her, something that bothered him still. His fists tightened as if squeezing an invisible enemy.
‘As I told you, Callum wasn’t there.’ His clipped response clearly said he didn’t want to talk about it.
She hadn’t meant to bother him, but something else must have happened. The frustration on his face went deeper and she sensed him pushing her further away.
‘Bram—?’ She reached out to touch his shoulder, but he moved back.
‘I’m in no mood to discuss it, Nairna.’
Beneath his irritated demeanour she sensed that something had unnerved him. Had he fallen into another spell, losing himself in the battle? Or had someone been hurt?
He wasn’t going to talk about it; that was clear. No amount of gentle questioning would break through the wall of guarded pride.
It hurt to see him like this, knowing there was nothing she could do. But she wanted to make the offer, none the less. ‘If there’s anything I can help you with, I’ll do my best.’
He turned to stare at her and the emptiness in his brown eyes made her take a step back. ‘I’m not something you can fix, Nairna. Leave it be.’
Brittle hurt bloomed inside and she didn’t know what to do. One moment, her husband was holding her as though he’d never let her go. The next, he’d cut her off, refusing to talk to her.
Confusion gathered around her like a cold gust of air. Risking another glance, she saw her husband watching her. Though Bram didn’t speak, nor reveal any of his thoughts, he hadn’t taken his eyes off her.
Her troubled thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a middle-aged man, short of stature, wearing a dark-green silk tunic, hose and a matching mantle. A heavy gold chain rested around his neck, denoting the Baron’s rank.
‘I heard that we had visitors,’ the man said, his smile broad. ‘I am Kameron MacKinnon, Baron of Locharr.’
Though his fair hair was thinning and his midsection had grown plump, the man emanated warmth and friendliness. Nairna curtsied, introducing herself and Bram, who came closer.
Standing just behind Lord Locharr was an older woman and an adolescent girl. Bram leaned in close, his warm breath against her ear as he whispered, ‘That’s Ross’s wife Vanora and their eldest daughter Nessa.’
The sensation of her husband’s breath sent a shiver through her skin. When he stepped back, she couldn’t suppress the feeling of disappointment.
‘Forgive Lady Grizel for what she said earlier,’ Lord Locharr said quietly. ‘She’s been through some difficult times and her grief has hardened her.’
It was the man’s attempt to smooth over the uncomfortable atmosphere and Nairna managed a nod. ‘I hope it was all right that we came to pay a visit. The MacKinloch men are missing their wives and children and I came on their behalf.’
Lord Locharr glanced to the women beside him, as if gauging their responses. Vanora stiffened, reaching out to take her daughter’s hand. She looked uncomfortable about the question, as though she were undecided on the matter.
‘Come inside,’ Lord Locharr offered, sending her a kindly smile. ‘You should stay the night with us and we’ll talk it over.’
Though the invitation was not unexpected, Nairna saw the tension in Bram’s face. Her husband’s hands came to rest upon her shoulders, as if he wanted the Baron to know of his prior claim.
Bram’s fingers pressed into her shoulders, his thumbs stroking the tension from her skin. The possessive motion took her unawares and the sensation was so soothing that she wanted to lean her head back, closing her eyes.
‘I’ll see to it that you have a chamber to yourselves,’ the Baron said. He nodded the request to Vanora, who disappeared with her daughter. ‘If you would both like to sit and enjoy a cup of mead or wine, we can talk while your chamber is readied.’
The older man gestured for them to join him upon the dais at the long wooden table. Nairna did, out of politeness, but she didn’t miss Bram’s reluctance. ‘You have a lovely home,’ she began. ‘I’m certain the women and children are grateful for your hospitality.’
Lord Locharr poured them each a cup of mead. ‘It was my pleasure. I enjoy having the little ones around.’ He filled his own cup and added, ‘But what you really want to know is when they’re returning.’
Nairna nodded. ‘It’s not right for families to be split apart.’
‘And neither is it right for women and children to be attacked by the English every few weeks.’ His eyes turned to Bram. ‘They came to me for sanctuary, for an end to the violence. I was only too happy to grant it.’
‘How many were killed?’ Bram asked.
‘Not so many. The MacKinlochs were always good fighters,’ the Baron admitted, ‘but one of the younger girls was killed in the last incident. After they buried her, Lady Grizel gathered up everyone and brought them here.’
Not the actions of an embittered old woman, Nairna realised, but one who wanted the safety of those who could not defend themselves. Were she in Grizel’s place, she might have done the same.
‘I would like to speak with her again,’ she told Lord Locharr. ‘Where might I find her?’
‘You’re wasting your breath,’ Bram responded. ‘Nothing you say will make any difference.’
She supposed that could be true. ‘I still want to try. I’ve nothing to lose.’ From what she’d seen of Grizel, the woman appeared to have little sympathy or kindness in her. But she’d managed to bring half the clan to safety, keeping them protected from danger. Not an easy task at all.
‘I’ll wait for you in our chamber, then.’ Bram stood and nodded a cursory thanks to the Baron. ‘If you’re determined to speak with her again, I won’t stand in your way.’ Without another word, he returned outside. Nairna tried not to let her husband’s cynicism weaken her resolve.
‘Grizel isn’t an easy woman to speak to,’ the Baron admitted, when Bram was gone. ‘But there is more to her than most people realise.’
Nairna believed so, too, but she wouldn’t know for certain until she spoke to Grizel alone. ‘Where can I find her?’
‘Why are you here?’ Lady Grizel knelt beside a wooden tub, her fingers covered in soap bubbles as she scrubbed the hair of a red-haired boy. Nairna guessed the child was two years of age and he sat within a large wooden bucket, whining as the matron rubbed his scalp.
‘I thought without Bram present, we could talk about what happened with the women and children.’
She wanted to understand whether Grizel was truly filled with such hatred, or whether it was nothing but empty words.
The older woman used her hands to scoop handfuls of water to rinse the boy’s head. When he started to cry, she sent the boy a grim look. ‘Quiet, now. You’re fine.’
‘I know that you left Glen Arrin after the last attack,’ Nairna ventured.
Grizel
