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Minna marched along to her brother’s study and opened the door to find him lounging on a couch with a bottle of whisky in one hand and a glass in the other, ready to pour a large measure for himself.

“Ah, sister,” he said warmly. “So good to see you. Sit down and talk to me for a while. I think we have something to discuss.”

Minna stood still and folded her arms, glaring at him as he filled the tumbler almost up to the brim with whisky. She said nothing as her brother took a huge swallow of his drink and put the glass down on a table beside him. Then, suddenly his mask of politeness fell away as he sat up straight and faced her.

“I will come straight to the point,” he growled. “What is all this I hear about food going missing from our stores? Deer being shot and given to the villagers?” Jamie watched Minna closely as she listened to him. Her expression did not change, but having known her all her life he knew that she was angry. Minna was always at her most dangerous when she was quiet, since he knew that something was brewing in her mind.

“I had nothing to do with the deer,” she replied. “But I congratulate whoever did. The villagers need all the help they can get, and they are not going to receive it from their Laird, that is quite plain. So they get it from me. I take the food to them, but it is not stealing. I am returning to them what is rightfully theirs. The harvest failed them, and what are you doing? Nothing. I have begged you, and so have they. One of our clan elders has begged you too, and what has happened? Nothing. What was I supposed to do? Stand by and let them starve?”

Jamie leapt to his feet, his blue-gray eyes blazing. “You should have let me handle it!”

“When? Before or after they all perish?” Minna was so furious she was beginning to shout.

Jamie grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him, then struck her once across the face with an open-handed blow to her cheek. Minna cried out in fright and pain, then tried to turn away, but Jamie had a firm hold of her arm, and his grip was so tight that she could not escape. Her cheek was stinging with pain but she was determined not to let him see it. She would not cry, because that would make Jamie Darroch happy.

He dragged her out into the atrium in front of the guards and the servants, then shouted: “Look at my sister, the disgrace. You think you know her, but you do not. You think she is kind, but she is not. She is a traitor to all of us, and she will be punished as she deserves!” Then he shoved his sister to a guard. “Take her to an empty bedroom in the east wing and lock her in.” He gave her another scathing glance. “And you are lucky it is not the dungeon!” he yelled, then walked away.

Minna watched him for a moment before the guard dragged her away.‘He will pay for this,’she vowed.

10

Gowan Hepburn was tired. He had been down to the edge of the village and had watched Minna talking to the villagers about the deer she had sent them. Her expression had been so puzzled, and it almost made him laugh, and laughing was something he rarely did.

He could not hear every word of their conversation, but it seemed that they were both happy and sad at the same time and he had the distinct feeling that trouble was brewing, especially when he saw her brother later in the day.

Gowan had never met Jamie Darroch, but he hated him, just as he had hated his father. If he had been out in the open with a sword he could have challenged him, but although Darroch wore a big broadsword strapped to his hip, Gowan doubted it had ever been used in anger. In fact, Gowan doubted if Jamie could fight at all. He was just the sort of man he despised; arrogant, bigoted, with no thought of anyone else’s needs at all.

His sister, however, was the complete opposite. Gowan could imagine spending long evenings talking to her and drinking wine next to a roaring fire. He would tell her funny stories and she would feed him with sweetmeats while she sat on his lap. He wondered if he could still make people laugh, since it had been so long since he had tried. He sighed. It had been so long since she had done so many things.

When he came home, the sky had been completely clear and cloudless, the temperature fairly balmy, if anything could ever be called balmy in Scotland. As he smiled at the thought, he felt his facial muscles stretch in a strangely uncomfortable way. It had been ages since he smiled.

He sighed, then turned away, picked up the piece of linen he used as a towel then walked outside and through the trees, heading for the loch to bathe himself. At this point, he always stopped to see if anyone was watching him. He had to be very careful; if anyone suspected that the demon of the woods was a person and not a devil he would never be safe again.

He had almost reached the tree line when he heard the sound of a man and woman quarreling, and he peeped out to see what was going on. As he watched, he saw the Laird and his sister having such a vociferous argument that the sound of their raucous voices carried to him quite clearly, although he was standing more than a hundred yards away from them. He could not quite make out the words, though.

They were gesticulating, pointing at each other, the woman jabbing her fingers into her brother’s chest while he roared into her face. They were clearly not looking where they were going, for she was gradually moving back towards the water of the loch, while he was moving forward until they were no more than a few feet away from its edge.

Gowan wanted to shout to the woman to be careful, for she was in grievous danger of falling into the water, so fixated was she on her brother’s face.

He saw the Laird open his mouth to give vent to an almighty roar, then saw her clamp her hands to her ears and screw her eyes shut. He felt a surge of rage boil up inside him, looking at the big man and the little lass. She could match him with the size of her spirit, but not with the size of her body, and now she was in serious danger.

As he watched, the man pushed her carelessly into the lake then turned and strode away. The young woman screamed in panic and her arms windmilled for a moment as she attempted to keep her balance, but she could not do it and eventually she fell backwards into the loch with a great‘splat!’

Jamie Darroch had not even looked back.

* * *

The guard marched Minna towards one of the empty bedrooms at the extreme end of the castle overlooking the steep side of the hill. It was musty with long disuse, but at least it was clean. She was surprised to see that the bed, underneath the dust sheet, was covered in fresh sheets and blankets, and there were thick warm curtains at the windows.

She turned to the guard, who looked slightly ashamed at having to imprison the Laird’s sister. “Can you bring me some food and water please?” she asked.

The man nodded, then turned and left, and a moment later Minna heard the door closing behind him and a key turning firmly in the lock. She was still raging inside as she paced over to the windows and looked down, and her head was beginning to thud with a sickening pain. She knew that in a little while she would have to lie down and close her eyes, but sleep would be out of the question.

She kept coming back to the same problem. Why? Why was Jamie so reluctant to give up any of his supplies to people who needed them? Was it just plain greed or was there some deep-seated fear of being hungry or desperate inside him? She could not remember a time when her family had ever wanted for anything, so that could not be the reason.

“Jamie, what is wrong with you?” she said aloud. “Can you not just let go and be the person I know you are inside?”

She remembered what Jamie had been like when they were much younger, before James Darroch had conquered Cairndene. Then he had been a carefree, playful brother and friend, able to talk to anyone about anything, and he was liked by all. However, when he was enlisted into their father’s service to take the castle, he had changed. Perhaps it was because of what he had seen in the throes of battle, or perhaps it was something he had done, but when the family moved into Cairndene he was not the same carefree young man he had been before.


Tags: Olivia Kerr Historical