They dressed not a moment too soon, for once they’d donned the last of their clothing, a knock came at the door. Niall slid his sword free and motioned for Leila to stay back.
Unarmed, she had no choice but to do as he asked, though she hated every moment of it. While she knew she could rely on her fists, she wanted her belt of daggers back.
He opened the door and his blade hissed back into its scabbard as he waved their visitors into the small, single room cottage.
Brodie strode in with Bonnie hugging his side. He blinked as he saw Leila and made the sign of the cross. “It worked.”
“Aye,” Niall said. “Lady Davina has saved us all.”
Leila peered behind them. “Is she with you?”
“After she’d saved us, she returned back to the castle,” Brodie replied.
“She dinna want her father to know what she’d done,” Niall said.
“Pray God he never finds out,” Leila added solemnly.
Niall pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll saddle my steed, then we must make haste to depart.” He lifted his pack from the floor beside the table. “The sooner we are at Werrick Castle, the less we have to worry.”
He was inside almost as soon as he’d left. “Riders are approaching.”
Leila threw on the mantle that had been left for her and raced out of the cottage with Brodie and Bonnie beside her. A subtle rumble sounded in the distance, almost like the onset of thunder in an upcoming storm.
Niall cursed under his breath. “They’re approaching swiftly.”
Brodie grimaced. “They must have followed me.”
“It doesna matter now,” Niall said in authoritative tone. “Brodie, take my destrier. He can handle Leila and Bonnie along with ye.”
Leila did not move as Brodie and Bonnie swung up onto Niall’s horse.
“I can fight,” Leila protested. “I would rather die at your side than be separated from you again.”
“Nay.” Niall’s voice was commanding, as it was when he ordered his men. When he spoke again, his tone was softer, more sincere. “I canna lose ye again, mo chridhe.”
“Then we all ride to Werrick together,” Leila insisted. “We can outrun them.”
He cast a regretful glance in the distance where the rumbling grew louder. “Get on the horse with Brodie and Bonnie, or we’ll all die.”
Niall mounted Brodie’s smaller horse as Leila grudgingly climbed between Brodie and Bonnie. With a cry from Niall, they tore off through the forest, abandoning the cottage and making their way to Werrick Castle. Home.
The wooded area was tight with trees and the branches snapped and scratched at them as the horses raced onward. Though the sun shone bright overhead, the wind still carried an iciness to it that stung Leila’s cheeks. A chill started within her, reminiscent of the day before, and rattled through her body.
Even over the sound of their own horses’ hoofbeats, Leila could make out the rumble of the men behind them as the riders came closer. She chanced a glance behind her. Men on horseback raced after them. A group of mayhap twelve men, led by a man she recognized all too well.
Alban.
Niall’s horse rounded abruptly. He shouted something Leila could not make out. But then, it had not been meant for her. Brodie gave a stiff nod and hugged his arms close to her and Bonnie with determination.
“Stop,” Leila gasped. “Niall is turning around.”
“Nay,” Brodie said sharply. “He is the only one they want. I’m to keep ye safe no matter the sacrifice.”
Leila’s heart caught in her throat. “Nay, please. I can help.”
But it was too late. The English border loomed in the distance and not much farther would be Werrick Castle. If she flung herself from the horse, she would surely die from the impact and Bonnie may end up injured as well.
“They would stop at the English border,” Leila cried over the thundering hooves.
“Alban willna care about the border,” Brodie said from behind Leila.
He was right, of course, no matter how awful the truth of it was. Leila twisted in the saddle, helpless as she looked over her shoulder. Niall sat proud and tall on Brodie’s horse, disappearing into the distance as he faced down their foe completely on his own.
He was a strong fighter, but against twelve men… Thirteen, including Alban.
All too soon, Niall was gone, lost in the distance. Why had she not seen this future? How could she not have known this was coming?
