It took four long, torturous days for Jaha to summon Kane to his dwelling. Kane had checked and rechecked the papers so much in that time they were starting to look dog-eared. In the end, he had forced himself to leave them alone by putting them in a tin box and burying them in the woods. Blake had sent him a message telling him that Abby was effectively under house arrest but was safe and Alasdair did not appear to suspect anything. That had been a huge relief to Kane. He did not stop thinking about Abby but knowing she was safe meant he could put her to the back of his mind, and concentrate on the task ahead. He had decided that he was not entrusting the papers to Jaha, no matter what the man said. Kane wouldn't be happy until he was putting the papers into the hands of the Warden of the East Marches himself.

Jaha was seated at his desk when Kane entered. He gestured for Kane to come forward but did not invite him to sit.

"I have spoken with the Warden."

"Thank ye, Sir."

"He was most interested in the papers, and has agreed to a meeting."

"This is wonderful news, Sir." Kane was delighted. He hadn't been as certain as Raven that the Warden would welcome a visit from reivers, but evidently the papers were too valuable an opportunity to pass up.

"He wants to meet you, to discuss what you know of Lord Griffin's dealings in person."

This was even better news. Kane thought he would have had a fight on his hands to prevent Jaha from going alone with the papers, but the Warden had pre-empted that discussion with his request to see Kane.

"I will be there, of course," Jaha continued. "To make the introductions."

Kane nodded. "Of course, Sir. When is the meeting to take place?"

"The day after tomorrow. At Lightwater Castle."

"Near Berwick? That is a dangerous journey, Sir." Lightwater Castle was a new fortification on the Scottish side of the border but close to the English town of Berwick upon Tweed. It sat on an island, accessible only via a causeway at low tide. It was a full day's ride away, right through the heart of the border country. Kane was a wanted man, by the Scots and the English. He didn't relish the thought of such a journey.

"You will have safe passage. The Warden has guaranteed it. It would still be better to travel at night, though."

"Aye, Sir. When shall we leave?"

"I will not be coming with you. I have other business to attend en route so I will meet you there."

"Very well." Kane turned to leave.

"Kane."

"Sir?"

"Be on your best behaviour when you meet the Warden. This is a valuable relationship to me. Don't fuck it up."

"I won't, Sir. I am thankful to thee for arranging it."

Jaha nodded his head in dismissal and Kane left. A sense of euphoria overtook him, and he punched the air with his fist as he walked across the courtyard to his own dwelling. Things were moving forward at last. He could taste the anticipation; it was cold, and set his teeth on edge, like biting into a coin to test its metal.

Near the Isle of Light, Berwickshire

Kane was camped in an old stone barn just outside Wigton, a farmstead about a mile from the causeway that led across the sea to the Isle of Light and Lightwater Castle. He had arrived in the early hours of the morning, cold and wet from riding through the night in the rain, and had been grateful to find the barn, even though it had a door open to the elements and a roof that was more sky than timber. There was a pile of old straw in the corner, and he had burrowed into it to get warm and wait for low tide, which was due just after sunrise. He had slept fitfully, his dreams more like nightmares with Abby being caught by Sinclair when she tried to put his keys back. In the cold light of day he knew she was safe, that she had returned the keys without incident because Blake had told him, but in the dark of the night, with the rain slamming against the walls and the wind howling through the rafters, he had been filled with a great fear. The feeling lingered as he pulled on his damp clothes and fed some straw to his horse. He was annoyed, because this was going to be a great day, the day when they got rid of Abby's husband for good, without shedding any blood. He should be happy, and confident, but instead he felt trepidation. It was only natural, he supposed; it was an important day, the biggest day of his life.

The skies were as grey as his mood, but at least it had stopped raining, and he mounted his horse to set off towards the causeway just as the sun grazed the horizon. There was no magnificent sunrise, just a gradual lifting of the gloom. Soon, he could see the island lying ahead, a dark sliver trapped between the twin greys of sky and sea. His confidence returned with every step of the horse towards his goal. He pulled up when they reached the head of the causeway. It was as though the sea had parted, to reveal a ridge of sand not much wider than a carriage and four horses. The ridge undulated as it crossed the sea to the island and tell-tale shimmers half-way along told Kane that it wasn't fully passable yet. He waited, and watched as the tide lowered, and the mudflats slowly revealed themselves. Seabirds gathered and stalked the flats, redshanks and oystercatchers, stabbing their sharp beaks into the mud to hunt for the worms, cockles and razor shells that now had no sea water to shelter them.

