“It was as I suspected. They lobbed some arrows at us to see where our defenses might be weak.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“Nay, the drizzle doused most of the flames before any landed, and the fire made it easier to see the arrows approach.”
“Flaming arrows!” Now Brighde truly struggled to free herself from Alex’s hold. She pushed herself onto the mattress in front of him but continued to look at him. She could not think clearly while snuggled in his arms.
“Haud yer wheesht. It’s a common enough tactic and one we were prepared for. It didna come as a surprise to anyone, and so nay one was hurt. At least nae on our side. They sent a few men with ladders to try to scale the walls, but they were either shot, broken when the ladders were pushed back from the wall or stabbed as they tried to come over the wall.”
Brighde attempted to take in everything Alex told her. Once again, her gut insisted she flee. To take all the danger and strife with her, but she knew it was completely illogical. Not only would she put herself at risk, but Alex too since he would undoubtedly chase her. Beyond that, the Sinclairs had harbored her for nearly two moons. Even if she was no longer there, de Soules would not easily forgive what he would see as a slight against him. He would still seek to punish the clan that hid his prize from him.
“Was ma father with him? Did either of them say aught?”
“It was too dark to tell, and neither sent a message other than their intention to attack.”
Brighde shrank into herself, pulling her knees into her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She rested her cheek against the top of her knees. Alex adjusted his position, so he had a leg on either side of her. She had not even noticed when he shed his boots or his sword. He took her hands in his and gave them a gentle squeeze.
“Brie, I have told ye already that we are well equipped to withstand an attack or even a siege. We are one of the largest clans in the northern Highlands, and we have several of the Mackays here with us. I amnae worried, so neither should ye.”
What Alex would never admit was that he feared the same thing she did. He worried de Soules would bring a falsely signed betrothal document, or one signed well after Brighde escaped, and his own clan’s priest, Father Peter, would have to declare Brighde legally de Soules’s bride. He did not fear for a moment that she would ever leave his side. He feared instead what would happen if he had to kill her father or one of her half-brothers in battle. She might not look at them as her family now, but if he was responsible for their deaths, she might not feel so distant from them after all. He also worried about the position Father Peter would be in if he declared Brighde legally de Soules’s, and Alex refused to hand her over. He worried about a great many things, but the concern that Brighde would never be his wife never entered his mind. To him, it was a fait accompli. There was nothing left to argue because she was already his wife.
Alex ran his thumbs over the tops of her hands and leaned forward to press his forehead to hers. He kissed it gently before rubbing the tip of his nose against hers.
“Brie, ye arenae going anywhere. Ye are home, in our chamber, where we both belong.” With that, he pulled her to lie down with him as he spooned her from behind. She drifted back to sleep thinking that it had been far too long since Alex last called her Brie, and how she missed hearing it.
I need a name for him that is mine alone. Nay one calls me Brie but him. I want something that is mine alone too. I shall have to think aboot that.
Alex felt the rhythmic breathing slow and become evener. He waited until he was sure Brighde was completely asleep before whispering his prayers.
Heavenly Father, watch over all of those whom I love and care aboot. Watch over ma brothers by blood and by marriage. Watch over Da. Nay one is ready for Callum to be laird. It just isnae time yet. And Lord, watch over this woman, ma wife, who lays beside me. Help her to find peace with this, and Lord keep her far from harm. I dinna want to live another day without her. Thank ye for the blessing of bringing her into ma life, and the many other blessings ye have given me and this clan. Watch over us and guide us. All of this I pray in yer name. Amen.
Alex finally closed his eyes and allowed himself to catch a couple hours of sleep before it was time for him to return to the watch.
Chapter Nineteen
Alex’s internal alarm clock would not allow him to sleep much more than two hours. He was aware it was approaching the time when the sun would fully rise, and both sides would be preparing for battle. He knew it was his turn to stand guard, and he would lead the Sinclairs and Mackays. His father agreed the night before that he and Callum would let Alex determine and execute their battle plan as it was Alex’s wife who they fought to defend and keep. Tristan was also willing to have Alex lead their side, but he maintained control over his own men. Alex understood it was more a matter of logistics than whether Tristan trusted him. Before his sister married him, Alex crossed swords more than once with Tristan while they each defended their villages or raided the other. The Sinclairs and Mackays had been formidable foes and were now unstoppable allies. Everyone knew de Soules and whichever Kerrs traveled this far north seriously underestimated the battle-honed skills and tenacity Highlanders possessed especially in the harsh climates near the Orkneys. Living here was not for the meek. The weather and terrain shaped these warriors, and Lowlanders were no match in size, strength, or skills because the Highlanders fought with more than just their swords. They fought with poleaxes, battle axes, double-handed broadswords, dirks, and anything else they could find. There was not a man in the Sinclair army who could not toss a caber, but it was not only about brute strength. To win this battle, Alex would have to employ every strategy he could think of to keep them one step ahead of their opponents.
Alex slipped from the bed and looked down at Brighde. They had both been too exhausted to do anything but sleep. He regretted their first night together was only a couple of hours snatched from the early dawn. He would make it up to her that night and every night to come. He pulled an extra plaid over her and watched as she drew it to her face in her sleep. He watched her relax further once she smelled his scent on the half that covered him during his nap.
