“Alex, I ken we agreed ye would lead this parlay, but that just isnae how the conversation went. Ye ken it wasnae because I thought ye couldnae do it?”
“Da, dinna fash. It played out for the best. A battle was inevitable from the moment they showed up on our land. They werenae looking for any other solution. They ken we wouldnae ever give Brighde over to them. They dinna really want her, so much as they want vengeance. If they have a forged document, then they have all they need for the money to remain theirs. The only reason for Brighde is to keep her from telling anyone of their bargain. They want her, so they can silence her. De Soules probably intends to bed her until he is bored before doing away with her just as he did his previous wives.”
They were near the gate when a flash of silver darted out and ran towards them. Alex pushed his horse forward trying to align himself with her path in the hopes it would block the enemy’s sight of her. It was too late. He heard the hooves pounding behind him. He leaned low and swept her up in his arms. The other Sinclairs formed a circle around him facing outwards to guard her. More Mackays joined them from just outside the wall and formed a second, outer circle.
“Brie, what the bluidy hell are ye doing out here?” Alex growled. “I left ye inside where ye were safe. I didna think I had to tell ye nae to come out here. Where is yer common sense, lass?”
Brighde looked up at Alex and then twisted around to see her father, de Soules, and another large man she had never seen before approach.
“I knew you had what belongs to me. Hand her over now, and there will be no siege on your castle. This can all be done with, and we will return home. My bride by my side.”
“She canna be yer bride when she is already ma wife,” Alex said evenly. He saw even a few of his men and his brothers freeze at this pronouncement.
“She cannot be your wife as she is already contracted to be mine. You heard the betrothal agreement. Enough of this ridiculousness. You cannot claim what is not yours.”
“What is mine is the babe that is surely growing within her womb already. What is mine is ma wife who wed me by consent. In this part of Scotland, that is as binding as a kirking. Ye didna contest the marriage before it took place, and now it has been consummated. There is naught ye can do.” Alex looked down at Brighde’s face. She no longer looked at her father or de Soules. She was not even looking at him. Alex knew she was mortified he would admit what they had done before all these people, and she knew there was almost no chance at all that she was carrying his child, but she also knew she would say anything to keep him alive.
“Alex, dinna do this,” she whispered. “I dinna want ye to go into battle. It isnae too late to let me go.”
“Brie, I ken ye fear I willnae come back and I will leave ye too. I canna make ye such a promise as I canna control all that happens on a battlefield, but I can promise ye that I will do all that is within ma powers to always come back to ye. But if I should perish here today, this is yer home. This is yer kin and yer clan. Nae just as ma widow, but in yer own right. Mo ghoal, go back to the keep and dinna come out until I come for ye.”
“Alex, nay. Dinna do this. I havenae a good feeling aboot this. Love makes ye rash in battle. I dinna want ye doing aught impulsive only to get yerself killed.”
Brighde looked around in confusion and irritation as she heard more than one strangled laugh that came out more like a cough. When she felt Alex’s chest rumble with laughter as well, she scowled at him.
“Mo ghoal, I have been called many things in ma life but never have I been called rash or impulsive. The men laugh because they ken that is the last way anyone would describe me. Love doesnae make ye rash in battle, nay, love makes ye keep sight of the goal. I will come back to ye,” Alex leaned in to whisper in her ear, “I will make love to ye the entire night. Rest now for I willnae leave ye alone until I have shown ye every way a mon and woman can come together. Until ye are screaming ma name again in ecstasy. I will teach ye all I ken aboot love play and we can make up more as we go along, but I canna do that until this is done.” Alex sat back up and turned to Tavish and the guardsman next to him, Lewis.
“Tavish, ye and Lewis take Brighde back to the keep and make sure she returns safely to our chamber.” He spoke quietly to his brother then looked down at Brighde and tucked hair behind her ear. The intimate gesture was heartfelt but also done to show his claim to her.
