gaze slid over him and left him disappointed.
He had enjoyed their lively and honest conversation earlier in the day, her flashing eyes and obvious spirit. Now, something of a trance had come over Isabella de Neville.
He wanted to wake her from it.
God’s Blood. He was close to wanting to ask her for advice on how to proceed.
“Ye do ken ye are her captor, not her sweetheart?”
He pictured Brianne perched atop the scrubbed wooden table, mayhap munching on the end of a carrot as she had when she was younger.
“I know it,” he answered steadily. “But the lady has a brain in her head. And a better knowledge of the likely reactions of her brother than I could e’er have.”
“Not all brothers are as loyal as ye, Hamish.”