by Tarah Scott
“East,” Seward said. “I feel it in my gut.”
Talbot felt the same. His instincts had served him well in the past, but he couldn’t afford to be wrong. “Cullen, you will wait here for the men Ross is bringing. Send him east with half on my trail, and you lead the other half. Study the tracks, follow the freshest trail you can find.”
Cullen nodded, and Talbot headed east with Seward and Derek.
Seward had told Talbot that Davey’s keep was well fortified and would withstand a siege long enough for Rhoslyn to birth their child. Once cornered, though, Dayton would be more dangerous than he already was. They had to catch them before they reached Davey’s home. Talbot kept his gaze on the ground and prayed they picked up the trail again.
They found tracks an hour later. Another hour passed before Talbot glimpsed a red silk half-hidden by calf-high grass. Sir Derek cursed and shot ahead. Talbot caught up with him and, together, they reached the spot at the base of a hill where Lady Taresa lay.
Talbot dropped to one knee beside her, Derek opposite, as Seward reined up beside them and dismounted. Derek slid an arm beneath her back and gently lifted her upright. That’s when Talbot saw the blood that coated the grass beneath her.
Her eyes fluttered open.
“Where are you hurt, my lady?” Derek said.
A gentle smile touched her mouth. “I knew you would come,” she whispered, her soft accent marred by a raspy breath. Her eyes shifted to Talbot. “And you, my grandson.” She lifted a hand and he took it. “Find your wife and my great grandchild.”
“I will.” Talbot’s heart thundered. “Are they well?”
She gave a tiny nod. “He has not harmed them.”
“He?” Talbot repeated. “My brother?”
“He is one. The other is Bret Carr.”
“I know him,” Seward said.
“He came to Rhoslyn’s room.” Lady Taresa swallowed. “You would have been proud. Your wife is brave.”
Talbot’s blood chilled at the thought of how Rhoslyn’s bravery must have put herself and their child in danger.
“They ride fast,” she said. “It is not good for Rhoslyn.” Taresa released a shuddered breath.
“I will take you back to Castle Glenbarr,” Derek said.
Her eyes shifted to him. “No. I will not be returning.”
“My lady,” he began.
“Derek.” He went silent and she returned her attention to Talbot. “I am so happy to have found you.”
“And I you,” Talbot said. “But save your strength. Sir Derek will take you back to Castle Glenbarr. I will find Rhoslyn. Do not fear.”
“There is a small village twenty minutes north,” Seward said. “They have a healer.”
Lady Taresa shook her head. “They are not far ahead. Find them, Talbot.” She looked at the knight. “Derek.” The word came out so weak Talbot thought it had to be her last.
“My lady,” Derek replied.
She motioned with her hand for him to come closer. He bent his head and she pulled him close so that his ear touched her mouth. Talbot couldn’t hear what she said, but Derek’s “Nay, my lady,” told him the knight was hearing the truth he couldn’t accept. Taresa released him and he lifted his head and looked down at her.
“There is a healer twenty minutes away. You are strong. I will take you there.”
She grasped his arm. “Swear.”
“Taresa.”
Talbot heard the raw plea in Derek’s voice and exchanged a glance with Seward, who gave a tiny shake of his head.
“Derek.” The strength in her voice startled Talbot and for an instant he thought she might survive her wound. Then she coughed a wet cough he knew went soul deep.
“Swear,” she insisted, then added in a gentler tone, “my love.”
Derek bowed his head. “I swear.”
Relief washed over her features and she turned her face toward Talbot. “Tell Rhoslyn I am sorry I could not see my great grandchild born.”
Talbot considered telling her all would be well, she would be there, but he saw the light dimming in her eyes and the plea that her request be honored. She did not want her family to forget her.
“She will understand, Grandmother.”
Her mouth parted in surprise, then relaxed into a weak smile. “Remember, you are my grandson. Our family does not accept defeat.”
She closed her eyes and released her final breath.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Derek surprised Talbot when he gently laid Taresa back on the ground, then rose and stepped into his saddle. He kicked his horse’s ribs and said not a word when Talbot and Seward caught up with him. What was there to say? Derek was right. Taresa was under Talbot’s protection. She’d been in his home, where she should have been safe.