At last, the causeway was clear, and Kane urged his horse forward. There was only the sound of the birds cawing and screeching to accompany their journey. Kane's horse struggled as they crossed, each step sinking into the sand which was waterlogged, but the island got closer, and Kane knew the return journey would be easier as the sand dried and hardened. When they reached the island, Kane looked back. The sea was disappearing, the mudflats taking over, shiny and new. It would not be like that for long. He had five hours until the causeway became impassable again. That should be plenty of time to meet the Warden and discuss the papers, hatch out a plan.

He followed the old pilgrims' path as it skirted the coast, the sand dunes giving way to cottongrass and heather. Ahead of him, across a small bay, sat Lightwater Priory, a site of worship for over a thousand years, and a place of refuge since King Henry the Eighth of England had destroyed the English priories just a few years after Kane's birth. Kane veered off the path as he rounded the bay. He had been promised safe passage but his years with the Hundred clan had taught him caution and he didn't want to risk getting too close to the Priory and the small village surrounding it. He couldn't be sure that everyone living there was loyal to the Warden. He urged his horse across green fields, jumping over hedges and stone walls until he was on the opposite side of the small island. The castle sat on a rocky outcrop above the shore to the south of him. He dropped down to the coast again, skirting the edges of the mudflats until he picked up a path that would lead him to the eastern side of the castle.

He pulled up at a stone gatehouse. The castle reared up ahead of him, hewn out of the red-grey whinstone and accessible only by a steep, twisting staircase cut out of the rock. A soldier came out of the gatehouse, imposing in his bright red jacket and silver helmet that obscured most of his face except for his eyes, which bored into Kane. He stood with one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, the other holding a pike, a fearsome-looking weapon that was like a metal axe head on top of a wooden shaft. It was almost twice the height of the soldier. He rested his weight against the shaft as he spoke.

"What's yer business here?"

"I'm here to see the Warden. My name is Marcus Kane, of Weatherton in Dumfriesshire. The Warden is expecting me."

The soldier sniffed. "The Warden isnae here yet."

"Are ye expecting him?"

"Aye."

"I am meeting another man as well, by the name of Jaha. Is he here yet?"

"No one else has been through yet today. Ye are the first."

That was not surprising to Kane. Jaha could not have crossed to the island before Kane that morning because the tide was in. He was unlikely to have arrived the previous night because he had business to attend to.

"May I wait inside?" Rain was starting to fall again and Kane wasn't keen on getting wet for the second time that day. He was still damp from the previous soaking.

"I suppose. Ye'll have tae leave yer horse in the stable just beyond. This man will take ye up to the castle." He indicated another soldier who was standing just inside the gatehouse. "Do ye have any weapons on ye?"

"Just my ballack knife," replied Kane.

"Ye don't mind if we don't take yer word for that." The soldier in the gatehouse patted Kane down, checking his jacket pockets and his socks for hidden weapons. Kane was grateful he had left the two necklaces in the box buried in the woods. He didn't trust these soldiers not to steal them. "Leave yer knife in yer saddlebag and ye can enter the castle."

Kane did as instructed, then followed the soldier up the steps and through the heavy wooden door into the castle itself. He was taken into a large sparsely-furnished room with a fireplace so large at one end of it, Kane fancied he could fit in it whilst sat on his horse. The walls were whitewashed stone but there were no decorations, no rich tapestries or portraits like there were in Abby's house at Duns. The only furniture consisted of two winged-back chairs upholstered in a material of rich red and gold and a large polished oak table on which sat a candelabra holding six fat, cream-coloured candles. Kane felt too dirty and scruffy to sit on one of the fine chairs so he remained standing. The fire wasn't lit in the enormous fireplace and the room was cold. He shivered, and pulled his jacket tighter around him. He hoped Jaha wouldn't be long so that they could conclude their business and he could return to camp.

