Текст книги "Highland Daydreams"
Автор книги: April Holthaus
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 11 страниц)
Chapter 8
At the end of the market square, Bram spotted a tavern tucked away far from the fray where they could have a meal without attracting unwanted attention. Entering through the door, the tavern was lively – full of music and energy. The booming sound of men’s laughter could be heard echoing off the stone walls, while drunken dancers twirled around, their ale splashing out of their mugs and onto the floor. There was not a single table or chair that was not occupied. Bram took out a few coins from his pouch.
Slipping the coins into Lara’s hand, he whispered, “Stay here and dinna go anywhere.
“Where are ye going?” Lara asked loudly over the noise of the crowd.
Bram could sense her worry. But his instinct told him that it was best to not bring her to Montrose keep. If Lara was in some sort of danger, he did not know what to expect from Stephen.
“I am off to Montrose. I will no’ be long. I think it is best if I go alone. I have no’ seen Laird Stephen in many years’ time and I dinna ken where his allegiance lies. I may no’ be able to protect ye while I am there. It is best that ye stay here and wait fer my return.”
Even though Bram was unsure whether he should leave Lara here, he wanted to take the warning he’d received in the market seriously. He knew that at least one greedy person knew her whereabouts and who she might be. He did not want to take the chance of more people discovering until he knew the complete situation.
“I thought ye said that he was a friend. Can ye no’ trust him?”
“Aye, he has been a good friend, but he would stick a knife in yer back to save his own arse if given the choice.”
“What shall I do, if the English come, or if I need to find ye?” Lara asked in a trembling voice.
“Dinna worry lass. Just stay here within the market. Dinna venture off too far and ye will be fine. I have given ye enough coin if ye want to buy something in the market. I will be back soon,” he said as he began to turn towards the door. Just as he turned, he looked back at her and said, “And lass, when I return there are some questions that are in need of answering. I can no’ help ye if ye are keeping secrets from me.”
Without allowing her the time to explain or ask him to what he referred, Bram walked away. Like a startled deer, Lara froze. She fidgeted with her hands as she wondered what secrets he could have been talking about. She stood with her mouth agape, but it was as if he’d taken her voice with him. She had hoped that he would just escort her to Fergusson land without questions. She wrung her hands together, dreading their next encounter.
Bram followed the river several miles south until he reached the gates of Montrose Castle. With the sun well below the horizon, the murky water within the castle’s moat looked ominous. The night air was darkened by a veil of heavy cloud that hovered between him and his final destination. Bram dismounted, strapping his sword to his side. As Bram approached the castle, he could see light flickering from a dim lantern at the top of the tower and guards pacing back and forth between the turrets.
“State yer business or be gone wit’ ye,” a guard called out from a small door of the gatehouse.
“My name is Bram MacKinnon. I wish to have an audience with the Laird of this keep.”
“Our Laird does no’ wish to see any visitors today. Come back tomorrow and ye can make yer request then.”
“I’m afraid that tomorrow may be too late. It is of great importance that I see him. If ye will only give him my name,” Bram continued but the guard quickly interrupted.
“Yer name is of nay importance. It is the dead of night and we have our orders. None shall pass these gates without prior notice.”
“I have visited here before. Montrose used to be friendly and welcomed travelers. Is there a reason why it is nay that way any longer?”
“Aye. But I dinna see why I need to tell ye about it,” The guard replied and turned up his mouse-like nose.
As silence passed between them, Bram grew more impatient with the guard. He knew that he needed to press the guard harder into opening the gates for him. Laird Stephen was the only man in the lowlands that held a high enough position to offer him the services he needed. Bram knew that without supplies, he would never be able to journey all the way to the Highlands before winter weather came upon him.
“If ye refuse to allow me entrance ye can be certain that the English will be the ones barging in these gates, for they may only be a few days ride from here.”
The guard looked at him strangely. His voice changed from a loud growl to a sullen tone as he acknowledged the urgency of the situation.
“I will summon our Laird. Remove yer weapons and I will open the gate.”
Bram did as he was asked and handed his sword to the guard. He followed him to the entrance of the keep and was asked to wait in the bailey while the guard went inside to convey his message.
In the bailey, several guards kept watch at their posts. The atmosphere felt strange. This was not the Montrose Castle Bram remembered. Then again, it had been years since he stepped foot inside the castle walls. The bailey, formerly full of activity with peasants and warriors alike, was now barren except for two masons who were repairing a section of the wall that had been badly damaged. Bram now understood the reason for the increased security and the guard’s hesitation.