They rode twenty minutes in silence when a curl of smoke came into view, rising from the wooded hills ahead.
“Whose land is this?” Talbot asked. They had left Glenbarr’s property half an hour ago and now rode through unfamiliar territory.
“The far eastern edge of my land,” Seward replied. “The cottage belongs to David Morrison. He tends cattle for me. It is another four-hour ride to Davey’s. Mayhap your brother stopped to rest.”
“If he did, he will have killed your man. Does Morrison have a family?”
“His wife, Diana.”
Guilt washed over Talbot when he realized he hoped Dayton had stopped there.
They crested the next hill and Talbot glimpsed a cottage amongst the trees. Three horses stood before it, heads hung low, reins tied to a nearby tree.
A low growl emanated from Sir Derek’s chest and he leaned low in the saddle in readiness to ride hard.
“Hold,” Talbot commanded.
The knight’s head snapped in his direction.
“They have not seen us,” Talbot said. “When they do, Dayton will threaten Morrison and his wife. We have the element of surprise.” Talbot recognized the cold fury in Derek’s eyes and said, “I will slay you where you sit, Sir Derek.”
Defiance flashed in the man’s eyes, but he said, “As you say, laird.”
They left the horses out of sight below the crest of the hill, topped the ridge, and crept downhill, keeping to the trees. At the side of the cottage, Talbot motioned for Seward and Derek to stay, then he inched around to the front window and peered through the window frame. Inside, a woman pulled a kettle off the fire. She appeared at ease. Had Dayton presented himself as a friend? Rhoslyn might not sound the alarm for fear of causing harm to the man and woman. A man came into view at the hearth and Talbot recognized Carr.
Where was Rhoslyn? Where was his brother?
He returned to Seward and Derek.
“They are inside. I did not see Rhoslyn or Dayton.”
Seward glanced past him and Talbot saw in his eyes the same impulse to storm the cottage.
“If we wait until they leave,” Seward said, “We may avoid harm to the women.”
Talbot nodded. “Is there another window in the cottage?”
“The other side. Where the bed is.”
“Stay here.”
Talbot crept around the cottage to the other side. A fur covered the window, but the shutters stood open. He reached in and slid a finger between the curtain and frame. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end an instant before the cold steel of a sword point pricked his neck.
“You should have gone with Sir Roland.”
Dayton.
His brother’s voice carried not a hint of emotion, which meant Dayton would kill him without thought, without remorse.
Talbot spun. The sword point drew a line from the back of his neck to his jaw. He ducked. Dayton brought his sword down in a wide arc. Talbot yanked his sword from its scabbard and swung upward. Steel clanged against steel an instant before Dayton’s blade would have cleaved his skull.
Dayton swung and lunged, forcing Talbot back. His shoulder crashed into the cottage wall, but he jabbed. Dayton leapt back. Talb
ot pressed him into retreat. Dayton parried.
“The child is mine,” Dayton said.
Talbot feinted left, then swung right and pierced the skin between arm band and chain mail. Dayton cursed. A man appeared around the side of the cottage, sword in hand. Carr.
Talbot slid right to keep the man away from his back.
“Get him, fool,” Dayton shouted.
“You cannot face me on your own, craven,” Talbot snarled at Dayton.
Carr charged Talbot’s left side.
Boot falls pounded and, an instant later, Seward and Derek burst into view. Both men held swords at ready. Carr whirled to face them. Talbot blocked a left, then right parry from his brother.
“This one is mine,” Derek shouted. The knight brought a hard blow down on Carr, who blocked, but fell back a pace.
Talbot sidled forward, jabbed low, then parried left. Dayton dodged the blow, but Talbot saw the opening and rammed his sword tip into Dayton’s collarbone. Dayton leapt back, narrowly dodging the sword, and Talbot swung a sideways arc that sliced the top of Dayton’s sword arm.
Dayton howled, a wounded animal’s cry, then brought his sword down in a bone-jarring blow that cut a gash in the sleeve of Talbot’s chain mail. From the corner of his eye, Talbot glimpsed Rhoslyn and the woman standing beyond the fighting. Seward hurried to the women.
