My Heart Stood Still Lynn Kurland (some good books to read TXT) 📖

Lord 1358 to Malcolm MacLeod and Moira MacDonnell at our keep in the shadow of the Benmore Forest..."

Chapter 27

 

 

 

Well, the first place Thomas hadn't counted on visiting after his arrival in the past was Malcolm MacLeod's pit. Elizabeth had been right. It was not a place anyone with any brains at all would want to linger. The only good thing to come of the past hour was that he was sitting upright. He could vividly remember being tossed unceremoniously into the hole without much consideration for how he might meet the floor he was landing onto.

Or, rather, into.

He couldn't see much, but there was enough light coming through the grated trapdoor that he could tell that the floor under him was moving. A lesser man might have gotten the willies. Fortunately for him, he'd been in all kinds of slimy places and eaten all manner of very scary things over the course of his travels and climbs, so this was nothing but a minor annoyance.

It was getting himself the hell out of there that was beginning to worry him.

He leaned against the wall and winced as a tender spot on the back of his head made contact with the stone. It was yet another blow to his head that had rendered him dazed enough for half a dozen men to have overpowered him and carried him off to the pit. Well, at least he'd avoided another pride-reducing tumble into unconsciousness. It was the only success he could count as his since arriving in the MacLeod keep.

Things were not exactly going as he'd planned.

Long conversations with Jamie over the past month had given him the knowledge of how to use the forest gate and a fairly accurate idea of what to expect when he reached his destination. They had discussed strategy, potential problems, and how to get himself in the front door without getting himself killed first. He'd had all the right gear, the right accent, and what he'd hoped would be the right swagger.

The trip through the forest gate had gone off without a hitch. He'd focused his energies on where he wanted to go, opened his eyes, and found himself leaving the forest to stare at a very familiar yet different keep. It had been midmorning. He hadn't protested when MacLeod scouts had ushered him up the meadow and into the keep with their bared swords at his back. He'd claimed to have business with Malcolm and that had at least kept him alive long enough to get inside the door.

He'd found the hall in an uproar. It had taken him a few minutes to tune his ear to the sounds, and when he had, he'd realized he was looking at Malcolm screaming at his son, Angus, for being foolish enough to indebt himself to an English-man. Thomas had looked in astonishment at Iolanthe's half-brother, but he wasn't sure if it was surprise that he was actually looking at the man in the flesh or that such a pimply faced boy would actually be sent by his father on errands of diplomacy. Maybe Iolanthe was right, and her father sent him away to get rid of him. Thomas wasn't sure he wouldn't have done the same thing in the man's place.

Of course, he hadn't had the chance to say as much. What he had gotten out when presented to the furious laird was something along the lines of "I'm Thomas McKinnon, and there are things you need to know about that English-man before you send your daughter away with him."

Apparently direct and to the point didn't fly with Malcolm MacLeod. Thomas would let Jamie know that if he ever saw him again.

The sound of voices drew nearer, accompanied by heavy footsteps. Perhaps he would have a chance to try another approach sooner than he'd hoped. The trapdoor was flung back. Thomas was almost blinded by the light of the torch as it was shoved into the pit. It was pulled back and a ladder shoved down.

"Up, McKinnon dog," a man snarled.

Well, that didn't sound good. Yet another thing to tell Jamie when he got home.

But the offer to leave the pit was a good one, so Thomas took it. He crawled up the ladder and tried to look unthreatening. Even so, he was pushed and shoved out into the great hall where Malcolm was apparently holding court. Thomas looked around quickly, trying to identify the players.

Angus was there, shadowed closely by an older woman who resembled him so strongly, Thomas had to assume she was his mother. It was readily apparent where Angus got his unwholesome looks. There were too many other men and boys loitering there for him to put faces to any of Iolanthe's additional descriptions.

All except Duncan.

Thomas gaped at Iolanthe's true father, feeling as if he'd just seen a ghost. But there Duncan was in the flesh. Thomas almost said something to him, then realized he was being addressed.

"State your business," Malcolm snarled, "and be quick about it. I've business of my own to see accomplished this day."

The odds of him getting out more than a few words were slim, so he dove right in.

"Don't trust the English-man," he said quickly. "He's beguiled your son and seeks to destroy all of you." All right, so the last wasn't technically true, but it was close enough. If the man had his way, the MacLeods would have been beggared or destroyed soon enough.

"Lord Charles is an honorable man," Malcolm said stiffly. He gestured to his right, and a sea of men parted to reveal Lord Charles himself sitting there, looking honorable.

Wonderful.

Thomas turned back to Malcolm. "I'll pay Angus's debts. And I want your daughter in return."

"Grudach?" Malcolm asked in surprise.

"No, the other one. Your elder daughter."

"That girl?" Malcolm asked, sounding even more surprised. Then his eyes narrowed. "Where is your gold?"

"Where it can be reached. Give me the girl first."

"Cheeky bastard!" Angus exclaimed. "Father, put him to the sword."

"Silence, whelp," Malcolm growled. He looked at Thomas.

"Show me the