by Mac Flynn
"Why have we stopped?" Duncan questioned him.
"A rider comes, and quickly," Bruce explained.
"Friend or foe?" Briana asked him.
He shook his head. "I cannot tell, but it is only one so we needn't worry about arresting his travel."
Our company tensed and the men kept their hands close to the hilts of their swords as we awaited the speedy traveler. Our wait was but a minute and was broken when a rider appeared over the top of the last hill and galloped towards us. The heavy weight on my heart grew heavier when I noticed his arm sported an armband in the color of my laird, a harvest yellow.
Bruce turned his horse so he blocked the center of the road. The horseman slowed and drew his sword.
"Let me pass!" he ordered us.
"A moment, friend. We, too, are loyal fighters for Laird Campbell," Bruce assured him.
"Then you will let me pass," the soldier insisted.
"We wish only for news of the battle," Duncan spoke up. "Has all been lost that you flee so quickly?"
The soldier grinned and shook his head. "No. We have routed the enemy and taken many lairds hostage in the hopes of future payment. There was hardly a man lost, and much of it is thanks to the marshal prowess of our laird. I have never seen a man fight as he has done."
"And our laird?" I spoke up.
"Our laird is well, and prepares a march to the northeast against another foe," he replied.
"Then we must catch him so he does not waste his time," Bruce advised. He moved his horse aside and we others did likewise. "Thank you for your most welcome information, friend."
The soldier sheathed his weapon and bowed his head. "I am glad to bear the good news. Fare well, friend."
"Fare well," Bruce replied, and the man sped past us and down the road. Bruce turned to us with a smile of his own on his face. "It seems our concerns were unjustified."
Lady Campbell chuckled. "Faith, my dear love, can move mountains."
"At this moment I would trade faith for a fresh horse," Bruce returned.
"Fewer words would quicken our travel," Briana advised.
Bruce bowed his head. "Truer wisdom was never spoken, my dear, now let us hurry."
We galloped down the road for some three miles before we caught sight of smoke. The plums curled upward into the darkening sky as nightfall warned of its coming. We glimpsed the encampment with dozens of small and large tents pitched near the site of the battle. The smoke came from the small campfires among the tents where our wounded soldiers lay close at hand. Those without wounds and with strength stood in long rows at the opposite end of the camp from us.
The battlefield lay beyond with its red-colored ground and broken weapons. Far off were the piles of the dead who were our enemies, and closer to the camp our own dead were laid out. I winced at such a sight of blood and death.
"Courage, little daughter," Briana whispered to me. "He would be better pleased to see your smile after a long and vicious battle."
I rallied my courage and sat tall in the saddle as we slowed our pace. We made our way to the edge of the encampment and a pair of guards stopped us. One of them stepped in our path and held up his hand.
"Who goes there?" he called to us.
"Friends," Bruce answered.
"Of whom?" the guard returned.
"Of Laird Campbell. We bring news that he needn't march to the northeast," Bruce replied.
The guard raised an eyebrow. "And why not?"
"Because the battle is won there, as well, and I would be much obliged if you would send that information to him before he tires out his worn troops for no gain," Bruce commanded.
The men glanced at each other and whispered a few words before one broke for the other end of the camp. We watched him weave his way through the tents and arrive at a group of men at the front of the columns. My heart quickened when I recognized the tall bearing as that of my laird and love. The guard stood with them for but a few moments before my laird turned and strode in our direction.
Tristan soon arrived at our location and, though his clothes were bloodied and filthy, I had never seen a more welcome sight. His tired eyes lit up and a smile brightened his face.
"Muira!" he exclaimed.
"Tristan!" I called back before I slid off my horse and raced to him.
He welcomed me with open arms and we wrapped each other in a tight hug. Tristan petted my hair and nuzzled my neck.
"How I worried for you, my love," he whispered.
I pulled us apart and could not stop the tears that welled up in my eyes. "And I, as well, but the day is won."
