Kinley MacGregor
The Warrior
Brotherhood of the Sword
Contents
Prologue
It was long after dark when Lochlan MacAllister and his…
Chapter 1
Catarina ground her teeth as she pressed her thumb tight…
Chapter 2
Cat wasn’t sure if she’d heard that correctly or not.
Chapter 3
Lochlan listened quietly as he watched the men dismount below.
Chapter 4
Myles’s beady eyes lit up the moment they focused on…
Chapter 5
Lochlan debated long enough for them to let fly another…
Chapter 6
Cat sat up immediately and shook Lochlan awake. She covered…
Chapter 7
Even though they were all a bit nervous about the…
Chapter 8
Cat couldn’t breathe as she realized the man in the…
Chapter 9
By the time Lochlan returned Julia to the tent she…
Chapter 10
Reginald and Oswald, along with the guards, immediately bowed down…
Chapter 11
Lochlan frowned as he continued to wait for Catarina in…
Chapter 12
“Where the devil is Sean?” Graham snarled, as he and…
Chapter 13
The sanest move would most likely be to spur the…
Chapter 14
“How is that possible?” Lochlan asked.
Chapter 15
For the first time in Lochlan’s life, he actually looked…
Chapter 16
There were some things that no man wanted to hear…
Epilogue
Lochlan smiled as he left the kitchens with a loaf…
About the Author
Praise
Other Books by Kinley MacGregor
Copyright
About the Publisher
Prologue
It was long after dark when Lochlan MacAllister and his brothers, Braden and Sin, sat with the father of their brother Ewan’s new wife. The overhead candles had been doused and the hall was illuminated only by the fire in the large fireplace that rested along the right wall.
Its light played against the banners and weapons that decorated the whitewashed walls, dancing strange shapes all around them while they joked and sampled the food that had been left out before the servants had taken their leave of them.
The happy couple had retired hours ago and no one had seen a single sight of Ewan or Nora since.
Not that they expected to.
Indeed, given Lochlan’s knowledge of his brother, he fully expected days would go by before either of them showed themselves again.
It was something that made his heart soar.
He was glad happiness had finally come to his brother. Ewan had needed it.
“I can’t believe we got Ewan married off before Lochlan,” Braden said as he picked at a platter of sliced fruit that was set before him. “We needs be careful, Sin. I think the Second Coming might be upon us. I feel the sudden urge for Confession.”
Sin laughed. “Perhaps.”
“Have you any more word about the MacKaids?” Nora’s father Alexander asked.
Lochlan shook his head. How he wished to find them. And he would. He wouldn’t rest until they paid for what they had attempted to do to his family.
“None of my men have found a trace of them,” he said to Alexander. “Have yours?”
“Nay.”
“That sits ill with me,” Sin said. “I have a feeling we haven’t heard the last of them.”
“Most likely not,” Lochlan concurred.
“So what should we do?” Alexander asked. “I’ve notified my cousin what they’ve done and he has issued an order of execution for them, but until they’re caught…”
“There’s not much we can do,” Braden said.
Sin finished off his tankard of ale and poured more. “Sure there is.”
“What?” Braden asked.
“Marry Lochlan off.”
Lochlan shoved playfully at Sin’s arm. “You’re drunk.”
“Is he?” a feminine voice asked.
They looked up to see Sin’s wife, Caledonia approaching the table.
She moved around the side of the table until she was behind Sin’s chair. Looking down at her husband, she gave him a chiding, gentle smile. “I had a feeling my wayward husband was spending far too much time down here.”
Sin looked a bit sheepish.
“Come, my lord,” she said, taking Sin’s hand. “We have a long journey home tomorrow and I promised my brother Jamie that we would be back in time for his birthday.”
Sin kissed her hand, then rubbed it against his cheek.
Lochlan was amazed by the gesture that was so alien to Sin. It was good to see his brother so well suited with wife.
Sin was another one he had never expected to see happy. It did him good to know life had finally treated his elder brother kindly.
“Good night gentlemen,” Sin said, rising to follow after his wife.
They passed Maggie in the entranceway.
Lochlan smiled as she came forward, eyeing the three of them suspiciously. He remembered a time when he had contemplated her death and had wished many vile things upon her.
Now he was glad he had refrained from the urge to kill her.
“Look lively, Braden,” he said to his youngest brother. “’Tis your turn to have your ears boxed.”
Braden scoffed, “My sweet Maggie knows better than to box my ear, eh, love?”
There was a saucy sway to her hips as she approached the table. “It depends on if you’ve done anything to have them boxed for.”
She smiled sweetly at Alexander and Lochlan. “Do you mind if I steal him away from you?”
“Not at all,” Alexander said.
Braden got up, swept her up in his arms, and headed for the stairs at an almost dead run.