Behind him, a familiar voice called out his name, “Bram MacKinnon! I can no’ believe me eyes. I heard that ye were killed in battle. But here ye are.”
“Did ye really believe the English could have bested me? Ye should ken never to underestimate a MacKinnon,” Bram responded, smiling back at the man. “It is good to see ye, Max.”
Shaking the man’s hand, Bram said, “And ye as well. What happened here?”
“Ah, our castle was attacked by the English. Many of my men died in battle. It took us a good month or two to rid our lands of the English. But tell me, why have ye made such a long journey to my keep? Did yer brother send ye?”
“Nay. My brother dinna ken I survived. He must think me dead and rotting in the ground. Nay, I have come to ask ye fer yer help. I need safe passage back to the Highlands but first I must travel through the black forest towards Fergusson lands.”
Bram watched as the skin between Stephen’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Fergusson? Why would ye go so far west? And to that bastard’s land?” Stephen growled.
“I am traveling wit’ a lass. I have vowed to protect her and see her safely home to her family.”
“I am no’ allied wit’ the Fergussons and neither are ye. That bastard is the English King’s vassal. Why would ye want to help a Fergusson lass? Did prison turn ye into an eejit?”
“I ken they are not allies. But she saved my life. She dinna ken that our clans feud. She kens nothing of politics and nay about who their enemies are.”
“Well, she must be a clever lass fer ye to be so trustin’ of her. Either that or she is daft.”
“I made a promise, Stephen. I am no’ going to break it.”
Stephen’s eyes narrowed, “She must mean a great deal to ye for ye to risk traveling through the black forest and Fergusson land.”
Bram glared at him for his suggestion. The man thought to insult him and Lara. He would not stand there and let Lara’s honor be questioned. If he had to, he would toss Stephen on his arse until he minded his tongue.
In a deep growl, he replied, “As I said, I owe her my life and fer that, I am helping the lass. That is all.”
“I dinna mean any disrespect. If ye need safe passage I can have me men send a message to the Campbells on yer behalf. Take what supplies ye need,” Stephen offered. “We have been friends a long time, Bram, and I will help ye, but if it comes to war, I will no’ be a part of it.”
Bram nodded. “I thank ye fer yer hospitality. When I return home, I will make sure my brother pays ye in kind.”
Stephen gave him a grim look before responding.
“Take the road to the west and then north through the woods. The English troops have been spotted to the west. Ye should nay have any trouble if ye keep off the road.”
“Thank ye.”
Stephen bid him farewell and walked back inside the keep. Bram turned and headed in the opposite direction towards the casemate. There he found weapons, armor and a few logs of peat. Marg, one of the servants, came in and gave him extra clothing, a blanket, and food. Once he’d stored the supplies in the saddle bags, he left to head back to Dumfries.
Lara swirled the remaining wine in her cup before taking another sip. The taste of cloves and nutmeg lingered on her lips. It reminded her of her mother, Elsa. Elsa drank heavily and favored the wine. As much as Lara carried with her fond memories of her mother, she only remembered her mother’s unexplained sadness towards the end. She was a woman who could never be pleased, and would always fight and argue with Lara’s father, though Lara never knew why. On the night she passed, she had summoned Lara to her bed chamber. She spoke of mishaps and regrets but Lara did not understand any of it and by the time the fever came she was talking nonsense. Lara forced her thoughts back to the present, finished her cup of mulled wine, and returned to the market.
As she made her way through the carts of beautiful fabrics, she ran her hand across the rolls of silk and lace. Lara had missed the gowns and riding dresses she was forced to leave behind at Castle Foley when she fled. She was grateful that Rowena had given her a gown to wear, as her gown had been so badly damaged. But she couldn’t help thinking to herself that the wool fabric made her sweat more than a farmer working in the blistering sun.
As she admired the linen and lace, Lara saw from the corner of her eye someone following her. It was the woman who Bram had spoken to earlier. Her conspicuous behavior made it hard for Lara to ignore. Slowly, the woman approached.
“Good day to you, my lady. Tis good fortune that our paths have crossed. I know what is in your future,” the woman said.
The woman spoke with a French accent. Lara eyed her curiously.
“My future? And how do ye ken of such things?” Lara asked.
