by Terry Spear
After what seemed like an eternity, Dougald, Angus, and MacTavish bolted up the stairs. Malcolm motioned them to tread lightly.
When they reached him, he said in a hushed voice, “I fear one or more of the baron’s men is with Anice.”
“What about her ladies-in-waiting?” Dougald asked.
“I do not ken. I told Anice I was leaving. Mayhap you can ask to talk to Morrigan and see what happens.” Malcolm’s neck tightened so taut, it was ready to snap.
“Aye.” Dougald stepped up to the door and knocked. “’Tis me, Dougald MacNeill, milady. I wonder if I could have a word with Mistress Morrigan.”
“She...she is not here, milord.”
Dougald frowned, then whispered to Malcolm, “Is the lady trying to speak in the English manner?”
“Aye. And she wouldna. No’ unless she was trying to warn us something was not right.”
Dougald spoke to the door again. “Angus would like to speak to Venetia. Is she there? He cannot find her anywhere.”
“No. No one is in here. Where is Malcolm? I wait for him.”
“His wound is bleeding something fierce. One of the servants is taking care of it. I think ‘tis worse than he thought before, milady.”
“I will not sleep until he returns to me.”
Malcolm whispered, “How can we get her to tell us how many men are in the room?”
Dougald shrugged. “Milady, how many arrows are left in your quiver?”
“Four.”
Angus whispered, “Whoever is in there could try to use them on us when we enter.”
Dougald said, “Then if he uses it on us, we will know he will run out when he has finished the four.”
Malcolm clenched his fists, trying to keep a clear head and not go charging in and slaughtering the brigands, however many there were, like he wanted to do. “Morrigan has a quiver also.”
“Och,” Dougald said, under his breath.
Malcolm asked MacTavish, “Do you have a ladder that will reach her room?”
“Aye.”
“Get it. Nay, do you have two?”
“Aye, milaird. I will get them right away.”
Dougald spoke through the door. “How many arrows are left in Morrigon’s quiver?”
“I would not know.”
Her voice sounded harried and tight. Malcolm was certain he heard whimpering from another corner of the chamber, like the soft crying of one of the women.
He said to Angus, “Have someone count all of the bodies of the baron’s men. There were sixty to begin with. The baron and six of his men left. We need to know how many are left.”
“Aye.” Angus hurried down the hall.
“I will leave ye, Dougald, and MacTavish to storm the door, and I will send some other men up this way.”
“You are coming up the ladder?”
“Aye.”
“But your arm.”
“Of nay consequence.” The burning sensation had completely vanished when he had discovered the lady in harm’s way.
Dougald grinned. “You will wait until all the arrows have been fired.”
Malcolm nodded, with a smile twitching on his lips. “Ye are right, brother. That is why I am the laird of the castle.” He slapped him on the back. “We will let you know when to storm the chamber.”
“Watch yourself, Malcolm. If you go and get yourself killed, I will have to marry the lady. With her record of husbands, I am no’ sure I want to do that.”
Malcolm rubbed his chin. “I have no intention of leaving her a widow.” He hastened to the stairs. ‘Twas nay big a deal to draw the arrows in his direction, then call for his brother to storm the chamber from the hallway. He only hoped the baron’s men were lousy shots.
Before he reached the exterior of the keep, Angus grabbed his arm. “The ladders are ready. I want to be the first on one of them.”
“Nay, Angus.”
“Venetia is up there, too.”
Malcolm stalked toward the ladders. “I dinna want to tell James I got you killed when I am to protect ye.”
“I can do this, Malcolm.”
He stopped in his footsteps. “You wait until I give the signal to enter the windows?”
“Aye.”
He nodded, not wishing his youngest brother to get hurt, but knowing his pride was at stake. Before he ascended the ladder, he sent five of Anice’s men upstairs to join Dougald. He motioned to Angus, and they began the thirty-foot climb. Two men followed after and when Malcolm and Angus reached the stone sill, they paused and listened.
Dougald shouted through the door, “Milady, you must come at once as His Lairdship has taken a turn for the worse.”