When he reached the door, he considered waking her to make her bar it from the inside, but he could not bring himself to disturb her, and he did not think the situation was dire enough for that. At least not yet.
When Alex reached the Great Hall, Hagatha met him with a plate of warm bannocks. He snagged four, gave her a peck on the cheek, and headed to the armory. The bailey was overflowing with livestock just as the Great Hall had been overflowing with bodies. The elders were warned in time, and the villagers were able to seek shelter within the walls before the enemy made it over the last rise. So far, the fields had not been touched. A few of the farmers had stayed behind to lift the dams that had been built in case of this emergency. The fields flooded slowly, but it would make them less likely to catch fire. The men entered through the postern gate just as the first arrows began to land just short of the wall. There was no doubt they were spotted and were the archers’ targets, but with the light rain falling, it was extremely difficult for any of the archers to line up a clear shot. The only injury was a twisted ankle when one of the men tripped coming through the postern gate.
Alex made his way to the top of the wall closest to the portcullis. He joined Magnus and his father who he expected to see looking tired from the long night, but Laird Sinclair was not yet past his prime. He looked ready to head into battle, and for a moment, Alex felt a wave of pity for anyone who squared off against his father. There was little chance that the other man would survive.
“Have they sent any messages or made any moves yet?”
“Nay more than they had last night. We can see them starting to move aboot their camp. They are late risers. Apparently, Lowlanders dinna see a need to rise with the sun even for battle. We have scouts out to make sure that they have nae broken into smaller raiding parties or tried to approa
ch from other sides. So far, the signals have been all clear. We ken where each scout is, and there hasnae been aught happening yet.” Magnus reported.
“Da, do ye think they will try to parlay first or just attack?”
“I think they will try to haggle and barter before launching a full attack. They ken they are outnumbered now that de Soules and Kerr have seen our keep and have a better idea of our numbers. Gunn was a fool to lead them here or too incompetent to convince them this was a fool’s errand. Either way, they shall all regret making the trip out here. It willnae go the way they planned.”
The men stood silently until the others joined them. Even when Callum, Tavish, and Tristan came to survey the impending forces, they remained quiet. They discussed their plans and rehearsed them several times the night before, so there was no point in rehashing them again. There was little more they could do than wait. They each kept unwavering sight on the enemy camp and scanned the periphery for any movement that could signal a sneak attack.
Hours passed before any significant movement was noticed coming from the camp. Men had been up for hours and cook fires could be spotted, but no one was preparing for battle in any type of hurry.
“The bells will be ringing for tierce soon. The morning is wasting away. Do ye think they are doing this on purpose to wear us down or make us impatient enough to initiate the fight?” It was nearly nine o’clock, and Alex was beginning to feel on edge which he knew was exactly what the enemy was hoping for. He drew in a few deep breaths.
“Mayhap. I dinna totally underestimate de Soules’s battle skills nor Kerr’s. Neither of them is untried. De Soules has been fighting for both sides of the border for years now, and Kerr is a known border reiver as his kinsmen have been for generations. Their strategy may vera well be to wait us out and wear us down until we are so impatient we are careless.” Laird Sinclair moved to stand beside Alex. He placed his hand on his shoulder and squeezed. He wished during moments like these that his children were not yet adults and were instead still weans that he could shield from these types of duties and worries. However, he knew it was inevitable they would grow up. He wished he could save them the heartache and keep them from danger.
“Do ye want to check on the lass again?” Laird Sinclair whispered to Alex.
Alex looked at his father, a man he tried to emulate his entire life. He saw kindness and understanding there. There was no mocking or patronizing, but instead, a father who knew how his son felt.
“Nay, Da, but I thank ye all the same. Brighde is better off inside. If I go back in and must leave her again, neither of us will fare well. I dinna want to leave her in there, but it is better for both of us.”
Alex, along with the other men, were becoming restless to the point where more than one of them wanted to pace, but it would be visible from the height of the battlements. It was nearly another hour before they saw three men mount up and lead a small contingent of riders and foot soldiers towards the castle.
Alex, the Sinclair, and the Mackay mounted their own horses with Magnus, Tavish, and Callum following slightly behind with ten other guardsmen. While they agreed outnumbering their foe too early on might play their hand too soon, they also wanted to form an early impression that regardless of how many men hid among the trees, there were far more waiting behind the gate.
The Sinclairs rode within a safe distance of the gate. They did not want to go beyond the reach of their archers, but neither did they want to be so close to the portcullis that the enemy might try to storm the entrance.
"I believe you have something of mine, and I should like to have it back." A tall man wearing mail like an English knight called out when both parties stopped with a spacious buffer of land between them.
"I havenae aught that was ever yers. I take better care of what I'm entrusted to protect." Alex shot back.
"I wasn’t talking to you, welp. Unless of course, your father prefers letting others do the talking for him." He sounded as English as he looked.
