unchallenged.
“Ye know my priority must be to protect our people. A woman who appears out of nowhere, who has skills equal to our best warriors, who is both Scots and English, ’tis a dangerous problem.”
Duncan gave a curt nod in agreement.
“Why is she running?” Kenneth mused. “From whom does she run? And most importantly, could these enemies be brought to our doorstep? I took a risk by bringing her here, but feel a tremendous debt to her for what she did for Nessa.”
“Aye, I know, ’tis a difficult situation.”
Putting down his cup, Kenneth faced Duncan fully. “Do ye? I see the way ye look at her. I hear the emotion in yer words. I see how ye wish to protect her.” He paused between each sentence for effect. “I fear by bringing her here we risk the whole clan. Perhaps even our allies.”
“Then why treat her like a prisoner? Do ye know she asked me what makes us different from the men she killed defending Nessa?”
Kenneth closed his eyes, a frown on his face as he leaned back in his chair, fingers rubbing an old battle wound on his shoulder, a familiar gesture when vexed.
“When I told her we would protect her, she thanked me for the protection we had provided thus far, reminding me of the wound Shamus gave her, which she stitched herself.” Duncan’s aggravation rose, crested, finally softening into surrender. “I trust yer judgment, Father. I just dinnae understand it.” Duncan’s resolve to remain cordial began to slip.
Kenneth grunted. “I dispatched a rider before ye brought her back to camp that day. I needed to know as much as I could about her. I have found out she is Lady Anna Braxton, daughter of Baron Everard Braxton, a border lord. Her mother was Lady Rossalyn, daughter of the Elliot Laird. Her mother has been dead for several years.”
His father shifted his weight in the chair and ran a hand through his graying hair.
“Her father and brother were killed in an attack by a neighboring noble who has been trying to gain Anna in marriage. He wanted to acquire her lands upon Lord Braxton’s and his son’s death. Apparently, Anna had rebuffed him repeatedly. Lord Braxton would not force her, and it seems the man grew weary of waiting. None within the keep survived the attack.” Kenneth’s somber voice reflected the harsh reality of her story.
Duncan stood, anger pounding in his skull, demanding he protect her from the schemes of this unknown Sassenach .
“From what I have learned, she and her brother were out hunting and came across the attack upon their return. Her brother must have forced her to run, because he met his death in defense of their home.”
Duncan settled into the chair, his mind awhirl, absorbing the facts. This explained so many things. The English and Scots blood, the training and regal bearing—though it didn’t explain why she was a fighter instead of the wife of a nobleman.
“She sought refuge with her grandda’s clan, then?” Duncan still wondered about the circumstances of discovering her alone so far from the border.
As he leaned forward in his chair, Kenneth’s face grew harsh. “Nae. She never went near Elliot, never sought aid, nor made contact. They likely fear she is dead or worse. She apparently does not know who attacked her family. She dinnae flee to another barony, but rather deep into Scotland, into the unknown. The heart of a lion, this one.”
Duncan finally heard the same admiration he felt mirrored in his father’s voice.
“To answer yer question, I have held her prisoner because ’twas possible she committed some sort of crime. I wanted to make sure she had no opportunity to flee. As ye know, there are those who would brutalize her then slit her throat simply because she is English. I captured her as much for her own safety as anything.”
This last statement reverberated through the room. Duncan couldn’t tell which of them he tried to convince. Duncan laced his fingers together across his chest, pushing deeper
“Ye know my priority must be to protect our people. A woman who appears out of nowhere, who has skills equal to our best warriors, who is both Scots and English, ’tis a dangerous problem.”
Duncan gave a curt nod in agreement.
“Why is she running?” Kenneth mused. “From whom does she run? And most importantly, could these enemies be brought to our doorstep? I took a risk by bringing her here, but feel a tremendous debt to her for what she did for Nessa.”
“Aye, I know, ’tis a difficult situation.”
Putting down his cup, Kenneth faced Duncan fully. “Do ye? I see the way ye look at her. I hear the emotion in yer words. I see how ye wish to protect her.” He paused between each sentence for effect. “I fear by bringing her here we risk the whole clan. Perhaps even our allies.”
“Then why treat her like a prisoner? Do ye know she asked me what makes us different from the men she killed defending Nessa?”
Kenneth closed his eyes, a frown on his face as he leaned back in his chair, fingers rubbing an old battle wound on his shoulder, a familiar gesture when vexed.
“When I told her we would protect her, she thanked me for the protection we had provided thus far, reminding me of the wound Shamus gave her, which she stitched herself.” Duncan’s aggravation rose, crested, finally softening into surrender. “I trust yer judgment, Father. I just dinnae understand it.” Duncan’s resolve to remain cordial began to slip.
Kenneth grunted. “I dispatched a rider before ye brought her back to camp that day. I needed to know as much as I could about her. I have found out she is Lady Anna Braxton, daughter of Baron Everard Braxton, a border lord. Her mother was Lady Rossalyn, daughter of the Elliot Laird. Her mother has been dead for several years.”
His father shifted his weight in the chair and ran a hand through his graying hair.
“Her father and brother were killed in an attack by a neighboring noble who has been trying to gain Anna in marriage. He wanted to acquire her lands upon Lord Braxton’s and his son’s death. Apparently, Anna had rebuffed him repeatedly. Lord Braxton would not force her, and it seems the man grew weary of waiting. None within the keep survived the attack.” Kenneth’s somber voice reflected the harsh reality of her story.
Duncan stood, anger pounding in his skull, demanding he protect her from the schemes of this unknown Sassenach .
“From what I have learned, she and her brother were out hunting and came across the attack upon their return. Her brother must have forced her to run, because he met his death in defense of their home.”
Duncan settled into the chair, his mind awhirl, absorbing the facts. This explained so many things. The English and Scots blood, the training and regal bearing—though it didn’t explain why she was a fighter instead of the wife of a nobleman.
“She sought refuge with her grandda’s clan, then?” Duncan still wondered about the circumstances of discovering her alone so far from the border.
As he leaned forward in his chair, Kenneth’s face grew harsh. “Nae. She never went near Elliot, never sought aid, nor made contact. They likely fear she is dead or worse. She apparently does not know who attacked her family. She dinnae flee to another barony, but rather deep into Scotland, into the unknown. The heart of a lion, this one.”
Duncan finally heard the same admiration he felt mirrored in his father’s voice.
“To answer yer question, I have held her prisoner because ’twas possible she committed some sort of crime. I wanted to make sure she had no opportunity to flee. As ye know, there are those who would brutalize her then slit her throat simply because she is English. I captured her as much for her own safety as anything.”
This last statement reverberated through the room. Duncan couldn’t tell which of them he tried to convince. Duncan laced his fingers together across his chest, pushing deeper
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