“He is not coming to me?” The tears in her voice shook Malcolm to the core.
“He could not make the stairs. He is lying by the fire in the kitchen, barely conscious.”
A man cursed inside the room in the direction of the bed. Hushed male voices spoke in a corner away from the door.
“What will we do, Conan?” one of the men asked.
Conan. Malcolm would gut him once he got hold of the false bard.
“Tell his other brother to come in, that you have sprained your ankle,” Conan said.
Anice called out from the bed, her voice nearly weeping, “I have sprained my ankle.”
“Aye.” He pushed on the door slightly.
As soon as he did, Anice shouted, “’Tis a trap!” A slap followed and Anice cried out.
Bedlam reigned. Malcolm motioned for Angus to enter through the window. Dougald stormed into the chamber with the men. Arrows flew at them, while sword raised, Angus charged the men standing in front of the women.
Malcolm dove at Conan with his sword. “Your wound is not so bothersome these days.”
“Nay, ‘tis much improved.”
“What do you and your men hope to accomplish? You will all die and for what? The baron has tucked tail and abandoned ye.”
“He will return.”
“Nay this eve. Nay to save your neck.”
One of the baron’s knights grabbed Morrigan. Venetia thrust a dagger into his back, and he released the lady.
Conan thrust again at Malcolm, but he blocked the blow with his sword, metal striking metal, ringing like an echo. “How did you escape Northampton?”
“Pretended to be dying.”
“Aye, well this time,” Malcolm said, slashing his sword at Conan’s chest, “’twill not be a pretense.”
Conan groaned as the claymore struck him with such force, his ribs cracked and penetrated his lungs. Gasping for air, he collapsed on the floor. “The baron will...return.”
“Aye, nay doubt, and meet your same fate.”
Malcolm motioned to the dead men. “Remove them. And for God’s sake, ensure there are nay more of them on the grounds or in the keep.”
“Aye,” several of the men said.
“Let us allow the laird and his lady to get some sleep.” Dougald winked at Malcolm.
Anice touched Malcolm’s shoulder. “I worried Dougald was telling the truth. That you were hurting overmuch.”
Dougald waited until the last, ensuring all the bodies were removed, then led Morrigan out after the others.
Malcolm barred the door. Anice dropped her bliaut to the floor. Dressed only in her shift, her breasts were peaked and the rosy tips showing through the nearly transparent cloth.
“Are you all right, lass?”
“’Tis you who have been injured, milaird.” She touched his bloodied sleeve.
“’Tis only a scratch.” He touched the redness on her cheek where the baron’s men had slapped her. Then he combed his fingers through her unbound hair, taking a deep breath of the lavender-scented satiny strands scented. “You are a vision, love.”
A smile stirred on her lips while she traced his chest with her fingertips, tantalizing him. “I want ye, my laird husband, but only if you are no’ hurting.”
“I ache something fierce, but no’ in the arm.” He raised h
is brows, punctuating his remark.
“I promised you a back rub.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek.
How such a soft, unimposing kiss could tantalize him so, he couldn’t fathom. But he restrained the urge to rip off the rest of his clothes and hers to fulfill his randy desire. A back rub was not what he had in mind. “A back rub?”
She reached down and pulled his tunic over his head. “Only I wouldna wish you to fall asleep on me before you pleasure me.”
“Nay, I wouldna do that to my bonny bride.”
She started to lift her shift, but he hurried to help her.
As soon as the gown lay on the floor, he covered her breasts with his hands and lifted and fondled the soft mounds.
“You are sure bonny. You ken, you never told me why you were climbing out of the second story window at Arundel, milady.”
“I wished to walk in the gardens.”
“Aye. Taking the stairs inside the keep was too inconvenient for ye?” He studied the sparkle in her green eyes and the smile playing on her full lips.
“Mayhap I saw a Highlander upon his fine destrier and wished to catch his eye.”
He chuckled. “You caught my eye, lass. You nearly gave my brothers and me a stroke. Had you left the castle before in that manner?”
