His Bonnie Bride

by Hannah Howell

  "They will not kill her when the ransom is refused, will they?" Hadden asked quietly.

  "Nay," Eldon answered without hesitation. "They would no more put sword to a lone woman within their walls than we would. The MacLagans have ne'er been murderers of innocents even in the fever of battle. I recall the time a madwoman took up sword against one of them during a raid. He took a wound to the arm, for he fought to disarm her rather than cut her down as he could have done with ease. Nay, 'tis not death I fear for Storm."

  "Will we ride against them?"

  "I think I must needs wait to see how she fares. 'Tis nay their fault that she was left without protectors. How are they to know what treachery is afoot at Hagaleah? All they see is that none wish to ransom her. If Storm is no longer a maid, does the fault truly lie with the MacLagans? Can I blame a man for seducing a maid who has been tossed into his lap, seemingly deserted by her kin? Nay, 'tis not a simple black or white situation, curse Mary's soul. Aye, if Storm has been dishonored, 'tis more Mary's fault."

  He was still of that mind when he arrived at Hagaleah near nightfall of the following day. No challenge was raised as he rode through the gates, and the few who saw him gaped, crossing themselves in superstitious fear until his familiar bellow left them little doubt as to the continued good health of their liege. Hilda was sent for as soon as he entered the hall.

  "M'lord," the woman wept, "you live. 'Tis God's sweet miracle."

  "Stop your wailing and tell me what is about. Where is that slut that, God forbids, carries my name?"

  "She has followed Sir Hugh to Caraidland. He goes to free Mistress Storm so he may wed her." Hilda was so elated to see her lord back and alive that she almost smiled as he ranted in response to that news. "There is a man who can tell ye how it goes at Caraidland. He is a kinsman of Sir Hugh's and was left for dead," Hilda offered when Lord Eldon paused for a breath. "He was a spy at Caraidland."

  Lord Eldon was not surprised to find the man in Lady Mary's chambers. He grimaced in distaste as he surveyed the bright silks, lush furs and gilded mirrors. Turning his gaze to the pale young man in the bed, Lord Eldon surmised with amazing accuracy how the man had nearly met his fate.

  "Is there a specific reason for Sir Hugh to ride armed against the MacLagans at this time?"

  "Aye, m'lord. They are at but half strength." Although Lawrence's voice was weak, it was steady. "Lady Mary sent word that no ransom would be paid for Mistress Storm, that ye were dead, as were all who traveled with you, and that they could do with the lass as they pleased. Sir Hugh hopes to catch them unawares."

  "Why does this man wish to rescue my daughter?"

  "He wants to wed her, or rather, her fortune. She has refused him in all ways and it sorely angers him. He had her once, and I fear he and Lady Mary treated her harshly, but she escaped back to Caraidland and the MacLagans. 'Tis felt the Scots had a hand in rescuing her. 'Twas indeed the brothers who brought her back to Caraidland, and the lass was in a sore state. When the ransom was flat refused they did not send her back here. Would not."

  After venting a boiling rage in some very colorful language, Lord Eldon asked, "How fares my only daughter? Is she ill treated at Caraidland? Have they abused her or the boy in any way?"

  Lawrence met Eldon's steady gaze. "They are both in good health and are actually much liked. The laird was being poisoned by his young wife and 'twas Mistress Storm who aided him. The lady knifed Mistress Storm before she was slain, but the lass recovered. So, too, did they nurse her after her treatment at Hugh's hands. She is treated more as a guest, though she is watched at all times. The people treat her with respect."

  Although he nodded, pleased with that information, Lord Eldon's gaze remained fixed upon an increasingly agitated Lawrence. "There is more. You will tell me all that concerns her."

  "She is no longer a maid," Lawrence said weakly, noting the flare of rage in his lordship's eyes and fearing he would suffer for it.

  "Was it rape?" Lawrence shook his head. "Be it more than one? Is she treated as a whore?"

  "Nay. After the ransom was refused the first time Tavis MacLagan took her to his bed. There she had stayed the whole time.

  She is treated well, I swear. Treated as if she is wife to the man. No other man touches her. None would dare."

