Highlander Besieged

by Vonda Sinclair

Henry nodded, unconcerned about who would kill the barbarian... as long as someone did, and soon. "In the meantime, I'll take a few of my men to Darby Hall and search every inch of the place until I find the authentic deeds."

  "If you cannot find them, nor get the harlot to tell you where they are," MacTarril said, "you could take her son hostage."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Elspeth jerked awake to the sounds of thumping and men's muffled voices. The dimness of the room didn't help with her startled confusion. Cyrus's heavy, strong arm wrapped tightly around her waist reminded her they were in the cellar of the tavern next to her shop.

  She held her breath, listening to the deep voices on the other side of the blocked door. Henry's men had broken into her building!

  "Cyrus," she whispered, shaking him a bit. "Someone's over there."

  "What?" he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.

  "Henry's men are in my cellar."

  Hissing a curse, Cyrus leapt up, snatched his baldric from the floor and withdrew the lethal-looking sword.

  She quickly pushed to her feet, praying those men wouldn't find their hiding place.

  For a long moment, Cyrus stood before the door, listening.

  How many men were over there, searching? If they did realize the cupboard hid a door, could Cyrus defeat all of them?

  The knaves must have broken down the front door of her shop or mayhap the cellar door. She hoped they had not injured or killed the tenants who lived on the upper floors.

  The voices grew more distant as footsteps thudded on the steps leading up to the dress shop. She released a breath, thankful they were leaving, and Cyrus wouldn't have to fight all of them at once.

  Still silent, he glanced back at her, both concerned and relieved. She had never been more thankful for him. He was the most protective man she had ever met. A blazing hot memory from last night reflected in her mind. Maybe she should've been mortified about her wanton need for him, but she wasn't. She yearned to plaster herself to his big, brawny body and do it all over again.

  His dark eyes reflected the scorching arousal she felt, then he glanced away. "Is there a way to get onto the roof?"

  "Why?"

  Before he could answer, the door from the tavern opened and footsteps pounded down the wooden staircase. Her heartbeat vaulted into her throat. Was this the owner or their pursuers?

  "Stay behind me, Elspeth," Cyrus hissed as he strode forward, sword drawn.

  "Could be Master Brown." She prayed she was correct. But, nay, the first two armed men who descended the steps were ones she had seen in Henry's gang. She glanced around the floor for a weapon and spotted their discarded wine bottle. She grabbed it and hid it behind her skirts.

  "MacGirk! They're down here!" the young ginger-haired man announced.

  The disgusting guard who had groped her in Henry's great hall descended the steps next. Gawking, he shifted his wide eyes back and forth between her and Cyrus. She wished she could bash him on the head.

  "I'm glad you've joined us." Cyrus's sinister voice even gave her a chill.

  MacGirk swallowed hard. "Come back peacefully and we'll nay hurt the lady."

  "Burn in hell," Cyrus seethed.

  MacGirk clenched his jaw as if summoning courage. "You're outnumbered. Think you can best three men at once?"

  Cyrus swirled the tip of his blade in the air. "We're about to find out."

  Gripping the bottle tightly, Elspeth held her breath. All four men launched forward into a melee. Although terrified that Cyrus would be struck instantly, she could not take her gaze off him. He swiftly wielded his blade with astonishing skill, striking first one man's sword and then another. Before the first man could regain his stance, Cyrus had dealt him a killing blow.

  Within moments, MacGirk's two fellow guards dropped to the ground, their throats cut, leaving MacGirk to confront Cyrus alone. Face pale and eyes wide, MacGirk bolted up the steps.

  "Come back here, coward!" Cyrus bounded after him to the top of the steps, then a moment later, returned. "Too many patrons in the public room. I cannot endanger them. Damnation! I wanted to put that blackguard out of his misery. I saw what he did to you while you were tied up."

  She released a breath. "Thank God you weren't hurt." She eyed the two dead men lying on the floor.

  "Come. We must leave here. He'll bring reinforcements." Cyrus opened the door and shoved the heavy cupboard out of the way. After they took their belongings through, he replaced it. "I need to get onto the roof. With this bow, I can take out several on the ground. Henry couldn't have many able-bodied fighters left."

