Her Highlander's Lion Heart (Scottish Highlander Romance)

by Barbara Bard

  His brother Lukas rode up alongside him, knowing his brother well and knowing when he spotted something that disturbed him. “What is it?”

  Sean searched but saw nothing—he was most certain that he heard the approach of incoming horses. “I cannae tell,” he said, shaking his head. “Something is not right.”

  Both of them searched and found nothing.

  “Gae,” Sean said. “Inform Lady Isla something is nae as it should be…”

  Lukas waited no time and rode to the head of the caravan as Sean kept watch. “My Lady,” Lukas said with haste, “Sean senses that something is wrong.”

  Finlay craned his neck and looked at Sean behind him off in the distance, Sean’s demeanor and erect body indicated that danger was imminent. “All right, Gavina,” he said calmly to the child. “We must resume this lesson later.”

  Gavina sighed. “Aye,” she said. “But do nae forget!”

  “I will not.” He looked up at Denholm. “Denholm, fetch a horse from the caravan. Ride with me.”

  “Aye,” Denholm said as he ordered a man to take over the duties of driving the wheel wagon. Once Denholm was mounted on his horse, he rode back with Finlay to the rear of the caravan and stood there on guard with Sean, Lukas, and James.

  “What do ye see?” Finlay inquired.

  “Nae a thing,” Sean said. “But I am maist certain I am making out the noise of horses. Very thrawn the noise be…”

  Finlay turned his head up, almost sniffing the air as he felt his anxiety and tension increase as the moments passed. He knew the noise was coming from over the hill, where the caravan had just passed. He knew the options were limited to waiting for said noise to catch up or check it out in advanced before the worst could end up playing out. “We ride together,” he said. “Stay close. Be on your guard.”

  The group of five tightened their formation, rested a steady hand on the hilt of the broadswords, and began hustling back up the terrain with a quick, yet cautious, rhythm.

  At the head of the caravan, Isla continued leading her people forward as she looked over her shoulder and saw five of her best men dwindle into small blurs of black as the ascended the terrain. She knew right away that something dire was about to play out.

  Finlay, leading James, Denholm, Sean and Lukas down the hill, rode for a short distance before spotting the source of the commotion that James picked up on. “Hell,” Finlay said with dismay. “Sean, yer ears do nae deceive ye…”

  Ten men, standing in a straight line and dressed in the chainmail and trappings of the Sassenach, came to a halt a hundred yards from Finlay and his men with foreboding and chill inducing postures.

  “Lord Henry’s men,” Denholm said. “Nae question.”

  “Ye can’t say that fer certain,” Lukas added.

  Denholm pointed. “Look there. Ye can see the house insignia for the Enticknaps on their tunics.”

  “We should slice them all of fae those tunics and burn it with the rest of them.”

  “Patience, Lukas. We must be cautious.”

  Lukas looked at Finlay. “How was it that they found us so fast?”

  Finlay sighed. “Lord Enticknap most likely had grown disturbed after his scout did nae return. We can expect more of this once we dispatch of the men ahead of us.”

  “We require more men in order tae accomplish that,” James said. “The odds are four against ten.”

  “He is right,” Denholm added. “There are mair of them then us, Finlay.”

  “We can handle it.”

  “Finlay—it is ten men against five!”

  Finlay slowly drew his broadsword from its sheath. “Aye,” he said. “And they should hae brought mair…”

  The men beside him responded by pulling their own swords, their bellies full of fear, but hearts filled with the appetite for vengeance as the ten Sassenach riders also produced their weapons and began spacing themselves out.

  “I will take the middle,” Finlay said. “Denholm, ye are with me. The rest of you flank the other sides. We will tear these bastards apart one limb at a time.”

  Silence held sway for a moment as both sides waited for the other to initiate the assault. A moment later, the center Sassenach rider raised his sword, pointed it, and hollered out a primal war cry that caused every man in the vicinity to charge with full force toward their enemy.

  Both sides charged, the distance closing quickly and the rage on each man’s face coming into closer view. Finlay, tearing up down the center, raised his sword, connected eyes with the man in front of him, and swung. Finlay’s first blow caught the center man across the chest, tearing at his flesh and knocking him from his mount, where he made impact with the ground and broke his neck. Finlay, though all of the men with him had their individual strengths, was by far the most talented with his sword. He parried, and struck, and moved with a quick an aquiline stride as he fought, his teeth gritted and muscles rippling under his tunic from the strain.

  James, on the left, ducked under duel blows from two of the Sassenach riders as he removed a hatchet from his left side, spun it, and threw it with a fast and graceful overhand swing that caught the rider directly on his right in-between the eyes. The rider fell from his mound and onto his back, the blade of the hatchet digging into his spin and leaving him utterly paralyzed before James finished him off with a blow to the head. James then engaged the other rider, the two exchanging blows and parries as the clinking of metal chimed like a church bell.