While he waited, he thought about his father, and whether he would be willing to receive his wayward younger son once the truth was known. Perhaps if Kane went before him with Abby as his bride, the wife Lord Robert had always wanted for him, his father would see that he had changed, was ready to settle down, be a good man, a loving husband, dutiful son. He suspected even that wouldn't be good enough to wipe away twenty-five years of rebellious behaviour on his part, though. His mother had been killed in an ambush by reivers when he and James were young men, and the family was never the same after that. She was the linchpin that held them all together, and when she died there was no counterbalance to their father's strictness. While his mother was alive, Kane had been the serious child, the one who needed rules and boundaries, who had a well-defined sense of right and wrong. James had been the frivolous one, blonde and handsome, with the world at his feet. After their mother died, they swapped roles, James bearing the responsibility of eldest son and heir, supportive to their father, a man to be relied upon. Kane had gambled and whored his way around the borders, shunning all responsibility, wanting only to enjoy life, because it was short, and could be taken from him at any moment. And now he was a reiver, one of the very kind of men who had murdered his mother. It would probably be a cold day in hell before Lord Robert Kane welcomed the black sheep back into the fold, but Kane had to try, for Abby's sake. She deserved a good life, better than he could give her as an outlaw always on the run. He allowed himself to slip into a reverie about what life would be like if he and Abby were able to be together, whether it be as Lord and Lady Kane or in some more humble worker's life.

Kane didn't know how much time had passed while he was daydreaming, but his legs were aching from standing, and when he looked out of the narrow slit in the wall that functioned as a window the sky was grey and heavy with rain. There was no sun to guide him, but experience told him it was getting towards midday, and that meant only an hour or two remained for him to get back to the causeway and safely away before the tide covered it again. He shifted his weight onto his other leg and continued to wait. He wasn't too concerned about what had happened to Jaha or the Warden. Rich men liked to keep other people waiting; it reinforced their power and their belief in their superiority. Kane had seen it happen many times in his life. He wasn't Marcus Kane, son of Lord Robert Kane of Dumfriesshire to the Warden; he was a dirty, lowdown thief and ne'er-do-well, and was to be treated as such.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, Kane finally heard footsteps on the stairs. He straightened his back, smoothed down his kilt, and tried to make himself as presentable as he could. He tapped his pouch, reassuring himself once again that the papers were there. He took a deep breath. The next phase of his life was about to begin, and he was ready.

The door opened with a creak and Jaha walked in. Kane smiled, glad that he was here at last.

"It is good to see thee, Sir."

Jaha did not return Kane's smile; in fact, he didn't even look at him as he walked into the room and over towards the fireplace. Kane frowned, his happiness turning to uncertainty. Perhaps the Warden had changed his mind after all. Kane looked to the stairs where a second set of footsteps was echoing off the walls. The man who walked through the door was not the Warden of the East Marches, however. Kane didn't know what the Warden looked like but he didn't need to know because the man standing in front of him, his arms crossed, and a smug look on his face was all too familiar to him. Fear ran though Kane's veins, turning his blood ice cold as Alasdair Griffin walked towards him, stopping just a sword's length away.

"We meet again."

Kane was speechless. He looked at Jaha, who glanced up at him and then away.

"What is going on?" That was all Kane could think of to say, and it was a stupid question because it was perfectly obvious what was going on. Jaha had betrayed him.

"What's going on," said Lord Griffin, "is that you have been lured into a trap and now you are captured, like the animal you are."

Kane moved to run towards the open door but Alasdair drew his sword and held the point of it against Kane's chest.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. If I don't run you through first, there are soldiers outside the door, and at the bottom of the stairs, in fact all around the castle. You will be dead before you see the light of day again."

Kane stepped back, away from the point of the sword. He held his hands up to indicate he was not going to run.

"What do you want?"

"Well, you, obviously. You are under arrest, in case you had not realised that."

"There is no Sheriff here," said Kane.

"I don't need a Sheriff. I have a signed warrant for your capture, and I'm the Laird of the borders, as you now know. Everyone works for me."

So Jaha had told Alasdair about the papers, and he was here to get them back. Kane wished he didn't have them on his person. They would have made a good bargaining chip for his release if he had hidden them, but he had not been expecting an ambush. Jaha's betrayal was a complete surprise. What was he getting out of this? And more to the point, had he told Alasdair about Abby? Kane decided to play this as he had told Abby, by saying as little as possible. Let Alasdair reveal his hand, and act accordingly.

"Jaha here tells me you have something that belongs to me. Something you stole."

Kane remained silent, not tempted to look at Jaha, just staring into Alasdair's eyes. The man was loathsome. He tried to calculate whether he could overpower him before he had chance to use his sword. Alasdair was fat and heavy. He would be slow to react. Kane was certain he could get his sword away from him and slit his throat with it before the man knew what was happening. Of course, he would die himself shortly afterwards when the soldiers came running in, but it would be worth it. Abby would be free.