  "I'll show you where the stairs and ladder are. I've never been up there, but I had the slate roof repaired once."

  Cyrus frowned. "You'll have to go with me. 'Tis not safe for you to stay here alone. MacGirk will return."

  Though she didn't relish it, she knew he was right. "Very well." Outside, she climbed the staircase to the third floor. At the top, she eyed the ladder warily, for it had been a long while since she had climbed one, and they were already high above the ground.

  "Go in front. If you fall, I'll catch you." He slung the bow and quiver over his shoulder.

  The thought crossed her mind that he could look up her skirts, but what did it matter? They had already shared the greatest intimacy. Besides, safety was far more important than modesty.

  She grabbed hold of the ladder, determined to keep up with him so they could overcome Henry's forces. At the top, she stepped over onto the gently sloping roof.

  Cyrus quickly joined her. "I'm glad you're proficient at climbing." He turned his attention to the surrounding landscape. "See if you can spot MacGirk."

  The town sprawled below them, and farther out, the mostly flat, green fields divided by drystane dykes. Patches of woods and bushes dotted the landscape along the roads and streams, as well as between the meadows flecked with sheep and cattle.

  "They disappeared!" The voice echoed up from street level.

  "What the devil?" Cyrus moved toward the other side. Had MacGirk already brought his backup men?

  "They're on the roof!" The shout came from the top of the building across the street. "Take aim!"

  "Get down." Alarmed, Cyrus launched himself at Elspeth, trying to hold his weight off her as he tackled her to the roof. An arrow glanced off the slate beyond them. "Damnation! Are you hurt?"

  "Nay." Elspeth breathed hard, her eyes wide. "Are you?"

  He shook his head.

  "That was Reeves," she hissed.

  "Your former guard?"

  "Aye, he's a skilled archer. We must be careful."

  Hell, just what he needed. Peering over the side, Cyrus saw Reeves and MacGirk on the roof opposite. Reeves nocked another arrow and released it. Cyrus ducked, making sure Elspeth remained low to the roof behind the short wall.

  Saving his own arrows for the right moment, when he could make them count, he retrieved the two arrows Reeves had shot. He didn't want the men to know he had a bow as of yet. They would think him more vulnerable.

  "MacGuire, climb to the roof and get them!" MacGirk yelled to a third guard on the ground.

  Aye, because MacGirk was too cowardly to do that job himself, Cyrus knew.

  "MacGuire," Elspeth said through clenched teeth. "My other guard. The one who delivered the missive to me at Rebbinglen."

  "And likely caused your carriage accident." Cyrus frowned. "I'm going to give him what he deserves for his disloyalty. Crawl to that corner. I'll make short work of him." He unsheathed the foot-long dirk and placed the hilt in her hand. "Use this against them if they should come near you." They wouldn't. He would make sure of it, but he wanted her to be able to defend herself in any event.

  "Be most careful." Her eyes widened with concern.

  "I'll have the upper hand."

  Footsteps pounded on the lower stairs and then the wooden ladder rattled.

  Sword in hand, Cyrus glanced down the ladder. MacGuire's sword was sheathed, for he couldn't clim
b with a sword or other weapon in hand.

  Cyrus crouched low, remaining out of sight until the young guard neared the top. Cyrus popped up as MacGuire reached his right hand around to the scabbard on his left side.

  Before Cyrus could get in one strike, MacGuire let go and fell to the landing, ten feet below. He cried out, then tried to drag himself toward the stairs and escape.

  "Ridiculous," Cyrus scoffed.

  Having left the roof of the other building, his two comrades ran up the steps. "What happened?" MacGirk asked.

  "He broke my arm!"

  Cyrus grunted. What a lie. "Climb back up and I'll break the other one, you traitor!" he yelled down.

  Reeves nocked an arrow and shot upward. Cyrus dodged back. If he could get the knave to shoot a few more times, he would be out of arrows.

  Cyrus waved his sword over the ladder. "Come on up, lads. The view is grand from here."

  After cutting off a piece of his plaid, he wrapped it around the tip of his blade and pushed it gradually over the ladder. Another arrow whizzed by and landed on the roof.

