Читать книгу Highlanders Collection - Бренда Джойс, Ann Lethbridge - Страница 27

The next morning, Nairna left the hut, feeling restless. It was early and the morning sky still held the darkened shade of purple. The air was heavy, with a chill that slipped beneath her wrap, making her shiver.

Bram hadn’t returned last night, and she knew he’d spent the hours guarding his brother. Though she understood his desperate need to ensure Callum’s well-being, it seemed more of a penance. Her husband couldn’t let go of the guilt that plagued him like a disease, festering inside him, until he could see nothing else.

He’d been right; there were some wounds that didn’t heal. The comforts Nairna had tried to give him over the past few weeks had done nothing to wipe out the memories of his imprisonment.

She worried that no amount of love would take away his sense of blame. Instead of accepting her feelings, he’d drawn away from them, as if he viewed her love as another set of chains.

She tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter. In time, he would come to care for her again, as he once had. They wouldn’t have a shadow marriage, like Laren and Alex. She couldn’t live like that, with a husband who hardly saw her or cared what she did.

Alone, she walked outside, pulling her wrap tighter. She crossed past the rows of houses, letting her mind drift. More of the women had returned, and she saw one young woman speaking in a soft tone, shushing her crying infant, bouncing the child against her shoulder.

The sight of them twisted at her heart, for she wondered if she would ever hold an infant of her own. Her hands settled over her flat stomach, and she let herself dream for a moment. The thought sent a quiet ache of longing inside. Bram hadn’t touched her in several days, and she didn’t know when he would again. He was so caught up in tending his brother, he’d forgotten all else.

But she supposed that would change, in time.

When she reached the outer area of Glen Arrin, she started to turn back. The clan members were rising to perform their morning tasks and she scented the peat smoke rising into the air, as more bricks were added to the fires.

A flicker of light caught her eye and she turned back. Peering at the hillside, she couldn’t quite tell what it was. Perhaps it was nothing, but it looked like the flare of torches. Her heart quickened with worry and she hastened back to the keep. If there were intruders near, Bram and Alex ought to know about it.

When she reached the interior of the keep, she saw an exhausted Marguerite resting upon a bench with her head upon the trestle table. An untouched plate of food lay nearby.

Laren came down the stairs, followed by her daughter Mairin. Adaira slept in her arms, her head tucked beneath her mother’s chin. Though she greeted Nairna with a smile, there was apprehension in her eyes. ‘Callum still hasn’t spoken. Alex and Bram had to subdue him. He flew into a rage when Marguerite left.’

‘It will take time,’ Nairna said. ‘But at least they treated his wounds.’ Glancing around, she asked, ‘Where are Alex and Bram now?’ She wanted to tell them about the possible intruders, as soon as possible.

Laren glanced upwards. ‘They’re both still with Callum, above stairs.’ She led her daughter to sit down, and lowered her voice. ‘I didn’t tell Alex about the glass—I told him it was a tapestry.’

‘Did you find out who cheated Dougal?’

Laren released a sigh and nodded. ‘It was a travelling merchant. Dougal believed the man’s praise and thought he’d brought back a great deal of silver.’

‘At least the coins served a purpose,’ Nairna offered. She told Laren about the unexpected ransom and about the lights she’d seen this morning in the distance. ‘I worry that it could be Lord Harkirk’s men, if they discovered what we did.’

The chief’s wife paled, but she nodded. ‘Tell Bram and Alex. I’ll gather the women and children and arrange for them to be hidden.’

Nairna’s skin grew cold at the thought of an impending attack. Her father usually avoided conflicts and she’d never been in the midst of a battle before. The idea of hiding from the invaders should have comforted her, but all she could think of was Bram fighting alone.

The last time she’d seen him sparring with Ross, he’d been injured.

Though she wanted to believe that he was stronger, she simply didn’t know. And her fear overshadowed the hope that everything would be all right.

Laren was already waking Marguerite up and the young woman took Mairin’s hand, following Laren outside. Nairna walked up the winding stone staircase to the chamber where Callum was staying. She knocked softly, and when Bram answered she saw the shadowed circles beneath his eyes. ‘You didn’t sleep, did you?’

He shook his head. ‘Neither of us did. He kept waking up and fighting us off. I don’t know if he’s even aware of where he is.’

Nairna wanted to take his hand, to reassure him, but something in his expression made her hesitate. Alex stretched and gave her a nod in greeting.

‘When I was out walking this morning, I saw torchlight in the hills,’ she told them. ‘Do you think any of Lord Harkirk’s men might have followed us?’

Bram’s face tensed, and he exchanged a glance with Alex. ‘It’s possible.’

