“I can’t imagine him putting up much of a fight,” Malcolm chuckled to himself.
Anna nodded — but there was something about the priest that worried her. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but a commander of hers had often said that there was nothing worse than a man who believed he was doing evil things for a good purpose.
She supposed they’d find out if that was true, soon enough.
Chapter 55
The evening was rather more raucous than any she remembered at the castle, which surprised her considerably. For dinner, the kitchen staff rolled out a couple of barrels of ale that had apparently been being kept for a special occasion. It went some way to ameliorating the concerns in the castle, the worry that had spread with the news that nobody was allowed to enter or leave for the duration. It was a good move on Donal’s part, Anna reflected, looking over at the man as he presided over the pouring of the ale. It was very important to keep up morale during a siege, if a siege was what this was. Galen’s men hadn’t returned — not visibly, at least — and the walls were being closely guarded. A few of the servants took ale up to them, so that they wouldn’t feel left out of the festivities.
Anna had spent much of the afternoon with Brendan, pacing around the walls with him to indicate all the weak points she’d noticed in their defenses. For the most part, the castle was well-guarded, but a clever observer (like Anna) would notice a few weak points that needed ironing out. To her amusement, Donal had insisted on accompanying them — he kept moving in between Anna and Brendan when they walked close together, and felt the need to inject his own opinion into every conversation, as if he was worried that Anna would forget which of the men she’d spent the night with the night before. It was rather charming — if a bit clingy.
Brendan clearly found the whole thing deeply amusing. He must have figured out that there was something going on between Anna and Donal by this stage, and to her relief he didn’t seem to mind.
During the meal, Donal came to sit beside her — a surprising gesture, but a pleasing one. Many of her friends were up dancing — a few of the occultists, it seemed, had some instruments between them and were putting on a raucous — if not especially skilled — impromptu concert. So, she and Donal were left in relative peace to talk in low voices at the table.
“I don’t want you on the front lines of this battle,” he told her, his voice strained.
She felt her heart sink into her toes. Seriously? After everything they’d been through together, he still didn’t trust her as a warrior? “Donal —”
“I want you by my side. Advising me. Without countermanding me,” he added emphatically, his eyes twinkling — and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“I can do that,” she acknowledged.
“Thank you.”
“But only because there’s no armor for me yet,” she said firmly — she’d snuck off to the armory earlier that day, to confirm the unfortunate truth that they just didn’t make armor for five-foot women. Rude of them, honestly. But there’d be time to get a set made. Then they’d see who fought on the front lines and who didn’t. Perhaps she could even get her own sword made… something fitted to her hand, balanced perfectly for her height, reach and stature… god, she was getting excited just thinking about it. Donal was looking at her with a soft look on his face and she blinked up at him.
“What?”
“You’re rather beautiful when you’re thinking about armor,” he told her softly, grinning a little, and she laughed. “I suppose you’ll be heading for bed soon?”
“Mm, thinking about it,” she said innocently. “But I’m worried.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, now that I’ve gotten used to a big warm bed with a Laird in it, I’m concerned I won’t sleep as well in my own.”
“That is quite a problem,” he agreed solemnly. “If only there was some solution.”
“I suppose we’ll never know,” she sighed dramatically.
Twenty minutes later, they were wrapped in each other’s arms in Donal’s bed. And if anyone down at the ongoing celebration missed either of them, they certainly didn’t come looking for them.
The next day dawned bright and clear, the blue sky of summer back — Anna woke to Donal peering out of his window, a look of consternation on his face. But there were no boats on the lake, no men at the gates — by all reports, they’d had a quiet night. The dining hall was curiously quiet for breakfast, about half the usual capacity by Anna’s reckoning, and it wasn’t until she accounted for hangovers that she realized what was going on.
Donal chuckled to himself. “Let them rest. There’ll be a fair bit of waiting around to do, I think. Galen may be trying to wait us out, see if we’ll get anxious if we’re stuck here for too long.”
