The Maid of Lorne. Terri Brisbin

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The Maid of Lorne - Terri  Brisbin


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cheers began with his own men and spread throughout the soldiers in the yard, on the battlements and near the gate. Sebastien had earned his way through the ranks, not inheriting titles or honors or command by his name, and not being held back due to the lack of one, either. His success meant much to the average soldier about the opportunities in serving the Bruce.

      “Come, Sebastien. We have much to discuss before I leave this day.”

      Sebastien could sense how unsteady Lara was, and felt reluctant to release her. Nodding to the Bruce, he turned to find Lara’s serving woman. The King’s next words rang out before he could find her.

      “And assign someone to ready the MacDougall’s heir to leave with me.”

      Sebastien had not yet told Lara of the Bruce’s plan to take her brother and sister from Dunstaffnage. Although he could not argue it here, he opposed the king’s plan. Lara’s scream and her lunge at the king limited his options.

      Tightening his grip on her arm until she gasped, he drew her close and warned her in low tones, “Do nothing to anger the king or your siblings will pay the cost.”

      She looked at him, and such hatred poured from her gaze that he nearly let her slip from his hold. Nearly. “Do nothing but what I tell you,” he whispered harshly while releasing her and pushing her toward the guard who approached from behind her. “See to your lady,” he ordered.

      She regained her feet as the guard caught up to her, and she looked as though she would disobey his orders. For a moment, he waited. Then she became a different person before his eyes. Straightening her back and shoulders, Lara shook off the guard’s hand and nodded to Sebastien. When her maid reached her side, they walked into the keep with the guard trailing their steps.

      Sebastien let out a silent but relieved sigh, knowing the battle he’d just won. And then he took in a deep breath as he faced the next one, this time with his king. Gathering his wits about him, Sebastien led the way into the hall, where food and drink awaited them and where he would try to prevail upon the king in the matter of the children.

      Lara tried to take no notice of the pitying glances from some of those standing in the corridors of the keep as she walked by them. Margaret grumbled and fretted all the way along the stone passageway, and it only made Lara feel worse. Powerless in the same hallways where just a day ago she’d given the orders, she forced herself to focus on the most important of her problems—the Bruce’s plan to take her brother and sister from the castle.

      A shiver chilled her bones as the realization of what usually became of hostages struck her. The Bruce’s own wife and daughter were paying the cost of his sins. What would he do now that he controlled the MacDougall’s heir—both in name and body?

      She stopped halfway up the stairs leading to her—their—chambers, and knew she must first discover more and then make plans to get her siblings out of Dunstaffnage to safety. It was imperative that their position as hostages be nullified if her clan was to act against the Bruce.

      “Milady?” Margaret asked, stepping between Lara and the guards. “Are you well?”

      Lara paused and decided that she needed to hear any discussions between Sebastien of Cleish and his king. The best place for that was in the small chamber next to the stairs leading to the kitchens below. Every unguarded word could be heard there.

      In as haughty a tone as she dared, she looked down her nose at the guards and her maid. “I have forgotten my needles in the steward’s closet, Margaret. I will get them before we retire to my chambers.”

      With a glare that spoke much, she stopped any arguments or offers Margaret might have made, and turned back down the steps. One of the guards began to argue with her and she glared at him as well.

      “Did your lord say that I was a prisoner to be kept in my chambers? Did he say I could not come and go as I pleased?” Not giving the young man time to think on it, she pushed her way around him and strode confidently toward the kitchen stairs.

      They followed her, of course, and when they arrived outside the room, she waved her maid off. “I will find them myself, Margaret. Wait here with the guards.”

      To his credit, one of the soldiers insisted on peering into the room, most likely looking for other ways out. Once satisfied with his findings, he stepped back and allowed her to enter. Lara closed the door and then climbed around the trunks stored there to reach the farthest wall—the one made of wood, through which sounds could pass.

      “It is not like you to argue with me, Sebastien. Especially on something so inconsequential as these children.”

      “And it is not like you, sire, to take children as hostages. After…” He paused, probably hesitant to mention the treatment of the Bruce’s kith and kin. “You swore that you would not answer in kind against the innocent what has been done to your own. This boy has not even reached the same age as—”

      A loud bang, like her father’s fist on the table, interrupted Sebastien’s words. “Do not think to tell me how to act!” The Bruce’s voice deepened. “Lorne has forsworn his oath before. I will take no chances—”

      To her surprise, Sebastien interrupted his king again. “Sire, hear me before you decide.”

      Lara pressed her ear to the wall so as to not miss anything said. The fate of her half brother and sister lay in the argument in the next room, and she needed to hear it.

      “You will be riding hard, and those two, with maids and escorts, will be a distraction to you. Let them stay here, where I will keep them secure until you send for them or until you need them no more. Keeping them here might make the MacDougall think before attacking the castle.”

      Lara heard someone pacing across the dais, heavy footsteps moving back and forth. Her heart raced, yet she could not breathe, waiting for the decision about her siblings.

      “It might make this castle a target for attack if he thinks he can free them and then be free of his oath and truce with me.”

      “Ah, but sire, Dunstaffnage is impregnable, as we both know.”

      The rumbling of male laughter unnerved her and she stepped away from the wall. ‘Twas true. Dunstaffnage had never fallen in battle or in siege—its position high on the rock cliffs gave it a great advantage, with the sea guarding its back. That same rock under its foundations made it impossible for tunnels to be dug to undermine its walls. So it had stood against all enemies…until she had opened the gates. Her stomach churned as she realized that only through her stupidity was Dunstaffnage in the Bruce’s control now. Shaking her head in denial, she stumbled back, landing hard against the wooden crates near her.

      Her father had given her instructions to keep everyone inside and not open the gates to anyone. In attempting to get Malcolm and Catriona to safety, she had failed him. They had been captured, giving the enemy the key to the castle, and turning them all over to the Scots rebels. She had lost their home and their clan to the Bruce.

      “Milady?” Margaret knocked lightly on the door as she opened it a bit. “Have you found them?”

      Shaking herself from the remorse now threatening to overwhelm her, Lara moved around the trunks to the center of the room. Margaret opened the door fully, and the guards stepped to either side of the entrance.

      “I did not. Mayhap they are in my chambers, after all.”

      Without even a glance at Margaret or the guards, Lara strode down the corridor to the stairway that led to her chambers. She needed to be alone to face the awesome mistake she’d made. A guard rushed ahead to open her door, and once more leaned into the room to check for…she knew not what. The keep was secured and completely under the control of the Bruce’s followers. The only ones left of her clan were herself, the children and, from what she’d witnessed in the yard, a few servants in the keep and stables. Certainly no threat to the Bruce or to his new warden, her husband.

      The guard offered a slight bow, more a tilt of his head, and then he retreated into the corridor to join the other


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