by Paula Quinn
Chapter Eleven
We should not have left her.” Finn, as he usually did, kept his horse close to Rob’s while they rode out of Ayrshire.
“’Twas her choice,” Rob told him for the third time since they had left the Abbey.
“But would she not have come if we’d taken Captain Asher with us?”
Rob closed his eyes and cursed himself, also for the third time, for not tying Finn to Angus’s horse when he sent the old warrior off to England. The last thing he wanted to do right now was think of Davina. ’Twas better this way. He was wrong to offer to bring her home. Just because Asher had found them didn’t mean Gilles would. Davina was not his kin. Hell, he had doubts about her even being Scottish. He had no place in her life, not only because her life belonged to God, but because it would likely get him and those he loved killed. Men were out to kill her and both she and her captain were too afraid to tell him why. He certainly wasn’t fool enough to believe an entire Dutch fleet had come for her because of whom she was betrothed to—unless they sought to convert their faith. Hell, he’d been mad to even consider bringing her home! He hated leaving her, but she was not his charge, his wife, or his lover. He was quite certain she didn’t like him and she sure as hell didn’t trust him, especially after Asher showed up from the dead. So what duty did he have to her? None. She and Asher would be quite safe at Courlochcraig. Without an army on the front lawn to trumpet her presence, ’twas easier to hide, and there were dozens of old bolt holes in the Abbey if Gilles did come.
“Tell me again why we could not bring him?”
“He’s English,” Rob growled.
Finn cleared his throat and looked up from under his emerald cap. “Half of me is English.”
“Aye,” Rob said, “but that half of ye will never lead an army across the cliffs of Elgol to cause us harm or to change our customs and beliefs.”
“And you believe Captain Asher will?”
“He might. I canna’ take the chance.”
Finn nodded, finally turning fully forward in his saddle, away from Courlochcraig, and hopefully putting an end to his queries.
It wasn’t that Rob minded Finn’s curious nature. The lad was eager to learn—and that was a good thing. ’Twould help him become a better warrior. But Graham Grant’s youngest son wasn’t as innocent as he looked. And right now, he knew perfectly well what he was doing. But Rob would not be persuaded to change his mind. The lass had chosen to stay with her captain.
“Rob?”
“What?” He sighed, readying himself for a journey plagued with Finn ever at his side.
“Connor is a captain in the King’s Royal Army… and my Uncle Connor Stuart is a High Admiral, aye?”
Rob flicked him a lethal look, knowing what was coming. Aye, guileless his arse.
“Well, I was simply wondering… if my brother risked his life to find ye to warn ye of danger, would ye send him back to England knowing this same enemy he warned ye of would shoot him on sight?”
Och, hell, what was he to say to that? He would never have sent his friend away. He would not have left without him either. Rob’s stomach churned with the shame that suddenly erupted toward his throat. “What the hell am I doin’?” he asked himself aloud. Instead of admiring Davina’s loyalty—which was a virtue he valued above any other—he had let his anger over her affection for Asher control him. Anger he had no right to feel; control he abhorred losing to any emotion—especially jealousy. Damn him to Hades, how could he have let this happen? ’Twas why love was always last on his list of goals. It did horrendous things to men, like make them behave irrationally, recklessly. Not that he loved Davina Montgomery. He certainly was not that foolish, and it was high time he began behaving like it.
“Come on,” Rob said, wheeling his stallion around.
“Where are we going?” Finn called out, already ten breaths behind. Without waiting for a reply, he kicked his mount’s flanks and thundered forward, back toward the Abbey with Will and Colin close behind.
“Ye know perfectly well where we’re goin’, ye bastard,” Rob told him when Finn caught up. “But if ye’re so clever, how the hell could ye have let me leave her to the safety of bolt holes?”
“Well, I…” Finn’s face went pale looking over Rob’s shoulder. “Who in blazes are they?”
Rob turned to see and his blood went cold. A small group of men were riding over the bridge from the west, all wearing the same style of uniform that he’d seen on the men attacking St. Christopher’s. They were heading for Courlochcraig. For Davina.
