An aggressive approach, to be sure, and something about the man did not settle well with Els. He recalled what Joya had told him about John cutting the sheriff on his right hand.
“Vernauld. Sounds like an Englishman’s name.” Els said, trying to bait the man. He edged Thunder closer, wanting to get a good look at Vernauld’s hands. De Fry, too, although Els was inclined to trust him given the way he’d helped them all in Berwick. He wanted to trust him, but he had to keep an open mind. This entire operation had been well hidden, so he knew there were many English involved in the kidnapping. According to Emmalin, four men had arrived at the keep with the supposed news of Alasdair’s death.
“What are you trying to say, Grant?” de Fry asked him as Thunder pushed up close to Vernauld’s beast.
Which was when Els saw exactly what he needed to see. He had an open area on his right hand, a small slice that hadn’t healed much. Could it be a cut made by a wee toddler? He also noticed dried blood on the man’s trews.
A wound made by a Grant toddler. And another caused by one of Dyna’s arrows.
“Who cut your hand there? Was it Alex Grant’s great-grandson who cut you? You must be a hell of a fighter.”
Els laughed, a deep belly laugh, and the two behind him chuckled, too. He reached for the hilt of his sword, waiting for Vernauld’s move, and he wasn’t disappointed.
“You bastard,” Vernauld said, his face red even in the darkness. “You’ll not laugh at me again.” The sheriff nodded to the two men behind Els. They unsheathed their swords, but Els was faster. He turned Thunder, who snorted with pleasure at finally being allowed to fulfill his purpose—shoving against one of the horses trying to corral him.
Both horses closed in on Thunder, who reacted just the way he’d been trained to, by going up on his hind legs, threatening to trample anyone who dared to step near him. That gave Els the advantage, allowing him to unsheathe his sword and bring it down on the man closest to him, who screamed like a bairn as he fell. The second one attempted to run, but an arrow sluiced from a tree, burying deep in his chest.
Dyna.
Thunder landed and turned him toward the two sheriffs. De Fry said, “I’m on your side, Grant. I knew nothing about this scheme.”
Vernauld did exactly what Els expected. He tugged on the reins of his horse and raced down the path at the fastest gallop he could manage.
Els went after him, de Fry behind him, but the sheriff couldn’t keep up with Elshander on his own mission of vengeance. The bastard had stolen a bairn, beaten his woman, and set out to murder his grandsire. He would not be allowed to live.
To his surprise, two other horses came up on either side of them, Alasdair and Alick. He appreciated they were there, but he would not take his focus off the bastard who’d stolen a bairn and beaten his woman.
Thunder easily drew up next to Vernauld’s horse. “You had to beat a woman?” Els yelled. “You got lucky, you fool. She could have beat your arse if she didn’t have a bairn to protect.”
Vernauld turned his head, a broad smile on his face. “You think ’twill be easy for you to defeat me? Three against one? My friends are going to join us.” He tipped his head toward the end of the pathway, where three more horses had met and headed their way.
Two of the riders were taken out quickly. Alasdair and Alick both went after the other one while he stayed on Vernauld.
They had finally left the burgh and were on the edge of the town where there were trees on both sides of the path. He leaped straight at Vernauld, knocking him off his horse and taking him down to the ground.
He didn’t even wait for them to land before he punched the sheriff’s face. His first wallop knocked out two teeth. When they finally landed, Els moved him onto his back and straddled him, punching his face over and over again.
“And this is for John and Joya and…” He gasped, finally stopping his brutal attack.
“Enough, Grant,” de Fry said. “He won’t be moving.”
Els stopped and stood, kicking Vernauld one more time before he stepped away. He turned away just for a second to see where de Fry was, and to his surprise, Vernauld made it to his feet and grabbed a knife.
Els grabbed his dagger out of his boot and threw it without hesitation, catching Vernauld in his neck. The man crumpled to the ground.
Dead.
De Fry said, “Hellfire, I had no idea. What can I do to help you and your cousins, Grant?”