"Silence is not going to help you," Alasdair continued. If you do not speak to me, if you don't tell me how you got the papers, I will have to assume everyone in my household helped you, from the Heid of my Guard to my lowliest servant. They will all join you on the gallows."

Kane knew he had no choice but to give Alasdair some information. He wasn't going to let other people die because of him.

"No one helped me. I staked out yer house. Watched the comings and goings. It was easy enough to break in once I knew the routine."

Alasdair lowered his sword, letting the tip of it scrape along the floor, which Kane thought was a stupid thing to do. It would blunt it, render it useless.

"The papers were well hidden. I find it difficult to believe you found them easily."

"It was not easy," replied Kane, "but I am thorough, and persistent. It's why I'm good at my job."

"Your job!" Alasdair spat the words out with contempt. "You talk as though you are gainfully employed. You are nothing but a common thief."

"It takes one to know one."

Alasdair took a step closer to Kane. Keep coming, thought Kane. A few more steps and I'll have yer sword before ye can blink.

"I am nothing like you," sneered Alasdair.

"No? Ye have stolen from the King have ye not? The papers are proof."

"To be proof, they have to exist, and you and them will be history soon enough."

"That may be so, but there's a lot of noise I can make before that happens, and I am not the only one who knows about yer corruption."

Alasdair laughed. "If you're talking about others in your sorry clan, no one's going to believe a group of rapists and thieves over a respected Laird."

"We all know who's the real rapist here." The words were out before Kane realised he'd said them, and he regretted them instantly.

Alasdair bristled. He stood up straight, raised himself to his full height, which was a good three of four inches taller than Kane.

"What did you say?"

If Kane could have bitten his tongue out he would have done. There was nothing to be done now except to see this through to its end.

"Ye know exactly what I said."

"You have some nerve calling me a rapist when you took my wife and defiled her while I was right there!"

"It was only in revenge for what thee had done to my brother's wife."

Alasdair looked at Jaha. "You may leave us."

"Are you sure that's wise, Sir?" said Jaha. "Kane is not a man to be trusted. You shouldn't be alone with him."

"Ha!" said Kane. "Says the betrayer. Ye're finished, Jaha. Once the clan hears what ye've done to me, they'll never follow thee again."

"The clan won't be a concern of yours or mine soon."

Kane shook his head. "Ye think I'm not trustworthy. I've only ever done yer bidding. I've been loyal, given ye everything ye've ever asked me for. If ye think this man is worthy of yer trust then ye're an idiot. Whatever he's promised thee, ye'll never see it. I guarantee it."

"Get out, Jaha," said Alasdair, his voice rising.

Jaha walked out of the door, leaving Kane and Alasdair alone.

Alasdair closed the door, stood against it. Kane was still near the window. The gap between them had widened. Was Alasdair scared? Did he sense that Kane was planning to snatch his sword, kill them both rather than let Alasdair live? He wasn't certain.

"She wanted it, you know."

"Who did?"

"The lovely Alice. Begged me for it."

Kane bunched his hands into fists, dug his nails into his skin. Alasdair was trying to bait him, and he was damned if he would let him.

"That must be why she was crying when I found her?"

"Women are tricky. She conned you, Kane."

"She was covered in blood ye sick fuck!"

Alasdair stepped forward again, closer to Kane. He whispered, as though they were co-conspirators. "She likes it rough. Lots of women do."

"Not like that! Not there! Not where ye had her."

"Well, I don't want women coming to me claiming their bastards are mine, taking my money, my land."

The man was insane, thought Kane. How had he hidden this from so many people for so long? Or was he finally coming unhinged, now that his secrets were unravelling before his eyes?

"Are ye sure ye can have children, bastards or no? I heard ye've not managed to get a child on yer wife these past fifteen years." Kane sent a silent apology to Abby for using her in this way, but he wanted to goad Alasdair and it was working.

"You fuck!" Alasdair lunged at Kane, meaning to hit him across the face, but Kane ducked, and grabbed Alasdair's sword as he spun round past him, ending up closest to the door. He held the sword at Alasdair's chest, poked the point in harder than had been done to him, drawing blood that stained the front of Alasdair's shirt.

"We're going to leave here, now. I'm going to hold this sword at yer throat, and if anyone tries to attack me, I'll slit ye from ear to ear, and the last thing ye'll hear as ye depart this life, is me laughing. Is that clear?"

