by Alisa Adams
He kissed her forehead. Perhaps if he stayed with her a little while longer she would find the rest she needed for her trip to the dragon’s lair in the morning. “I will do anything you ask, darling,” he assured her, then he watched as her eyes closed and she drifted into slumber. He stayed with her for a little while, dreading the moment that he would have to leave her, but the inevitable moment came. He eased his shoulder and arm from under her, covered her with a thick woolen blanket, and kissed her forehead. He sighed and longed for the day when he would never have to leave her alone again.
17
Talking to Duncan
“Look after yourself,” Rodric whispered. “And come back to me safely.”
They were standing at the edge of the encampment where Adaira’s horse was being saddled and readied for the climb up to Castle Dunn.
“I wish you were coming with me,” she said sadly. “You were telling me about power and strength. I need both now, Rodric. I need you.”
“I wish I could give you all of mine, Adaira,” he said softly as he pulled her closer. “I told you I would do anything for you and I will. Say the word and you can stay here. We can think of another way to solve this.”
Adaira shook her head firmly. “Duncan is my brother and this is my responsibility,” she said grimly. “But he is not only a coward, but a bully who only preys on the weak. He is only brave when he has men around him. I am so ashamed of him, especially since he is my family, but because he is my family I think I have a better chance than anyone else to make him change his mind.”
Suddenly the captain of the guard was at her side. He bowed and said smartly, “All ready, milady.”
Adaira nodded in acknowledgment and Rodric kissed her one last time, pouring his heart and soul into it. He was aching inside because every one of his instincts told him to be with her and protect her, but he could not.
Eventually, they drew apart, and looked into each other's eyes for a long moment. No words were said, for none were needed.
Adaira turned and ran to mount her horse before she changed her mind and threw herself back into his embrace, and Rodric watched as she rode away, surrounded by heavily armored horsemen.
She will come back, he thought determinedly. She must come back.
As Adaira rode into the courtyard of the castle, her heart was hammering. Her brother might be a feeble despicable little man, but his garrison was not. Even though it was tiny, twenty armed men against one small unarmed woman were not good odds. She had six guards with her, but they were stripped of their weapons before they entered the castle.
Adaira took a deep breath and walked inside the place that she had called home until very recently. She had grown up here, and her childhood memories had been made here, but it was no longer home; her home was with Rodric. Without him, she had no shelter at all.
Her brother came strutting into the courtyard at that moment with a smug smile on his face. Adaira curtsied to him, as propriety dictated, but as he bowed to her she realized that she was looking at a stranger. This creature was not her brother, the loving little boy she had played with as a child. Now he was a loathsome stranger. How could one person have changed so much, and why? It is likely the fact that he is acting laird...the power has gone to his head.
“Sister!” he cried as he stepped forward and tried to embrace her. “How are you?”
Adaira took a step back, avoiding him, and he flushed with embarrassment. “I am well, Duncan, thank you,” she replied politely. “I suppose you know why I am here?”
Duncan nodded, his face darkening. “If you are here to ask me to surrender the castle to you, Adaira, the answer is no. I thought I had made that quite clear—or did your messenger not understand me?”
“There is nothing wrong with my messenger’s ears!” Adaira snapped coldly. “But if you do not surrender the castle, it will be taken from you by us or MacCormick. How long can your food supplies last? How long before your firewood runs out? I know that we have riches aplenty, Brother, but you cannot eat them!”
Duncan swaggered up to his sister and looked down his nose at her. “John MacCormick is coming with reinforcements any moment now,” he said with an air of superiority that made Adaira want to break his nose with her fist. “His troops are all big men, and battle-hardened soldiers who will annihilate your puny little army in half a morning.” He looked her up and down scornfully. “Even that big red bull of yours will not be able to bring one down!”