  Denholm, exchanging blows with two of the riders, grunted, howled, and screamed at them with a wide set of eyes. The rider on his right swung a blade toward his head, Denholm then ducking under and throwing his elbow into the man’s nose where it then proceeded to break. He wore the riders down, clanging steel on his left and right in quick succession, his brawn overpowering to their significantly smaller frames and knocking the man on his left from his horse.

  With a backhanded fist, Denholm struck the man on the right and knocked him down as well before dismounting. He engaged both men, working his feet and dodging or countering blow after blow. The man on his left, raising his sword high and exposing his chest, was caught in the sternum with a stab from Denholm’ steel, dropping him quickly before Denholm did the same to the man on his right.

  However, Lukas was not as lucky in his fight. He had managed to keep himself protected and fought off two incoming attacks from the riders for some time, but found himself wounded due to his old age and a lung sickness he had never seemed to recover from.

  He rode in circles around the Sassenach riders, parrying attacks one after the other before feeling the fatigue quickly catching up to him. After a few more exchanges with two of the knights, positioned directly in front and facing him was Finlay, all the men fighting now finding themselves in a cluttered huddle. It was moments later that one of the men attacking Finlay came in from behind him and attempted to behead him with a swing of his sword. Finlay ducked down, and the momentum of the Sassenach’s swing lobbed off Lukas’ head in one clean swipe.

  “Lukas!” Sean hollered as he leapt off his horse, retrieved the hatchet from the man he had killed, and threw it directly into the spine of the man that killed his brother, screaming and hollering and turning a dark shade of red from the rage that had quickly built up inside of him.

  Finlay, having done away with two more of the Sassenach riders, dismounted his horse and saw that every man in the area was now facing off against one another. With three noblemen left standing, Finlay, Denholm and James charged at the Sassenach and engaged, their legs and arms on fire and sweat coating their bodies like a torrential downpour was hailing from above.

  Finlay exchanged several blows with one of the men before catching him in the back. Denholm, as one of the men charged at him, planted his boot in the man’s chest, kicked him to the ground, and finished him off with a blow to the head. James, full of fire, hate, and fury, struck the last man standing repeatedly before wearing him down to the ground where he proceeded to beat him wit
h both of his fist. The last Sassenach rider’s face was contorted and completely disfigured by the time James had finished; Finlay and Denholm standing to the side and witnessing the brutality with tight mouths and watchful eyes.

  The noise died down, with nothing but the mournful cry of James calling out and cutting through the void as only he, Denholm, and Finlay found themselves to be the last men standing. Finlay could not help but note the seething stare that James threw in his direction as they stood with their broadswords still clutched firmly in their grips—no doubt blaming him for the fate that had met his brother Lukas.

  Chapter 15

  It had been seven hours since Finlay, James, and Denholm had engaged the Sassenach riders. They salvaged what weapons and provisions they could from the bodies before catching up with the caravan, informing Isla of what had transpired, and set about burying Lukas’ body in the Highlands where Sean proceeded to weep for some time.

  That night, a small fire was built, provisions were consumed, and Isla, James, Finlay, and Sean once again gathered to hold a council.

  “Sean,” Isla said, a hand on the man’s shoulder, “I cannae express my sympathies.”

  “I do nae need sympathy,” Sean said. “Enough of that has been offered up.”

  “Nonetheless, we weep fer yer brother.”

  “Ye weep? Nae. Nae, I weep. Tae much so. How long must this continue before no one is left?”

  “Ye must relax, Sean. This day has been burdensome fer ye.”

  Sean stood, somewhat exhausted from the day’s events but still sprightly and eager to take his revenge out on every Sassenach man he could find. He looked at Finlay with an accusatory gaze. “Ye,” he said. “Had ye have nae moved, me brother would still be alive.”

  “Sean,” Denholm cut in. “There was nae way of Finlay tae ken of what was going tae happen. It was a fight—they are unpredictable. Naw one is tae blame except for the bastard’s that took yer brother’s life.”

  “Lies! He ken the odds. He ken that there were more of them than us! Finlay Baird led us in blind tae a fight he ken that someone was bound tae perish fae!” Sean shook his head, pacing in a circle and feeling completely at a loss. “None of this happened before Finlay Baird showed up.”

  Isla felt disturbed at the thought of Finlay leading a charge with her men, her family, her brother, when he knew the odds were stacked against them. Nonetheless, she tried to maintain her composure. “The Sassenach have pursued us before his presence,” she added. “Acting as if Finlay Baird somehow brought down a greater threat is reaching fer answers.”

  “But now that he is here their ferocity has increased ten-fold. We are all being killed off. One at a time!” His voice became loud to the point that others in the camp were beginning to take notice and looking out of their resting places to get a better look.

  Isla closed her eyes. “That is enough, Sean. I will nae hae ye inciting trouble.”

  “Nae! I do nae—”

  Isla slammed her fist on the log she was seated on. “Enough!”

  All of those in attendance fell silent at her lioness-like roar. Even Finlay felt himself unnerved by the volume of it.