“Got any more of that ale?” Malcolm asked. He was sitting by Donal at the table they were all sharing for breakfast, and though he looked a little the worse for wear, he clearly had a young man’s tolerance for alcohol.
“We’ll be rationing it,” Donal scolded him, but there was a smile on his face.
Anna was just settling herself in for a long quiet day when a guard came to the table, a look of concern on his face. He reported that there was a force at the gates, and Donal and Malcolm both leapt to their feet, hands on their swords —
“No, no, it’s not… well, you’d better come and see.”
“Anna?” Donal offered her his hand — grateful for his active inclusion of her in strategic matters, she followed along, not even minding that she hadn’t finished her porridge yet. There would be plenty of porridge in her future. This was important.
They reached the top of the gate, and Anna realized why the guard had been a little hesitant about what to report. Sure enough, there were several dozen people gathered outside the gates to the castle, but none of them were soldiers by any stretch of the imagination. To Anna’s shock, and Donal’s clear anger, there was a rabble of village folk standing outside the castle. When they saw Donal, they erupted into a chorus of jeers and boos. He stared down at them, not comprehending. Anna scanned the crowd, suspicion flaring to life in her chest — and sure enough, there stood Father Caleb, looking pale but determined among his little flock of protestors.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Donal boomed down at the villagers — but their yells didn’t seem to carry any cogent argument. Irritably, he gestured at Malcolm, and the man nodded, running down the stairs. Anna and Donal watched him march out to meet the villagers, his hand on his sword and his shoulders drawn back. None of them were armed, at least not that Anna could see — still, she felt a pang of worry for the brave young tanist marching out into a hostile group like that. The villagers all drew back from Malcolm, looking almost embarrassed about their presence there, and he spent a few minutes in low conversation with them before marching back toward the wall, his back stiff and a look of great anger on his face.
Anna looked up at Donal, worried despite herself. This didn’t look good, whatever it was.
“They say they’re here to protest,” Malcolm said, the disbelief clear in his voice when he rejoined them on the top of the wall. “They want you to help the witch hunters, not turf them out. They say the priest down there has told them what we’re really up to in here, and they want no part of it.”
“Do they know that I’m top of the list of witches these men want to burn?” Donal demanded angrily, glowering down at the villagers outside the gate.
Malcolm shrugged. “They just say we ought to co-operate with the witch hunters. They say Caleb’s a true man of God, and they trust his claims that we’re consorting with demons and devils out here.”
“Where’s their loyalty?” Donal demanded. “For hundreds of years, the Clan has kept them safe from all manner of awful creatures… and worse creatures than devils, I’ll add, that’s for certain. Perhaps we ought to have let that wolf torment them for a few more months, hm? Perhaps the redcaps ought to have been allowed to keep trying to steal their childr
en? Perhaps —”
“Easy, easy,” Malcolm said, his brow furrowing. “I’m as angry as you are, Donal, but —”
“I ought to go down there and give them a piece of my mind,” Donal growled. He raised his voice to a booming shout that carried down to the villagers. “Where is your loyalty! You craven fools —”
A shout of resistance went up among the villagers. They shook their fists up at the angry Donal, yelling loudly. A few of them even stooped to grab stones and hurled them toward the walls. They glanced off, falling woefully short of even threatening to hit Donal or any of the guards — but Donal bristled as though they’d struck him right in the forehead.
“Right,” he snarled. “Brendan, gather a handful of your men. We’ll deal with this pathetic little display —”
“Are you sure about that?” Brendan said softly, giving Anna a panicked look. “They’re unarmed. And they’re just villagers, worried for the safety of their families… they’ve been swayed by that priest, by the bullying tactics of these mercenaries. It won’t do any good to harm them.”
“He’s right,” Anna put in, hoping her word would have some impact too. “If you harm any of them, you’ll just be confirming their suspicions that the Sept is a force for evil, not for good. The only answer is nonviolence.”