Lochlan watched them leave, his heart light at his brother’s antics. No doubt, Maggie would be gifting him with another niece or nephew soon.
“So,” Alexander said once they were alone. “Have you any plans to take a bride?”
Lochlan swirled the ale around in his cup as he considered that. In truth, there was no woman in his heart. He doubted if there ever would be. But still, his duty commanded him to take a bride.
There was only so long he could put off that particular responsibility.
“Mayhap one day,” he said quietly.
Alexander arched a brow at him. “Aren’t you a little old now not to be looking?”
Perhaps he was. But Lochlan had too many things that demanded his time and marrying a woman sight unseen wasn’t something he relished.
“To everything there is a season.”
Alexander laughed at that.
Footsteps sounded outside the room, followed by the main door opening and closing.
Lochlan and Alexander exchanged puzzled frowns.
It was far too late for company.
An old servant entered the hall with a youth behind him. The boy hadn’t quite reached his majority.
Dressed in rags, the boy carried a weathered satchel.
“Forgive me, my lord,” the old servant said to Alexander. “The lad said he had news of Lysander.”
Alexander motioned the boy to come forward. “Is there a problem?”
The boy hesitated, then shrank back. He looked hesitantly at the servant, then to Lochlan.
“Speak, lad,” Alexander said patiently. “No one here will harm you.”
Still the boy looked doubtful. “I have word, my lord. This man came to our village and he told me I was to bring this
to you.”
The boy rushed forward, dropped the satchel on the table, then ran back to a safe distance as if he expected the wrath of hell to fall down upon his young head.
Lochlan frowned at his fearful actions.
Alexander ran his hand over the worn leather. “Is this Lysander’s?”
The boy swallowed. “I know not, my lord. I was only told to give it you and to not open it.”
By the pallor of the boy’s face, Lochlan could surmise the child hadn’t listened.
“Who gave you this?” Lochlan asked.
The youth scratched his neck nervously. “He said there was a letter for Lord Alexander inside and…and to tell his lordship that next time you should hire yourself someone better than a French knight.” The boy was shaking. “Can I go home now, please, my lord?”
Alexander nodded.
The boy shot from the room as if Lucifer’s hounds were after him.
Lochlan’s frown deepened.
Alexander studied the bag. “How very strange.”
“Aye,” Lochlan said, leaning forward to look at it as well. “It is indeed.”
Alexander opened the satchel and dumped its contents onto the table.
Lochlan stood up the instant he saw the green-and-black plaid that their father had commissioned years ago for his sons. He’d never known anyone other than he and his brothers to have it.
His blood went cold as he stared at it in disbelief.
Alexander opened a small piece of parchment while Lochlan pulled the plaid closer to examine it.
“Canmore,” he read aloud, “I don’t like being made a fool of by anyone. You can tell the gypsies that they are next on our list. You should have never told the king about us. Had you stayed quiet, your daughter might have lived. Now we’ll be coming for her and the rest of the MacAllisters. Guard your backs carefully.”
Alexander’s hands shook and his face turned dark red with rage. “It’s signed Graham MacKaid.”
Lochlan barely heard the words. He was too fixated by the initials embroidered in the corner of the tattered and worn plaid.
K.M.
Kieran MacAllister.
But how?
Who would have had his brother’s plaid? No one outside of their clan would have access to it.
Seeking more clues, Lochlan unfolded the material and cursed as a disembodied hand fell to the floor.
Alexander’s own curse rang out as he saw it and the strange brand that was on the back of the hand.
“So help me,” he growled. “I’ll kill every one of those bastards for this.”
Lochlan found it hard to breathe. Hard to focus. He ran through his mind the man whom he had met briefly. A man he had paid all too little attention to.
“Who was Lysander?” he asked Alexander.
“I don’t know to be honest. I found him in France about five years ago when I went to visit a friend. He had just come back from Outremer and refused to speak of it.”
“And this plaid?”
Alexander shrugged. “It was wrapped around him when he asked for work. Does it mean something to you?”
It meant more to him than his own life. “Did he say how he came by it?”
He shook his head. “I only know it was very dear to him. My wife’s maid tried to take it from him once to clean it and he almost tore her arm for the trouble. He was rather feral in the early days of his employment.”
Alexander retrieved the hand and went to find the priest to dispose of it.
Lochlan ran the monogrammed corner of the plaid through his long fingers as he stared at the initials his mother had placed there.
How had a Frenchman found Kieran’s plaid?
None of the brothers had ever journeyed farther than England except for Sin and Sin had never taken a plaid with him.
If not for the initials, he might think that perhaps the weaver had created more of the design and sold it.
But those initials matched the one for his plaid, Braden’s, and Ewan’s.
Nay, this was Kieran’s. He knew it. There was no doubt in his mind that it was his brother’s and by the looks of it, it was quite old.
