Mist Warrior (4 page)

Although he fought to deny it, the fact that it was time for him to act
filled him with dread
. He had finally found a stable home as laird of the clan. He worked hard
,
but there was a peace in his life–as long as he didn’t think about his past waiting for him in Inglewood.

But the gallant knight knew the strength of his own fear.
His mother’s voice seemed to echo through the thick mist. Branan shivered and pulled his plaid tighter around himself.

He acknowledged his fear, he faced it, and he defeated it.

Branan remembered scoffing at his mother as she
’d
told him the story.
He could not have been afraid. He was brave and strong.

He was also human, Branan, every man has his own demons to defeat. That is the sign of true courage
-
when a man can face his deepest fears and defeat them.

Suddenly exhausted, Branan sat heavily on a rocky outcropping, his head bowed and his eyes squeezed shut. Aside from the turmoil within him, another question plagued his heart. Why did the news of Catriona’s betrothal rend his soul?

“
Branan,
”
Gavin said softly.

Branan looked up
,
startled
,
as Gavin trudged up the hill.
“
How in the hell did ye find me?
”

Gavin flashed him a bright grin as he sat beside him.
“
My sister isn’t the only one who can track
,
and you were moving with a purpose.
”

Branan managed a half-hearted smile and returned his gaze to his boots.

“
I’m sorry, Branan, I knew the news of Catriona’s betrothal would hit you hard.
”

“
How could ye ken when even I dinna?
”

“
We may have been brothers for only two years
,
but I grew to know you well.
”

Branan gazed at him steadily.
“
We are still brothers, Gavin. That willna change…ever.
”

Gavin clapped him on the shoulder.
“
’Tis sooth.
”

Once again, Branan’s gaze slid back to his boots.
“
Who?
”
he asked softly.

“
Richard de Courcy. H
e is of the gentry
,
and very rich.
”

Branan nodded.

“
It seems,
”
Gavin continued,
“
Courcy made my father an offer he couldn’t refuse
,
even though Catriona protested. Loudly, mind you.
”

Branan felt his lips tug upward. Catriona never did anything meekly, especially
not
protesting.
“
When?
”

“
A date has not yet been set.
”
He paused for a long moment.
“
My father might be convinced to change his mind.
”

Branan scowled. That possibility seemed just as distant as regaining his heritage from Strickland. Yet something deep in his soul nagged at him.

“
I aspaaramondm finding it harder to leave than I thought, Gavin.
”

“
Aye,
”
Gavin replied. He looked around and inhaled deeply.
“
I would find it very difficult to leave this. You have a good home here. You are laird. The choice is yours, Branan. But if you choose to act, the time is now.
”

Branan thought for a long moment. The answers to his future could not be found in Scotland. They resided in the land of the
Sassanach
and his English heritage.

Learn before you fight,
his mother had said.

Had he learned all that he needed? Was he ready to face his future?

Mayhap it was time to face his fears and find out.

“
Verra well, Gavin,
”
he said softly.
“
We will leave at first light.
”

From the Mist

Manor House Newton Reigny

Inglewood Forest, England

Three Weeks Later

“
Dear God, Gavin,
”
Branan muttered.
“
I am sick unto death of being cold.
”
He wore heavy mail and plate armor, covered with his plaid. Branan
wrapped his heavy woolen brat tighter about his shoulders, trying to keep the flying snow from his face and neck.

“
Aye,
”
Gavin s
aid,
“
b
ut soon we will be at my parent’s hearth fire to warm these old bones.
”

Branan chuckled softly, his mount moving steadily into the wind.
“
Aye, brother. This eve I will enjoy a fine meal and good conversation.
”
He glanced over his shoulder
. H
is uncle and the six me
n
who
had
accompanied them rode straight in their saddles, eyes bright and alert. Gavin’s two
serjants
followed.

Branan faced the trail
,
but the wind shifted slightly and a peculiar odor caught his attention.
“
Smoke,
”
he said.

“
No doubt ‘tis on
ly my father…
”
Abruptly Gavin stopped, lifting his head to test the wind.
“
’Tis too strong for a hearth fire…or even a bonfire.
”

Branan’s heart twisted, cold and hard.
“
Aye.
”
He kicked his mount forward, surging through the snow.

Soon the storm parted enough to see the gray, smoking rubble. Branan froze in horror.

“
Nay!
”
Gavin screamed, throwing himself off his mount.

Branan could not move. The home he had known for two years after his mother’s death had been burnt to the ground.

Gavin charged into the smoldering pile.
“
Father! Mother! Catriona!
”

Branan’s mind started
functioning again.
“
Hold, Gavin!
T
he enemy may still be about.
”
His men and the serjants drew their weapons.
“
Check around the house,
”
he said. They nodded and galloped away, Duguald remaining with him. They both dismounted.

Gavin was lost to reason. He tore through the ashes, a gray cloud flying around him, calling for his parents and Catriona. Branan wanted to join him
,
but
his feet remained rooted
. The ash Gavin sifted through exactly matched Branan’s heart. Gavin continued to search, his voice growing hoarse
as he cried out the names that
meant everything to him and Branan.

He hefted a large board, not completely burned.
“
Oh God,
”
he whispered dropping to his knees.

Branan’s throat tightene
d and he finally managed to step forward
, hurrying to his foster-brother’s side.
“
What is it?
”

Gavin choked on a soft sob, lifting something in his fingers.
“
My…my father’s signet ring.
”
He sucked in his breath and gestured to the ground.
“
There’s nothing left but if you look
,
you can see the outline
. M
y mother died by his side.
”

“
Catriona?
”
Branan whispered. He gazed around and a dull sheen caught his eye. Something metallic. He stepped to the left and lifted it from the ashes.

He stared at the small cross, tears pushing into his eyes. It was the necklace he had given Catriona for her birthday the first year he had stayed with the Reigny’s.

Grief overwhelmed him and he dropped to his knees. For a brief instant
,
he saw Catl s> he sariona’s bonnie face before him.
Blonde hair with r
ed-gold
highlights
streamed down her back, glistening in the bright sunshine. Deep blue eyes sparked with the mischief of a lass who much preferred games
than learning how to weave under her mother’s watchful eye. Her childish laugh echoed through his memory. But she wouldn’t be a child now. He stared at the rubble.

Sweet Catriona…what horror had she suffered?

“
What happened here?
”
Gavin whispered.

“
Sir Gavin!
”
a voice shouted.

Gavin and Branan both lunged to their feet. An elderly man stood before them, carrying his wooden staff like a weapon.

“
Tan?
”
Branan asked in shock, blinking the soot and unshed tears from his eyes. The old village leather-worker hadn’t changed one whit.

The man squinted
,
then his face paled.
“
Good glory, be ye young Branan?
”