Free Highland Passage by J.L. Jarvis

could find one of us to ransom.”
    “One of us?”
    “I’m the Constable of Eilean Donan, and Ciarán would take over in my absence. I’m sure Clan Ross would rather have me, but they found Ciarán first, and they knew I would pay for his freedom.”
    “Except that you didn’t,” said Mac.
    The corner of Hamish’s mouth twitched. “We don’t want to appear too eager lest they ask for more ransom.”
    Mac nodded. “And Ciarán’s safety and comfort mean nothing?”
    Hamish shrugged indifferently. “Och! Comfort.”
    “Yes, comfort. You can’t just leave him there for weeks on end.”
    Hamish studied Mac. “Men must have grown very soft in your time.”
    Mac’s jaw dropped. She had no retort. Compared to the men of this time, one could make a good case that by eighteenth-century Highland standards, twenty-first-century men were soft, in the sense that they enjoyed central heat and air and the occasional overpriced coffee. She was in Hamish’s time now, so she abandoned the point with a sigh. “Never mind.”
    Turning her thoughts back to Ciarán, she pieced together what must have happened. The men from Clan Ross had caught him as he had returned from seeing her. If his journey through the stone chamber had been anything like hers, they might have found him passed out on the ground, helpless to defend himself until it was too late.
    “What will they do to him?” Mac asked, afraid for the answer.
    “Och, they’ll lock him away and wait for us to come. By the time we arrive, they’ll have tired of playing this game and will accept what we offer for ransom.”
    “And if they don’t?”
    “We’ll do something else.”
    Mac gave up trying to look patient. “Something else. This ought to be good.”
    Hamish smiled at her for a little too long. He swept his fingers through his long strands of hair.
    Before Hamish could speak, Fergus said, “Help him escape. You could do it.”
    Mac drew back in surprise. “Me?”
    Fergus had addressed her directly. It must have pained him to do so. Mac was unsure of how to react, but her curiosity led the way. “So you want me to rescue him”—as she said it, she realized Hamish’s reason and nodded—“to avoid paying the ransom.” She glared for a moment then looked away and said softly, “Cheap bastard.”
    Hamish shrugged. “We’ve got better use for the money.”
    “Better use than freeing your brother?”
    “Aye.”
    “I don’t know what’s worse, your tight fist or your arrogance.”
    “Oh, my fist, by far.”
    Mac lifted her chin. “Are you threatening me?”
    “Why would I bother?”
    This annoyed Mac even more.
    Seeing her frustration, Hamish said, “Lass. Dinnae fash. I’ll not harm you, nor will anyone else.”
    “And what about Ciarán? Can you promise that no one will harm him—if they haven’t already?”
    Hamish looked at Mac as though she were the one with the problem. “Calm yourself, woman. Ciarán’s a strong lad. He’ll take care of himself. We’re on our way to him, are we not?”
    “Yes, and I finally see why you came back for me.” Mac rolled her eyes and looked away.
    Hamish ignored her as he pulled his salmon from the fire and started to eat.
    Fergus muttered to Hamish, “She’s a wee bit high-strung, that one.”
    “I heard that,” said Mac. “Look, Fergus, you can stop trying to convince me that you hate me. I get it.”
    Fergus gave Hamish a questioning look and then turned his attention to the fish. He rotated it and then pulled it from the fire and offered it, skewer and all, to Mac.
    She eyed him suspiciously. “Thank you.”
    When he went on and ate with no more than a glance, Mac decided to do the same. Unsure of how to eat it, she reasoned that it would not do to eat it like a corn dog, so she gently slid the meat off in bite-sized pieces with her fingertips. After a minute of unnatural silence, Mac looked up to find the men watching her with looks of suppressed amusement before returning to their food,