Wicked Highland Heroes

by Tarah Scott

  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. Talbot 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.”

  “Have 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.

  “Mayhap ye should get some rest, laird,” Diana told him.

  He shook his head. “I will stay.”

  “Ye look tired,” she insisted.

  “Not as tired as my wife. Should not the babe have come by now?”

  “Ah, so that is it,” she said. “Ye fear something is wrong because the baby hasna’ rushed into the world to meet you.”

  Frustration wore jagged on his nerves. “You need not worry, my lady wife.”

  “Lady wife, is it?” Rhoslyn croaked a laugh.

  Diana wrung out a cloth with cool water and mopped her brow.

  “Your lady wife is well enough,” Rhoslyn said. “St. Claire, ye know nothing about birthing babies. He will come when he is ready. Some come quickly.” She stiffened and groaned with another contraction. When the pain passed, she said, “Some take their time.”

  This child took another four hours. But at last Rhoslyn could no longer resist the urge to push, and Diana told her it was time.

  What seemed eons later, Diana cried, “I see the head.”

  Talbot jerked his gaze in her direction and froze at sight of his son’s dark hair peeking out from the sheets that covered Rhoslyn’s midsection and thighs.

  “Push again, my lady,” Diana ordered.

  Rhoslyn’s jaw tightened.

  “Harder,” Diana cried.

  Rhoslyn groaned with effort. In the next instant, the baby came free with a wail that brought a tightening in Talbot’s chest as Rhoslyn collapsed back onto the pillows.

  “Well, well,” Diana said. “It seems ye have a daughter, laird.”

  Talbot broke from the spell. “What?”

  Diana held up the baby. “A daughter.”

  A daughter.

  Diana cleaned the baby, then wrapped her in a small blanket and lay her in Rhoslyn’s arm. “Ye must feed her.”

  Talbot sat on the bed beside Rhoslyn. He watched transfixed as Rhoslyn guided their daughter’s mouth to her nipple. The babe fumbled for an instant, then latched on as if starving.

  Diana laughed. “There is a lass who knows what she wants.”

  A few minutes later, Talbot became aware of Diana cleaning up the bedding and cloths. He lifted Rhoslyn and the babe and held them while she spread clean bedding. His chest tightened when Rhoslyn leaned into him and fell asleep with the baby at her breast.

  A daughter. He had expected a son. It only made sense they would have daughters, but he had been so sure their first child would be a son. What did a man do with a daughter? Would she always be so...fragile?

  Diana finished and he gently laid Rhoslyn and their daughter back on the mattress.

  Rhoslyn woke and looked at him. “I know ye wanted a son, St. Claire.”

  He tore his gaze from the small bundle and sat on the mattress beside her. Had she been reading his mind? Nay, he never thought he didn’t want a daughter. What in God’s name did a man do with a daughter?

  He shook his head. “I wanted our child. Nothing more.”

  “But ye talked of nothing but a son.”

  “As did you,” he said.

  Rhoslyn shifted and held the baby out toward him. He didn’t move.

  “Ye should hold your daughter,” she said.

  Suddenly, his heart quaked and it seemed every fiber of his being shook. He allowed Rhoslyn to cradle the baby against him, the small head resting in the crook of his arm. He didn’t move.

  The women laughed.

  “She willna’ break,” Diana said.

  “She is so tiny.” He smoothed a tiny lock of hair away from her face. “She has my father’s dark hair.” He looked at Rhoslyn and was startled to see tears in her eyes. “What is amiss?” He sat on the bed beside her, then stood again and looked around for Diana.

  Diana rolled her eyes. “Sit beside your wife.” She gave him a gentle shove and he sat dow
n.

  “What is wrong, my lady?” he asked Rhoslyn. “Are you ill?”

  She shook her head, her eyes on the baby. “She doesna’ have your fair hair.”

  Then he understood. Talbot leaned forward and brushed a kiss on Rhoslyn’s sweat soaked forehead, then whispered, “I see a hint of your red hair. She is beautiful.” He placed the baby in Rhoslyn’s arms and was reminded of Lady Taresa’s words. “Have you ever been so in love, that you would have thrown all caution to the wind for her?”

  And he understood.

  “If ye dinna’ let me see my grandchild, I will kill you, St. Claire,” Seward called from the other side of the curtain.

  Diana pulled the curtain back and Seward entered. Sir Derek stood beyond, near the hearth, staring into the fire as if none of them existed. Something he held glistened in the firelight and Talbot realized it was a length of gold and ruby jewelry.

  Seward stopped beside Talbot. “A daughter?” he said.

  Talbot shifted his gaze to the baron. “Aye.”

  “Give her to me,” Seward said. “She needs to know her grandfather.”

  * * *

  Rhoslyn awoke to a squalling baby.

  “She is hungry again.” Diana laid the baby at Rhoslyn’s breast.

  Rhoslyn tugged down the top of her shirt and the baby latched onto the exposed nipple.

  “She is a lusty one,” Diana said. “Have ye named her yet?”

  Rhoslyn looked at St. Claire. He stood at the side of the bed, staring down at the baby with the same dazed look he’d had since she placed the baby in his arms. It seemed that becoming a father had reduced the mighty warrior to mush.

  Rhoslyn unexpectedly remembered her intention to ask St. Claire about Abbess Beatrice. What would have happened had the abbess not told him of Rhoslyn’s flight from the convent? She would be in Longford Castle married to Jacobus and waiting for their child to be born. No, St. Claire said he would have razed the castle, then brought her home.

  She smiled. “What say you, St. Claire? Have we a name?”

  He shook his head.

  “Mayhap we should name her after your mother.”

  “Aye,” he said, but she knew he wasn’t really listening.