She choked back a cry of frustration and held tight to Bonnie’s small frame as they raced even faster across the countryside. Werrick Castle rose like a beacon on the horizon, a sight that would have been welcome earlier, but was now a symbol of what she had lost.
The portcullis raised as they approached. Brodie did not slow the destrier until they were in the bailey of Werrick Castle where Peter, the Master of the Horse, ran to see to the steed.
Leila slid from her horse on weak knees, along with Brodie and Bonnie.
“We left him.” The words echoed in the void within Leila’s chest.
“We had to,” Brodie said. “’Tis what he asked me to do.”
An excited shout rose from the castle, pulling Leila’s attention to her four blonde sisters rushing from the castle’s arched entryway toward her, each one dexterous and graceful, one with a bow slung over her back.
A mixture of emotions flew through Leila in rapid succession: joy to see those she loved again for the first time, fear at the risk of their travel through the pestilence-laden land and hope that she might have help. That they might all be able to save Niall.
Anice reached her first, face flushed. “Leila. Thanks be to God you are safe.”
Leila reached for Anice’s hand. “We must go to him. Please. He’ll die.”
“What are you talking about, Lamb?” Anice stroked the hair from Leila’s face in a motion she recalled well from her childhood. “What’s happened?”
“Niall,” Leila said. “The Lion.”
Marin pulled Leila into her arms in an encompassing hug that smelled of lavender and comfort. “The Lion? Leila…”
“I met him,” Leila said. “We have to go after him. To save him.”
Ella and Catriona were both there suddenly, embracing Leila. It was then Leila noticed Brodie and Bonnie standing there.
“This is Brodie and his sister, Bonnie,” Leila explained. “They helped me escape, except Niall—”
“Leila?” A frail voice came from the entryway of the castle and stopped her words as well as her heart.
She spun around to find her father bundled heavily against the cold, with Rose at his side helping him to walk with the aid of a new cane.
He was alive. Leila’s spirits buoyed for a brief moment and she found herself running to him.
His face was too thin, but his eyes crinkled with the same affectionate joy they’d always held. Her sisters crowded around her as she gently embraced her father.
There would be much to explain to them and little time to do it. She only hoped she wouldn’t be too late.
The Lion faced the men charging toward him, and like his namesake, he lay in wait for his prey. His focus centered on Alban whose red hair shone in the overcast light. The arrogant bastard had thought Niall so easy to take down, he hadn’t even bothered with a helm as protection for his head.
The cur would learn his lesson today.
A quick glance over Niall’s shoulder told him the remainder of the party was traveling over the English border. Some of the tension abated from his muscles. Leila was safe, as well as Bonnie.
He winced at the twinge in his chest, at having to let Leila go. Alban and his men would have caught them all if Niall had not stopped to fight.
Alban threw a dagger as he rode closer, but Niall did not swerve from its path. He’d known the attempt to be poorly aimed. He didn’t flinch as it sailed past him at a speed that would have bounced from his gambeson even if it had hit. It was a pathetic attempt. A true warrior would
know better than to lose a weapon in such a careless fashion.
It would cost the younger man his life.
Niall adjusted his grip on the hilt of his sword. After a lifetime of serving someone unworthy of his loyalty, he had abandoned his previous role. He now had only two points of focus: to ensure Leila’s safety and to avenge the death of his father.
Leila would be in Werrick Castle soon, leaving only the purpose of vengeance.
Niall waited until the men were nearly upon him before he charged, his blade held aloft to catch Alban just above the knee where the greaves ceased to protect his leg. Alban jerked aside at the last minute and spun about on his horse in an attempt to strike Niall.
“Stay back,” Alban ordered his men, who promptly fell back.
Some of the guards with him were men Niall had commanded previously, but ones who had always paid homage to the Lord Armstrong and his son.
Alban’s horse circled Niall’s. Each man brandished his weapon in preparation for battle. Alban lashed out with his sword, but Niall dodged the blow and parried with one of his own. He feigned right before jabbing left, stabbing his blade hard against Alban’s gambeson.