Adaira let out a peal of mocking laughter. “He could bring any man down, Brother,” she said fiercely. “ Especially one like you. I think you saw that before, did you not? By the way, if you think that MacCormick is coming to your rescue, think again.” She stepped forward and jabbed a finger into Duncan’s chest. “MacCormick has no intention of helping you; he wants Castle Dunn for himself. He is going to let you and the Montroses fight each other and he can come and pick up the leftovers. He is no friend of yours, Duncan. Lay down your arms while there is still something left of your army. Remember that he has hundreds of men at his disposal, but the Montrose Clan wiped out most of yours. ”
Duncan threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Adaira, I know you think I am very stupid, but please tell me you don’t think I am daft enough to swallow this—this fairy tale you have just dreamed up?”
“MacCormick does not care one iota about you.” Adaira’s voice was practically a growl. “He wants this castle, this estate, and me.”
“Pfft!” Duncan flapped a hand at her. “Do not flatter yourself, Sister. He is a powerful man who can get any woman he wants. I dangled you as bait, that is all.”
“I would rather hang myself than be married to that brute!” she growled, and her expression abruptly changed to a fierce scowl. “If you are too dense to realize that he is your enemy then I cannot help you, Duncan. Surrender to Chief Montrose and you have a chance of mercy. MacCormick will give you none.”
Adaira could see the fear in Duncan’s eyes as it slowly began to dawn on him that what Adaira was saying might be true. Whatever else his sister was, she was not a liar. She pressed home her advantage. “As well as that,” she pointed out, “he is likely to make an example of you as the laird. Have you heard what he did to one of the highwaymen who tried to rob him? He was hung, drawn, and quartered. Do you want the same to happen to you? The man is a monster!”
Duncan suddenly rallied, and his voice became a sneer. “That is poison poured into your ears by that big redheaded swine. He has persuaded you that he is in love with you, and you think you are in love with him too! Who is the stupid one now wee Sister?”
Adaira sighed. It was quite clear that her brother did not believe her, and had convinced himself that MacCormick was his ally.
Before Adaira could answer, the noise of hundreds of hoofbeats sounded outside, then they were clattering into the courtyard as John MacCormick’s men swept past the guards, who had been told to expect them.
Just then John MacCormick himself strode in. He wore black from head to foot, and with his long black hair and deep dark eyes, his presence seemed to suck the light out of the room. He smiled at Duncan; however, it was a twisted, evil smile, but Duncan was too innocent or stupid to notice.
“Ah, MacCormick,” he said triumphantly. “I told my sister that you would arrive any moment with reinforcements! See, Adaira? Here is our ally—not our enemy, as you thought.”
“I am sorry to disappoint you, wee man,” John said, and there was no mistaking the malicious intent in his voice, “but my betrothed Adaira is right. I have come to claim my bride, and I have not come to fight with you, Duncan, but against you. You have a garrison of about two dozen men here. I have ten times that amount riding with me. Give up or my men will take great delight in slaughtering you.”
“I have twice that many,” said a low, rumbling voice behind him.
As soon as Adaira’s horse was out of sight, Rodric began to pace up and down the grassy slope, unable to keep still. Andrew gripped
his upper arms to stop him, and Rodric came to a standstill, but the blue eyes looking into his father’s were anguished. “I cannot just let go of her, Father,” he said desperately. “If anything happened to her I would go and kill that weasel of a brother of hers with my bare hands!”
“I felt the same way about your mother.” Andrew sounded infinitely sad. For a moment, he looked anguished, then he patted his son on the shoulder. “Go to her if you must, Rodric. She is a fine lass.”
Rodric hugged his father then leaped onto his warhorse and galloped up to the castle. He had to get to Adaira before MacCormick carried her off, and he prayed that he was not too late.
Adaira’s heart gave a sudden leap of joy as she heard Rodric’s deep voice, and she would have run into his arms if Duncan had not stopped her.
“How did you get in here?” he gasped. He looked around Rodric to see if any of his men were there, but he saw none, and his jaw dropped as he saw the desperate position he was in.
Adaira suddenly felt a stab of pity for him. He might be a fool, but he was still her brother. She put her arm around him and after a moment he did the same to her, and Adaira realized that he was shaking.