“Naught,” he said, wiping the sweat from his face. “We have to get back. Burn the bastards, would you?” He mounted Thunder and headed back in the direction of the inn, the other two behind him.
Dyna hopped down from a tree along the path, and he held his hand down to her and helped her mount behind him. “Your horse here?”
“Nay, I rode with Alick. We wanted to make sure you didn’t fall into the garderobe,” she drawled.
He laughed and patted his horse. “Thunder, you’ll get your treat when we return to the inn.” The great beast shook his head and snorted, as though he knew how well he’d done.
When they made it to an area where they could speak privately, something he thought best before they reunited with the others, Els stopped his horse and waited for Alick and Alasdair.
“Nice job, Els,” Alasdair said as he rode up.
“I knew how to identify the guilty party. John did a fine job leaving his mark on him, Alasdair. Be proud of your son. A fighting warrior already, and the lad’s not yet two.”
“Many thanks to you and Joya. But I have to ask. Did you feel it?”
Although Alasdair hadn’t said the words, he didn’t need to—he knew what his cousin was asking. He nodded, but then thought again. “Aye and nay. Aye, I noticed it earlier at the hut, but not here. You?”
“I didn’t feel it here either,” Alick said, “but I did at the hut, plus two of them dropped their swords.”
Alasdair said, “’Twas just like at my castle and three years ago at the Grant keep. Why? What makes it come and go?” His gaze carried from one cousin to the other.
“And I neglected to mention something else I noticed,” Els said. “My weapon got heavier at the hut.”
“Heavier?” Dyna asked, clearly surprised.
Alick said, “I noticed it. I took out three men with hardly any effort at all, then suddenly, I had trouble lifting it. I’m not sure if the sword was indeed heavier or if my muscles weakened from the effort. Did you notice the same?”
Alasdair said, “I did notice a change, but ’twasn’t that strong. Mayhap Grandsire has some insight.”
“We’ll have to discuss it with him,” Els said. “See what he thinks. There has to be a reason.”
Although he had no idea what that reason could be.
***
When Joya awakened, it was dark outside, but she could hear voices at the small table in the chamber. Trying to recall all that had happened, the last thing she remembered was clutching John to her while the sheriff beat her.
“Where am I?” she asked, without much conviction because she feared she was in another Englishman’s hut. But the voice that answered her was one she recognized. Dyna.
“Joya,” Dyna said, moving over to kneel beside the bed. “You’re back at the inn in Ayr.”
Another woman came to stand behind Dyna, long dark hair and blue eyes, much like Alasdair. She recognized her from Grant Castle but couldn’t quite recall her name.
Dyna said, “Aunt Kyla came to watch over Grandsire. How do you fare? You took quite a beating.”
“John?” Even her mouth hurt to talk. “I remember now. Els said he was fine. ’Struth?”
“John has come through it well, Joya,” Aunt Kyla said. “You have our deepest gratitude.”
The door opened and Alasdair and Emmalin entered the chamber, John cradled in his mother’s arms. Dyna stepped back, and Alasdair moved to kneel next to her, bringing them face to face.
“Many thanks for all you did for John,” Alasdair said. “We owe you many
times over.”
She shook her head, tears misting her eyes not from pain, but because she could see the emotion in Alasdair’s eyes. He adored his son, for sure.
Emmalin said, “Joya, I hardly know how to thank you. You’ve helped us so much, now and in Berwick.”
She held her hand up toward the lad and Emmalin set him down next to his father. His wee finger reached out to touch the swelling around her eye. “I protect her, Papa. I cut bad man.”
The door opened again, and Els stepped in behind them, grinning. “Aye, you did, wee warrior. You did a fine job cutting the bad man, and it helped me find him.”
John didn’t pay any attention to Els, but Alasdair stood up and said, “It was Sheriff Vernauld, Joya, but you’ll not see him again. Els took care of him.”
“He’ll not bother anyone else,” Els said, his gaze locked on Joya’s. “De Fry is still on our side.” Reaching out to pat John’s head, he said, “Nice job, wee Grant warrior. You left a fine mark on the bastard.”