The whoreson flew backward, thrown off his horse, and landed with a solid grunt. It would be easy to kill him now; a stamp of a hoof, a dagger to the throat. But Niall wouldn’t lower himself to such a level. Not like Alban would have.
Instead, Niall jumped from his steed. “Get up and fight like a man.”
Alban groaned and dragged himself to his feet. He pulled his sword free and glowered at Niall. “Ye’ll wish ye killed me when ye had the chance.”
“I fully intend to.” Niall lunged first, swinging his blade toward the cur’s throat.
Alban stepped back with a cocky grin and thrust his sword at Niall, who ducked to the side.
“Did ye know about my da?” Niall gestured to the reivers that stood by as the two fought. “Do they know about him?”
“That he was always in the way?” Alban wielded his blade with two hands and brought it down with enough force to fell a tree.
Niall darted out of the way, then ran at Alban with his blade aimed toward the bastard’s heart. Alban blocked the hit. Their swords clanged together and held for a long moment, rasping the discordant song of metal scraping metal.
“My father was killed, and an innocent woman was accused of being a witch,” Niall ground out. “Same as yer da did to Leila.”
Alban shoved Niall back with such force, they both staggered a step. “It was yer fault. Ye escaped with Leila, and ye took her as yer lover. Ye fool. And ye killed yer da the day ye kidnapped Lord Elliot. If ye hadna—”
“Nay,” Niall roared. “Yer father killed him.” He rushed at Alban and arced his sword toward the bastard. No sooner had Alban blocked one strike, Niall had another sailing toward him, then another, and yet another still. The sharp ring of weapons clashing was staccato as their blades met again and again and again.
Niall’s muscles burned with aggression. If they tired, as they often did in battle, he did not feel it. The power of his need for vengeance was too great.
Niall’s sword caught on Alban’s arm and a bright blossom of crimson bloomed on his white shirt, visible in the parting of his cloak. The injury did not appear to slow Alban down as he continued to evade the blows. At first.
Several hits later, his movements began to slow as exhaustion worked into his muscles. And that was exactly what Niall had expected. What he needed.
“Ye’ll pay for what ye did to Leila.” Niall swept his sword left, then right. Too quickly for Alban to evade the hit.
Niall’s blade sank into the soft side of Alban’s torso. His eyes went wide with surprise. Niall pulled his weapon free and watched as his opponent staggered back in shock. Niall should walk away, mayhap use Alban as a means of escaping the other clansmen.
He could return to Werrick Castle with Leila, to live out their life. Except that Alban and Lord Armstrong would get away with all they’d done. Mayhap do it to someone else.
Niall stepped closer and let every awful memory pour over him.
When Alban had tried to rape Leila.
Another step.
How he’d terrified her to the point of mutilating herself to obtain a weapon.
Niall stopped in front of Alban. “Yer da will pay for what he made me do to Leila and what happened with my da. Ye both will.”
On the final word, he shoved his sword into Alban’s chest, between the plates of leather in the gambeson so the sharp sword punctured through bone and cartilage. Niall didn’t stop pushing the weapon into Alban until the hilt touched the man’s stained gambeson and blood flowed hot over Niall’s hands.
A choked cry issued forth from Alban’s mouth, along with a string of pink saliva. Niall pulled his weapon free as the first Armstrong guard crashed into him.
The attacker was too close for Niall to strike with his sword, so he slammed the pummel of his weapon into the man’s back. The guard grunted in pain and released Niall. He jabbed his blade into the man’s shoulder as a second man descended upon him. Then a third, and a fourth.
Sweat poured down his brow and stung his eyes. There was a saltiness in his mouth, but he didn’t know if it was from sweat as well, or blood. It had been reckless to kill Alban. He knew that. But he had to do it.
A life for a life, and he was not done yet.