Rodric shrugged. “I walked in. Your guards have all left you to your own devices, Duncan Strachan, and the MacCormick ones did not think an unarmed man posed much of a threat.”
MacCormick turned around to meet Rodric’s bright blue eyes, which were now as cold as chips of ice. For a moment he was taken aback, then he threw back his head and let out a loud burst of laughter. “You had me fooled for a moment, there, young Montrose.” He looked amused but scornful. “If you have hundreds of men, where are they?” MacCormick waved his arm at one of the big windows, indicating that Rodric should look out. “I saw them setting up a siege a few days ago, but there is nobody there now. Were they too cowardly to stay?”
Rodric did so, and to everyone’s surprise, he laughed. Adaira came up behind him and her eyes widened in astonishment. Where there had been hundreds of troops and tents that morning, now there was nothing. The only signs that the land at the bottom of the hill had ever been occupied were the burnt circles of grass where campfires had been lit.
“So where are your men?” MacCormick asked derisively.
Rodric smiled at him, almost mischievously. He pushed up the window and leaned out, then he gave a long, low whistle. Suddenly, hundreds of heavily armed horsemen appeared out of the trees, immediately surrounding the MacCormick army, many of whom had dismounted, thinking that they would not be needed for a while. Then, in less time than it took to tell, a force of pikemen and swordsmen were standing in a menacing ring around them. Both armies stared at and taunted each other, but they waited, as they had been ordered, for their commanders’ orders to join battle.
Rodric looked with amusement at MacCormick’s stunned expression. “There are far more Montroses than MacCormicks,” he pointed out. “But there would be much bloodshed if our two armies fought, and I hate to see so much killing and maiming.”
“Then what do you suggest?” MacCormick tried for a show of bravado. He put his hands on his hips and stared down his nose at the big man, but his voice was trembling.
“I suggest single combat,” Rodric proposed. “You against me—hand-to-hand, man-to-man. That way there is no bloodshed and we both keep our honor.”
18
Hand-to-Hand Combat
MacCormick stared at the sheer bulk of the man at his side. He looked tired, as though he had not slept well, and was covered from head to foot in bruises and cuts, some of them quite deep. He reasoned that if he hit Rodric on a sore spot, he could inflict sufficient pain to disable him enough to render him unconscious.
“I will take your challenge,” he replied boldly, thrusting out his hand, “and may the best man win!”
Rodric gave a growling laugh. “Oh, he will, M’Laird,” he said grimly, glowering from under his brows. “He surely will!”
“No!” Adaira screamed, as she ran across the room. She placed herself squarely in front of Rodric, legs and arms spread out to shield him from MacCormick as much as she could. “You will not hurt Rodric, you loathsome swine!” she yelled, her face a mask of hatred and anger.
MacCormick laughed scornfully. “So this is what it has come down to, Montrose?” he sneered, strutting back and forth in front of him. “You need a maid to defend you? And not just any maid, but my maid? Adaira is my betrothed, and when this farce is finished we will be wed, and there will be nothing you can do about it!”
“I would rather kill myself because life with you, John MacCormick, would be a living death anyway!” Adaira spat.
“I will make you regret ever having said that!” MacCormick roared. “You are mine and you will always be mine. Now get out of the way and let me finish him off!”
“Do as he says, Adaira,” Rodric whispered in her ear. “I promise you, this will not take long.”
Adaira reached up and put her arms around his neck then pulled his head down to kiss him, a long sweet kiss that quite plainly said she loved him better than any words could do. She drew away and gave him one last, long look, then reluctantly tore herself away from him.
The bout itself was brutal. Adaira had once seen two cats fighting in the courtyard of the castle once; they bit, swiped, and scratched each other until one eventually limped away, injured, to lick his wounds. This fight was not quite so fast, but it was every bit as savage, and Adaira stood with the fingers of her right hand stuffed in her mouth as she tried not to cry out.