Alasdair nodded, and Kane opened the door, got behind Alasdair with the sword at his throat, and went through to the stairwell. The soldier on duty went to grab his own sword. Kane held his weapon tighter against Alasdair's throat, drawing a few drops of blood that dripped onto the man's collar.

"Tell him to let us past."

"Do as the man says," said Alasdair.

They descended the stairs slowly. There was another soldier at the foot of the stairs guarding the exit. He stood aside as Kane and Alasdair approached.

"Open the door," said Kane, and Alasdair complied, turning the heavy metal ring. Grey light and sheets of rain came in. There were no soldiers that Kane could see outside. Alasdair must have been bluffing about how many men he had brought to the castle, or else they were sheltering. Kane withdrew his sword from Alasdair's neck as they reached the steep stone steps that led down to the stable, and Kane's horse. He put the sword against Alasdair's back instead, pushing him down the steps with it. When they reached the bottom, Alasdair slipped and fell. Kane dragged him into the stable, propping him against a haybale while he untethered his horse. When he was ready to leave, he poked Alasdair with the sword. The temptation to run him through was strong, so strong, but he had promised Abby he wouldn't kill him, so he resisted. Alasdair didn't realise that, though.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"No. I'm going to take these papers directly to the King myself, and let him deal with thee. Don't get too comfortable." He hit Alasdair in the stomach with the handle of the sword, and the man cried out in pain and doubled over, clutching his stomach. Kane told himself it was to prevent Alasdair following him, but he got a great deal of satisfaction from seeing him red in the face, blood on his shirt, crying in pain.

"Don't try to follow me," he said. He mounted his horse and tucked Alasdair's sword into his saddle. He avoided the gatehouse, picking his way along the rocky shore instead, jumping over a fence and out into the sea. Alasdair shouted something to him, but only the sound reached Kane, the shape of the words was taken away on the wind. Kane raced along the shore towards the priory. He didn't have time to avoid it now; the tide was closing in and it was three long miles until the start of the causeway. This was no time to go the long way around. He could hear shouts behind him, and turned to see soldiers on horseback chasing after him, their red coats the only point of colour in the bleak landscape. Kane urged his horse on. The sea was swirling around them, the pilgrims' path no longer visible, only the tops of the heather and cottongrass poking out above the water. The causeway was visible in the distance, a strip of orange in a sea of grey. Kane raced towards it, the sea splashing up around him, the rain soaking him from above. The soldiers were gaining on him, their horses' long legs covering the ground quicker than his small nag could do.

"Come on, come on," Kane shouted to his horse. His legs were tired from squeezing the horse's flanks, his face stung from the rain that was coming horizontally now, driven by the strong wind. He could barely see. He kept his head down, and carried on. He imagined Abby standing on the other end of the causeway waiting for him. She was smiling, wearing that blue dress with the mother of pearl buttons he had so admired in the market place in Kelso. It wasn't raining on the other side of the causeway in his fantasy. "I'm coming, Abby," he shouted into the wind. When he reached the causeway he could no longer see it. He could only tell the route from the wooden marker posts that were placed at regular intervals along it. He headed out between them. The water was swirling around the horse's ankles, but it was not too deep. He was certain they could make it. He urged the horse forward, but he had forgotten about the undulating nature of the causeway, and after a short stretch the sea was up to the horse's knees, and he slowed, until he came to a stop, refusing to go any further. Kane urged him on, patted him, squeezed him, whispered into his ears, but it was to no avail. He turned around. A line of soldiers was flanked along the shoreline, red coats flapping in the wind, silver helmets flashing as a storm brewed, and lightning split the sky, followed by a huge clap of thunder that made Kane's horse rear up. At the head of the line of soldiers sat Alasdair astride a huge bay horse.

"Give it up, Kane. You can't go any further, you'll only drown yourself and your horse."

Kane hesitated. Would it be such a bad thing if he drowned in the sea now, before Alasdair got to him? He thought of Abby waiting for him. How would she feel if she heard he'd killed himself? She would not see it as a sacrifice; she would think he had left her to fend for herself with that monster of a husband. No, it was better to face Alasdair, and take whatever was to come. As long as he was alive, there was hope, and as Abby had said, hope was everything. He turned his horse and waded back to the shore. The soldiers dragged him off his horse and he fell face first onto the wet sand. Alasdair came forward, grabbed Kane's arms behind his back and cuffed them together.

"Marcus Kane. You are under arrest for crimes against the King and his subjects, including but not limited to theft, kidnapping, rape, assault and treason. Take him away."