John laughed and said, “On the baterd.”
“Nay, John,” Emmalin cried out. “We don’t say that word.”
“Sorry,” Els said, a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll watch my words.”
Dyna handed Els a wet linen square and led him to the basin, pointing out the open skin on his knuckles. “You should clean those up.”
Els scrubbed his hands clean, then nodded toward Joya. “Could we have a few moments alone?”
The others shuffled around and headed out the door to the room across the passageway. He took a swig of ale and then moved up a stool next to Joya.
She reached for him and whispered, “I don’t think we’ll have much fun this eve. I’m not moving verra well.”
He kissed her knuckles, one at a time, then said, “I think I’ll be fine. I have a few sore spots of my own. I’d hoped to hold you in my arms this eve, but with my aunt and my grandsire here, I’ll have to join with the men.”
He kissed her tenderly, so gently that it brought tears to her eyes. “I love you, Els. My thanks for not giving up on me.”
Els said, “We have you to thank for saving John. When we have time, I’ll tell you how it all happened, how Grandsire struck down two men, and we took care of the rest.”
She had to remind him what he’d truly gained from the interaction. “But the sheriff? You faced your fear, and you did it for John and me. I’m proud of you. You did it without thinking, if I were to wager.”
“I did, and I have you to thank, not just for what you did for my nephew, but for helping me get past my fears. I didn’t hesitate at the hut or when we went after the sheriff.”
“Did you freeze?”
“Nay, not once. I hope this means the memories will stay away.”
She sighed and closed her eyes, so grateful to be back here safe, to have John back, and to have this man by her side.
“Marry me, Joya,” he whispered, still holding her hand.
Her eyes flew open because she hadn’t expected those words at all.
“Marry me. We can live on Grant land or MacLintock land. We can love each other, have bairns together like Alasdair and Emmalin.” He stopped to stare at their intertwined hands. “I’ve had enough running, I think. Because of you, I no longer fear battle the way I did. I’ll take whatever comes our way, but I want you in my arms every day. I don’t wish to hide from my clan. We can find a kirk on the way back and marry right away.”
“Oh, Els,” she said, not knowing how to explain what her heart felt.
“I know. You wish to keep helping King Robert. Can we not do that together? Mayhap we can help for a couple of years and then return to my clan to have a family? We could stay with Alasdair and Emmalin or back on Grant land.”
The hope in his gaze gave her hope. She knew what he wanted, and what he’d offered sounded wonderful. “That sounds lovely. This is the third time I’ve found myself recovering from some physical injury in the last moon, and I can see the appeal of slowing down. And I love watching Alasdair and Emmalin with their bairns. I hadn’t thought I’d ever want that kind of life, but now that I’ve made my peace with Derric, I feel differently. It’s just that…”
He gave her a puzzled look, which quickly turned sad. She could tell he was doubting her love for him, and so she squeezed his hand.
“Nay, do not think like that. You don’t understand. Your clan is so powerful, the women so strong. I don’t fit. I’m just a lost woman who doesn’t know where she belongs. My own brother barely acknowledges me, and ’tis only because of you and Dyna that we have recovered some of what we once had. But me…my past. Your grandfather would never approve of a woman who doesn’t come to you untouched. Someday, you may hear things about me that would embarrass you or your clan.”
He closed his eyes and said, “Joya, none of that matters to me. I am proud of you and your strength. No one in my clan would think less of you for not being a maiden. And how would they even know? Why don’t you think better of yourself?”
They both stared at each other, a tear trickling down her cheek.
“Or is it because you don’t think highly enough of me? Would I bore you?”
She couldn’t stand the hurt in his eyes, so she paused before speaking, pondering what she could say to make it better. “Els, ’tis not that at all. I love you with all my heart, but…I’m an odd person. I won’t fit in with your clan.”
He sighed and stood up from his stool. She could tell he was upset, angry, or heartbroken, but she didn’t know which.