“Follow me into my tent and I can show you,” she said grabbing onto Lara’s upper arm and escorting her into a large tent with dark red linen walls.
“Ye are nay a merchant?” Lara asked as she vividly recalled her standing next to one of the carts in the market.
“Of sorts,” the woman replied.
Inside the tent was a small round table with two chairs sitting opposite each other. In the middle of the table were small stones with bizarre markings and a small stack of thick pieces of paper with painted pictures of exotic and unusual designs. Lara was hesitant for a moment but accepted the chair when the woman offered for her to sit.
“Ye are a gypsy!” Lara exclaimed, her voice louder than it had been before.
The woman laughed at Lara’s reaction.
“I am a woman of many talents. Telling futures is just one of them.”
Lara squinted her eyes in skepticism and waited for the woman to speak. She was curious as to how the woman would perform such a task, for no one, even Lara, could not know her future. She decided that this sort of activity was made for a good jest or wishful thinking but did not for a fleeting moment believe that this woman could predict the future.
Patiently, she sat and waited. The woman grasped the stack of paper and pulled out three pieces at random. The first card was flipped over, showing a picture of a man who looked as if he was in pain. He slumped over to one side and his face had a saddened look upon it.
“I see death. But this death is not in the future, but in the past.”
Lara swallowed hard. She did not know the meaning behind what the woman said. The only person who had died was her mother, but the woman could not have known that. However, it could have been said about anyone as the statement was vague and she did not mention to whom she referred. Lara continued to watch and listen.
Her eyes followed the woman’s hand as she flipped over the next one. The painting depicted a picture of a jeweled golden cup similar to one she imagined would be used for royalty. The drawing itself, Lara thought, was drawn by a very talented artist.
“You are searching for something. No’ a place, or a person. A treasure mayhap?” she said in a gravelly tone.
Lara took her eyes off the painted card and popped her head up. Suddenly, this fortune-telling was becoming all too real for her.
Shaking her head in disbelief, she murmured, “How can ye ken that?”
“I can only tell you what the cards say. I cannot explain why.”
“How can ye or yer cards ken that?”
“If my cards say tis real, than tis real,” the woman barked. “Perhaps it is not for you to find the treasure.”
Abruptly pushing herself from the chair, Lara stood. She was no longer going to subject herself to this woman’s insanity. She had learned nothing by this encounter and all it had done was aggravate her. She wished that she had never agreed to enter the tent with this foolish woman. And this experience was far from entertaining. The woman had said things, things she could not have known. Lara felt that her first instinct was correct; the woman was nothing more than a fraud with a silver tongue.
Noticing Lara had become upset, the woman said, “I can only tell you what the cards say, my lady. But I can tell you this. That whatever answers you are searching for will only lead you into danger. In truth, I know who you are, and I know that you are in more danger than you think.”
“Danger! From whom? How do ye ken me?”
“You are in danger from the men sent to find you. A group of them passed through here just last night. I do not know who they are, but they were to make certain that you do not return.”
“What makes ye think they search fer me?”
“Because, ye are Lady Moray, are ye not? Though their description of you does not do you justice.”
After a few silent moments between them, Lara turned and walked out of the tent and back into the sea of shoppers. After walking only a few steps, she became dizzy. Her stomach twisted in knots and she could not stop her hands from shaking. Dermot, she thought. Had he found out she’d escaped the English, he would have indeed sent men out to search for her.
She looked around at the faces of the people passing by to see if she recognized any of them. Once her stomach settled enough for her to walk, she quickly made her way back to the tavern to wait for Bram.
Chapter 9
Bram returned to Dumfries just as people were beginning to close their shops and pack away the items stacked on the carts. He walked past a stall that had a variety of colored silk and linen dresses and other women’s wear. His thoughts turned to Lara and the oversized wool dress she had been wearing. The wool dress, he thought, must be hot and uncomfortable for her, though she had not complained once.
Interrupting a seamstress packing away her wares, he inquired about the cost of a dark blue gown that caught his eye. He thought the rich color would look beautiful on Lara with her dark hair. Not that he had much of a fashion sense about such things, but blue was his favorite color. He couldn’t deny his impulse to see Lara covered in such a fine fabric.