A souvenir of Outremer.
Which meant that Kieran hadn’t died that day when he’d gone out to the loch on his own.
For some unknown reason, his brother had faked his own death, then left Scotland.
But why?
Why would Kieran not send word to them? Why would he allow them to believe he was dead all these years?
Lochlan sat down as the news sank in.
No doubt the MacKaids had found the plaid after they killed Lysander and had sent it back to them.
They would have known exactly who this belonged to and what it meant.
Lochlan drained his ale in one gulp.
Somewhere out there, Kieran MacAllister might still be alive.
And God have mercy on his brother should he ever find him.
Chapter 1
Eight months later
Catarina ground her teeth as she pressed her thumb tight to her palm in an effort to pull her hand free of the rope that held her in place. Sweat was dripping down from her brow, making her nose itch, but she didn’t dare swipe at it. Time was too precious for that.
Any moment her kidnappers would return.
How she despised them for their deeds and wished a festering pox on every part of their bodies, especially that part which men valued most.
The coarse rope burned against her skin, chafing it as she worked to free herself. Not that she cared. All that mattered was her freedom. And when she had it, she would make all of them pay for taking her from the ones she loved. How dare they!
She snatched her hand again and again against the prickly rope, trying to free it. Then she dipped her head in an effort to loosen the massive knot with her teeth. Instead of loosening the knot, it felt more like she was only loosening her teeth. Cursing, she closed her eyes and prayed as she tugged against the rope with all of her might.
She felt the skin breaking as the hemp scratched her flesh. Even so, she didn’t let up and in one painful slip, her hand came free.
If she were the crying type, Cat would have wept in relief, but tears had been something she’d forsaken years ago. Wiping her brow finally, she took a deep breath, then blew air across her hand to alleviate some of the throbbing as she looked about the sparse room for a weapon.
There was nothing…
Except the fire. She narrowed her gaze on the burning logs as an idea occurred to her. Reaching beneath her gown, she tore at her chemise until she had enough of it to pad her hands before she reached into the fire.
“Think you she’s ready to give us no more trouble?”
Her heart leapt at the sound of men approaching her room. Stepping back from the makeshift hearth, she gripped the limb tightly in both hands. She moved to stand behind the door where they wouldn’t be able to see her until after it was too late.
“Any more trouble from her and I say we thrash her soundly, orders or no orders.”
“Good luck at that. My eye still throbs from its last encounter with her fist. I swear the bitch hits like a man.”
They swung open the door.
Cat held her breath until they were inside the room with her. Her gaze never wavering, she swung with the whole of her strength against the second man’s head.
He yelped, then fell against the first. Her heart hammering, she lobbed the limb against the first man, clubbing him thrice, then grabbed her skirts and ran as swiftly as she could.
She ducked out of the tack room and ran for the stable’s opening. The men called out for her to stop, but she refused.
Nothing short of death would make her surrender to them.
Cat hesitated outside as she saw the number of people in the small village. Many turned to stare at her as she ran for a saddled horse at the edge of town. To steal such would mean her head if she were caught. But truthfully she’d rather die than meet the future those men wo
uld carry her off to.
“Stop her!” one of the men shouted. “Twenty gold francs to whoever catches her.”
Cat winced as the crowd looked on her with new interest. Twenty francs was a fortune. A large burly man stepped in front of her. She pulled up short, then kicked him as hard as she could between his legs. He doubled over, but before she could maneuver past him, another man caught her from behind.
She rammed her head back to slam it into his face. He cursed as she spun from his hands, her own skull aching from the blow. Another tried to capture her. She ran her shoulder into his middle and shoved him back, causing him to fall into the dirt.
But before she could straighten, someone else ran at her and knocked her to the ground, flat on her back. She gasped as the breath left her lungs. Still, she wasn’t defeated. Rolling over, she shot to her feet only to be knocked down again.
Desperate, she scrambled on the ground, trying to escape only to find her way blocked by a pair of scuffed black leather boots. She glared at them with hatred burning deep inside her.
Nay!
Refusing to cower, she looked up defiantly at the man blocking her path, then gaped at the sight of the face that met her eyes.
It couldn’t be…
Time stopped as she met the crystal blue gaze of a man she’d never thought to see again. The last time they’d met, he’d been immaculately coifed. Regal and stern. He’d seemed larger than life, but that vision paled to how he appeared this day.
Now he looked rugged and powerful. Dangerous. Determined and feral. His golden blond hair was windblown and his cheeks dusted with several days’ growth of beard. And there was no missing the lethal chill in his eyes as he took in her predicament.
“Are you injured, lass?” Lochlan asked in that deep Scottish brogue before he held one large, strong hand out to her.
Cat could do nothing more than shake her head as she reached for his hand. To her relief, he pulled her to her feet, then placed himself between her and her pursuers.
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