“Forgive me, but I’m exhausted,” she said. “I need to rest.”
He nodded, though the look in his gaze was still a pained one. “Do you need anything?”
“Nay, just rest.”
Els walked out the door.
She suspected he was walking out of her life, probably forever, and she had only herself to blame.
Chapter Twenty
Joya awakened later in the night when she heard the door close. She wasn’t frightened—she knew Els wouldn’t leave her unguarded, so this must be someone she knew.
It was Dyna. She sat down on a stool and removed her boots. “Sorry to awaken you. Do you need anything?”
“Nay, I’m overtired.”
Dyna didn’t say anything more, just dropped the bolt on the door, undressed down to her shift, and climbed into bed beside her.
“Dyna?”
“Aye?”
“Would you mind telling me a Grant tale from long ago? My head is full of too many thoughts just now.” She stared up at the ceiling, fighting the tears that threatened to drench her pillow. She knew how much she’d hurt Els, but the thought of Alex or Gracie Grant hearing about her past paralyzed her. She had nothing to bring to the marriage.
Nothing. No dowry, no pledge of allies, nothing.
“All right. More than twenty years ago, Scotland was home to a particularly vulgar group of men. They’d taken to kidnapping young lassies and lads and selling them to anyone who would offer good coin for them. They also used them first, either to please men for coin or to fight in seedy cellars while men wagered on the winners.
“To do this, they needed a woman to oversee them who could be cold and tough, but they needed the ability to force her to do as they wished.”
“How could they force a woman to be cold?”
“Simple. By taking her first-born daughter and holding her captive, threatening both of them with horrible punishments. In order to save her daughter, the woman became hardened, sometimes cruel, but only because she was forced to commit or partake in unconscionable acts in order to keep her bairn alive.
“Along came a fierce group of warriors, Grant and Ramsay men and women, who fought all of the evil men involved in this undertaking, known as the Channel of Dubh. The group was spread across Scotland and England, yet the sheriffs, in their corrupt way, turned their heads in exchange for a share of the coin.
“Because the group was so large, the woman didn’t think she’d ever
find a way out of it. She hated her life, hated what she was being forced to do, yet she would do anything for her wee daughter. The atrocities she dealt with left a deep impression on her, memories that still occasionally rear up to grab ahold of her, but one particularly honorable Grant warrior is still there to help her deal with those memories to this day.”
“Who is the woman?” Could it be Els’s mother?
“The woman I describe is my mother, and she and my sister are still haunted to this verra day. The man who saved both of them from those bastards is my father, Connor Grant. My grandmother, Maddie, and Grandsire Alex brought the force of the Grant warriors down from the Highlands to rescue my sister. She still thinks of Grandmama as the finest angel in all of heaven.”
“Oh, Dyna. What a horrible, yet wonderful story. My thanks for sharing.”
“You should know that many of the Grant women have been through hell. My cousin Cairstine was held captive by two men who killed her entire clan. She was forced to live with one of the bastards and bear his child. Uncle Braden fell in love with her and married her. They’ve restored her keep back to the way it was, and he raised her lad as his own. Steenie had a horrible life, according to Cairstine.”
“So she wasn’t a maiden when they married?”
“Nay. Alasdair’s mother was not a maiden either. His father didn’t care. If you think such a thing matters to Els, then you don’t know him verra well.”
Joya thought hard on this comment. Although she’d long since set aside the lessons of her youth, she’d been raised to believe a woman’s purity was the only thing of value she possessed. Logically, she knew that was not true, but it didn’t erase the shame she felt. “The church seems to think ’tis the only thing of value a woman has,” she said bitterly.
Dyna snorted so loud, Joya nearly jumped out of bed.
“You know what my sire said to my mother? It takes a strong woman to hold up against adversity. And he’d prefer a strong woman as his wife.”
Joya thought about that. “Do you think I’m strong?”
“You just saved the first great-grandson of the renowned Alexander Grant. They’ll be telling the tales of you for years to come.”
The Scot's Spy (Highland Swords Book 2) Page 17