"I hurt my fingers." He sounded as if he were boasting of an incredible feat and smiled when he held his hand up for her to see. "Now I can't do nothing to help us, 'cause my fingers burn."
"I imagine they do."
His face lit up. He was a beautiful little boy, with dark curls and the most beguiling gray eyes she'd ever seen. His nose and cheeks were covered with freckles.
He scooted away from her and pulled his tunic up so she could see his chest and stomach. "I'm gonna get scars."
"No, I don't think you will," she began, but then she noticed his crestfallen expression. "Then again, I do suppose you'll have some. You do want them, don't you?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"Why?"
"All warriors have scars. They're marks of valor."
He was so serious she didn't dare laugh. "Do you know what valor is?"
He shook his head. "I know it's good."
"Yes," she agreed. "Valor is courage, and that is very good indeed. I imagine those cuts sting," she added as she leaned forward to pull his tunic down over his belly. "When we're taken back to the holding, I'll ask one of the servants to put some salve on your fingers and chest and stomach, and then you'll feel much better. Some of the older women remember me," she added. "They'll help us."
"But we can't go back," he cried out.
The change in him was so abrupt it startled her. "Try to understand," she said. "We're trapped here. This ledge doesn't go anywhere."
"I could crawl to the end and see if-"
"No," she interrupted. "The rock might not be sturdy enough to hold your weight. Can't you see how it thins out near the curve?"
"But I could-"
"I cannot let you take such a chance."
Tears came into his eyes. "I don't want to go back. I want to go home."
She nodded in sympathy. "I know you do and I want to help you get back home. I'll find a way," she promised. "I give you my word." He didn't seem convinced. He relaxed against her and yawned loudly. "Do you know what my Uncle Ennis says? If an Englishman gives you his word, you'll come away with nothing."
"I really must meet this uncle of yours one day and set him straight about a few matters."
He snorted. "He wouldn't talk to you," he said. "Leastways I don't think he would. Gillian?" he asked then. "I know I was supposed to wait in the stables for you, but then that man came inside and I got scared and ran."
"Do you mean the baron went into the stables?"
"The ugly man with the red beard."
"That's the baron," she said. "Did he see you?"
"No, I don't think so. When I was hiding in the trees, I seen him leave with two other men. Maybe they won't ever come back."
"Oh, they'll come back all right," she said, for she didn't want to give the boy false hope. "If not tomorrow, then the day after."
The child's wrinkled brow made him seem too wise for his young years, and that saddened her. Little boys should be outside running and laughing and playing silly tricks with their friends. This little one had been plucked away from his family to be used as a pawn in Baron Alford's scheme. The child had to feel as though he'd been dropped into the middle of a nightmare.
"Are you still afraid, Gillian?"
"No."
"I never get afraid," he boasted.
"You don't?"
"Almost never," he corrected.
"How old are you?"
"Almost seven."
"Almost?"
"I will be pretty soon."
"You're a very brave boy."
"I know," he said very matter-of-factly. "How come those men stole me away from the festival? It was the first one I ever got to go to, and I was having a fine time. Was it because me and my friend was playing a trick on our families?"
"No," she assured him. "That wasn't the reason why."
"Did I do something… bad?"
"Oh, no, you didn't do anything bad. None of this is your fault. You've just been caught in the middle, that's all. The baron wants something from me, but he hasn't told me what it is yet, and you're somehow involved."
"I know what it is," he boasted. "And you know what? The baron's gonna go to hell 'cause my papa will send him there. I miss my mama and papa," he admitted forlornly, his voice cracking on a sob.
"Yes, of course you do. They must be frantic, searching for you".
"No, they aren't, 'cause you know why? They think I'm dead."
"Why would they think such a thing?"
"I heard the baron talking to his friends."
"Then you do know what the baron's plans are?" she asked sharply.
"Maybe I do," he said. "The men who took me made it look like I hit my head on the rocks and fell in the falls and drowned. That's what I heard them saying. I'll bet my mama's crying all the time."
"That poor woman…"
"She's missing me fierce."
"Of course she is. But think how overjoyed she'll be to have you back home again. Now tell me, please, what else you heard the baron say to his friends," she asked, trying to sound as though the question wasn't terribly important so that he wouldn't become fretful.
"I heard everything they said 'cause you know why? I played a trick. The baron didn't know I understood 'cause I didn't talk, not even Gaelic, in front of him or the others."
"That was very clever of you." She could tell her praise pleased him. He grinned up at her while he laced his fingers through hers. "Tell me everything you heard, and please take your time so you won't leave anything out."
"The baron lost a box a long time ago, but now he thinks he knows where it is. A man told him."
"What man? Did the baron say his name?"
"No, but the man was dying when he told him. The box had a funny name too, but I can't remember it now."
She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. She understood now why Alford had forced her back to Dunhanshire, and as the ramifications struck her full force, her eyes stung with tears.
"Arianna," she whispered. "He called it Arianna's box, didn't he?"
"Yes," he said excitedly. "How come you knew the name?"
She didn't answer him. Her mind was racing with questions. Oh, God, had Alford found Christen?
"How come you speak Gaelic?"
"What?" she asked sharply, startled by the abrupt change in topics.
He repeated the question. "Are you mad at me 'cause I asked?"
She could see the anxiety in his eyes. "No, no, I'm not mad," she assured him. "I learned to speak Gaelic because my sister, Christen, lives in the Highlands and I-"
He interrupted her. "Where in the Highlands?"
"I'm not exactly sure-"
"But-"
She wouldn't let him interrupt her again. "When I find out exactly where she is, I'm going to go see her and I want to be able to speak to her in Gaelic."
"How come she's got a clan and gets to live in the Highlands and you don't?"
"Because I got caught," she answered. "A long time ago, when I was just a little girl, the baron and his soldiers seized Dunhanshire. My father tried to get my sister and me to safety, but in the chaos, Christen and I were separated."
"Is your sister lost?"
"No, she isn't lost. She was taken north into the Lowlands by one of my father's loyal men. My Uncle Morgan went to great lengths to find out exactly where she was, but she had vanished into the Highlands. I'm not sure where she is now, but I hope one day I will find her."
"Do you miss her?"
"Yes, I do. I haven't seen Christen in a long time though. I don't think I'll even recognize her. Uncle Morgan told me the family who took her might have changed her name to keep her safe."
"From the baron?"
"Yes," she replied. "Still, she'll remember me."
"But what if she doesn't?"
"She will," she insisted.
A long peaceful minute passed in silence before he spoke again. "You know what?"
"What?"
"I can speak your language real good 'cause my mama taught me how to talk to the English even though Papa didn't want her to and my papa only talks Gaelic to me. I don't even remember learning how. I just did."