Tristan chuckled and brushed a long strand of my hair from my face. "And I am sure much of the credits belongs to you, my goddess."
"I could not have traveled so far without the encouragement of our friends," I argued as I turned to the others. They dismounted and bowed to Tristan.
Tristan led me over to them and shook Bruce's hands. "I cannot thank you enough," he told him as he looked to the brothers and his mother. "My thanks goes to all of you. I know not the details, but to have my beloved returned to me without a scratch and the day won is cause for greater thanks than I could ever repay."
Duncan pursed his lips and shook his head. "We did very little, my laird, and so deserve less thanks."
My love broke from me and moved over to his old friend. He set his hand on Duncan's shoulder and shook his head. "You had faith enough in me to brave an army, though you knew not how the day would be won. Such faith is worth all the gold and jewels in the world."
Duncan closed his eyes and bowed his head. "Thank you, my laird."
Tristan laughed and shook Duncan's shoulder. The man winced as he was whipped to and fro. "More cheer, old friend. We have much to celebrate. Both our lands are free of the Menzies, and all our friends are well. Come and eat at my table."
A dark shadow passed over Duncan's face. "There is some work left to be done," he argued as he pulled forth the scrap of paper taken from Sheehy's body. He held it out to Tristan who took it with a questioning glance. "We confronted a witch who held this on her person."
Tristan opened the paper and read the contents. His eyebrows crashed down and his eyes hardened. "Then you believe-"
"It is our adopted brother, Seumas," Duncan finished for him.
Tristan crunched the paper in his hands and ground his teeth together. "I see. It seems we are in need of his company to ask him a few questions."
Tristan guided us through the tents and to the columns of men who awaited his return. Chamberlain and Alan met us at the head of the soldiers along with MacNaughton and MacLaren. All but MacLaren were covered in the filth of war, but his weary eyes told of the stress on his person. Tristan's eyes swept over the company and his frown deepened.
"Where is Seumas?" he questioned them.
"He is not here. When you received news of our lady's coming he excused himself and hurried to his tent," Chamberlain revealed.
"He must be found and brought to me at once. Have the men disband for the search," Tristan ordered them.
Alan bowed his head. "As you will it, my laird." He moved away to give the orders to the lower captains, and the other men pressed close to us.
"What is the meaning of such an order?" MacNaughton questioned Tristan.
"I have evidence in my possession that points to Seumas' betrayal," Tristan explained.
MacNaughton frowned. "Seumas would never do such a thing."
"That is for him to defend himself," Tristan replied.
As we spoke there came a shout from Alan.
"My laird!" he called out as he pointed past us at the tents.
We all turned to see Seumas atop his horse. He trotted through the tents and up to where we stood. His strange smile graced his lips and he bowed his head to me.
"Good evening, Lady Campbell. You are a welcome sight among such bloodshed," he commented.
The men around me stiffened and Tristan stepped between Seumas and me. He grasped the hilt o
f his sword and glared at his cousin.
"Dismount this moment, cousin," Tristan demanded.
Seumas' smile slipped from his face and he looked over our stern faces with a raised eyebrow. "What means this? What has happened?"
"We have found evidence of your traitorous deeds, villain," Angus spoke up.
Seumas frowned. "If there is such proof then I call it as a forgery!" he argued.
"It was found on the body of an enemy by ourselves," Duncan told him.
"Were it from the hand of God I would still call the evidence false!" Seumas insisted.
MacNaughton stepped forward and stretched out his hand. "Dismount, Seumas, and atone for your sins."
Seumas turned his angered eyes on MacNaughton. "Traitor!" he cried out.
"You brought this upon yourself," MacNaughton argued.
Tristan unsheathed his sword and pointed the weapon at Seumas. "Dismount, or be called a traitor."
Seumas sneered at him. "You have already judged for yourself the outcome of my trial."
Seumas turned his horse towards the battlefield and the High Road beyond that. He spurred his horse and the pair sped across the open field.