"Ye seem to be doing enough talking for the lot of us. Ye heard ma son. We have naught of yers. "
De Soules looked over his shoulder at a large man with graying hair. There was little that would make anyone guess he was Brighde's father except for the piercing gray eyes. Alex assumed when Brighde said she inherited her looks from her mother, she meant all of them. Laird Kerr felt around inside his doublet. He produced a scroll he flourished before them. He began to read the betrothal decree that made Alex’s vision begin to blur with red dots dancing before his eyes. He listened to the very end when Laird Kerr read the date. It was conveniently dated before the ambush on their party.
“I heard the date that ye read as to when the agreement was drafted and signed by ye, but what was the date when Lord de Soules signed the agreement?”
“Why the same day as I signed it, of course.”
“How can that be when ye were traveling with yer daughter to deliver both her and the betrothal agreement to de Soules? He hadnae signed it yet, and yer daughter went missing during an ambush. De Soules, ye signed a marriage agreement when nay one kenned where yer bride might be? How vera optimistic of ye. More likely it didna matter whether she was alive or nae so long as the money exchanged hands. When word got back to ye that she might be alive and well, ye only wanted her back for the sake of saving face and to punish her.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about. I love my daughter and only want what’s best for her.” He was worse than de Soulis and sounded far more English than Scots.
At that, all the Sinclair men and Laird Mackay could not help but laugh. There was nothing remotely plausible about what Laird Kerr had just uttered.
“Even if I didna already ken that to be a lie, ye can barely say the words without grimacing, and ye are looking over our shoulders rather than trying to lie to our faces. Ye ken even ye canna pull off such a falsehood.” Tristan spoke up.
“Are you questioning my honor?” Laird Kerr sat up taller in the saddle. He was already a large man, but he was nothing in comparison to the wall of Highlanders who stared back at him.
“I dinna need to question it. I already ken ye havenae aught.” Tristan fired back.
“Your honor, his honor. None of that is what matters at the moment. What does matter is that you are holding my bride hostage, and I expect her to be returned to me just as you found her.”
Alex could no longer hold back.
“Just as I found her? Battered and bruised with fingerprints pressed into her throat, ribs cracked, and feet torn to shreds as she fled a father who beat her and a potential husband who arranged for her murder. Nae, I dinna think so. I will never allow her to return to the condition in which I found her.”
“You admit now that you lied, and you do have what’s mine.”
“I dinna lie. She isnae yers never was and never will be, therefore, I havenae aught to give back. Ye forfeited any claim on her when ye attempted to kill her. And if nae then, when ye left her for dead at the bottom of a ravine rather than going to her aid, ye forfeited any claim to her.”
“You cannot deny a betrothal that was witnessed by a priest and sanctioned by the king!” de Soules bellowed.
“And just which priest signed those papers? Is he willing to swear to its legitimacy before a bishop or in a letter to the pope kenning he faces excommunication for falsifying such a document?” Laird Sinclair was looking past de Soules and Kerr to a nervous man riding on a donkey next to Laird Gunn. The man looked ready to wet himself or collapse, perhaps both.
“What say ye, holy mon? Were these papers signed just as Laird Kerr and Lord de Soules claim? The bishop of the Orkneys isnae that far from here. He could be reached in less than a day’s ride. Mayhap ye would care to make yer confession before him?” Laird Sinclair cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. Even with the reins in his hand, he was easily able to cross his arms without his horse moving an inch. As though a silent message floated through the air, all the Sinclair men crossed thei
r arms simultaneously. Laird Mackay had been part of the extended family long enough to pick up the habit as well. An impressive sight when they all stood on the ground, but on horseback, it was like looking at Druid monoliths that had not moved in centuries. They seemed rooted to the spot and impenetrable.
“Nay. I dinna want to make ma confession before the bishop.” The priest looked at the men who surrounded him and then down at the donkey on which he rode before looking back at Laird Sinclair.
“I ken when the documents were signed. Laird Kerr signed just as he said.” He pulled back on the donkey’s reins, and it sidled behind the Gunn’s horse. The stallion did not like having another animal so close behind it and tried to kick out its hindquarters. The donkey brayed as it tried to avoid the much larger, angry horse.
“Get yer arse under control, ye lackwit,” Laird Gunn snarled.
The priest continued to draw his donkey further back and away from the now three irate lords. He brought the animal alongside Laird Gunn, but when the stallion whinnied again and pranced in place, the priest spurred the donkey forward. He attempted to flee to the Sinclairs’ side, but an arrow sailed through the air from the hillside and lodged itself cleanly in the center of the man’s back. The priest fell to the ground, dead before he reached it.
“Ye would have a holy mon killed to hide yer secrets. There will be a place in hell marked just for the two of ye. Ye will be able to spend eternity bound together through yer evil deeds rather than by marriage.” Laird Sinclair did not bother to hide his disdain and disgust. “Enough clishmaclaver. We arenae giving ye the lass, and ye dinna have any proof now that the document isnae a forgery or fake. The only person who might have validated yer claims is now dead. Leave ma land now, peacefully, or ye willnae leave alive.”
The Sinclair signaled his men to fall back. None turned their backs to their enemy but still made their way back towards the gate and the safety of the wall.
His Highland Prize (The Clan Sinclair Book 3) Page 22