“Bar the door and dinna open it for anyone but me. Have a bath waiting since I’ll need ye to wash ma back.” He kissed her soundly on the lips. “I’m sorry, mo leannan, but I willnae have anyone doubt that ye are mine. I dinna want to embarrass ye, but I must make ma claim obvious before the battle begins.” The words came out so softly that she felt them more than heard them. She nodded her head just enough for him to know she understood. He moved his horse towards Tavish’s and passed her to him.
“To our chamber, lass! Dinna forget.” Alex called as the circle opened and Tavish, along with Lewis, raced back to the keep. The two circles broke apart as more men rode out from the bailey. Nearly threescore men now formed three lines of defense with Alex, the Sinclair, and the Mackay back in the lead. Callum and Magnus were in the second line, one on each side of their family members. The Mackays formed the third line with the laird’s personal bodyguards beside him in the front. Each man had a targe they now lifted before them. A soft whistle from Alex had the men beating the hilt of their swords against their targes in a rhythm that echoed across the field to the men who awaited orders from their own leaders. The three lines of Highlanders slowly advanced, the drumming never ceasing. As they neared de Soules and Kerr again, Alex raised his fist. The men halted and beat their targes more lightly. Alex starred at de Soules, challenging him to refute what they all clearly heard.
Rather than take the bait, de Soules threw down his own gauntlet.
“I take it she’s your whore now. I don’t believe for a moment that she is your wife. How long did it take before she was spreading her thighs for you? A few days, a week at most. You ravaged my bride and took what was mine. You owe me recompense for your theft. I will have it in blood.”
His words fell on deaf ears as Alex tuned out the sound of any voices around him. He homed in on how de Soules held the reins to his horse, how his feet hung in the stirrups. He watched de Soules’s hand hover over the hilt of his own sword. He took in the kind of sword the man carried. Then his eyes slid over Laird Kerr and Laird Gunn. All three men could be formidable opponents, but it was only Laird Gunn who caused him a moment of pause. The Gunn was the only Highlander among the three of them, and the only one who would fight much as he would. He knew Kerr was an experienced warrior as a border reiver, but he was most likely used to the way the British fought. De Soules might claim himself loyal to the Scottish crown now, but he was more English than most Sassenach. His eyes next slid to the movement that was occurring behind the three men and their small entourage. He took in how the men arranged themselves as they began to descend the hill and cross the open field that separated them from their leaders and their opponents. He looked into the trees and counted the darker spots that sat motionless, knowing they were archers. All this information was taken in within the mere moments de Soules taunted him.
Before de Soules could say more than he wanted blood, Alex roared the Sinclair battle cry, “Girnigoe! Girnigoe!” a word that harkened back to their Norse ancestors who settled the Orkneys.
The Sinclairs and Mackays surged forwards with the Mackays shouting their own battle cry, “Bratach Bhan Chlann Aoidh,” or the “White Banner of Mackay.”
They charged forward as archers began to fire on the approaching enemy. Being on horseback came nearly as naturally as holding a sword for these warriors of the north. They maneuvered their horses forward while continuing to bang the hilt of their swords onto their targes, once again creating a cacophony of sound that was meant to intimidate and warn their opponents. It was clear that it was duly noted by many of the inbound warriors who slowed their own h
orses before entering the forming melee.
As Alex plunged into battle, Tavish and Lewis raced through the nearby gates and brought their horses to a halt in front of the stables. Tavish turned his back for only a moment to pass the reins off to a stable boy. Before he could turn back, Brighde dismounted and was running to the stairs by the gatehouse that led up to the battlements. She lifted her skirts all the way to her knees as she ran as fast as her legs could manage. Never had the top of the wall seemed so far away. When she finally reached the top, she dropped her skirts and looked around. She spotted a bow that an archer laid aside when he went to fetch more arrows. There was a quiver standing next to the bow with not many arrows left in it, and Brighde scanned to see how far the bowman was and how soon he would return with more.