  With a cry of rage, Lord Eldon hurled a vase, shattering one of the numerous mirrors. He strode out of the room, vowing to make his wife and her lover pay, for they were the ones truly responsible. They had left Storm without protection, given her to the enemy to do with as they pleased.

  Lord Foster was waiting for him in the hall, having found things less chaotic at his Keep, and Eldon said flatly, "We ride to Caraidland at the dawning."

  "I thought as much, and have brought my men. They are ready to fight MacLagans."

  "Then you best have a word with them, for we go after Sir Hugh and my wife, who now besiege Caraidland," said Eldon and smiled grimly at Foster's surprise. "It seems that to save my daughter from Sir Hugh and that Sussex whore, I must needs save Caraidland. I wouldst love to see old Colin's face as we ride to his rescue." For the first time in many a day, Lord Eldon smiled with honest delight.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dawn's meager light was struggling to pierce the darkness when Storm suddenly found herself awake and shivering. Tavis's warmth did not chase away the chill that had invaded her very bones. The very first time she had suffered such a thing was the time her mother had been poisoned. To her the sensation meant danger, was a valid warning not to be ignored. Since her family was gone, that meant that Caraidland was in danger. Without considering the chance that he might treat her feelings with scorn, Storm shook Tavis awake.

  "Mmmm?" Tavis nuzzled her breasts as he woke, and then sleepily began to suckle upon one.

  "Are ye awake, Tavis?" she asked inanely as she strove to keep her mind on what she wanted to say.

  After looking at the hard tip of her breast and admiring the results of his attentions Tavis moved his eager mouth to her other breast to tease the nub of that awake with his tongue before his mouth fastened on it. "Increasing. 'Tis early, m'love. Ye havenae opened your eyes so early for a long time."

  "What?" she queried blankly, her mind caught by passion's haze as his mouth continued to play over her breasts and his hands moved intoxicatingly over her body. "Oh. Have ye posted extra guards?"

  "Aye." He slid the covers down, following their slow progress with his mouth. "Why do ye ask?"

  "Ye may think 'tis foolishness, but I sense danger, trouble. I woke up chilled to the bone." Her words came out in husky gasps as his lips played over her stomach. "I feel we should beware."

  "Nay, 'tis not foolish, and we do watch. If trouble comes, we will hear the warning." He knelt between her slim thighs, his own breathing unsteady. "All the men can be armed and ready in no time." Resting his palms on either side of her, he ran his eyes over the slim body he was about to possess. "Dinnae fash yourself, little one. Now, if ye maun talk, ye can say, 'Oh, Tavis,' " he said with a grin.

  She did just that several times. Dawn's light was much stronger when Tavis finally rose from her arms, watching her stretch like a contented cat, displaying an unconscious sensuality that never failed to stir him. He was half seriously considering rejoining her in bed when a half-dressed Sholto burst into the room. Sholto took a fleeting but thorough look at Storm, who hurriedly gathered the sheet around herself.

  "Enjoy yourself?" Tavis growled as he moved to stand before his younger brother.

  Thinking of the full alabaster breasts that were as perfect as any he had ever seen, Sholto grinned. "Aye."

  Tavis sent Storm a quick, repressive look when she giggled despite her embarrassment. "What has brought ye racing in here?"

  "The watch ye sent to the forest has just arrived at full gallop. There is a large force o' men moving our way. They are from Hagaleah but fly not the Eldon banner. Ah! Father sounds the alarum."

  " 'Tis that bastard Sir Hugh, no doubt." Tavis pl
aced an arm around Storm's slim shoulders when she paled, and tangled his hand in the thick, glorious hair Sholto was openly admiring. "His men number more than ours?"

  "Twice, mayhaps thrice as many. He comes equipped to try and storm our walls."

  Giving Storm a brief, hard kiss, Tavis began to get dressed. "Ye stay within the keep, Storm. Maggie will be here ere long, and ye can lend a hand to her. Come, Sholto, I must needs stop by my rooms," he said as he left the room, still lacing up his braes.

  "That's some verra sweet lass ye have there, Tavis," Sholto said as they raced down the steps.

  "Aye, too sweet for some Sassanach dog," growled Tavis as they bolted through the hall.

  "Aye," Sholto agreed heartily, excitement already surging through him at the promise of a battle.