One of the soldiers lifted Kane to his feet, and forced him onto a horse before getting up behind him. They turned and made their way back towards the castle.

On arrival, Kane was taken downstairs rather than up, and was flung into a cell in the dungeon. The dungeon was beneath the castle, below sea level, and the walls were wet, and slimy with mould. The cell had bars along one side, but there were no windows and it was dark; the only light coming from candles lighting the hallway. The air was stale and musty, and had a foetid smell of excrement and rotting seaweed. It made Kane want to vomit, but he held it down. He had no desire to add to the filth, and he didn't know how long he would be kept here. It was not his first time in a cell, and he had suffered under some cruel gaolers before, but none as evil as Alasdair Griffin. Kane suspected the man would want his pound of flesh before handing him over to the Sheriff to be tried in Edinburgh. Kane's clothes were still wet through and he was shackled to the wall, so he couldn't move far to try and warm up. He still had his pouch with him, so he manoeuvred it behind him and curled up on the damp stone floor, his head resting on the hard leather of his pouch, and tried to sleep. Rats scurried around him but he ignored them. He expected Alasdair would leave him here a few days, without food or water, in order to suppress his will. Kane was used to not eating, though, and there was enough water sliding down the walls to slake his thirst. It was salty, but if he only wet his lips with it, he would survive. He wasn't going to let Alasdair Griffin break him.

In the end, the guards turned up for him sooner than he expected. There was no natural light to tell him what was day or night but Kane trusted his internal body clock, and was certain that no more than two days had passed since he was put into the cell. He was unshackled from the wall and chained again before being dragged out of his cell. He was pushed up the steps into a chamber that was one of a series of rooms, storerooms by the look of the barrels and wooden chests that were stacked along the walls. He was above ground because light flooded in through leaded windows. From the angle of the shadows cast he could tell it was past midday. The roof of the chamber was low, and timbered with oak. The guards pushed Kane up against one of the windows, and held his hands up as they attached the shackles to hooks in the wooden beam either side of his head. So he was to be tortured. It made sense. A man who beat his own wife with a hot poker would have no qualms about brutalising someone like Kane. Kane tried to prepare himself mentally. What did Alasdair want to know? There must be something, unless this was all for his own sadistic pleasure.

The door opened but it wasn't Alasdair who entered, it was Jaha. Kane strained at his bonds, trying to get to the man.

"Ye've got a bloody nerve coming in here, Jaha."

"Yes, well. Lord Griffin will be here shortly, but I wanted to see you first."

"While I can still breathe, ye mean? What do ye want?"

"You are strong, you'll get through it. He won't kill you. He wants you to hang, to make an example of you. He can't do that if you die in here with no one but the rats to see."

"If ye've come here to comfort me ye're doing a crap job. Why did ye give me up? Tae him of all people."

"You know why. I'm an opportunist. Always have been. And you gave me an opportunity too good to miss. Why give Alasdair to the Warden with no guarantee of reward, when I can give you to the man who hates you, and claim the reward and a generous donation of land and money from the soon-to-be Sir Alasdair Griffin?"

Kane shook his head. "He won't honour his promise, that's a guarantee for ye."

"Oh, he will, because while I kept you stewing at camp over whether the Warden would see you or not, I gathered some excellent intelligence on Lord Griffin, with sworn testimonies, and if he doesn't pay up, he will suffer the consequences."

"Ye're a bastard, Jaha. Ye'll need the money, because the clan won't take thee back now."

"I'm done with the clan life. I've got more than enough to lead a good life. Lord Griffin is even considering giving up Arkholm Tower, and that would suit me very well."

Jaha turned to leave but Kane called him back.

"Did ye tell him about Lady Abigail, and me?" Kane was scared to know the answer to this, because if Alasdair knew, then what had he been doing in the two days since he captured Kane? Duns House was less than half a day's ride from the Isle of Light. Had he already got to Abby? Was that what he was going to torture Kane about?

Jaha came closer. "I am not stupid, Kane. I am not going to show my best hand right at the start of the game. No. I'm keeping that information until the time is right, and if you're thinking you can get the clan to exact revenge on me, I would think twice. I don't have to tell you that Lord Griffin would get great satisfaction out of hanging Lady Abigail before you, and making you watch."

"Get out, Jaha!"