Brighde snatched the bow and ran to an opening in the wall directly facing the ensuing battle. She scanned the utter chaos looking for one dark head in particular. She spotted Callum and Tristan who fought back to back. Then she saw Magnus who alone was plowing through men as his sword continuously swung from side to side leaving a wake of dead or broken men. Next, she spotted Laird Sinclair and to his back was Alex. She breathed a silent prayer of thanksgiving as she lifted the bow. It was much heavier than the one she used as a young girl and sporadically since her return to Clan Kerr. She nocked an arrow and pulled back the string as far as she could. She was surprised she was able to pull it almost to its full tautness. She took a deep breath in, and as she slowly exhaled, let the arrow fly. It traveled true to her target and landed in the throat of a man who was charging towards the Sinclair and Alex. She pulled another arrow and shifted her sights to a man on horseback who was barreling towards Magnus. She loosed her arrow and was already nocking another as the arrow she just shot landed between the eyes of the horseman. She aimed for one of the two men who Magnus fought off. That man received an arrow through his chest.
She did not notice as Tavish ran up behind her and tried to pull her away from the wall. She thrust her elbow back into his stomach and faintly heard the whoosh of air leave him. She rapidly fired off the last two arrows that were in the quiver. Once again Tavish reached for her, but she snarled, “More. I need more.”
A brief memory of yelling out something similar under very different circumstances flashed through her mind before she pulled an arrow from the quiver that appeared next to her leg.
Tavish could only stand behind her and watch. At first, he was anxious to move her into the keep as Alex instructed, but as he watched her fire one arrow after another, he was incredulous at her strength and aim. He knew he would incur Alex’s wrath and would deserve it, but Brighde was taking down as many men, if not more, than any of the other archers. Before Tavish knew it, he oversaw that Brighde constantly had a quiver of arrows at the ready. When a few stray arrows made their way over the wall, Tavish yanked her down and covered her with his body, his targe left in the bailey attached to his saddle. As soon as the threat ceased, he allowed her to resume her place. For Brighde, the battle seemed to last an eternity. She could feel her strength flagging, but as long as Alex fought below her, she refused to put down the bow and rest.
Chapter Twenty
Alex was aware of arrows flying down with remarkable speed and accuracy, but he could not afford to take the time to see who the superior archer was. He continued to fight at his father’s back as they made steady progress through the men who came at them and the men they attacked. They called out warnings and instructions to one another, working in tandem to win and most importantly protect one another. Sometime during the middle of the battle, Magnus made his way over to Alex and Laird Sinclair. He quickly dismounted and slapped his horse on its hindquarter. It reared and took off for the safety of the keep and its stall in the stables. Now the three of them fought back to back.
Sweat dripped from Alex’s forehead stinging his eyes as it made its way to the tip of his nose. There was no time to wipe it off or to brush his hair back from his forehead. He settled into his cadence of swinging and thrusting his sword. He was both hyper-focused on the man he fought, unaware of what happened around him, and situationally aware, always sensing when another enemy approached. It was as though he had tunnel vision making his other senses heightened to his surroundings.
At one moment, the sweat blurred his vision, and he stumbled a few steps. He became separated from his father and brother. He and his father dismounted early in the battle, and now he no longer had the protection the height of a horse gave him or the powerful hooves a warhorse was trained to use. He prayed fervently that Noamh made it safely back to the stables. As he swiped his sleeve across his eyes and forehead, his vision cleared to show he was now surrounded by four men, two Kerrs and two Gunns. He was confident in his ability to fight off four men, even when two of them were Highlanders. His battle lust still coursed through him, and he was unaware of a slash he took moments ago from a now slain foe. He did not notice it until he tried to lift his arm higher than his waist. The pain flashed through him like a red-hot poker. He moved to switch sword hands. His father insisted they all learn how to be ambidextrous for this exact reason. As the sword settled into his left hand and he pulled a dirk from his waist, arrows sailed over his head marking each of the four men dead on the spot. Arrows lodged in throats, foreheads, eyes, and chest. Each received two arrows just for good measure. He glanced back over his shoulder but could not make out any of the archers with the sun shining from behind them.
Alex pushed forward until he was able to rejoin his father and brother. By this time, the battle was waning with the Sinclairs and Mackays as the clear winners.