Dayton swung his sword low. Talbot deflected the blow as Dayton spun and brought his sword around to Talbot’s left. He dodged the weapon and skittered back several paces. Talbot thrust, ripping a hole in Dayton’s leg below his chain mail. Blood spurted, but Dayton pressed his attack. Talbot blocked a heavy blow and dodged behind a tree as Dayton’s sword narrowly missed his midsection and split a gash in the wood.
A man’s shriek broke through the clash of steel, but Talbot’s focus didn’t waiver. Dayton rushed him, swinging left, then right, then left and right. Talbot gave one mighty push and shoved back with the next blow. Dayton stumbled to the side, but regained his feet, then brought a heavy blow down across Talbot’s left arm. His chain mail protected his arm, but the shock of the blow reverberated through his arm. He gritted his teeth against the pain as Dayton landed another hard blow. Steel slid against steel until the hilts collided and they strained nose-to-nose.
“You are not a St. Claire,” Dayton said. He breathed heavily, but his voice still held no emotion.
Talbot shoved him away, then allowed his sword to falter, as if the blow Dayton had landed on his arm had weakened him. Dayton lunged, and Talbot thrust his sword into the opening at his brother’s jugular. Dayton’s head snapped back, then his eyes riveted onto Talbot’s. Talbot yanked his sword from his brother’s neck and he fell face down onto the ground at this feet.
Talbot leaned a palm against a tree, breath coming in heavy gasps. Dayton’s blood pooled around him like thick syrup. Talbot felt nothing. Not even relief.
What would his father say?
* * *
Rhoslyn shook like a leaf, but managed to dig her heels in and stop her grandfather from forcing her back into the cottage.
“Help St. Claire,” she ordered.
His brother was driving him back toward the trees.
“Your husband can handle himself,” her grandfather said. “After all, he is—was—Edward’s favorite knight.”
Rhoslyn looked at him in horror. “You wager with his life? He is the father of your grandchild.”
“If I interfere he will only kill me in punishment.”
“She is right, Kinsley,” Diana said. “Ye must help him.”
Rhoslyn’s heart leapt into her throat when Dayton’s sword swung perilously close to St. Claire’s face. “Sweet God, Grandfather, I beg you.” She grasped his arm and yanked.
“Have faith in your husband, Rhoslyn.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “He might die. At least help Sir Derek.”
Her grandfather snorted. “Carr is no match for him. See,” he said when Sir Derek’s sword slashed through the flesh on the man’s wrist.
A wave of pain washed over Rhoslyn and she jerked.
Her grandfather looked sharply at her. “What is it?”
She shook her head.
“Granddaughter,” he said in a stern voice.
Steel clashed in a succession of blows as St. Claire and Dayton disappeared behind a tree. St. Claire stepped into view, retreating in quick steps as his brother drove him backwards with quick parries of his sword.
“Rhoslyn.”
She jerked at the harsh note in her grandfather’s voice.
“Is it the babe?” he demanded.
“She was in labor when they arrived,” Diana said.
Brent Carr cried out and Rhoslyn’s gaze snapped onto him in time to see him fall to his knees, blood gushing from his leg.
He threw his sword down. “I yield.”
“Yield?” Sir Derek snarled.
He reached down and yanked something from the man’s left wrist. Sunlight glinted off red jewels. The ruby bracelet Lady Taresa had worn. Sir Derek rammed his fist into the man’s face. Rhoslyn started. Brett dropped to the ground and Sir Derek drove his sword through his neck.
Bile rose in Rhoslyn’s throat as another wave of pain washed over her.
* * *
Talbot walked from the trees and he took in Carr lying on the ground face up, blood trailing from the wound in his throat. Sir Derek had killed him in almost the same fashion Talbot had Dayton. Derek hadn’t severed Carr’s head as Talbot had Dayton’s, however.
He caught sight of Rhoslyn leaning against Seward with the woman, Diana, clutching her arm. Rhoslyn’s gaze met his and her mouth parted in surprise. There was something else in her eyes. Was it relief? He crossed to the group.