Jaha left and Kane pulled at his chains, trying to dislodge them. The shackles were iron, and strong, but the wood was old, and weak. He could feel it starting to give. If he could get free before Alasdair arrived, he could wait for him behind the door, strangle him with the chain and make a break for freedom through the window. The wood creaked above him as the nails holding the hooks in started to inch forward, and the wood began to splinter. It was hard work pulling while his hands were above his head; he was losing strength, but not determination. He hadn't managed to get the nails more than half way out when the door opened again and Alasdair walked in with two men, one of whom was Blake. Kane was shocked to see him. Was this another betrayal? Blake didn't speak but he gave the briefest of nods, as though in reassurance. Kane was starting to realise how Abby must have felt when she thought she was his revenge, not knowing who to trust, thinking everyone had betrayed her. If he ever got out of this mess he would not stop making that up to her for the rest of his life.

"Marcus Kane." Alasdair tapped a long, fat wooden club on the floor and contemplated Kane, looking him up and down. He was enjoying having an audience, Kane could tell. "The Grey Wolf." He took a slow, deep breath. "You are not such a menace now, are you?"

"It is hard to be when I am tied up and caged. Take these chains off, let us be on equal terms, and we shall see how menacing I am then."

Alasdair laughed. "You and I can never be on equal terms. You gave up that right when you raped your brother's wife."

"We both know that wasn't me." Kane could see Blake stand straighter as he absorbed this news.

"Well, now see, it doesn't matter what you and I know, it only matters what the people know, and you confessed to it. Not only that, I have witness statements from that very night, implicating you."

"The people who matter, know the truth," said Kane, looking at Blake.

"Not your father, not your brother. You're going to die a disgrace in their eyes."

"I am not a disgrace in my own eyes."

Alasdair walked up to Kane and slapped him across the face. Kane's head snapped to the side. It stung, but he'd had worse. He looked back at Alasdair.

"You're a complete disgrace. You expect people to believe you didn't rape your brother's wife when you raped MY wife, and everyone on my staff knows it. She confessed it."

There was so much Kane wanted to say, but couldn't, because it would implicate Abby.

"Do you deny it?" continued Alasdair.

Kane shook his head. "No."

"No. You took her into the brush, you made her lay down and you forced yourself on her, put that dirty cock of yours inside her, didn't you?"

Kane thought Alasdair was getting too much pleasure from this line of questioning, as though he liked the thought of Kane hurting his wife. He didn't want to pander to the man's sick desires any more than he had to, so he kept his answer simple.

"Yes."

"And yet you're not a disgrace in your own eyes. Well you are to me."

Alasdair raised the club, took a big swing, and hit Kane flat in the stomach with it. Kane was expecting it, so he tensed his muscles to make his stomach hard, but the force of it was so great it pushed him back towards the wall, knocking the wind out of him. He gasped but couldn't get any air because his diaphragm was in shock and had forgotten how to breathe. Kane felt light-headed, his legs started to buckle, and he sagged, his weight pulling on his wrists, making the iron rings cut into his flesh. He continued gasping, and eventually his body started to work again and some air flowed back into his lungs, giving him enough strength to pull himself upright.

"Ye're a big man, Alasdair, hitting a man who cannae defend himself," Kane said.

"You're no man. You're an animal."

"I'm an animal! Are ye forgetting where I found the papers that incriminate thee? What they were underneath?"

Alasdair looked around at his guards. Blake was doing a good job of looking disinterested, staring straight ahead, not moving, but his face was pale, his eyes large and dark.

"Those were gifts to my wife from admirers who were too presumptuous. I didn't see fit to give them to her."

"Really? Yer wife's admirers gave her lockets with their children's hair in, and plain bands made of base metal? I think not."

"I don't give a fuck what you think. You have no proof of any of this, and as soon as you give me the papers, that will be the end of it."

"I'm not helping thee. If ye want the papers, ye'll have tae find them."

Alasdair turned to Blake. "Search him."

Blake stepped forward, patted Kane down, as the soldiers had done to him when he first arrived at the castle what seemed like a lifetime ago. Blake mouthed a "sorry" to Kane as he searched him. So he hadn't betrayed him; he was just following his orders. Maybe he would be useful later.

When he had finished his search, Blake stepped back. "There is nothing on his person, My Lord."

Alasdair sighed. "Where's his pouch? He must have one. Go and check his cell."

Blake and the other guard left and Alasdair was left alone with Kane. He kept his distance, no doubt remembering what happened last time he let Kane get too close to him.

"I see you," said Kane.