Donal took a deep breath. “They are throwing rocks at my castle.”
“It’s suffered worse than rocks and lived to tell the tale,” Brendan pointed out with a soft smile. “Let them wear themselves out. There’s no need to answer this with steel or iron, Donal.”
There was a long silence. “You’re right,” Donal said finally — but it was hard-won concession. And no matter what any of them would say, he stayed up on the wall. They couldn’t argue him down — he simply stood, like a vengeful gargoyle, staring down at the rabble of villagers, who continued to shout and jeer, throwing the occasional stone. Anna grew bored and left him to it after an hour or two. Later, she found out that he’d stood up there til dark, when a freezing wind had kicked up and sent the villagers, finally, back to their homes.
But the damage had been done. Donal came back to his room, and she’d never seen such a dejected look on his face. She’d been waiting for him — had even grabbed a couple of plates of food from downstairs so they could dine in his quarters. He sat down hard on the bed, looking up at her, absolutely disconsolate.
“What am I going to do, Anna?”
Chapter 56
Anna took a deep breath. This wasn’t her strong suit, talking other people out of grim moods. But she’d do her best for Donal. He’d done such good work keeping morale up in the castle — all day, there’d been a pleasant buzz in the halls, all the servants and guards going about their work with energy and enthusiasm. All of that, despite the grim situation they were all in. But in all of that, he seemed to have neglected to keep his own spirits up. It couldn’t have helped, standing up on that wall all day, watching the villagers he’d sworn himself to protect jeer and boo at him. She unbuckled his armor for him, revealing his broad chest — then heaved a sigh at the clear signs of muscle tension in those broad, powerful shoulders.
“Come here,” she said gently, climbing onto the bed behind him and sitting cross-legged, her hands on his shoulders. She ran her hands in an experimental stroke across his shoulders, sighing at how tight the muscles there were. Good thing she had strong hands. Working methodically, firmly enough to hurt a little but not so firmly that she was going to do him any damage, she set about massaging the knots out of his shoulders. It was soothing work, very relaxing in its way, and she soon found herself hypnotized by the way his muscles moved, by the little sighs and grunts he made as she worked over particularly troublesome spots. Sooner or later, the knots began to give, and he groaned in pleasure as she worked even deeper into the muscles there. This was decades worth of stress, not just the day’s, she was beginning to realize, digging her thumbs hard into the muscles around his shoulder blades. This was going to be a long-term project, not something she could sort out in a single back rub. Well, long term was fine by her.
“That feels so much better,” Donal groaned finally, as she gave his shoulders a few finishing swipes with the palms of her hands to encourage some of the built-up lactic acid to move out of the area and disperse. She’d had a few lessons from a trained physiotherapist when she’d been in the Army — the woman had taught her a few useful tricks for avoiding the worst of combat-related wear-and-tear injuries, and part of it had been how to give a good back rub. Soldiers carried a lot of heavy gear on their shoulders, and a good shoulder massage could be the difference between a good day and an agonizing one. Anna was known among her Army friends for having the strongest hands around — her massages hurt the most, but they also did the most good. Donal clearly appreciated her ministrations — he was working his shoulders back and forth, stretching his neck.
“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.” She grinned.
“Maybe it’s you they should be coming for as leader of the witches,” he murmured, flopping back onto the bed with a disconsolate expression.
She sighed — she’d hoped the back rub might distract him from all that for longer than just a few seconds.
“Donal, it’s going to be fine. I promise. The villagers are … easily susceptible, that’s all. Priests can be persuasive.”
“That priest? Really?”
“People are scared of all that fire and brimstone stuff. And it seems like he believes what he’s saying, daft as he is.” She shrugged. “They’ll figure the truth out soon enough.”
“Aye, I hope they will.” He sighed, gazing at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, Anna, I’m not much fun to be around this evening.”
“You’re a great deal of fun to be around,” she said archly. “All I need to do is look at you and I’m thrilled. Especially with your shirt off.”