“No’ there. Here, many a time.”
He shook his head, then ran his hands down her naked skin. “I will not allow my lady wife to endanger herself in such a manner in the future. But I will submit to a backrub, after…other business.”
Early the next morning after a night of sexual delight with the lady of his dreams, Malcolm, his brothers and men-at-arms prepared to leave for a village north of Brecken intent on taking Lord MacKnight, Anice’s former steward, into custody. ‘Twas good the marshal’s daughter had overheard MacKnight’s nephew say where his uncle was hiding.
“Lady Anice will not be pleased ye go to capture Laird MacKnight without taking her with ye,” Dougald warned.
“She’s had a long hard ride.”
“Are ye talking about the travel we took to get here or your activities last night?”
Malcolm grinned. “She may not be able to sit on a saddle on either account for a couple of days.”
Dougald chuckled. “Nay annulment, eh, Malcolm?”
“No’ now.” Pleasing Malcolm no end, except he still had to deal with King Henry.
The party rode beyond the gatehouse and the portcullis was dropped.
Angus shifted in his saddle. “Ye are sure the marshal’s daughter was correct in believing he is at this particular village?”
“We can hope. But we will search every hovel along the way to be sure.”
“Lady Anice will be a handful when you return,” Angus said, grinning. “She did not want to be left at the castle when you track down her steward.”
“Aye, she will have to learn that I am laird of Brecken Castle now.”
Angus glanced at Dougald. “It will be entertaining when we return.”
“Aye, the lass and Malcolm have been a great source of entertainment.”
“Och, ye will see the lass will be so pleased when we return with the vermin, she will think naught of the fact we left her safely behind.” Malcolm’s scowl was meant to silence his brothers, but both burst out laughing.
* * *
Anice swept her hands over the mattress, trying to locate her husband after a night of steamy sexual encounters, but when she found him not, she bolted upright. If he left the castle grounds to capture MacKnight without her, she’d strangle him!
Fuming, she untangled herself from the bed linens and jumped from the high bed. Once she’d lighted a candle, she yanked her shift off the floor. How dare he leave without her? Mayhap he hadn’t left yet, and she could still catch up to him.
A light tap on the door preceded her half-cousin’s appearance, then Nola entered the chamber. “I saw the candle’s soft glow underneath the door, but thought you might sleep a wee bit longer after your tiresome journey.”
“Where is Laird MacNeill?” Anice snapped, unable to control her temper.
Nola helped her on with her blue woolen overgown, unruffled by Anice’s outburst. “He has gone with his brothers and fifteen of our clansmen to take Laird MacKnight into custody. But I have to tell ye the good news.”
Anice frowned at her, not believing any news could be good under the circumstances. Malcolm knew she wanted to help arrest the man who was instrumental in the death of her uncle and other staff. “Aye?”
“Mai and Laird MacNeill’s bodyguard, Gunnolf, came in this morning.”
“Mai?” Anice’s mouth dropped open in astonishment.
“Aye. After a day of rest, she said she couldna stand the thought that ye were alone with the MacNeill laird and his brothers. So she convinced Gunnolf, who apparently was also of a mind to rejoin Laird MacNeill, to go with her.”
“All alone?”
“Nay, the earl sent some men with them. They are still asleep as I thought ye would be.” Nola plaited Anice’s hair, though she could barely sit still to allow it.
“Where did His Lairdship go?”
“They would not tell me. I think they had some notion ye would try to follow them.”
“Who told them where MacKnight was headed?”
Nola hesitated to speak which increased Anice’s ire.
Anice folded her arms. “‘Tis only a matter of time before I should find out and then...”
Nola finished with her hose and shoes. “His Lairdship will be angry with me, but I overheard him mention the marshal’s daughter.”
Anice’s stomach vaulted. God’s teeth. In all the excitement, she’d forgotten about the girl’s duplicity. “Who did Laird MacNeill leave...” She shook her head. “Never mind.” She stormed out of the chamber.
“Milady.” Nola ran after her.