  Even though she dressed hastily and did not bother to do up her hair, simply ran a brush through it and tied it back, Storm was unable to catch Tavis. She had barely started to aid the women in preparing the hall for the wounded who were sure to come when it was clear that Sir Hugh's forces had arrived. The moment Maggie's attention was diverted, Storm raced for the battlements.

  "Send the Eldon girl out, MacLagan. You cannot wish to shed Scottish blood for an Englishwoman. You are outnumbered and my victory is certain," Sir Hugh boasted.

  As Colin answered that boast in very colorful language, Storm looked over the force gathered and gasped as her gaze settled on a small knot of people to the right. "God above, Lady Mary herself."

  "What the devil are ye doing up here?" Tavis bellowed, grabbing her arm and angrily shaking her.

  "Where is she?" Sholto asked, his eyes trying to locate the infamous countess and ignoring Tavis's anger.

  Although breathless from Tavis's treatment, Storm answered, "O'er to the right, The bright cart."

  Curiosity getting the better of him, Tavis looked as well. Bright was a subtle description of the cart and its occupants, as well as the four horsemen at its sides. It was a ludicrous sight on a battlefield. In their attire of yellow and red, the four horsemen looked like well-built jesters. Tavis thought, with a grimace of distaste, that those horses were not all those men were hired to ride.

  Seeing the direction of Tavis's disgusted look, Storm said, "M'lady's handmen." She grinned when Sholto laughed, but then grew serious. "Ye must hand me o'er to Sir Hugh," she said, although the words choked her and the very thought twisted her insides with fear and loathing, "an it will keep this battle from being fought. I am nay worth a battle."

  Tavis stared at her, his eyes resting briefly on her full mouth, before meeting her gaze. He could read the fear there, yet he knew she meant what she said. Terrified though she was of Sir Hugh and fully aware of his plans for her, she would go to the man rather than have any blood spilled for her.

  "Nay, lass. As my father now bellows, we'll nay hand ye o'er to Sir Hugh. Lady Mary gave ye to me to do as I pleased and," he lowered his voice, "I am nay done being pleased yet. Then, too, he asks for more than ye. He asks for the return of all we stole in the last raid and then a bit more for sparing our poor wee lives. Nay, lass. We fight. A bit for your sake and a bit for our own."

  When a volley of arrows was Sir Hugh's reply to Colin's last retort Tavis shoved Storm down none too gently. "Not get your wee backside into the hall and keep it there," he growled. "And put some cursed hose on," he added when he noticed that her slim legs were bare.

  "Aye," Sholto agreed, patting one exposed and very pretty thigh. "Ye could catch a chill." He grinned when Tavis shoved his hand away and tugged Storm's skirts back down.

  Cupping his face in her hands, Storm gave Tavis a slow, loving kiss. "Take care, cushlamochree."

  Watching her as she returned to the hall, Tavis murmured, "I wish I kenned what that meant."

  "Vein of my heart," Phelan offered as he passed by with a bucket of water, "or darling. Ye can choose."

  Tavis fought down an urge to chase after her and ask if she meant it. He turned his full attention to the battle, which soon grew from an exchange of insults and a few arrows to full warfare. For all his other faults, Sir Hugh proved to be a formidable enemy in battle. He knew the Scots were lacking manpower and he worked with slow but definite success to cut the number down even more, making no move to breech the wall. Sir Hugh wanted the odds fully in his favor before he did.

  Storm soon had more work than she needed. Men who had only small wounds were patched up and went back to fight.

  The need for fighting men was too great to allow any pandering. It was not only grief for a lost friend or relative that was felt as the inevitable dead slowly added up but the fear of how each new loss weakened the defenses of Caraidland. Each man lost put the odds more in Sir Hugh's favor.

  When Sholto was carried in with an arrow wound in his leg Storm was first at his side. She did not question her very real relief when she discovered it was little more than a graze that had bled freely. As she finished bandaging the wound, she felt his hand touch her hair and looked at him.

  " 'Twas a temptation too great to resist," he said with a grin that made her think of her brother Andrew with sad, fond remembrance.

  She laughed and impulsively kissed him only to be caught by Tavis, who was bringing in yet another wounded man. "What the devil are ye about?" he growled as he helped the man onto a pallet.

