The Knights of Christmas by Suzanne Barclay Page A

torture, no matter how foul the prisoner, but his time in the East had taught him that fear could be a greater loosener of tongues than the lash or thumbscrews.
    â€œSee that pouch at my waist?” Duncan asked softly.
    The MacGory grunted. “Ye going to pay me?”
    â€œSuch fine, pale leather is much prized where I’ve been. This one was fashioned from the skin of a man who stole from me.” Duncan smiled grimly as the man’s eyes widened. “Aye. I made him stitch it up for me before I finished him.”
    â€œHis...his own skin?” The MacGory’s throat worked against the sword. “Jesu...”
    â€œTell me what I want to know, and I’ll see you are dead before I carve you up.”
    â€œIvor would kill me if I betrayed him.”
    â€œI’ll find out...one way or the other. ’Tis immaterial to me how long it takes, but by the time I’m done, you’ll be sorry you didn’t speak more quickly.”
    The MacGory spilled his secrets like the craven brute he was, eager to prey on the weak, yet weak himself. A dozen MacGorys had been given the task of searching the hills outside the valley for some way in. After weeks of painstakingly combing every foot of the countryside, he and Egan had stumbled upon the tunnel. Uncertain where it led, they were exploring when they came upon the old couple gathering the last of the acorns.
    â€œThey said this was Edin Valley, right enough, and told us how far ’twas to the pass at the south end.”
    Duncan nodded. If these two had found the tunnel, others might. His mind seethed with plans and counterplans. First he needed to secure his prisoner. Duncan risked a quick glance at the woman. She’d pulled her skirts down and huddled against the far wall. “How are you called, lass?”
    â€œMa-Mairi.”
    â€œI’m Duncan MacLellan.”
    â€œKara’s knight?” Some of her wariness fled.
    â€œAye. I need to be off, but I can’t leave this vermin roaming free. Can you get me a stout rope to bind him with?”
    She nodded and scrabbled in a dark corner, coming up with a narrow loop of hemp. Her thin face was pinched with pain, but her hands were steady as she tied Sim’s wrists and ankles. “What will ye do with him, Duncan?”
    â€œI’ll—”
    The thud of hooves and babble of excited voices her-aided the arrival of several people in the yard. A big man burst into the hut. His head swung back and forth like a bear at a baiting, then he snarled something at Duncan.
    â€œNay, John!” Mairi leapt on the newcomer, sobbing. “’Tis Kara’s Duncan. He saved me from yon bastard.”
    Duncan rose slowly. Just as he gained his feet, a body streaked through the doorway and slammed into his.
    â€œDuncan!” Kara cried. “When I saw the dead man, I feared—”
    â€œShh.” He stroked her back and held her close, thanking God she hadn’t been with him when he’d come here. “You were supposed to stay at Stratheas.”
    â€œI couldn’t.” She looked up at him, lashes spiky with tears, her eyes brimming with love.
    â€œSee if you can calm Mairi, will you? I’d best be off to talk with Fergie about what needs doing.”
    â€œYou’ve learned something?” At his nod, she wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Tell me.”
    Duncan hesitated. “War is men’s business, Kara.”
    â€œSurviving is everyone’s business.” She looked around at the others who had crowded into the hut. The women were comforting Mairi and her bairns. The men had dragged the MacGory out into the yard and were questioning him none too gently. Lowering her voice, she added, “Fergie is not as strong as he was.”
    â€œEoin, then. I’d speak with him.”
    â€œWhen we are wed, the men of Clan Gleanedin will follow you, but till then, I am Fergie’s heir.”
    Duncan glared at her.