That drew a weak chuckle from him. “Is that all I am to you, then? Decoration?”
“No!” she protested, lying down beside him and tucking her head into the crook of his arm. “But it’s a nice side effect.” One of her hands caressed his stomach, moving steadily lower to his waistband again — and despite his apparent dejection, at least one part of his body hadn’t given up yet. “Oh, so you’re not completely knocked out yet.”
“I’d have to be dead if I didn’t respond to you,” he murmured, turning his head to kiss her, and before long they were both thoroughly distracted from the events of the day. This time, they moved slower, with less of the frenzied desperation of the other night’s lovemaking — they had all the time in the world, and much less pent-up longing for one another, though the shivers that ran through her body when he touched her were no less intense. But this time, when he slid inside her, it was she who was on top, she who was calling the shots — they moved together, her rocking her hips back and forth, driving him to the edge of ecstasy then backing off, slowing her pace, reducing him to a whimpering wreck of need and desire. This time, she could feel her orgasm coming like a distant train, and she was able to use that skillfully to ensure that they climaxed together, again. It isn’t so hard a trick, she thought breathlessly, just as they crashed over the edge together, Donal groaning into the side of her throat as she bent forward to kiss him. Clearly, she’d just had the wrong lovers before.
They lay together for a long time, gazing up at the ceiling together, and she almost fell asleep, half-dozing as Donal’s heartbeat throbbed soothingly by her ear. But then he heaved a deep sigh, and she opened her eyes, worried about him again. Was he really so stressed about the situation with the villagers?
“Donal — it’s going to be okay.”
“It’s not that,” he murmured. He sounded half-asleep.
“What, then?”
“I’m worried about losing you.”
“Losing me?” She frowned. “Donal — I’ve been through battles worse than this. I’ll be fine. Besides, I won’t be on the front lines, remember? I’ll be with you.”
&n
bsp; He looked at her, his pale eyes still worried in the low light.
“What do I have to say to convince you?” she said, exasperated. “I — Donal, this castle is my home. I’m going to fight tooth and nail to defend it. And I’m going to win. Nobody’s getting me out of this place, least of all some scraggly so-called witch hunters with no discipline and not even a proper uniform between them.”
He laughed aloud — that was an encouraging sign. “So, you want to stay?”
“Do I want to stay? Of course I want to stay!” She propped herself up on one elbow to stare down at him. “What did you think, that I was just going to lie with you then leave on the next high tide?”
“I don’t know! I’ve never met a woman like you before,” he admitted, and suddenly he almost sounded shy. “You’re unpredictable.”
“Well, predict this, Donal Grant. I’m not leaving. You’re stuck with me for the duration.”
The smile that broke out across his face was a sight to see — like the sun breaking through cloud on an overcast day. He sat up, pulled her into his arms and kissed her until they were both breathless and aroused, almost ready for a second round of lovemaking — but she pushed him away gently, laughing, tempted despite herself. “We have to eat something, or we’ll waste away.”
“Oh,” he said blankly, spotting the cooling plates of food that were still sitting on his table by the door. “I’d forgotten.”
“Too busy brooding on the wall like a madman,” Anna agreed affectionately. “Come on. Eat something. You skipped lunch so I’ve brought you twice as much dinner.”
They ate together at the table, neither of them bothering to dress themselves… the fire crackling in the grate meant it was warm enough to sit together naked, and Anna had to admit that the view was much better without clothing. Donal’s spirits seemed to have been somewhat restored by their conversation, and Anna maintained her positive exterior — but she had to admit, she was feeling a bit of concern about the siege situation they’d found themselves in. She didn’t like feeling trapped in a castle like this, unable to leave, no intel on what was going on outside the castle. And she knew Kaitlyn was worried about her parents — they hadn’t even been able to get a message to them, so for all they knew, their daughter was lost in the woods.
RESCUED BY THE HIGHLANDER Page 34