  "Did ye ne'er have your hurts kissed better when ye were a child?"

  "Sholto's mouth looks fine to me," Tavis grumbled, his glare doing nothing to dim Sholto's grin.

  "Aye, 'twas his thigh that was wounded. If ye wish, I will kiss ..."

  "Do and I'll see to it ye ne'er sit for a week," he snapped, glaring at her and then at the two men who laughed despite their wounds. "Get off with ye, wench." His lips twitched when she winked at him before moving away, but then grew serious. " 'Tis bad, Sholto."

  "Aye. The bastard kens his business. He makes no move that'll let us even the numbers a wee bit, kenning that he only needs to wait 'til our numbers be fewer, too few to hold him back."

  "If he keeps whittling our numbers down, he can stroll in ere nightfall on the morrow."

  "Then give him the Sassanach lass," cried the woman who was tending the man Tavis had brought in.

  "Nay," spoke up the stablemaster's wife before Tavis could respond. "I want no part o' giving a wee lass tae a man what beats her near tae death. I saw her wounds and no man did that. 'Twas an animal, a beastie no Christian deals with. The man will taek her and still taek us. Ye cannae trust a beastie like that tae act with honor or mercy."

  Everyone stared after the usually taciturn woman as she strode away. The other woman turned her attention fully upon the man she was tending and said no more. Briefly, Tavis pondered upon the many and varied friends Storm had quietly acquired while at Caraidland before he turned back to present Sholto with a plan he knew would not meet with approval, speaking so as not to be overheard.

  "The man must needs leave off fighting when night falls. I will try to go for help."

  "Nay, we are encircled. They will be watching for such an attempt. Ye'll nay get past his watch."

  " 'Tis a chance I must take. Our men could be on their way back. E'en if they arenae, an I ride long and hard this night, I can reach Athdara and fetch aid back here ere night falls on the morrow."

  "If they have solved their own troubles."

  "Aye, but can ye give me another choice?" Sholto's silence told Tavis he could not, and Tavis nodded. "I will slip away as soon as 'tis dark. I have told none but ye. Keep it that way."

  As Tavis had expected, Sir Hugh left only a token force around Caraidland when night fell, the rest withdrawing to the camp to rest, yet near enough to be called up quickly if needed. There was nothing to be gained in fighting blind in the night. More would be gained by allowing his forces to recoup some strength for the fight on the morrow. There could not be any escape from Caraidland, of that he had made sure.

  Only the wounded were allowed to rest at Caraidland. There was always the c
hance, however small, that Sir Hugh would try to storm the walls during the night. It would be out of character, for it would risk a high loss of men, but an unexpected move was the one to keep the closest watch for. Lacking patience, the man could be driven to make such a rash move.

  Dressed in black and leading an equally black horse, Tavis crept out a side gate. It was a very chancy venture he embarked upon, but there was no other choice. They needed more men and that meant trying to get to Athdara. He could only hope that, if he reached there, whatever trouble there had been at Athdara was now at an end, allowing him to return with not only his own men but perhaps some sword-wielding MacBroths as well.

  It was not the best night for trying to creep through an enemy's line of watch. Caraidland's own watch fires cast out unwanted light. There was also a moon, its light unfettered by clouds. It was a little difficult to keep both himself and his horse in the shadows as he edged toward the wood. Tension and the need to be as quiet and careful as possible made what was but yards seem like miles, and minutes like hours.

  When he was just inside the wood he mounted, but kept his steed at a walk. To spur his horse to a gallop when he was still so close to Sir Hugh's ring of watches would be foolhardy. Slowly, he made his way through the wood, working at an angle through its dark tangles that would eventually bring him to the road that led to Athdara and, he prayed, far enough along it to be beyond sight and reach of Hugh's minions.

  The sigh of partial relief that escaped him when he reached the road got caught in his throat as two horsemen entered the road in front of him. It was almost as if they had been waiting for him, but he knew it was just sheer bad luck that had brought him through at the spot where Sir Hugh had placed a watch. The fact that the men were far beyond the usual place for a guard only proved how wily Sir Hugh was. He had guessed what would be tried and had undoubtedly placed his strongest guard on this side of Caraidland. Tavis cursed, for it also meant that Sir Hugh knew exactly how short of men they were and why.