“Ride!” Rob shouted with a flash of his long blade. “We’ll cut them off before they enter the town!”
He did not let himself worry if Colin and Finn could stand the battle. He was going to kill every soldier before his lads entered the fray. He drove his mount harder as images of what those soldiers would have done to Davina if he hadn’t been there invaded his thoughts. Ignoring the soreness of his wounded shoulder, Rob snapped his reins faster, gaining speed until the outstretched sword in his hand sliced the air with a deadly whistle.
It wasn’t long before he came up close behind the last man in the group. The soldier turned, and seeing the enormous claymore above his head, opened his mouth to scream a warning to his comrades. His head flew through the air, forever silenced. In the time it took the next rider to decide to stop and fight or try to outrun the blood-spattered assassin behind them, Rob’s blade found its mark cleanly into his skull. A third soldier cried out a foreign word an instant before Rob’s sword sank to the hilt in his belly. The others arced now, riding back toward him, their thin swords poised for battle. Yanking his blade free of his last victim’s ribs, Rob turned to face the onslaught and gripped his thick hilt in both hands.
The first rider to reach him swung a savage blow to Rob’s head, and then looked down in terror at the contents of his own belly spilling onto his horse. The next lost his arm as Rob swung left, then right, splitting yet another down the middle.
Will’s sword sliced through bones like butter as he joined the melee, leaving two more dead. Colin’s sword proved ten times more brutal in battle than in practice. Sunlight flashed across his blade as it descended upon the lead rider’s shoulder, cutting through his neck and killing him instantly. The last soldier alive was locked in battle with Finn, their swords crossed above their heads. Rob took off toward them, his eyes blazing with the unholy flames of rage. But before he reached them, Finn’s fist smashed into his opponent’s face, throwing the soldier from his saddle. Almost without pause, Finn leaped from his horse and drove his sword deep into his victim’s chest.
He looked up as Rob reached him, offered him a valiant smile, and then threw up.
Courlochcraig Abbey was eerily quiet when Rob and the others reached the gates. His hands, steady in battle, shook now. Those men would have killed her and possibly every other woman inside, and it would have been his fault. He’d left her. He’d let his emotions control him and it had almost cost Davina her life. Springing from his mount, he pushed open the heavy gates and sprinted to the doors.
“Davina!” he shouted, needing to see her, and not caring why.
The doors of the Abbey creaked open and he caught a glimpse of a gray veil, then Davina’s long silvery blond mane as she pushed her way past the Abbess. For an eternal moment she stood in the doorframe, delicate and terrified as her large eyes widened on his bloodstained plaid. The need to hold her wrenched at his guts, but he’d ponder the danger of it later. He took a step toward her, but she reached him first, running the short distance that separated them and throwing herself into his arms.
Rob lifted her off her feet and held her close, worrying that he would never again find pleasure in anything else but the feel of her.
“I saw you,” she breathed against his neck. “I saw what you did to them from the tower.”
He wouldn’t apologize for it, but she didn’t sound like she expected him to. There was no censure in her voice, only gratitude.
“Gilles’s men?” the captain asked him, his eyes settling on Davina, still clutched in Rob’s arms.
Rob nodded as he set her back on her feet. Almost on reflex he reached out, closing his hand around her much smaller one.
“How many?”
“Ten,” Rob answered the captain. “We spotted them ridin’ toward Ayrshire and cut them off.”
“Rob killed six of them himself,” Finn informed them with a measure of pride squaring his shoulders and his clear green eyes set on Davina.
“I would see their bodies.”
“That willna’ be possible, Asher,” Rob told him. “We tossed them into the River Ayr, along with their saddles, and drove their horses off. None wore the trappins’ of Admiral, so I must assume Gilles was no’ among them. He will likely look fer them and I didna’ want him to find them here.”
“Brutal and clever.” Asher sized him up with a hint of trepidation in his eyes that pricked at Rob’s instincts. Why should the captain fear him? Just as quickly as it appeared, though, it was gone and replaced with a genuine smile of gratitude. “I owe you my life once again, MacGregor.”
“As do I,” Davina said softly, dragging Rob’s gaze back to her.
