Shadow Music by Julie Garwood Page B

trying to understand Liam’s reaction.
    “Aye, it does. When you see these men, you will understand why. But I will assure you of this, Laird Buchanan. They do not need weapons.”
    “They are invincible? Is that what you suggest?” Braeden asked as though the notion of such praise of an outsider’s strength should be taken as a personal affront to his own might.
    “No man is invincible,” Colm snapped. “What did these soldiers tell you, Liam? Did they explain how you came to the abbey?”
    “No. They talked to one another, but they wouldn’t talk to me.” Both Colm and Brodick waited for Liam to explain further. When he didn’t, Brodick asked, “Why wouldn’t they talk to you?”
    “I don’t think they understood me,” he said finally. “And I certainly didn’t understand them. They spoke a language I’ve never heard before.”
    Colm was becoming even more frustrated. “Gelroy must have understood them.”
    “I’m not sure he did. I never heard him speak to them.”
    “Then how did he—” Colm stopped. It was pointless to continue questioning his brother. Liam needed rest, and Colm hoped that when his brother grew stronger, he would be able to remember more about the men who had taken him captive.
    Besides, he reasoned, Gelroy would tell him what he wanted to know.
    He removed his sword and sheath and handed both to Braeden. “Take Liam home,” he ordered.
    He went to his horse to get his bow and arrows and gave those to Braeden as well. “And send the Buchanans home.” With a glance at Brodick, he added, “All the Buchanans.” Before Colm could argue, Brodick swung up onto his mount and said, “I am going back to the abbey with you.”
    Braeden nodded. “Do you want any of us to go inside the abbey with you?”
    “I do not.” Colm’s voice was unyielding.
    Braeden was used to his laird’s gruff ways. “Then may I suggest that half of our men take Liam home, and I and the others will wait outside the gates with your weapons, Laird.” Brodick’s commander stepped forward to stand beside Braeden. “And since my Laird Buchanan is going with you, I suggest that I also wait with our laird’s weapons outside the gates. The other Buchanan soldiers will see Liam safely home.”
    Brodick agreed. “It would be to our advantage to take our swords should we have the good fortune to run into the men who tortured your brother.”
    “I prefer to use my hands,” Colm said.
    “Even if others have swords?”
    Colm gave him a hard look. “What do you think?”
    Brodick shook his head. “I think you’re just itching to kill someone, aren’t you?”
    “I am going to kill whoever did this to my brother,” Colm answered.
    This wasn’t a hope or a promise. It was a solemn vow.

    T HE COMPETITION BETWEEN BARON COSWOLD AND BARONPercy had turned deadly.
    Or so it seemed.
    Each man went to great lengths to find out what devious schemes the other was plotting. Spies were everywhere. Certainly not all of Baron Percy’s companions were loyal to him. One—William, his herald in fact—was secretly in the employ of Baron Coswold. The herald was a well-compensated informer who committed to memory every word said and every action taken by Percy and his conspirators, and reported back to Coswold.
    When word of Laird Monroe’s murder reached Percy’s camp, the traitorous herald left the abbey on a false errand and rushed to give Coswold the news. The baron had made certain that William knew where he would be at all times, and the informer was therefore able to catch up with him just as he sat down to supper with Laird MacKenna in MacKenna’s palatial great hall.
    The terrible news didn’t get the reaction William expected. Neither Coswold nor MacKenna seemed the least surprised. Coswold merely shrugged indifference and MacKenna, apparently just as unaffected, looked bored as he reached for a chunk of black bread and popped a wedge into his mouth.
    Baron Percy had seemed just as uninterested when he’d