While he was there, he also thought to buy her a pair of boots. Traveling barefoot, especially in the woods, was never a good idea, even if one’s feet were as calloused as his. He imagined her feet to be small and delicate. Unsure of Lara’s size, he useds the seamstress’ size as a reference. It was a good thing that the woman was not plump, otherwise he would not have known how to describe the lass without insulting this one. Once he’d paid for the items and placed them in the saddle bags, he rode towards the tavern hoping to find Lara unharmed.
He found Lara inside the tavern at the far end of the room, sitting at a table surrounded by men. His hand went right to the hilt of his sword and he marched towards them. Listening to the drunken fools, he could tell they openly flirted with her. They asked to buy her drinks, or share a dance.
“Nay, thank ye. I am waiting here fer someone,” she said to them as they huddled around her.
“Ah, come on lassie. Just one wee dance. ‘Tis all I’m asking,” one of the men said, placing his hand upon her shoulder.
“Best ye remove yer hand Sir, if ye favor it,” Lara snapped and scooted away.
Bram grinned when he heard her sharp tongue but the fact that they were still trying to pursue her did not sit well with him. If anyone was going to pursue the lass, it was going to be him. He would not idly stand there and allow any other man the opportunity. If the need arose, he would fight off every one of these bastards, throw her over his shoulder, and walk out the door.
“I believe the lass said nay to yer advances,” Bram growled.
Four of the men that surrounded Lara turned their heads in his direction. Three of them were smaller than Bram and looked as if they were about to piss their trews. The fourth, however, was similar to Bram in size, and did not take Bram’s interruption too kindly. The man crossed his arms over his chest and stood in front of Lara; blocking her from Bram’s view.
“And who are ye to say that the lass willnae change her mind?”
“I am her escort,” Bram replied, trying to keep calm.
Clutching his free hand into a tight fist, Bram’s anger rose, and this man added fuel to the fire. The other men took a step back.
“Well, it seems she has a new escort now,” the man declared.
Chuckling, the man turned his attention back to Lara. With one foot up on a chair and the other planted on the ground, he leaned towards her. Bram could feel the heat of his anger rising. It was a force to be reckoned with. Like a wild beast protecting its young, Bram swung his fist and punched the man hard on the side of his head, causing him to flip over the table and go tumbling to the ground. Bram stood over him, waiting for the man to get up and continue to brawl, but the man did not move. His head lolled to the side, his eyes remained closed, and spittle dripped from the left corner of his mouth. Bram had knocked him out cold. As for the other three, Bram watched as they cowered, then took off running out the door. As mad as a raging storm, Bram stomped back to where Lara was still sitting at the table. She looked affright, but something inside of him knew that it wasn’t the men that frightened her, it was him.
In a brash voice, he uttered, “It is time to go, lass.”
As they walked out the door, Bram said nothing to her. He knew that she must have thought his actions were harsh and uncalled for, but he had good reason. It had driven him mad seeing those men huddled around her; flirting and making advances. He justified what he had done by his promise to protect her, but he knew that he would only be fooling himself.
“Thank ye,” she whispered.
Her low and sweet voice carried on the wind behind him and he could barely make out her words.
“Yer welcome.”
“Ye dinna have to do that. I was able to handle myself just fine. They were being proper gentlemen.”
“Ye shouldnae be so trusting,” he barked, not meaning to sound so harsh.
“Are ye saying that I welcomed their attention?” she quickly interjected.
Bram could hear the anger in her voice.
“Nay,” he replied and paused for a moment. “Men like them cannae be trusted. I dinna mean to frighten ye nor am I mad at ye. I am only mad at myself. Had I been there ye would nay have been in that situation. I promised I would protect ye and I meant it.”
The light in Lara’s eyes softened. Bram had to muster all his strength not to grab her, pull her into his arms, and press his lips to hers in a hard and passionate kiss. The force he felt between them was as strong as the tides. He did not know what stopped him from trying except for the fact that most lasses he took to his bed were not lairds’ daughters.
Wanting to forget this whole bloody thing, Lara asked, “Will we be traveling tonight by horse?”
He waited to catch up with her before he replied, “Nay, lass. Tis too late to travel tonight. We will get a room at the inn and leave by first light.”
His voice sounded much calmer than it had earlier and for that Lara was grateful. She did not wish to argue with him nor did she want to be in his company if he continued to stay angry.
Lara waited outside of the inn while Bram made arrangements to obtain a room for the night. He walked out the door moments later with a key in hand.
