Highlanders Collection. Ann Lethbridge

to you, Alex. I’ve no wish for the title.’ Or the responsibility. Whether it was expected of him or not, he wouldn’t consider taking it from his brother.

      Alex remained unconvinced. ‘There’s time to decide on that later.’ He directed his attention to Nairna then, and Bram realised he hadn’t even brought her to greet his brother.

      He moved to her side, touching her shoulder. ‘You remember Nairna, my wife.’

      She lowered her head in greeting. ‘Alex. It’s been a long time.’

      A faint smile touched Alex’s mouth, and he said, ‘It has. I’m not surprised Bram stopped to bring you back with him. A bonny lass you always were.’

      The compliment was meant to set her at ease, but instead it evoked a twist of jealousy within Bram. He didn’t like seeing Nairna embarrassed. His hand moved about her waist, drawing her closer to his side.

      Alex seemed to read his thoughts, and he reassured him, ‘Peace, brother. Laren is my wife and I have daughters of my own.’

      Daughters? It seemed strange to even imagine his younger brother with a wife, much less bairns. Almost as if Alex had assumed the life Bram had expected to have. Once again, he was jolted by the passage of time.

      ‘I would like to meet your wife,’ Nairna said. ‘Are they inside?’

      Alex shrugged. ‘Possibly. Or Laren could be out walking. You can go and find her, if you wish.’

      Nairna left them, and once she’d gone, Alex gestured for him to walk at his side. They moved around the perimeter of the fortress, neither speaking for a time.

      The familiar walls, though worn and broken, offered a quiet peace. ‘I remember climbing that wall, when we were boys,’ Bram said.

      ‘You used to run along the top edge.’ Alex sent him a sly grin. ‘And you dared me to join you.’

      ‘You were too afraid.’

      ‘No, I wasn’t so foolish as you,’ Alex countered. ‘You lost your balance and fell into Ross MacKinloch’s pig pen.’

      He’d nearly forgotten about that. ‘And you didn’t go for help, either. You sat and laughed at me, while I was covered in dung.’

      Alex grinned. ‘A good memory, that day was.’

      ‘For you. Mother blistered my ears, screeching about how I was going to break my neck.’

      Truly, they’d been thickheaded lads. An unexpected smile pulled at his mouth.

      His brother returned the smile, adding, ‘It’s good to have you back, Brother.’ But behind the words, there was concern and he didn’t miss the way Alex eyed his thin frame. ‘How are you now? Do you need a healer?’

      Bram shook his head. Most of his wounds were now scars. ‘I’m improving each day. I just need to train, to prepare for when we rescue Callum.’

      Alex shook his head. ‘You’ll stay here while we find Callum.’

      There was no chance he’d remain behind. ‘Why? You think I’m too weak?’

      ‘Aye.’ Alex didn’t bother to disguise the truth. ‘You’ve been in a prison for seven years, and even Dougal could defeat you, as thin as you are now.’

      ‘Dougal?’ he shook his head in disgust. ‘But he’s only seven—’ He broke off, realising what he’d said about their youngest brother.

      ‘Four and ten,’ Alex corrected.

      The reminder of the lost years forced him into silence. All of them had aged, but he’d thought little about Dougal, for the boy had been off at fostering since the age of four. He hardly remembered what his brother looked like and it bothered him to think of it.

      ‘Is he back already?’

      Alex nodded. ‘He’s inside. I’ll take you to him.’

      When Bram entered the keep, trestle tables were overturned, while dogs barked, snarling at each other for bones. The stale odour of rotting rushes caught him without warning, and it was so similar to the prison conditions that he froze.

      In that sudden moment, he felt the walls closing in on him and his skin crawled. If he shut his eyes, it was like being there again, trapped in chains. He stumbled back towards Nairna, who was staring at the sight in disbelief.

      As soon as he reached her side, her own unique scent caught him, masking the darkness. He wanted to bury his face in her hair, blotting out the harsh memories. But he didn’t dare touch her.

      ‘I’m going to drag your legs through your arse, pudding-faced bastard!’ a voice yelled. The insult had come from a young man whom he barely recognised as Dougal. Though he was tall and strong for his age, the boy was hardly able to fight off Ross MacKinloch, who appeared to be toying with him. Dougal swung a reckless punch that missed his opponent.

      ‘Mind your temper, lad,’ Ross warned. A thin smile lined the older man’s face. He picked up a chair and went after Dougal.

      ‘What are they doing?’ Nairna asked, her eyes wide.

      ‘Ross trained each of us,’ Bram said. ‘When we were young, he taught us how to use every weapon. He knows what he’s doing. Dougal will be fine.’

      ‘But he’s just a boy,’ she protested. ‘He’ll be hurt.’

      Dougal overheard the remark, for he retorted to Nairna, ‘I’m not a boy.’

      ‘Aye, you are,’ Alex interrupted. He beckoned to Dougal, ‘Have you no welcome for your eldest brother?’

      A shadow of resentment darkened the lad’s face. ‘I don’t even know him. Why should I welcome him?’ With that, he picked up another chair, smashing it against the stone. Holding a chair leg in his hand, he went after Ross. ‘Come back and fight me, old man!’

      Bram watched the pair, not letting any expression cross his face. Dougal’s defiance shouldn’t have surprised him. They’d hardly known each other, and it had been so long, he supposed it was to be expected that his youngest brother wouldn’t remember him.

      When Bram was twelve, Dougal had followed him everywhere. The young boy had tried to take Bram’s weapons, dragging a bench across the room to climb up and reach the blades he wasn’t supposed to touch. It bothered him to think that the boy who had once attached himself to Bram’s leg was now indifferent.

      Alex lowered his voice. ‘Dougal’s getting worse every day. Thinks he can fight the English.’ Shaking his head, he directed to Nairna, ‘At least when he fights with Ross, he won’t be hurt. Well, aside from a few bruises and scrapes.’

      Bram stared at their youngest brother. The skin upon Dougal’s arms was reddened, while blood trickled from his nose. The lad fought with pure aggression, letting his rage dictate his actions. He swung his fists without thinking, his long arms and legs clumsy.

      Bram watched his brother fighting, feeling a sense of unease. Was that how his father had viewed him? Had he been like Dougal, struggling to prove himself? For a moment, he imagined himself in his father’s place, fighting to protect his son. If he ever had a son of his own, he hoped he could train the boy to keep a calm head.

      Anger and aggression only caused clumsiness. It was better to lock away all emotions, concentrating on bringing down the enemy. He’d managed to gain his freedom by numbing himself to everything but his goal. And though he’d had to live with the guilt of leaving Callum behind, it was the only way to save them both.

      A moment later, Ross tripped the lad, twisting Dougal’s arms behind his back and shoving him against the floor. ‘You’re finished, lad. The English would have slit your throat, just like that.’

      Nairna was trying hard not to look, but her face grew worried. Bram moved up behind her and started to rest his hands on her shoulders before he thought better of it. Instead, he