  Isla stood, calmed herself, and clasped her hands in front of her. “We all ken that this was going tae happen. It was only a matter of time. Our goals have nae changed, and they will nae change.” She looked at Sean. “I want ye rested. I do not want tae see ye before the morning when we break down our camp. I do nae begrudged ye in yer current state of mind, but ye will nae, will nae cause problems as a result. Is that understood?”

  It took Sean a moment, but he nodded his contrition.

  “Gae,” Isla said. “Pray fae yer brother. And then ye will rest. Yer sword and strength are tae valuable tae nae hae.”

  Sean stood, solemn, and bowed his head. “Aye, me Lady,” he said before moving away toward his tent.

  Isla sighed as she sat back down, her weary face illuminated in the fire and positive sensations she had felt in the morning like completely subsided. “It is only a matter of time before Lord Henry of Sanford receives word of what has transpired.”

  “We were lucky, my Lady,” Finlay said. “The odds were nae in our favor.”

  Denholm held up his hand. “It was yer skills that assisted greatly. Ye took down some of those men with ease.”

  Finlay didn’t respond. He was much too humble for that.

  “I am grateful,” Isla said, “fer the courage that was displayed today fae all of ye…” Her eyes wandered, a perturbed thought nagging her in the back of her mind. “Denholm,” she said to her brother. “May I speak with Finlay Baird alone?”

  Tamas stood. “Aye, me Lady,” he answered before giving her a light squeeze on the arm and moving away.

  Finlay stood as Isla drifted back toward her tent and picked up on the deliberate distance that she was putting between them. They entered her dwelling quietly, Isla closing the flap behind them as she stood a few feet shy from him and hung her head.

  “What is wrong, Isla?” Finlay said, feeling more comfortable now to address her by her first name.

  It took Isla a moment to find the words. “Something troubles me,” she said.

  “That is apparent.”

  She closed her eyes. “I dinnae ken…I dinnae ken what I am feeling.”

  “Try yer best to describe it.”

  Isla sighed, trying with all her might to find the words to properly describe the conflicted feelings building up inside of her. “Perhaps this was a mistake,” she said.

  Finlay felt his heart beating faster than he would have liked. It was beating not with adoration, but with fear. “What is a mistake, me Lady?”

  Isla leveled a guilt-ridden look at Finlay. “Ye and I,” she said. “What we hae been doing.”

  “My intention is to help ye. That is all.”

  “It is nae so, Finlay Baird. We both ken that our time together has been more than that…”

  Finlay nodded. He wanted desperately to reach out and rest his hand on top of hers, but he knew that it was a gesture that felt inappropriate for the moment. “I am nae certain what it is that troubles ye so.”

  “It is us. It is yer presence. I feel that yer arrival here has distracted me leadership and has also brought forth the terror of Lord Henry Enticknap in a way that cannae be measured like it once was.”

  “He would hae come fer ye regardless, my Lady.”

  “I am aware. But he nae doubt suspects that ye are hiding amongst us.”

  “How can ye be certain?”

  “A feeling.”

  “A feeling?”

  “They hae nae betrayed me before, and I fear that this, us, will bring nothing but torment fer everyone here.”

  He sighed. “I can leave.”

  “Nae,” she protested, the thought of Finlay being gone driving her mad. “I dinnae want that.”

  “Then what dae ye want?”

  Isla thought long and hard—but she could not come up with an answer.

  Finlay shut his eyes. He didn’t understand. Things between them had been progressing so well, so naturally. But people were dying. The Sassenach were closing in by the second. In that moment—he couldn’t help but blame himself as well.

  “If I hae done anything,” he said, “it has only been fer the greater good of ye all.”

  “I ken.”

  “Is it what happened today, my Lady? The death of Sean’s brother?”

  “Ye couldn’ae control that.”

  “That is nae what Sean believes.”

  She took his hand into hers. “Listen tae me,” she said, trying to soothe him with her tone, “I am grateful fer what ye have done. I am. But once me people and I find our new home…” She trailed off, her words evading her.

  But Finlay knew well what she was trying to say. “Ye want me tae leave?”

  It took her a long moment to answer. She didn’t want to tell him. She couldn’t. She knew in her gut he needed to leave, but she just couldn’t bring herself to s
ay it out loud.

  Finlay huffed, hanging his head and willing to do whatever it was that Isla asked of him. “I seem tae attract the burden of bad luck wherever I gae.”

  “Please…” she shook her head, tears welling in her eyes, “Please dinnae think that.”

  “Yet I cannae help but wonder, my Lady.” He brushed the tears gently away with a finger. “Me life has been one filled with too much strife. Perhaps my brother was correct when he told me that my life it is one best lived on me own.” Finlay then kissed her gently on the cheek, stood, and left the tent.

  Isla collapsed on her cot, angry at herself and the confusion and overwhelming emotions running through her mind. She felt lost; completely vulnerable and praying that someone would tell her what to do.