The room was small, with barely enough room to walk around the bed, let alone sleep on the floor. When Bram stated they would sleep in the room together, Lara wanted to protest, but she remained silent. How could she claim that it was not proper for a married woman to sleep in the same room as another man, when in fact she already had? In the dungeon, she was surrounded by men and not one of them was her husband. Her stomach felt like it was twisted in knots as she struggled with the morality of the situation.
While Bram started a fire in the hearth, he insisted that she sleep on the bed and he would lay upon the floor, but the thought of taking such luxury for herself at his expense was unthinkable. She did not deserve to be lounging in comfort while Bram, who was still wounded from his beatings, lay on the hard floor without a pallet, or even a blanket. There were only enough bed coverings for one.
“Lass, I am used to sleeping on the ground. Now, dinna argue wit’ me.”
Lara suppressed a smile.
“Ye say that a lot, ye ken. Mayhap I enjoy a good argument now and then,” Lara jested, hoping to lighten the mood.
Bram smiled and shook his head. Before she knew it, they both started laughing.
“Well, then I promise ye that ye can argue wit’ me anytime, but I must warn ye that I can be quite stubborn and dinna give way too easily. No’ even fer a bonny lass.”
Lara blushed. No man had ever called her bonny before. She did not believe that he really meant what he said and assumed that it was just his way of making peace after he had been so angry earlier.
Lara fought hard to hold back her yawns. She was tired after spending her day in the market walking around the different shops. She made her way to the bed.
Distracted by his anger at the men in the tavern, Bram had forgotten the gifts in the saddle bags. He thought that now would be an appropriate time to give them to her. Excusing himself, he hurried outside to the horse and pulled out the parcel that contained the gown and boots.
Returning to the room, Bram laid the package, tied with twine, on the bed before her.
“I almost forgot. I bought you something.”
“A gift?”
“Nay. A necessity.”
Lara opened the bag and pulled out a blue gown and a pair of leather boots. Tears came to her eyes.
“Bram, they are lovely. But ye really shouldnae have.”
“Lass, ye needed the boots. And the wool dress ye were wearing is too hot fer this heat. The thinner material should offer ye more comfort.”
“Thank ye,” she said as she stood up and held up the dress against her.
The silk gown was the deep blue of sapphires, and tiny pearls were sewn along the neckline. The sleeves were short and the skirt flowed down beyond her toes. Bram inwardly smiled at the cheerful expression Lara wore as she folded the dress and placed it over the back of a chair before settling back into bed. He watched as her eyes slowly closed in slumber.
Finding a spot on the floor, Bram lay down on the ground and went to sleep.
Lara awoke to the sound of Bram moaning. Rolling over to the edge of the bed, she looked down at him on the floor. She watched as he tossed and turned as if he were struggling to break free from some imaginary hold. Sitting up in the bed, she scooted herself to the edge and stood. Quietly, she walked over to him. Kneeling down next to him she watched him as his eyes rapidly rolled back and forth under their lids and his head tossed side to side. His forehead glistened with sweat.
Afraid to touch him, she whispered, “Bram.”
There was no answer. Calling him a second time still did not wake him. Lara held her hand up, wanting to touch his shoulder, but hesitated and withdrew her hand. She waited several long moments before slowly bringing it down. With a gentle stroke of her hand, she caressed his shoulder. His skin was hot to the touch but as soft as a bairn’s bottom.
She had never touched a man besides her husband. Dermot was not as big or strong as Bram was. His shoulders and arms were not as sculpted with muscle and he did not have the musky smell of horse and leather. Dermot was very different from Bram. He was cruel and selfish; two things that Bram could never be. Bram was honest, honorable, and risking his life for her, though he knew nothing of her past. Had he taken the horse, he would be half way home by now, she thought. She could not bear the guilt she felt at keeping him away from his family. In the morning, she would insist that he allow her to ride home alone.
Lara, realizing she had been admiring him for longer than what seemed appropriate, quickly tapped him on the shoulder.
Bram’s eyes popped open at her touch and in one swift movement, he had her pinned beneath him, holding her wrists high above her head.
Lara’s breathing quickened and she began to shake vigorously. She had no idea what had happened or what Bram was about to do. The hazy look in his eyes told her that he was furious and she began to regret waking him from his dream.
“Bram… Bram, ye are hurting me,” she said.
His weight pressed down against hers such that she could barely breathe.
