‘You canna believe he’ll meet you in single combat?’ said Dougal. ‘It’s a trap for sure.’
‘Of course it is, and yet I mean to make the bastard face me.’
‘How? You ride in alone and you’re dead.’
Iain shot him a piercing look. ‘Who said anything about going in alone?’
His lieutenant returned the look and held it. ‘You’ve got a plan.’
‘Aye. Have all the men come here to the hall. I need to talk to them.’
As Dougal hastened to obey, Ban stepped in. ‘I mean to do my part in this, my lord, whatever you decide upon.’
Iain nodded grimly. ‘You shall, good brother. I swear it.’
* * *
Ashlynn had no idea how long they travelled or of where they went, her mind being too full of dread for Iain. Recalling the day she and Ban had ridden out with Callum she guessed that it had been no deer on the hillside. Glengarron had been watched. Moreover, for the enemy to get so close argued that they had help, somewhere local to use as a base. A man like Iain had enemies. Had the Norman been able to exploit that? The more she thought about it the likelier it seemed.
Her captors rode until they came to a lonely grange. It was an imposing building and clearly the property of a man of some substance, but the grey stone walls and high arrow slit windows gave it a dour and forbidding aspect. The cavalcade clattered through an arched gateway and into the courtyard beyond. There Ashlynn was pulled off the horse and taken into the building. Thence she was led up a spiral stone staircase to the topmost floor and thrust into a small turret room. Then the door was slammed shut behind her and locked. Footsteps retreated down the stairs.
Trembling she massaged her bruised wrist and looked around. The room was cold and gloomy, the only light filtering in through one small window set high in the wall, and was devoid of all furnishing save for a thin straw pallet and, in one corner, a slop bucket. The narrow door was iron bound oak and had no handle on her side. There was to be no escape from her prison. For some time she paced the floor in helpless rage but eventually gave it up to sink disconsolately on to the straw pallet.
* * *
Some time later she heard more footsteps on the stairs and then the sound of a key in the lock. Ashlynn sprang to her feet and moved away toward the far wall. The door opened and then a man stepped into the room. Her heart leapt towards her throat. Fitzurse!
He surveyed her for a moment and then smiled faintly. ‘We meet again, my lady.’
He advanced a step or two and a second man followed him in. He was younger than Fitzurse by about ten years or so and shorter by a head. She had an impression of a stocky and slightly corpulent frame clad in a stained tunic. Lank and greasy brown hair hung about a stubbled face whose pale blue gaze was now fixed on their prisoner. Then he smiled, revealing stained teeth.
‘So this is McAlpin’s woman.’
Fitzurse shot him a sideways glance. ‘That’s right.’
‘I’d heard tell she was fair but the tales didna do her justice.’
Ashlynn swallowed, clutching the edges of her cloak, and her gaze returned to Fitzurse.
‘Allow me to introduce our host, Sir Robert Fraser. He’s been looking forward to meeting you.’
‘That I have,’ replied the other.
Fighting down a sense of foreboding she forced herself to remain calm.
‘Why have you brought me here? What do you want?’
‘I want Iain McAlpin,’ Fitzurse replied. ‘With your help I’m going to have him too.’
‘You have no right to pursue him here. This land is not under your king’s jurisdiction.’
‘A minor point, and one that need not trouble us.’
‘Where is this place?’
‘Dungavan,’ replied Fraser. ‘Does the name mean anything to you, my lady?’
‘No, should it?’
‘Perhaps not,’ he returned, ‘though you’ll be hearing a lot more of it in due course.’
‘You speak in riddles.’
‘Like my lord Fitzurse, I have a bone to pick with your husband too.’ He gave her another nasty smile. ‘It’s concerned with kidnapping and extortion.’
Warning bells went off in her mind as the words revived a memory, but before she could identify it precisely he went on.
‘I’ve waited a long time to even the score but, as the saying goes, everything comes to him who waits.’
‘What do you mean to do?’
‘Tomorrow my enemy will die, but before he does he’ll know I take his wife.’
Ashlynn’s stomach knotted and only with a supreme effort of will did she force herself to meet his gaze.
‘You will never take his wife.’