Niall thrust his sword where he could, finding critical hits. He’d always been a damn good warrior, but even a damn good warrior could not take on twelve reivers and walk away unscathed.
The first blade nicked Niall on the forearm of his sword arm. The second strike was a gash to his thigh that left his leg weak and heavy. The third was a fist to the eye that sent him reeling backward. He fell to the ground, battered and bleeding.
Leila.
Her image rose in his mind, the way she’d looked at him with fear when he left her. Even without her visions, she had worried it might come to this. He’d seen it the night before, when regret creased her brow for having told him about his father’s death.
A foot raised over Niall’s face, preparing to come down and end his life.
“Nay,” one of the guards said. “The earl will want to deal with him personally.”
With that, Niall was hauled to his feet, head lolling, and put roughly on the back of a horse. Lord Armstrong would seek to claim vengeance for his son, but Niall still had his own to see to. For certes, when this war was over and done, vengeance would only be claimed by one.
24
Leila gathered with her family and Brodie in the warm, familiar comfort of the solar, while Nan took Bonnie into the kitchen for some honey pastries. Rose joined them as well and remained at the earl’s side, as tender and gentle in her assistance as she’d been with Leila when she was ill.
As quickly as she could, Leila shared the details of what had transpired at Liddesdale Castle, about how Niall had indeed taken her, how he had shown her kindness, how he managed to break down her defenses and they’d came to love one another. It was at this part of the story, she left out some of the more intimate details that her family, most especially her father, would be best not knowing. Regardless, Ella gave her a knowing grin, but then, she always did love a romantic tale.
Leila went on to tell them how Niall had tried to free her, about their capture, and eventually about Niall drowning her.
“He did it?” Marin gasped. “He actually did it?”
Leila looked at her a long moment and remembered all at once that final vision she’d tucked against her heart, the last one she’d seen as she was dying. It had been lost momentarily in the recesses of her dark memory when life slipped from her body.
“He had no choice,” Brodie spoke up. “Leila’s bravery and Niall forcing himself to do the impossible saved my sister. We left Niall fighting Lord Armstrong’s son and twelve guards on his orders. I had no choice but to obey.”
“Thirteen men is no mean feat,” Anice said softly.
There was a delicate note to her voice, one that suggested it might be too great an obstacle.
“But not impossible,” Cat added brightly.
“Niall would be too great a prize,” Brodie said. “They wouldna kill him on the field with over a dozen men against him. He knew that. They’ll bring him to Liddesdale Castle to have him strung up before the people.”
“’Tis true,” Lord Werrick agreed with a somber expression. His thin chest expanded in a sigh. “We will have more than a few soldiers to contend with, my daughters.”
“It matters not.” Catriona fingered her bow. “We shall fight, as will our husbands when they return from their hunt.”
She’d told Leila how the men went out hunting in the nearby forest opposite the village where no one else went. It helped the staff of Werrick and guaranteed everyone’s strength stayed up to resist the pestilence.
“All of us will fight.” Anice looked around at all the sisters, who nodded in unison. “Together.”
“I wish Drake were here,” their father lamented. Drake, the former Captain of the Guard, had left the earl’s service to pursue his own life, and they were all glad to see him achieve the happiness he’d found. Sir Richard, who had been Captain of the Guard before Drake, had returned from retirement to serve while the earl tried to find a permanent replacement.
And while their father didn’t say it, Leila and her sisters all knew this rescue would be too difficult for Sir Richard to take on at his age.
“We can do it without Sir Richard.” Marin lifted her head with the air of authority she’d always held. “Our guards spent years following me before. They can do so again now.”
“Nay, let them stay here, lest it cause a war between England and Scotland.” Leila got to her feet and everyone turned to look at her. “And, forgive me, Sister, but you cannot come.”
Marin’s face flushed. “Why would I not? Surely, you don’t think me too old?”
Leila shook her head as she approached her sister. “I had a vision before I died.”
Leila’s Legacy Page 20