All around the fortress torches flickered. Nairna stopped to wash her face and hands; to her surprise, she smelled fish and … was that roasted goose? Her stomach rumbled, and she wondered what preparations remained.
When she entered the Hall, Alex stood at the far end, speaking to his kinsmen. A woman hung back in the shadows, her long red hair gleaming in the firelight. Beautiful and serene, the woman remained in the background, shying away from the men who argued over the food and drink at the trestle tables below.
It had to be the Lady of Glen Arrin, Nairna guessed.
As she walked forwards, several of the men fought over the platters of food, even coming to blows. She winced when one man went sprawling on the floor after another punched him in the jaw.
But no one made a move to stop them. Nairna looked up at the dais, but the fighting seemed to have no effect upon the chief of Glen Arrin.
When she reached them, Alex rose in greeting. He glanced behind her, as if searching for Bram. He introduced her to the woman, saying, ‘Nairna, this is my wife Laren.’
Laren ventured a timid smile and Nairna returned it. Alex’s wife might be her only female ally in this place and she was grateful to meet her at last.
‘Where is Bram?’ Alex demanded. ‘Didn’t he come with you?’
‘He was finishing up some of the work on our house,’ she explained. And though she knew Bram didn’t want a feast in his honour, she supposed he would come eventually. ‘He’ll be here soon enough.’
Laren nodded, but said nothing. She looked painfully uncomfortable beside her husband, as if she wanted to be anywhere but here. At Alex’s suggestion, Nairna came and sat beside the Lady of Glen Arrin.
It was then that she noticed Laren was wearing gloves at the table. It struck her as odd, but no one else made any comment about it. Perhaps that was simply her habit.
‘I am glad to meet you,’ Nairna said. ‘It’s good to see another woman here.’
She’d hoped Laren would start a conversation, but the woman’s cheeks flushed and again she only nodded.
It was as if she were too afraid to speak in front of her husband.
One of the men brought out baked trout, served on a wooden plank. Nairna tried a little of the fish, wondering where Bram was. She stared into the crowd of men, searching for any sign of him.
Over an hour had passed since she’d left his side and she worried about him being alone. He didn’t appear comfortable around so many people, even when they’d first arrived. She needed to find him, to understand what was going on.
She excused herself from the table. ‘I’m going to find Bram,’ she told Alex.
‘I’ll come with you.’
He stood up, but Nairna shook her head. ‘No, let me do this alone. I promise I’ll return with him.’
She skirted her way through the crowd until she reached the entrance to the keep. Torches flared against the darkness and the faint reflection of the loch lay silver against the moonlight. Nairna clutched her wrap around her shoulders, her eyes searching.
Outside the gates, she had started along the path leading to their house when she saw a shadowed figure sitting against the hillside.
Her heart steadied when she realised it was Bram. He was reclining against the hill, his arms propped up beneath his head. Unrest brewed in his eyes and she sat beside him.
He didn’t speak, made no excuses for his absence. She didn’t push for answers, for she suspected that he had his reasons for not entering the fortress.
Instead, she stretched out beside him. Several stars dotted the sky and she reached out to take his hand. ‘It’s a nice night.’
He didn’t respond. Had he not laced his fingers with hers, she’d have thought he hadn’t heard her. In the cool air, her breath formed clouds. As time drew on, at last he asked, ‘Did you eat with them?’
‘A little. I wanted to wait for you.’
He sat up then, resting his hands upon his knees. ‘Nairna, you should go back without me.’
She didn’t know if it was his aversion to crowds or another reason that kept him away. ‘What is it, Bram? Why can’t you join them?’
He shook his head. ‘There is no reason at all they should be glad of my return. I should have died in prison.’ His eyes glittered in the darkness. ‘Sometimes I wish I had.’
She reached up and touched the scar upon his throat, not knowing what to say to him.
His hand covered hers and he answered her unspoken question. ‘They took a knife and slashed my throat, when I was seventeen. Not deep enough to kill, but enough to make me afraid.’
His expression grew distant. ‘Some of the others did die. I didn’t know then that they kept the strongest of us to be used as slaves. They kept Callum alive because I worked twice as hard to fight for his life.’
His voice roughened as he relived the nightmares. ‘I did everything they asked me to do—sometimes the work of several men. If I failed in my task, they punished Callum. Then me.’
He pushed her hands away from his throat, rising to his feet. ‘Can you imagine what they did to him, when I took my freedom?’ Guilt radiated through his posture, even though he began walking towards the fortress. ‘If he’s still alive, I have to get him out.’ When he reached the entrance to the keep, she saw the raw pain in his eyes. ‘There’s nothing at all for me to celebrate.’
‘It’s not only for you,’ she whispered. ‘It’s for the men, too.’ She touched his face, needing him to understand the truth. ‘They’re lost, Bram. Their wives and children are gone. They need the distraction, even if it’s only for a single night.’
He hesitated, but she could see that she was starting to break through to him. ‘You should go for their sake. Not for yourself.’
The weariness in his expression broke her heart, but she took his hand, leading him forwards. ‘Joining your family can’t be any worse than what you’ve already endured.’
He didn’t look pleased about it, but he relented at last. Nairna took his hand and he escorted her inside.
A breath of relief filled her up and she remained at his side while his clansmen welcomed him, raising their cups. Bram’s expression remained sombre, but he nodded to them, accepting a cup of mead as he passed.
‘What took you so long, Bram?’ his kinsman Brodie teased.
Though her cheeks were furiously red, Nairna knew that the jesting would only get worse if Bram said nothing. Already she could see the grim cast to his face and the desire to be anywhere but here.
‘He was hard at work,’ she said, lifting her own cup in a silent toast.
The others roared with good-natured humour, several of the men raising their own cups in response. Her remark had the intended
