Page 107 of The Scottish Bride
“I know you. My reverend uncle sent a message to tell me the news—you and Liam.” She extended a hand, long and graceful, two fingers short stubs at the knuckles. “I believe we are sisters now.”
On impulse, Tamsin opened her arms to embrace Agatha. “We are sisters. I love your family.” Hugging her, she felt Agatha’s half-sob. “And I love your brother.”
“I know.” Agatha drew back, pushed her hair back. “It is good news in all this. But why did Malise bring you here?”
“He is... unhappy that Liam and I are married. And I have something he wants, and I will not give it to him.”
“The book? I heard about that.” Agatha huffed. “He is so angry that you refused to marry him. He shouted at me about it. I too refused to marry him years ago, so I laughed. I could not help it, and must confess and do penance, I suppose. Such a man is hurt and angry and deserves compassion.”
“I do not have much sympathy for him. So I too must do penance. You laughed at him—he must have hated that.”
“I laughed because I will never show him my fear. He did this, years ago.” She gestured toward her cheek with her stubbed finger. Tamsin realized suddenly that the facial scar was very like Gideon’s; she wondered if Malise gave the brother that wound too, perhaps when the brothers defended their sister. “Malise did not mean to do this, I think, but it happened. An awful day I wish I could forget,” she added. “But when he tookme here and complained about you, I told him he is a handsome knight many women might want to marry—until they learn what a beast he is.”
Tamsin half-laughed. “True.”
“Change that and ask God’s forgiveness, I said. Give up your beastly temper and hatred and find your better nature in prayer. Then you might find a wife to tolerate you.”
“Oh, that did not please him!” Tamsin kept her arm around Agatha, a slight woman, bony shoulders, thin hands clutching the tartan blanket.
“It did not.” Agatha shrugged. “He ordered the soldiers to hang this cage from the parapet, but they did not have rope stout enough. I have been here five days, I think. But Lady Edith has been kind, bringing me blankets and food and sitting with me at times.”
“Has she? I am glad. And I am glad she is here and safe. I left this place—I am sure Malise told you something about that. I do not know what he plans, but I can tell you,” Tamsin continued, “that your brothers are on their way here. You may not recognize them though. It is Samhain night, you see. Listen. Do you hear the guisers in the bailey yard? They set the bonfire down there?”
From the angle of the cage, they could see only part of the bailey, though the light from the fire seemed contained now. Tamsin heard shouts, loud singing, and raucous laughter from the villagers, the forest men too, down in the central yard. Bellows and shouted orders came from guards trying to keep them at bay to no avail.
“I may be an abbess, but I enjoy any pagan ritual that will help just now. Are my brothers with the guisers?”
“They spoke of taking a tunnel rather than the gate.”
“The tunnel! It goes to a hidden stair in the wall of the keep where it is hollow inside the double wall. The steps lead up to the battlement. I hope they got in safely and were not seen.”
A moment later, a door at the far end of the parapet walk burst open. A giant beast, a horned green man, and a nun emerged, swords at the ready.
“Ah, here they are!” Agatha’s face brightened in that serene and beautiful smile.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Liam eased thedoor open, peering out at the walkway, which appeared empty in the merged light of torch and moon. The commotion in the bailey was more than he had expected—and while more merriment than threat, he knew it could turn bad at any moment. This must be done quickly. He turned, beckoned to his brothers, set his hand to his sword hilt, and stepped out.
Up here, he was prepared to maim or kill anyone who came between him and the cage that held his sister. But the walkway was clear as he moved forward. He expected to break the lock, free Agatha, give her to the care of the twins—and then find his wife.
But he did not expect to see Tamsin huddled inside the cage with Agatha. Under torchlight, he hurried there, Gilchrist and Gideon following, all three hunched low to avoid notice by the guards in the bailey a good twenty feet below.
“Agatha—Tamsin!” He took hold of the bars. The women stood, arms about each other. The cage was taller than it was narrow, crowned by joined bars just above his height. The girls reached out, fingers gripping the bars, and he cupped a hand over each of theirs for a moment. He was reminded once more that he could not forgive Malise Comyn for damaging his sister’s face and hand. Then he tugged at the narrow door and saw the lock dangling there.
“Damned Viking lock,” he muttered, pulling at it, knowing the Nordic designed loop would not budge without a key. Tryingto crack the iron might break the blade of dagger or sword. Perhaps there was a blacksmith among the village guisers. “Agatha, who has the key?” he asked.
“Malise,” she replied. “On his belt. He went back into the keep.”
“Are you hurt, either of you?” Gideon came forward and took Agatha’s hand.
“We are not hurt,” Tamsin said. “Just get us out of here before he returns.”
“What a perfect disguise for you,” Agatha said wryly, looking at Gideon’s nun’s outfit. With a grumble, he stripped off the veil and tossed it away, his blond tonsure gleaming in torchlight. Beside him, Liam tore off his leafy bonnet and cumbersome sheep’s fleece, throwing those aside as well.
“Liam,” Gilchrist said, looking impossibly tall in the antlered helmet. “Liam! They are coming up here.”
Spinning, drawing his sword, Liam saw men running up the open stone steps to the walkway. Though most were still occupied by the madness in the bailey, these few could cause trouble. Then he recognized Sir David Campbell on the steps, waving for men to follow—and breathed in relief, realizing he was an ally. Turning, Liam then saw other soldiers, English from the look of them, running up a second stretch of steps.