"Archers!" Alan yelled.
"No!" Tristan shouted as he raised his hand.
Alan frowned. "But my laird, he-"
"-has nothing left. His traitorous deed has left him without an army and home," Tristan pointed out. He lowered his hand and watched his cousin recede into the distance. "He can harm us no more."
"Then that settles all," Bruce spoke up as he looked over our tired and filthy faces. "Our enemies are revealed and defeated."
"For at least the winter," Tristan corrected him.
"A winter of rest would suit me just fine," Angus spoke up.
Duncan frowned at his younger brother. "You hardly lifted your sword," he reminded him.
"This day I have learned there are greater weights than wielding a sword," Angus returned.
Tristan smiled and held up his hands. "Whatever they are they will be healed with rest so let us all to our tents."
CHAPTER 51
We remained one night at the encampment, and never was such uncomfortable quarters made so fine as when I slept with my love beside me. I rested well and was not awoken until the morn when voices interrupted my slumber.
"How came she to have such skills, old friend?" a voice whispered.
My heavy eyes opened and I glimpsed the interior of the large tent. I lay upon a bed of furs, and beside me was a small table. Opposite me stood Tristan and Duncan, and their faces were tense.
"Would you think less of her if you knew the truth?" Tristan wondered.
"Tristan, I have been very patient, but I must know," Duncan persisted. "Her powers were like those of the witch that tried to kill your own wife. Can you believe that she is truly your mother?"
A sad smile slipped onto Tristan's lips. "My head understands what you say and I rejoice in your caring for my safety, but my heart knows her to be my mother." Tristan placed a hand on Duncan's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "If she were not then she missed the greatest opportunity to destroy those of whom I care the most."
A ghost of a smile slipped onto Duncan's lips and he shook his head. "You always had a way of convincing me the Devil was goodly."
Tristan chuckled and dropped his hand. "While a mother may be so terrible I am blessed with one who is not."
"Now what are your plans, Laird of Campbell?" Duncan wondered. "Will you force your friends and allies into more trouble?"
Tristan shook his head. "As I said, there will be nothing more this winter. Our allies are defeated and those of your land who were not loyal are vanquished."
"Then I look forward to a week of revelry with you until my father, brother and I must return to our lands," Duncan replied.
"I would like nothing more," Tristan assured him.
Duncan's eyes flitted to me and I quickly closed mine. "I would bet there is something more."
"You have caught me in a fib, old friend, and I apologize," Tristan teased.
"Do not apologize, but keep her safe," Duncan replied. "She seems to be a very special woman who goes with God."
"That she is, and I will. I swear it," Tristan promised.
"Then I shall see you later," Duncan finished.
I heard the flaps open and close, and I opened my eyes. I let out a yelp as I beheld Tristan seated close beside me with a grin on his face.
"Good morn, goddess," he greeted me.
I frowned at him. "It is not very becoming to frighten your bride."
"Wife, my goddess," he corrected me. "But Mother told me of your fatigue from your powers. How do you fare this morn?"
I sat up and scrunched my face. "I feel nothing except sore from so much riding."
He laughed and kissed my cheek. "We must give you more practice today."
I cringed. "More traveling?"
"Aye, but to home," he informed me.
The dead were buried, the battlefield looted, and the tents packed away. Our company and army marched back home, and all along the road we were showered with warm greetings and great praises. The village welcomed us with large crowds and the soldiers dispersed to their families. The castle was prepared for our coming with a great quantity of food and fires stoked hot to warm the awaiting rooms.
I pleaded exhaustion and abstained from the festivities. My solace lay in the comfort of my shared chambers where the peace and quiet was in stark contrast to the last half week. The stress was gone for the moment as I stood beside the large, crackling fire, and I allowed my thoughts to wander back to my first glance of the great hearth.
So much had happened to me in such a short time, and only now was all right with the world. My new life was stitched together with a fabric of friends and adventures, and there were terrifying memories as well as wonderful ones. I wondered what new trials and fun would be before me as the wife of a laird who was more than a man.