When he reached them, he saw Rhoslyn’s tears. Before he could assure her he was well, she gave a deep groan and stumbled. Talbot lunged and caught her close to him.
“All is well, my lady,” he started to assure her. Then she tensed in his arms. He looked sharply at Seward. “What is wrong?”
“The babe is coming,” the woman said. “Quickly, bring her inside.” She hurried around the cottage.
“The babe is coming?” Talbot repeated.
He lifted her into his arms and carried her inside. Diana stood beside a bed separated from the rest of the room by a thin curtain.
He crossed to the bed and gently laid Rhoslyn on the mattress. “Why is the baby coming now? It is too soon. She is not yet eight months pregnant.” Unless he counted the two weeks between when bedded her and Dayton’s rape.
Diana pulled the blanket up over Rhoslyn’s belly. “Sometimes that is long enough.”
“How long has she been in labor?”
“An hour, maybe longer,” she replied. “She was laboring when they arrived. That is why they stopped.”
Talbot whirled to face Seward. “Why did you allow her to stay outside?”
The old man snorted. “Do ye know my granddaughter at all?”
“She might have—” Talbot broke off, suddenly at a loss.
Seward’s brow rose. “Might have what?” Talbot didn’t reply and he added, “Birthed the babe then and there while still ordering everyone about?”
“Sweet Jesu, St. Claire,” Rhoslyn said in a strained voice, “cease bullying my grandfather.”
Sir Derek appeared in the cottage doorway. “Keep a watch, Sir Derek,” Talbot ordered. “And bring our horses around. I do not want any unwanted visitors.” The knight nodded and Talbot sat on the mattress beside Rhoslyn. He took her hand and clasped it tight. “Are you well, my lady?”
She lifted her free hand and touched his jaw where Dayton’s sword had cut him. “You are bleeding.”
“‘Tis a scratch,” he said.
Diana appeared at the bed, a basin of water in hand and clean clothes slung over her shoulder. “Go on now,” she ordered.
“Have you birthed a child?” he asked.
“Aye,” she said. “Twice before.”
“H
ave you a midwife?” he asked. “We can fetch her.”
“She would only arrive to see your wife suckling the babe at her breast.”
“Are you sure—”
“Laird,” she cut in, “unless ye plan to bring this baby into the world, let me be. Now, shoo.”
Rhoslyn tensed again and gave a deep grunt.
“I will stay,” he said.
The woman’s mouth fell open in shock. “A man doesna’ stay in the birthing room.”
“Midwives always have help,” he said. “You may have need of me.”
She glanced at Rhoslyn, indecision in her eyes, when Rhoslyn began panting heavily. Diana’s attention came back onto him. “As ye say. I may have need of you. But you will do as I say, and willna’ move from her side unless I tell you otherwise—no matter what. Do oue understand?”
“Aye.”
Talbot soothed Rhoslyn, fetched more water and clean cloths as Diana ordered. When Sir Derek came to report that a company of men had arrived, led by Ross, Talbot had to admit relief. He had expected his child to be born surrounded by the protective walls and fighting might of Castle Glenbarr. Here, only the flammable walls of the cottage separated them from the dangers of the world. He ordered Sir Derek to secure the bodies and have the men surround the cottage to keep watch until they left for Castle Glenbarr.
The day wore on toward evening as Rhoslyn labored. When the sun set, Talbot heard the door creak open beyond the closed curtain.
“Diana,” the man called. “Kinsley, what are ye doing here?”
Seward quietly explained to Morrison what had happened.
Morning came and Talbot feared Diana would collapse from exhaustion. He and her husband had forced her to lie down, but she had slept little more than an hour before she returned to Rhoslyn’s side.
“Are you sure we do not need the midwife?” Talbot asked.
“Why would we need a midwife?” Rhoslyn demanded.
He looked at her. “Rest, my lady.” The labor pains were coming too quickly and he could see the fatigue in the droop of her eyelids. He wanted to ask Diana what was wrong, why the baby was taking so long to come, but feared worrying Rhoslyn.