She felt a flare of hope.
"Gareth MacKenzie? He comes for me?"
"Nay, my lady." Brice turned and met her gaze squarely.
"He comes for me."
"Surely Gareth MacKenzie would not be fool enough to bring his men into the Highland forests where they would be outnumbered."
"He and his men do not come alone. They bring the MacAlpin clan with them."
She brought her hands to her hips in a fit of outrage. "My people do not fight in the Highlands. They understand the folly of it."
"They fight when they are persuaded that the life of their leader is threatened."
"You have threatened my life?"
"Nay. But your people believe I have. And," he added tersely, "they agreed to fight when the grandson of Duncan MacAlpin was murdered by the Highland Barbarian."
"What are you saying?" Her hands balled into fists as she turned on him.
"You killed William?"
He caught her fists in his big hands as easily as if they were no more than wispy flowers blowing in the wind. "Nay, my lady. The lad was killed on the very day I was dancing with the queen."
"I do not understand."
"The ones who killed young William wanted the murder to be blamed on me."
"Why? Who would benefit from such a thing?"
"Aye. Who indeed?" He studied her in silence for long minutes.
"Did I mention that Gareth MacKenzie has offered one hundred pounds sterling for the Highland Barbarian?"
Several men pushed past them, their arms laden with the supplies of war.
When she continued staring at Brice in open mouthed surprise, he said softly,
"It could mean that Gareth MacKenzie is so incensed by the death of one of the MacAlpins that he would lead his own men into certain danger."
His lips curved into a smile, but his eyes, she noted, were dark and unfathomable.
"Or it could mean that Gareth MacKenzie hopes to silence the Highland Barbarian before the truth can be revealed."
"It could also mean that Gareth is determined to avenge the senseless murder of his brother."
Without a word in his defense Brice swung away and strode toward the storehouse.
While she watched the frantic preparations for war, Meredith felt a growing sense of dread. This feud was growing into something far more dangerous than vengeance. Someone was going to a great deal of trouble to ruin Brice Campbell"s reputation. Someone who would stop at nothing, even the murder of the young and helpless.
Young William. She felt as if a knife had pierced her heart. She had watched the tenderness between Duncan and Mary and their young grandson. His death would be a heavy burden.
And what of her people? They were being dragged into a war not of their making. If they were persuaded to leave their homes and follow Gareth MacKenzie, they left their own families open to attack by the English across their border. They lacked strong leadership. And all because she"d had the misfortune of being captured by the Highland Barbarian.
Chapter Nine
i can handle a broadsword, Brice."
Meredith looked up at the sound of Jamie"s pleading voice.
"Nay. I"ll not allow it." Brice grasped the weapon, yanking it fiercely from the lad"s hands.
"Tis not fit for close combat. It takes two hands to wield, leaving no protection of a shield. Besides, I expect you to play the pipes when I give the command."
"Bagpipes." The lad"s face mirrored his disgust.
"That is a task for children and old men."
"Is it now?" Brice crossed the room and ran a hand lovingly over the bagpipes resting on the mantel above the fireplace.
"When I was no younger than you my father ordered me to play these when we were attacked by the powerful Murray clan. When I saw him about to be attacked from behind by Cedric Murray, I dropped the pipes and reached for my sword. But my father ordered me to continue playing.
He said it was what gave him the strength to go on."
It was plain to Meredith that Jamie felt a thrill of pride at being compared with Brice.
"But how could you play while all around you men were dying?"
"I did what my father commanded," Brice said simply. "I knew that it meant more to him to hear the sound of the pipes than to hear the sound of his son"s clumsy attempts at a man"s work." His voice lowered with feeling. "He knew there would be time enough for that."
"But what if I am attacked?"
"Here." Brice handed the youth a small, deadly dirk. "When fighting a man within these walls, this is your best weapon."
"What about this?" Meredith asked.
Two heads turned toward her. Both faces held puzzled frowns. She was standing in the doorway holding one of Brice"s swords in a menacing fashion.
Brice walked toward her until he was the blade"s length from her. "
"It is never wise to take up a weapon unless you know how to use it."
"You think I do not know how to defend myself?"
"Stick to women"s work," he said softly.
"Women"s work." There was a note of contempt in her voice.