Bram released her wrists and sat up. The angry look on his face changed quickly at the sight of her.
“Why did ye wake me? Dinna ye ken that ye should never wake a sleeping man? I could have killed ye,” he grumbled, and scowled at her.
“I dinna mean to anger ye. But ye were tossing and turning, and I...” she tried to explain before getting choked up.
“I am sorry lass. I dinna mean to frighten or hurt ye,” Bram said as he leaned in towards her to wipe a tear from her cheek.
“What were ye dreaming about?” she stammered in between sharp inhalations.
“I was dreaming of battle. Over the last sennight, it has kept replaying in my mind.”
Lara creased her brow and frowned. She never realized a man like him could be haunted so fiercely by battle.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated hoping to make amends.
“Lass, why did the English have ye? The truth now. Who was it that gave ye over to the English?” he questioned, needing to know the answer so he knew how to protect her and from whom.
“My husband, Laird Dermot Moray,” she said in such a faint whisper that he was certain he misunderstood her.
“Yer husband? Ye are married?” he asked in surprise, losing his breath for a moment.
“Aye. I was sold to the English to pay my husband’s taxes to the King.”
Married? Bram felt as if an arrow had plunged deep into his heart. What kind of a father would marry his daughter off to such a whoreson? And what kind of husband would treat his wife in such a cruel manner?
“Why would yer husband do such a thing, lass?”
Lara bit her bottom lip. She was agitated and uncertain whether she wanted to share her story with him. But he had been kind towards her, and she believed she could trust him. She took a deep breath, and started from the beginning.
“I was sent to live at Castle Foley just north of Irvine. My father felt that Laird Moray was a good military man with power, money, and the English King’s ear.”
Lara quickly clarified when she saw Bram’s look of betrayal.
“Tis no’ what ye think. We are no’ traitors. Most of the Lowland clans live under the English King’s rule, but our allegiance is still to Scotland,” she explained, releasing the breath that she had been holding. “At first I did no’ want to marry him. I was scared of him, but when he learned of our betrothal, he… he,” she stuttered.
Lara tried to find the right words to say. In truth, at the beginning of their courtship he was kind and it was only after their wedding that he became the monster she now knew him to be.
“He was benevolent,” she continued saying. She did not dare refer to him as kind.
“After our wedding ceremony, all of his friendliness changed. There is a rumor that my dowry holds a rare treasure but no one has ever laid eyes upon it. It was said that it was given to my father from a Norse King. But my father remains silent about it and will no’ say whether the claim is true, nor prove it to be false. The only thing he would admit was that he had once held a high command with the Norse King’s army before he married my mother.”
“And I take it that Laird Dermot found out about this treasure?” Bram asked.
“Aye. Which is why he agreed to the union. When I swore to him that I knew nothing of it, he called me a liar. He kept insisting that my father and I kept it hidden. But I showed him our treasure room, the secret passageways, and the trunks locked in the sacristy, but he still did no’ believe me. He demonstrated a false impression of wealth to the neighboring clans but when the English came to collect the taxes, Dermot had no money to pay them. He gave the English me instead of coin. He ne’er wanted the union, he told me. He said I was plain and useless as a wife, and that he wished he had ne’er married me. That is why I must go home.”
“What of yer father? Surely if he knew the truth, he would strike the bastard down and protect ye from harm.”
“Nay. I told my father how Dermot treated me, but he said that I needed to be a dutiful wife and obey my husband.”
“Lass, I make a promise to ye that nay any more harm will come to ye. I will take ye to yer father, but if yer father will no’ help ye, ye can come wit’ me to Dunakin. Ye would be welcomed there.”
“Thank ye, but ye dinna have to, Bram. Ye have done more than enough. Ye have been away from yer family long enough and I will no’ keep ye from them any longer.”
“Aye, it has been a while, but I can wait a little longer. Dinna argue wit’ me, lass; I will no’ be changing my mind.”
By the time she had finished her tale, her eyes were reddened from tears. Bram wore a deep frown and knew not what to say. He felt sorry for the lass and the way she was treated, and she was anything but plain and useless. She was beautiful, and from what little he knew of her, she was resilient and courageous. Had she nowhere to go, Bram would gladly offer her a place within his clan. He knew that his brother would take her in and that all of his clansmen would show nothing but kindness. He could only hope that her father would offer her the compassion and protection that she deserved.