The two men circled each other for a few moments, sizing up each other’s possible weaknesses, each one waiting for the other to make the first move. MacCormick charged, hoping that his sheer momentum would knock Rodric over. Rodric was bigger, but unlike many large men, he was also fast, and he feinted to the left, which caused the other man to stumble past him on the right side of his body. As MacCormick passed him, Rodric joined his hands and brought them down like a club onto the other man’s back. MacCormick managed to regain his balance, though, and turned as quickly as a cat to face Rodric again. This time he did not make the mistake of charging into him but swiveled and bumped his shoulder into Rodric’s chest. The blow did no damage, but it served to enrage the bigger man, and he clubbed his fist and drove it into MacCormick’s stomach.
A winded MacCormick doubled over in agony, and Rodric was about to move in and finish him off when MacCormick somehow managed to reach an arm over to Rodric’s leg and pull as hard as he could. For a few seconds Rodric tottered, then landed hard on the floor on his backside. He gave a loud grunt of pain, and the anger in his face made Adaira quail; she had never seen him like this before.
For once, Duncan was on Rodric’s side, and she felt her brother’s terror. “I can hardly bear to watch,” he whispered, before stumbling off to get himself a glass of whiskey.
MacCormick dived on him and tried to get his hands around Rodric’s throat, but that was much harder than he had imagined. Not only did Rodric have rock hard muscles, but an iron stubbornness that never gave up. Rodric grabbed MacCormick’s wrists and squeezed until he screamed. He pressed his knee onto a deep cut in Rodric’s leg but although Rodric screwed his face up in pain, he still did not let go, hanging on by sheer force of will. Eventually, MacCormick’s body sagged, apparently defeated, and he fell on top of Rodric, who immediately shoved him away and leaped to his feet. It was at that moment that MacCormick showed his true, treacherous colors. He pulled a small knife out of the pouch in his kilt and stabbed it straight towards Rodric’s heart.
Adaira screamed, but fortunately, Rodric had managed to dodge out of the way and the knife only nicked his arm. Adaira had thought he was angry before, but now he was as furious as a raging bull.
He grabbed MacCormick’s right hand, which held the knife, and squeezed his wrist so that he had to let go of the weapon, then he gave it a vicious twist. There was a crack as the bones in MacCormick’s wrist broke, but he had no time to cry out in pain, for R
odric’s left hand had collided with his jaw so hard that he was rendered unconscious immediately and fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.
Rodric stood over him for a moment, panting, but was almost toppled over himself when Adaira threw herself into his arms.
“Oh God, Rodric, I thought he was going to kill you!” she sobbed. “What a cowardly swine he is!” Then she bent down to look at the fallen figure. “Is he dead?” she asked.
Rodric knelt down beside her and felt the pulse in MacCormick’s throat. He shook his head. “Unfortunately not,” he said sadly. “He is still alive; I will call the healers.” He smiled wearily, then ordered two of his own guards to take him away and put him in a bed in the dungeons.
“I do not care about him,” Adaira said impatiently. “What about you, my love? Are you hurt?” She took his face in her hands and looked straight into his eyes. “You realize that you have risked your life and stopped a war that could have killed hundreds of men? You are a hero!”
“I have a wee cut on my arm, but I think I will live.” He smiled down at her. “And I only want to be your hero. Now, my love, I am hungry!”
“You are always hungry!” she laughed. “Will half a sheep be enough?”
Rodric laughed and pulled her closer to him then kissed her as he had never kissed her before. He wanted to feed on her love, her compassion, and her gentleness, because he had never in his life felt anything like the rage he had felt that day. It had been so fierce that it terrified him, and he never wanted to feel it again. He had been right to say that Adaira had power over him; she had the power to heal him.
Just then, a very chastened Duncan came over to them, his face a picture of dejection. He prostrated himself in front of Rodric. “Forgive me,” he said painfully. “I have been wrong. I have been so utterly wrong about everything, Rodric. I put my clan and my family in danger, and made myself look like an absolute fool.”