‘I’ll inform the men,’ the chief said. ‘If it is an attack, send a runner to Locharr and alert the Baron that we may need his help.’ He turned to Nairna. ‘Tell Laren—’

‘She’s already gathering the women and children.’

‘Good.’ The chief glanced back at Callum, whose eyes were open. The man had clenched his hands together; from the expression on his face, he’d understood what they were saying.

‘I’ll need your help guarding the women and children,’

Alex ordered his younger brother. ‘Even Lady Marguerite.’

Callum gave a slight nod to show that he understood, and though his hands were shaking, he managed to take the sword his older brother offered. Nairna wasn’t so certain whether or not the man was capable of guarding anyone, but she understood it was a way of protecting Callum, by keeping him with the others.

Nairna led the men down the stairs and outside to the place where she’d seen the torchlight. By now, the sun had risen, but the sky remained dark with clouds.

Bram and Alex climbed up to the top of the gatehouse, but Nairna saw the threat as soon as they did. Not a few raiders, as she’d suspected.

Instead, an army of men had spread out in the valley, their chainmail reflected in the light like hundreds of silver coins.

Lord Harkirk had brought his soldiers. And with him were Lord Cairnross’s forces.

This was what he’d been waiting for.

Dougal clenched his dirk, hiding behind one of the huts as the MacKinloch archers began firing arrows against the English. The frightened cries of children were shushed by their mothers as Nairna and Laren helped them go into hiding.

The dark scent of soot brimmed within the air and a flaming torch shot through the sky, landing upon a nearby roof. The dry thatch blazed and Dougal moved further away, to find his own position of safety.

The last time the English had come, his brother Alex had shoved him down in the storage cellar with Lady Laren and the girls, as if he were naught but a bairn. They didn’t believe he was capable of fighting.

Not this time. Dougal refused to stand back like a coward, hiding with the women. He could drive his blade into a soldier’s ribs, the same as any of them. Now that he was four and ten, he was old enough to help his brothers. If he slaughtered a dozen Englishmen, they’d finally stop treating him like a child.

Men shouted as the flames began to spread, and the clang of swords rang within the courtyard. Dougal found a place behind a wooden cart, out of the range of the arrows, while he decided the best place to launch his own attack.

Best to wait for the right moment to strike out and remain hidden until then. His kinsmen had already begun to attack the English, their battle cries roaring amid the chaos.

A tightness constricted in his lungs and sweat coated his palms. But he wasn’t afraid to fight. No, soon enough, he would run out and join the MacKinlochs. For now, better to stay here and wait for one of the English to come closer.

A flash of movement caught him by surprise, and an arrow shot past him, embedded in the cart only inches from his face. Dougal dived beneath the cart, his heart slamming within his chest. He’d never seen the English soldier approaching from the back side of the fortress. How had the man slipped inside?

Dougal gripped his dirk, a bead of sweat rolling down his face as the soldier drew closer. He had to make a decision. His pulse quickened, a thick terror rising in the back of his throat.

But then, abruptly, he heard the sound of a dog snarling. Seconds later, his enemy’s knees buckled beneath him. Dougal rolled out from under the cart and saw Bram’s wife Nairna holding a stone in her hand, her dog Caen at her side. She’d struck the English soldier across the head and the man lay motionless, blood streaming from his temple.

‘Take his sword,’ Nairna ordered. ‘And all of his weapons. Quickly, before he wakes up!’

Her face was grey and she looked as if she were about to be sick. Though he’d been trained to fight, Nairna knew nothing about it. She didn’t belong here.

‘Go back with the other women,’ Dougal told her as he seized the unconscious soldier’s sword. ‘You shouldn’t be near the fighting.’

‘Neither should you,’ she said. ‘Come back with me.’

He was about to argue with her, when another motion caught his attention. In a blur, his mind and body seemed to separate. Another soldier ran forwards, his weapon aimed at Nairna. Though Dougal tried to cry out a warning, the words smothered in his throat.

Instinct took over and he rushed forwards, driving the sword into the man’s stomach. The blade sank deep within and Dougal staggered backwards, suddenly aware of what he’d just done.

He didn’t hear Nairna’s words, nor did he know what was happening around him. Blood covered his hands and he couldn’t seem to take a deep breath. His ears rang, his vision blurring.

Bile rose up and he ran to a corner of the palisade wall, heaving up the contents of his stomach. Humiliation was a bitter taste upon his tongue, for he’d just shown Nairna his cowardice.

Moments later, a gentle hand rested upon his shoulder. ‘It’s all right, Dougal.’

But it wasn’t. He’d never killed a man before, never known what it was to see the look of shock and death within a man’s eyes. The pieces of his boyhood fell away in that moment, and he understood what his brothers had meant when they’d wanted him to stay clear of the battle. It wasn’t a glorified fight for honour, for death could come at any second, without warning.

