Page 131 of Bride of Mist
He had more pressing matters to attend to, beginning with finding the wayward maidservant who’d given them the slip.
Laird Gaufrid was still at the high table, slumped over his pottage. He’d drunk himself into a stupor. Which was fine with Fergus. Gaufrid was much easier to manage when he was soused.
When it came to negotiating with Rivenloch over the hostage, Fergus didn’t intend to let Gaufrid’s cowardice, petulance, and childish pride get in the way of what had to be said.
That was why Fergus had had to take that business at Kirkoswald into his own hands. Left to his own devices, Gaufrid would have made a mess of things. Lacking ambition, the laird didn’t have the nerve or the guts to do what needed to be done.
But Fergus and Morris were made of sterner stuff. They’d survived exile, after all. Forged a new life for themselves. Gathered a ferocious army around them.
And when the time came to demand ransom, Fergus intended to make the border clan pay, one way or another. Rivenloch would either reward Darragh with a chest full of silver, or he’d force them to watch while he took pleasure in killing their high-and-mighty warrior maid.
If they chose to wage war, Fergus was confident his ruthless mercenaries would make minced meat out of the self-righteous Rivenloch clan.
Afterwards, he’d murder Gaufrid’s meddlesome brother himself and declare Dougal an unfortunate casualty of battle.
Feiyan and Gellir huddled together for warmth as they peered out the grate of thedùn maratoward the beach. The sky was black. The air was clammy with sea spray. It was too cold to sleep.
Not that she could have slept. She was too busy watching for signs of the advancing Rivenloch army to doze.
“You’re sure about this Highlander, cousin?” Gellir murmured.
“You don’t trust him.”
“He did try to kill half our clan.”
“’Twas a mistake. A false banner.”
“But he took you captive.”
“Only when I tried to assassinate him.”
“And now he’s managed to lock uptwohostages.”
“We’re not hostages,” she protested.
“Aren’t we?” he said, shaking the imprisoning iron bars. “What if he doesn’t come back? What if his plan doesn’t work? What if he fails?”
She frowned. “He’s not going to fail.”
“You only say that because you’re in love with him.”
She gave him a chiding punch in the arm. But his words shook her faith like a battering ram rattling a door.
Was it true? Had she wanted to believe in Dougal so much that she’d acted foolishly, entrusting him to carry out a dangerous plan while she and her cousin languished helplessly in a prison?
She gazed in silence toward the endless, empty black, searching for a rushlight, straining to hear the telltale rustle of chain mail. But all she saw was the rare shimmer of a wave when the moon’s round face peeked out from the clouds. All she heard was the sound of waves slapping and pounding and hissing upon the shore as they scoured the sand.
Time dragged on and on with no sign of Rivenloch. Soon they were both shuddering with cold.
“We should go back where ’tis warm,” she finally decided.
“What if they don’t come?”
She answered him with an optimism she didn’t feel. “They may already be here. You know Laird Deirdre. When the army arrives, no one will see them coming. Not even us.”
Yet even after they retreated farther into the comforting warmth of the cave, Feiyan’s thoughts were slowly poisoned by doubt. What if shehadbeen wrong to trust Dougal with such a clandestine operation? Sneaking the forces of Rivenloch into the keep required deception and stealth. Neither were Dougal’s strong points. And he’d never explained how he meant to hide an entire army under Gaufrid’s nose.
What if his plan didn’t work? What if he was unable to contact Rivenloch? What if he couldn’t convince Laird Deirdre of the truth? What would happen if Gaufrid discovered he could demand ransom for notoneRivenloch hostage, buttwo?