"Do you?"

"Aye. Ye're a coward, who gets off on abusing people who are weaker than thee, who can't fight back."

"You know nothing about me."

"Oh, I do. If ye had any balls, ye'd face me man to man, but ye can't because ye know I'd beat thee."

"From where I'm standing, I'm beating you well enough."

"Only because I'm tied up. I know everything ye've done, all the servants ye've abused, the women ye've raped, and beaten. Why do ye do it? Does it make ye feel more of a man? Do ye have a tiny cock, or is it because ye're firing blanks?"

Kane knew he was going to get a beating for those remarks but he didn't care. He couldn't help himself, couldn't resist taunting this odious man. Alasdair hit him in the stomach again but with the end of the club this time, and Kane retched. There was nothing in his stomach to come up except some bile, which he spat on the ground. Alasdair raised the club again but before he could swing, the door opened and he lowered the club. Kane was bent double with pain. He could only see Blake's boots as they stopped in front of Alasdair.

"Here is his pouch, My Lord."

"Let us see what is within." Kane raised his head to watch as Alasdair emptied the pouch on the floor. A couple of coins bounced across the stone and a kerchief floated to the ground. A roll of parchment fell out and Alasdair picked it up, unrolled it.

"What is the meaning of this?" He showed the parchment to Kane.

"It is an inventory," said Kane. "Of the clan's assets."

"Where are the papers you stole?" He put his hand in the pouch, ran it around the inside, feeling for hidden pockets. He turned it upside down and shook it. Nothing came out.

Kane remained silent.

"Where the fuck are the papers, Kane?" Alasdair's voice was high, a hint of desperation in it.

"Are they not there?" Kane raised his eyebrows as though he were as surprised as Alasdair.

"You know damn well they are not here." Alasdair raised the stick again. "Tell me where they are or you will suffer the consequences."

"I cannot vouch for what has happened to my belongings whilst I have been parted from them. Jaha was here earlier. Perhaps he has taken them?"

"Jaha was here?"

"Aye. He told me he had good information on thee, perhaps that is where he got it?"

"You are lying."

"Am I?"

Alasdair was red in the face with anger. He dropped the club, came towards Kane and pummelled his body, hitting him over and over again. Kane absorbed the blows as best he could, making himself taut, trying not to flinch. Alasdair gave Kane a good right hook to the face, splitting his lip, bruising his cheek. Blood spurted out of Kane's mouth, misting the air.

"Sir."

Blake stepped forward.

"What?" Alasdair turned on Blake, breathing heavily, sweat dripping off him, spittle flying from his mouth.

"Think of the courts, Sir. Ye want him hanged don't thee? Ye are going to kill him if ye carry on, and then ye won't get the justice ye deserve."

Alasdair wiped his mouth, staring at Kane. "Take him back to his cell." He turned and walked out of the room.

Blake looked at the other guard. "Go with the Master, make sure he is safe. I've got Kane." The guard nodded and followed Alasdair out of the room.

Blake unhooked Kane and held him as he slid to the ground. "I'm sorry, Kane. I didn't know he had captured thee until I got here this morning."

Kane spat blood and saliva onto the floor. He felt in his mouth; he still had all his teeth which was a blessing. His face was sore, his body aching, but he would survive.

"Dinnae worry. I know it's not yer fault."

"I need to take ye back to yer cell. It's just fer now, until I figure out a way to get ye out of here."

Kane grabbed hold of Blake's sleeve. "Don't put yerself at risk because of me. I don't want any more bloodshed."

Blake helped Kane to his feet, put his arm over his shoulder. "If ye think I'm going to let ye die, then ye don't know me." They went back down the stairs, slowly, every step sending a jolt through Kane's battered body. When they reached the cell, Blake put the shackles back on Kane, attached him to the wall.

"Blake. Tell Abby… I'll be alright. Tell her not to worry."

Blake nodded. "I'll be back for thee. Stay strong."

Kane managed a weak smile, and then Blake left, leaving him alone in the semi-darkness. Kane edged over to the wall, prised out the fern-covered stone he had loosened the day before. He put his hand in the crevice, and his fingers touched the parchments. He tapped them for luck, and then replaced the stone, smoothing the fern back down over it. He would die before he let Alasdair Griffin get his hands on them. Let him wonder and worry about where they were, who had them. Maybe his uncertainty would keep Kane alive long enough for Blake to organise a rescue. It was only a spark of hope, but it was enough.