He wiped his mouth, realising that his duty right now was no longer to defend their clan and fight. He needed to bring Nairna to safety.

‘I’ll take you back to the others,’ he said. ‘You need to stay with the women and children.’

His brothers would want that. He would join with Callum and they would form their own defence for those who were too weak to defend themselves.

Bram fought off the faceless soldiers, knowing that they were outnumbered. Numbness settled over him and he fought to keep his movements controlled.

Letting the invaders seize control of their lands wasn’t an option. And though his rage was rising with every man he struck down, he couldn’t afford to release his emotions. He had to keep his family safe.

The armies had formed a perimeter, nearly surrounding their fortress. If they managed to encircle Glen Arrin, it was over. He didn’t know whether the English intended to kill them all or show mercy upon the women and children. It was doubtful that their lives would be spared, unless he could get them away from Glen Arrin.

Bram swung his claymore hard, connecting with another enemy, bringing him down. He saw his chance to break free of the fight and raced towards the keep, hoping to find a way to get the women out, with Dougal and Callum’s help.

He stopped short when he caught sight of Gilbert de Bouche, the Earl of Cairnross, entering the gates. Cairnross strode into their broken fortress with the arrogance of one who owned it. He surveyed the land, seemingly satisfied with the burning huts and the bodies littering the ground.

Bram didn’t move. In his enemy’s eyes, he saw the man who had tormented him. His claymore grew heavy, his weariness sinking into his bones. This man had ordered boys flogged because they were too weak from hunger to lift stones. Too many had died, unable to stand the suffering.

There had never been any remorse in Cairnross’s face. He had treated the Scots as his slaves, as if they weren’t fully human.

Doubts and fears rose up inside Bram, crippling his resolve. He saw Alex fighting hard, along with Ross. They would die before surrendering. As would he. But he couldn’t let a man like Cairnross get to Nairna.

‘I wondered if you were alive,’ Cairnross said, lifting his sword. He was flanked by two soldiers, guards who would ensure his protection. ‘You were a great deal of trouble as a slave.’

Bram kept his gaze fixed upon the three men.

Though he longed to fight, he forced himself to wait. ‘What is it you want from us?’

Cairnross glanced back at the rest of the fighting, a smug expression on his face. ‘Harkirk intends to claim his rightful share of your holdings, after you tried to cheat him with false silver. And as for me—’ He nodded to the guard upon his left, who departed for the keep. ‘I lost many of my slaves on the night you attacked. I want compensation for the loss.’

‘You weren’t interested in keeping them alive,’ Bram responded. ‘You wanted them to work until they died, and that was enough for you.’

Cairnross shrugged. ‘They served their purpose.’ Near the gates, more soldiers streamed inside, only to be met by MacKinloch fighters.

Though Bram was glad to see his kinsmen striking down the enemy, inwardly, he grew colder, afraid that there was no way for them to win this fight.

‘Being a traitor has its price,’ Cairnross said. ‘And our orders are to suppress any rebellion.’

That was it, then. They weren’t planning to let any of them live. Though he’d suspected as much, hearing it was enough to make him grip his claymore and raise it towards Gilbert de Bouche. He might die this day, but he fully intended to take Cairnross with him, for what he’d done to so many men.

‘Then I’ll die fighting.’ Bram started to swing his claymore when one of the guards came racing back.

‘They’re not here, my lord.’ The guard’s face was red and he was out of breath. ‘We’ve searched everywhere. None of the women or children are inside the fortress.’

‘They’re in hiding, then,’ Cairnross proclaimed. ‘Burn them out.’

Bram’s skin turned to ice. Most of the fortress was made of wood; if it burned down, it would collapse upon the storage entrance, burying the women and children alive.

The rage inside him was threatening to break out and he gritted his teeth to keep his control. He needed to fight for Nairna and the others, not letting his temper master him.

A cry he didn’t even recognise came from his throat as he swung the claymore hard. The two soldiers guarded Cairnross, and his blade struck their wooden shields with no effect.

Cairnross moved away, giving orders to the other men to set the keep on fire. Bram fought hard against the two guards, not even feeling the exhaustion as his claymore became an extension of himself.

Ross came up from behind. The older man struck the soldier on the left, bringing him down. Bram finished the man on the right when the soldier’s attention was distracted by the death of his companion.

But they were too late. Already, smoke was rising into the air, the keep blazing. He saw them adding oil to the flames, and as the conflagration spread faster, Bram knew there was no hope of saving it.

‘Mary, Mother of God,’ Ross breathed. He broke into a run, and Bram was close behind.

It was only a matter of time before the unstable structure collapsed.