  "Not a very good shot, are you?" Cyrus taunted, peering over the side.

  "Release, you imbecile!" MacGirk ordered.

  Another arrow flew skyward, then landed behind him.

  "I'm growing bored waiting for you to come up here and get me!" Cyrus told them.

  "We'll wait for you to come down," MacGirk said. "We can wait all day."

  "Nay! My arm," MacGuire moaned. "Take me to a healer."

  "I'll set it myself if you'll just shut your gob for a minute, you sniveling bairn!" MacGirk snapped.

  "Nay!"

  Cyrus peered over the edge to see what the three idiots were doing.

  The younger man with the broken arm saw him first. "Shoot at him!"

  Reeves aimed and let fly another arrow. Cyrus ducked back, then looked over the edge again. The archer reached over his shoulder for another arrow but found the quiver empty.

  "Shoot!" MacGirk yelled.

  "I'm out of arrows. You'll have to take him out with your sword."

  Cyrus sent a malicious grin down at them, nocked one of their arrows into his bow and aimed at MacGirk.

  "He's got a bow!" Both men flattened themselves against the side of the building.

  Ha. Cyrus loved surprising his enemies. He could just make out the lower leg and foot of one guard—Reeves—as they hid beneath an overhang. Angling his body for a better shot, Cyrus released the arrow. It pinned the man's foot to the wooden landing. He screeched.

  MacGirk bolted down the stairs, once again abandoning his comrades. They yelled after him.

  When MacGirk reached the bottom staircase, Cyrus aimed between the wooden steps and let the arrow fly. It embedded into MacGirk's shoulder.

  "You bastard!" he roared but kept on running.

  Knowing the knave would ride as fast as he could to that rat Henry, Cyrus moved to the side of the building near the street. MacGirk sprinted toward his horse. Cyrus aimed another one of their arrows at the man's arse and released it. The point struck MacGirk's thigh, and he sprawled to the ground, yelling curses. When Cyrus returned to the other side of the roof, the two guards on the stairs sounded much the same.

  "I'm coming down, lads," Cyrus told them. "If you're still lying there whining when I get there, you'll regret it."

  Reeves broke the arrow's shaft and yanked his foot off it, screaming the entire time. He tried to leap over MacGuire, who rose up at the same time, tripping him. Reeves flipped through the air and down the stairs, squawking like a giant bird as he tumbled.

  Cyrus snorted. He hadn't seen such entertainment in a long while.

  MacGuire was knocked back to the floor, landing on his broken arm again. He shouted.

  "Stay up here for a minute," he whispered to Elspeth.

  "Nay, don't go down there. They could still hurt you. Wait until they leave."

  "Not sure they can drag themselves away from here. Besides, they're not able to fight."

  He glanced over the side again, seeing both guards hobbling down the stairs on different levels. When they rounded the building, he went to the other side. They approached MacGirk who still thrashed about in the mud, trying to remove the arrow from his thigh.

  "Help me up, you whoresons!" MacGirk ordered them.

  "You're on your own. I quit! I'm going to find a healer." Reeves limped toward the horses.

  "Aye." MacGuire followed, holding his arm. "Getting my bone set."

  "You blackguards! He'll kill me!"

  "You abandoned us first," Reeves reminded him. They mounted and raced away in the opposite direction from Henry's castle.

  "Come, let's climb down now. They could still go for reinforcements." Even though they'd claimed they were quitting, Cyrus didn't trust their word. He moved toward the ladder.

  Once he and Elspeth reached the bottom and rounded the corner of the building, they came upon MacGirk. Still lying upon the ground, he brandished his sword. "Stay back, you whoreson!"

  With his weapon, Cyrus knocked his foe's away, sending it hurtling into the mud. "I should kill you for the vile way you treated Lady Grey." Instead, Cyrus smashed his sword hilt against the man's head, then helped Elspeth onto his horse.

  "If we're going to Greymont," she said, "I'd like to stop by Darby Hall along the way and retrieve the real deeds before Henry finds them. That is, if the place is deserted. If he has posted more men there, of course, we can't."

  "He likely has, especially if he knows you gave him the forgeries. Your safety is far more important than the deeds. I'd rather keep you away from the place. Is there any other road we can take?"

