Page 9 of Highlander's Captive Bride
Bellamy ignored him, instead gesturing to the stable lad still holding the horse’s reins. “Take him to the stables and give him a good rub down and a feed. Have someone take the box and the bundle in the saddlebags up to me daughter’s room immediately,” he instructed.
The lad doffed his cap and said, “Aye, M’laird, straight away.” He led the horse away to do as he was commanded.
It was when Bellamy looked back at the healer that he first heard it. A whisper, riffling like a soft breeze among those gathered to greet them, his clansfolk, his subjects. As the whisper circulated, growing in strength, he glanced down at her and clearly saw that she could hear it, too. He caught the flash of surprise in her eyes, then, curiously, resignation.
Witch.
Anger at the ignorance of it surged through him, along with a strange instinct to protect the healer.
“Go on, away with ye and go about yer business!” he commanded loudly with a wave of his free hand, clasping her closer to his side.
He strode along, practically carrying her under his arm, making for the mighty doors of the castle keep. One stood open, and he went straight inside, into the great hall, where the double stone staircase wound its way to the several floors above.
He sped up the left side of it.
“Where are ye taking me?” the healer gasped, her feet hardly touching the ground.
Bellamy did not answer, single-mindedly stepping onto the second-floor landing and taking a right turn, into a long, high-ceilinged hallway with a series of doors leading off it. He opened the first door on the left and pushed her into a small but opulently furnished bedchamber. She would be safe there until he needed her.
As she found her feet and whirled to face him, her mouth already opening, he slammed the door shut and locked it. Pocketing the key, he headed back downstairs to meet his councilmen.
* * *
“Are ye sure that’s her, M’laird? I mean, she’s just a wee lassie,” Meredith Black asked doubtfully from Bellamy’s far left, down the length of the council table.
“Aye, I’m sure. D’ye question me intelligence?” Bellamy demanded irritably from his seat at the head of the table, glaring at his councilman.
Meredith shook his head vigorously. “Nay, M’laird, never! But ye must admit, she looks too young to know much. I want the wee lassie to be cured, but—”
“Be quiet. Listen. I’ll tell ye all once more. She’s the healer. I told ye I was going to get her, and now she’s here. And I want her to start trying to find out what ails me daughter right away.”
A soft cough brought Bellamy’s attention to his immediate left, to his chief advisor, Donal Fiske.
The tall, whiskery-faced old warrior spoke in a deceptively gentle manner, “Of course, M’laird, I think we all understand the urgency of the matter, and I think I can speak for us all in saying we support ye fully in that.” He paused to glance around the table, to be answered by nods and ayes of agreement.
“But?” Bellamy bit out, setting his jaw and drumming his fingers on the tabletop.
“Well, M’laird, we’ve been hearing certain rumors from the party that returned with ye.”
“Ye shouldnae listen to rumors, Donal. Listen to me instead, and ye’ll nae go far wrong,” Bellamy shot back.
“But,M’laird, these rumors suggest that the lassie hasnae come on her own accord. The men are saying ye kidnapped her, and ye killed her entire escort in the process.”
“I dinnae have to explain meself to ye,” Bellamy said with some force. “But if ye must ken, we had nae choice. Her escort refused to give her up and then attacked us. We just defended ourselves and brought her back with us.”
There were rumblings around the table, and worried glances were exchanged between the councilmen as they contemplated this information. Bellamy watched until, eventually, some sort of consensus appeared to have been reached.
Donal nodded sagely and then turned back to Bellamy. “This is a very serious situation, M’laird, as I’m sure ye’re aware,” he began. “This healer has very powerful connections. Very powerful, indeed. We dinnae have to remind ye that she’s related to three lairds and is, in fact, the daughter of Hudson Winfrey, the former Laird McGunn, one of the most respected lairds to grace our times. Her braither Dominic Winfrey is the current laird—again, a highly respected man with many influential friends. Once her braither finds out what has happened, he will surely retaliate and act to retrieve his sister with all speed.”
“I dinnae care about any of that. Me daughter comes first, before anything!” Bellamy burst out, banging his fist on the table, unable to keep his temper in check any longer. He stood up and leaned towards his advisor menacingly. Donal shrank back slightly, but his face remained calm. The others were mute as Bellamy swept them with his eyes.
It did not prevent Donal from driving home his point on the council’s behalf. “But the risk is so great, M’laird. Her braither is part of a strong alliance of several Highland clans. Even our good reputation willnae save us from certain destruction when he finds out the truth,” he argued.
“It willnae come to that. I have a plan in place to deal with it. And if it does come to a fight, it’ll be us who’ll be doing the killing,” Bellamy growled. “I dinnae care if we have to slaughter every last one of the McGunns, and the O’Reids, and the Rottrichs altogether. Me daughter will have her healer now!”
He waited a few moments for his words to sink in before straightening up and declaring the meeting over. As the worried councilmen shuffled out of the chamber, he heard someone say, “’Tis a big risk he’s taking with all of our lives just for the sake of a bastard bairn.”
Bellamy flew across the space between them, identifying the voice and grabbing the culprit by the scruff of his neck from amid the huddle.