Anice stalked down the hall and motioned to a servant, who instantly looked alarmed as his black brows pinched together. He quickly bowed to her.
“Is MacTavish still here?”
“Milady, I overheard Laird MacNeill tell him he was to stay and protect ye.”
She noted the quaver in his voice, and she suspected her husband had already made it clear she was to be kept at home like a good lady of the castle. “’Tis most urgent. Tell him I wish to see him at once.”
“Aye, milady.” He quickly bowed again and hurried off.
“What is wrong, Lady Anice?” Nola asked.
“The marshal’s daughter poisoned my uncle.”
Nola gasped.
“Aye,” Anice said, lifting her gowns, then ran down the stairs. “She poisoned MacKnight’s wife, too, because she was his mistress. I do not believe she would reveal his hiding place. Where is Mistress Morganna?”
“She was practicing archery this morn.”
“Fetch her for me, will ye?”
Nola clasped her hands together. “Milady, Laird MacNeill has given strict orders that ye are not to leave unless he gives his express permission.”
“Is that so?” Anice smiled, but she was certain the look was pure evil. “His Lairdship does not know me verra well.”
“Aye, milady. I shall fetch Morrigan, but I can see my head will be separated from my body when His Lairdship returns.”
“He is not that bad a tyrant, most of the time.”
MacTavish stalked into the keep, his blue eyes hard, his jaw tight. She knew the look, when he was determined to say no to her, but she was even more determined than him. He’d earned his position as captain of the guard for his prowess in battlefield fighting. Of all her uncle’s staff, she’d always found him the most difficult to get around when she wanted her way and it was against her uncle’s wishes. But this time she would not be thwarted.
“Milady, you wished to speak to me about something most urgent?”
“Aye. The marshal’s daughter poisoned my uncle. She told Laird MacNeill where to find my former steward, yet she was his mistress. Do ye think the devil would
tell him the truth about Laird MacKnight’s hiding place?”
MacTavish’s eyes grew round. “I will have the woman arrested at once.”
“And assemble fifteen men as my escort. We need to warn Laird MacNeill he is on a wild boar chase.”
“Ye cannot go, milady, by order of Laird MacNeill himself.” MacTavish’s jaw remained set, like it always was when he countermanded her wishes. Despite himself, she liked the man. The only one she’d ever known who could stand up to her. Well, like Malcolm could.
‘Twas a disagreeable turn of events she had not anticipated. She wasn’t about to sit back and wait for Malcolm’s return like the dutiful wife when he was not headed in the right direction, she was certain. She had every intention of going after him, informing of his error, and accompanying him in his quest.
“Go!” Anice said, unable to contain her irritation. “Arrest the girl.”
MacTavish moved not a foot to do her bidding. Then deciding otherwise, he said, “Aye, milady.” When he hurried outside the keep, Morrigan rushed inside, carrying her bow and arrow, her brown hair loosened from the braids by the breeze, her brown eyes wide, her face flushed. “Nola says ye are going to leave here to capture MacKnight. And ye wish to take me?”
“Aye. I need you to accompany me since you can use a bow as well as me.”
“I heard tell Laird MacNeill gave orders to detain you.”
“Did he now?” Anice shook her head. “That is like telling the sun not to rise when the day arrives.”
* * *
As soon as all the men were armed, the party rode in the direction Malcolm and his men had taken, but on the way there Anice sensed trouble, only this time in the village of Carr, in an easterly direction not north where Malcolm and his men had gone. “Och,” Anice said, the vision as clear as if she saw the scene played out before her.
“What is the matter, milady?” Morrigan asked.
“Laird MacKnight is hiding in the village of Carr until he can secure reinforcements.”
MacTavish heard her words and turned his horse to rejoin hers. “Milady, are ye sure?” he asked, his face a mask of disbelief.
“Aye,” she lied, “the marshal’s daughter oft went there on business, but when I questioned her about it, she had seemed uneasy about something. I thought she was secretly meeting with a man her da did not approve. Now I know it was MacKnight.”