  "Not that I know of."

  "We'll have to be most careful passing Darby. 'Haps slip through the wood." Cyrus mounted, then guided the horse in that direction. "After I take you to Greymont, I'll return and wait outside Darby Hall for the MacKenzie reinforcements."

  When they were about a half-mile from her home, he turned off the road and walked the horse through the small copse of trees.

  "I need to see if Dalacroy is occupying Darby Hall and determine whether we can bypass the place through the wood." Cyrus leapt to the ground, then helped Elspeth down. After leading the gelding to the back of the wood, he tethered him to a low-hanging willow branch near a burn with grassy banks. Hopefully, he would not neigh and alert Dalacroy's men to their location.

  Cyrus took Elspeth's hand and led her through the wood and closer to Darby Hall. He had near decimated Dalacroy's small army, so he didn't expect to see many men.

  They crouched behind the thick gorse bushes and peered out toward the open gate several yards away. He was surprised to see a large number of Highlanders, dressed in belted plaids, milling about in the courtyard. What the hell? Had his own reinforcements shown up? Nay. He recognized none of them. The men were neither MacKenzies nor MacKays. After a moment, two of the clansmen exited and stood guard outside the gates.

  "Who the devil are those two?" Cyrus muttered low. All Henry's men wore gray livery, including Lowland breeches. These men wore similar colored tartans, mostly green, which looked vaguely familiar. Cyrus narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the plant badges pinned to the sides of their woolen tams. When he saw the sprigs of common sallow, his stomach dropped.

  "Comyn," he growled. "That bastard Paul MacTarril has enlisted Ben Comyn and his clan to help Dalacroy."

  "The one who murdered the young lad... Patrick?" Elspeth whispered, sounding panicked.

  "Aye." He had no inkling how many clansmen Comyn had brought with him, but judging by the men who walked back and forth beyond the open gate, 'twas a large number. "I have to get you to Greymont quickly."

  Before they could move, one of the Comyns dashed out through the gates carrying a screeching woman over his shoulder.

  "Nay. 'Tis Gracie, my youngest maid." Elspeth lunged forward, but Cyrus grabbed her arm.

  "What's she doing here?" he demanded, his mind grappling with how he could rescue the la
ss and defeat so many enemies alone. Plus, he had to protect Elspeth at all costs. "The servants were told to either return to their families or go to Greymont, so they'd be safe."

  Her eyes wide and filled with anguish, Elspeth tried to tug away from him. "I know not, but she's only sixteen summers."

  The Comyn clansman flipped Gracie onto the ground and yanked her skirts upward. She kicked at him and tried to crawl away. He snatched her back and slapped her. The two guards watching laughed and cheered him on.

  "And she's with child," Elspeth said.

  Cursing, Cyrus withdrew his sword. "Stay here. No matter what happens, do not come out. When the maid gets free, take her away from here. Both of you, find a good hiding place."

  Face blanched white and eyes filled with tears, Elspeth nodded.

  Cyrus charged out of the undergrowth, running swiftly toward the girl's attacker. One of the other guards saw him, snatched out a blade and darted forward. Cyrus avoided his first strike and swung his blade, catching the man hard in the sword arm and causing him to scuttle away, shouting in pain.

  Cyrus booted the other guard, sending him slamming against the stone wall. The maid's attacker leapt to his feet, pulled his sword and lashed out with an echoing battle cry. Their swords clanged as Cyrus tried to lure him away from the maid.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw that she arose and fled along the road in Elspeth's direction. Hopefully, she could take the lass into town and hide her. Meanwhile, he would kill or maim as many of these whoresons as possible.

  Four lay bleeding on the ground when Dalacroy scurried out with more clansmen, screeching. "Capture him! Capture him! Leave him alive until we find the wench."

  A dozen or more Comyns dashed forth and crowded in on Cyrus. Possessed of a powerful battle rage, he lashed out multiple times, landing several injuring strikes against the foes before the men behind him grabbed his arms. He kicked one in the groin, sending him sprawling, then knocked two heads together. With all his might, he fought as long and hard as he could, until several Comyns tackled him to the ground and tied his hands behind his back.

  Chapter Twenty-Four