Alex scanned the battlefield and spotted Tristan taking on Laird Gunn. It was clear the Gunn was flagging, and it would not be long before he fell. Tristan toyed with him to wear him out before seizing the opportunity to cut him down. Alex spotted Laird Kerr laying on the ground with his throat slit. He thought for an instant that he should feel a moment of regret for the death of Brighde’s father, but he could dredge up none. He was about to make his way back to his family when he spotted de Soules charging towards him. He forced himself to raise both arms and noticed that the pain in his side was no longer as noticeable. He did not question it and met the man as their swords clashed together. De Soules had the advantage of chain mail which made it harder for Alex to find places to strike and his weapons did not penetrate the armor, but at the same time, the extra weight already began to tire the man. They went back and forth until Alex managed to knock the shield from de Soules’s hand. De Soules turned his head for only an instant, but it was the opening that Alex needed. He raised his dirk and plunged it into de Soules’s neck at the very same moment an arrow whizzed past his ear and lodged itself through the eye opening of de Soules’s helm.
Alex spun around to see who fired an arrow so close to his head and with such precision. He wanted to know who had such self-confidence that they would risk hitting the Laird’s own son to kill the clan’s main adversary. As he squinted and tried to shade his eyes, his father, brothers, and brother-by-marriage stopped beside him.
Tristan nudged him before pointing up to the battlements.
“Looks like yer wee bonnie bride is the one who kept yer arse in one piece. She had a keen eye and some bullocks on that last shot.”
Alex followed Tristan’s finger and spotted Brighde on the battlements. He ran towards a horse that had stopped nearby and swung into the saddle, spurring the animal on before he had both feet in the stirrups. As he approached the gate that was open only halfway as a defense, he laid low and passed underneath, barely clearing the sharp teeth that pointed to the earth. He pulled the horse to a stop just before the stairs leading up and dismounted on the wrong side. He took the steps three at a time. When he reached her, he yanked the bow from her hands and scooped her over his shoulder, marching back to the steps.
“Put me down, Alex.” Brighde’s protest fell on deaf ears. She tried again, but he still did not seem to listen. “Put me down, or I’l
l kick ye in yer cods. Ye ken I will.”
Unceremoniously, he dumped her on her feet just before they reached the stone steps.
“How dare ye humiliate me like that,” she ground out between her teeth as her eyes darted about to see who watched. Before she could say anything else, Alex tugged her to him and covered her mouth for a savage kiss. It was demanding and almost too much as Alex filled her senses with his touch, his taste, and his smell. She fisted his leine as she tugged him closer. She bit his lower lip while he licked her lips. She released his lip and opened to his thrusting tongue. When they could no longer go without taking a breath, they finally pulled apart.
Alex recovered from their kiss faster than Brighde did. He grasped her waist and pinned her to the spot.
“God damn it, Brighde. Why the bluidy hell couldnae ye go to our chambers as I said?”
At first, she thought his trembling was leftover battle lust or even anger, but she looked into his eyes and saw fear. Pure, unadulterated fear. Fear for her. The battle on the field died down, but they both knew archers still hid in the trees, every so often trying to pluck off another archer or warrior. She ran her hands over his chest. She tried to soothe him, and she felt the rise and fall of his chest slow.
“I warned ye that love makes ye rash in battle. I couldnae leave. I had to be sure ye were alright. That ye would be coming back to our chamber.” She grinned, “Och, aye, I heard ye and remembered what ye said. Our chamber, indeed. I’d rather be there right now than here. I dinna want to argue when I’d rather be making up.”
She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, swiping her tongue across his lips.
Alex growled before picking her up. This time, he scooped her into his arms and carefully made his way down the steps. They entered the keep as Mairghread and Siùsan rushed towards the large double doors. They both carried baskets filled with linen strips and medicinals. They would have stopped to ask Brighde to help, but they could tell she had very different plans. Mairghread whispered to Siùsan and jutted her chin towards the blood that was quickly seeping through Alex’s leine. “She’ll notice soon enough and most likely will have to stitch him up.” As the women passed them, Alex paused.
His Highland Prize (The Clan Sinclair Book 3) Page 23