A noise caught my attention, and I turned to one of the north-facing windows. A small bird stood on the sill outside and chirped at me. I smiled and walked over to the window. The small bird flew away, and I opened the window to watch its flight down to the garden where it joined many more like it. The first snow of winter fell from the gray sky and covered the ground with its cool blanket. My husband and mate came up behind me and set his hands on my shoulders. He leaned down so his warm words wafted over my ears.
"What has hold over your thoughts, my goddess?" he whispered.
I turned to him and wrapped my arms around his neck. "Always you, my love," I assured him.
A wicked smile slipped onto his lips and his eyes showed a hint of yellow color in their depths. "And I hope those thoughts are filled with pleasant emotions," he mused.
I chuckled and stood on my tiptoes to press a delicate kiss on his warm lips. "Perhaps," I teased.
His grin widened. "Then we must change these emotions into something with more substance."
He leaned down and pressed out lips together in a hot, passionate kiss. His hands slid down the sides of my body and wrapped around my buttocks. He pressed me close to him, and I felt his need through his thick clothes. I groaned and pulled us apart. My cheeks were warmed by his hands as they massaged my buttocks and my breathing quickened as delicious lust arose inside me.
"My laird, you honor me with such attention," I told him.
"If you believe this is honor than I mean to worship you," he returned.
My lover swept me into his arms and carried me to our bed where he lay me atop the covers. He pressed against my side and draped his arm across my waist. His hot lips pressed delicate kisses down my neck as I squirmed beneath his weight. The heat inside of me burned anew as the goddess of beasts that dwelt within me awakened. I felt my muscles stretch my clothes and my breasts swelled so they pushed against the front of my dress and nearly spilled over the fabric. The voluptuous feel of my pert nubs as they brushed against my dress rewarded me with
hot pleasure that demanded more of such touches.
"My laird," I moaned.
He pulled away to hover over me and his eyes were the yellow hue of the Harvest Moon. His teeth were long and sharp, and he panted for breath as stray hairs pushed out from his skin. He reached up and cupped one of my swollen breasts. I groaned and arched my back to press myself into his sensual grasp.
"My goddess," he growled.
"Take me," I pleaded. I cupped one of his cheeks in my hand and smiled into his bright eyes. "Make love to me and never stop."
His lips curled back in a feral grin that promised delicious pleasures. I longed to know them, to feel them on my skin and inside of me.
"As you wish," he replied.
He dragged his sharpened fingers down one side of my dress and sliced open the fabric worn thin and muddy by travel. The cloth fell away and revealed my pale, trembling flesh. He leaned down over my naked breast and nipped at my sensitive nub. His touch seared my skin and the hot ache inside me worsened. He pushed open my dress and I emerged as a voluptuous creature of lust. I grasped the covers as my heart quickened its beating and my body became awash with sweat.
Every feel of him against me drove me mad with desire, and yet my body demanded more. I longed for more of this sensual torture, this tense, impatient demand for his touches. All other emotions were swept away but for the longing to fulfill the growing need inside me. Only he could satisfy this delicious lust. He was my master, my laird, my love, and I allowed him to touch my body as none else could.
His hands slid over all my flesh as his lips suckled at my breast. He left no bit of my body neglected, but his focus lay on the coarse hair between my trembling thighs. His finger slid into the hot, wet folds and brushed against my trembling womanhood. I gasped and jumped as he stroked me with his gentle touch. Each stroke heightened the hot pleasure inside me. Every slide of his finger against me left me awash in sweet, sensual desire.
And yet my body was not satisfied. I longed to feel him inside me, to know him intimately as he penetrated me again and again. I squirmed and whimpered, and still he continued with this delicate torture.
"Please," I groaned.
He raised his head and showed off his long fangs. The lustful heat in his eyes seared my soul with desire.
"Tell me what you desire, my goddess. I am yours to command," he growled.