Highland Thirst. Lynsay Sands
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first cousin to the laird,” she answered and could see by his hardening expression that she had only added to his mistrust. “I heard some quickly hushed whispers about a prisoner and decided I would see just what the secret was. No other prisoner has e’er warranted such mystery.”
“Your cousin has a lot of prisoners, does he?”
“Nay.” She sighed. “I fear he often just kills those he feels have wronged him. When he does hold a prisoner ’tis for ransom, or to torture a few secrets out of him ere he kills him. What secrets does he think ye have?”
“I ken naught that he needs to know.”
“That doesnae really answer my question, does it.” Brona idly scratched her dog Thor’s ears. “Cousin Hervey is cold and cruel, but he is also lazy. He has obviously expended a great deal of time and effort to hold ye here and try to get ye to tell him something. I but wondered what it was.”
“And why do ye need to ken such things?”
“Knowledge is power.” Her cat, Havoc, rubbed its head against her leg in a bid for attention and Brona briefly leaned down to scratch the cat’s back. “’Tis weel kenned round here that I dinnae hold with the torturing of a mon, but I doubt that it is the only reason there is such an effort at secrecy about ye. My cousin is little interested, and even less moved, by my disapproval of his actions. Nor are ye here for ransoming as no one has been sent out to take a demand to anyone.” She shrugged. “I have considered many a reason for this but each one only raised more questions, so I decided to come here and ask ye.”
“Ah, and I have told ye. He thinks I can tell him something.”
“But what? What could he possibly wish to learn that is worth treating ye like this?”
Heming carefully considered his answer. The woman appeared honestly concerned, even appalled, over his mistreatment, but he dared not trust in that. Hervey could be trying to trick him into revealing something. Too many men had fallen victim to believing in a woman’s softness, in her wiles and words of caring. Even a few of his kindred had stumbled into such traps. He could, however, tell her exactly why Hervey had caged him and was torturing him so assiduously. If he spoke in the right tone of voice, used the right words, he could make her see it all as utter nonsense. He might even get her to question her cousin’s sanity.
“He thinks I can tell him how to live forever,” he said, pleased by the scorn-filled drawl he was able to produce from his parched throat.
Brona stared at the man and forced herself not to gape. “Why would he think ye could do that?”
“My kin are long-lived. The fool thinks as far too many others do and sees such strength and health as the result of magic.”
“Does he think ye have some potion? Mayhap some muttered spell words?”
When Heming nodded, she frowned, recalling that many of the men in her family died young and not all from battle wounds, either. It was sad but she had never seen anything unusual in their deaths. Each one was easily explained. If this man spoke the truth, however, it could be that Hervey feared some curse or the like. It would also be just like her cousin to want to find out if some rumor about a potion for long life was true, even if he doubted it at first.
“Then ’tis wrong of him to do this to ye,” she said quietly. “Verra wrong.”
A spark of hope stirred to life inside of Heming but he hastily doused it. Just because this woman believed her cousin was doing wrong did not mean that she would help him. Hervey was her kinsman and her laird. Even though her words implied that she held no affection for the man, going against him to the extent of releasing a prisoner could cost her dearly. A blood tie would not save her from punishment for such a betrayal.
“Do ye think that troubles him?” he asked.
Brona nearly winced at the bitterness underlying his words. “Nay, not at all.”
“He will kill me in the end, ye ken.”
“I ken it,” she whispered.
“And ye will do naught to stop him?” He felt guilty for trying to push her into helping him when he knew it would endanger her, but he was fighting for his life and that of his clan.
“Nay on your word alone.”
“Fair enough, but if ye havenae learned anything in the near sennight I have been trapped here, my word may be all ye have.”
A pinch of shame pricked Brona’s heart. She had been hesitant, had tried to ignore the whispers of the others at Rosscurrach and the cries of pain and rage she had heard in the night. While she had struggled to keep herself safe from Hervey’s anger, this man had suffered horribly. While she had continued to do her best to stay out of Hervey’s sight as much as possible, this man had been tortured and humiliated.
It was time to stop thinking only of protecting herself, she decided. Her cowardice appalled her. She had not realized how deeply it had entrenched itself within her heart. Brona knew her caution around her cousin was completely justified, but nothing Hervey could do to her was worth allowing this man to continue to suffer like this if he was truly innocent of any crime.
The urge to immediately release him from his chains and his cage was strong, but she resisted it. He could be lying to her, trying to stir her sympathies. Although what few whispers she had understood seemed to indicate that he was indeed imprisoned here because of some strange tales Hervey had heard about the man, it was not enough. Even if this man did not kill her the moment she released him, Hervey might. Her cousin would certainly punish her in ways she did not care to even think about.
She needed more information. This time she would actively seek out the truth instead of puzzling over the occasional whisper she overheard. Repulsed as she was by the way Hervey treated men guilty of some crime, she would not free a guilty man. Hervey was the laird of Rosscurrach and it was his right, his duty, to punish those who broke the law. The most she would do was protest his cruelty in meting out his punishments. But, if what this man said were true, then she would have to do far more than protest; she would have to free him.
A tremor of fear passed through her at the mere thought of doing such a thing. Simply protesting Hervey’s actions often brought retribution that left her bruised and aching. What she was considering could easily get her killed if only from the severity of the punishment that followed. Brona knew she would not only have to decide what to do about this man, but make a plan to protect herself as well. A selfish, terrified part of her told her to just ignore it all as she had ignored so much else, but Brona silenced it. Some wrongs could not be ignored.
“I didnae try to learn anything,” she confessed in a soft voice. “Knowledge may be power, but ignorance is sometimes all that keeps one safe. Howbeit, now I will try to learn something.”
“And then do what?” Heming was surprised at how hard he had to struggle not to believe in this woman, not to let his hopes rise.
“If my cousin is treating ye so cruelly simply because he thinks ye may have some potion or spell that will make him live longer, then I will set ye free.”
“But nay right now.”
“I cannae act against my kinsmon, my laird, on your word alone. I will visit ye again soon.”
Heming watched her walk away, pausing only to douse the torches she had lit, and he fought the urge to call her back, to try to convince her to act now. It was an odd feeling to suffer from since he knew he should neither trust her nor believe her. Holding out some hope to a condemned man was just the kind of cruelty Hervey Kerr would enjoy yet Heming found himself unable to believe that the fey Brona would have any part of that. He almost smiled when he realized his inability to believe she was hand in fist with her brutal cousin grew from the way she acted toward her pets and they acted toward her. It was a thin branch to hang his hopes on.
He suddenly tensed as he realized Brona had halted just a few feet away. Heming knew two men had been dragged down here two days ago and he felt sure she had halted near their prison.