For the first time in his life, the heavy responsibilities of Rob’s purpose felt more like a great gift. The endless hours of practicing in the fields with his father and other seasoned warriors like Brodie and Angus MacGregor, Jamie Grant, and his brother Graham, were, at this moment, worth every wound. Rob wanted to protect this lass from anything that would cause her harm, and it was satisfying to know he could. “God has assigned me to the task.”
She smiled at him, oblivious to how it smote his heart. “So it would seem.”
“This is all verra touchin’,” Will drawled from his saddle, “but ’tis time to go. There could be more comin’.”
Rob straightened his shoulders abruptly, unaware until his cousin spoke that he was staring at Davina like a lovesick lad.
“Why dinna’ we just wait fer the rest and kill them when they get here?” Colin asked with a hint of menace shining his eyes.
“Nae.” Rob scowled at his bloodthirsty younger brother. He was going to have to have a talk with him about finding a more productive way to channel his energy.
“She’ll be needin’ that kirtle now.” Rob turned to the Abbess.
Thankfully, the Reverend Mother did not argue, but hurried back into the Abbey to see to the task herself. When she was gone, Rob ushered Davina toward his horse. He stopped and looked over his shoulder when Asher did not follow. “Ye comin’?”
The captain did not try to hide the relief in his expression when he nodded, but his smile faded when Davina fit her foot into Rob’s stirrup.
“She’s ridin’ with me.” Rob did his best to take the sting out of his voice at seeing the raw emotion Asher felt for her spilling from his eyes. Rob didn’t like it, but he understood it more now after the fear of almost losing her. “’Tis safer.”
He regretted his last words the instant he spoke them and the captain lowered his stricken gaze to his boots. Hell, Rob cursed himself inwardly. Davina would surely add callous to his list of faults. “What I meant to say is—”
“Her safety means everything to me,” Asher said without looking up. The weight of his failure to save her at St. Christopher’s was evident in his quiet tone.
“I know it does,” Rob said honestly, remembering how bravely the captain had fought at the first abbey. “But she’s still ridin’ with me.”
Wisely, Asher nodded, saying nothing more, and strode toward the stable to retrieve his horse.
The Abbess returned carrying a deep green kirtle and smock tossed over her arm. When Rob reached for them she stopped him, placing her hand over his. Her eyes on him were as hard as the first day he’d met her, her words curt and cautionary.
Without reply, Rob snatched the garments from her and handed them to Davina. He waited while the Abbess gave them her blessing, then gained his saddle behind Davina and rode away from Courlochcraig with his men and Asher close behind.
The clang of the wrought iron gate drove home the gravity of what Rob meant to do, but he had no other choice. It seemed God had indeed assigned him to the task of guarding Davina Montgomery. She would be safe, hidden in the mists of Camlochlin. The peril, he knew as he closed his arms around her, was in what she had already done to him, and continued to do each moment he spent with her.
“She is not yours, Highlander. You would do well to remember that.”
He closed his eyes, knowing the Abbess’s words would plague him for a long time to come.
Chapter Twelve
Davina looked out over the gold-dappled surface of the great Firth of Clyde. She’d read about its importance during the Battle of Largs, when the Vikings were driven back from their brutal ambitions, but she had never hoped to see it, and never this close. Riding along the coast would be difficult at times, Rob had told her, but the tide, in most places, would wash away their tracks. Davina certainly had no objections. She’d never seen such a grand body of water before, or the sky swathed in ribbons of scarlet and gold as the sun slowly descended. She should have grown sleepy against the cushion of Rob’s supple muscles behind her, especially when he tucked her closely to him beneath the wrappings of his plaid, but her heart thrashed wildly in her chest at the sights and sounds around her. Her breath caught at a school of distant harbor porpoises breaking the surface to soar across the horizon. Their freedom touched her with a poignancy that blurred her vision and made her throat burn, for she shared their exhilaration. Thundering along the sandy shore, Davina let the cool wind shed her of the weight of her existence, her past, her future. She was leaving it behind with the aid of a man who had fought his way through flames and six enemy soldiers to rescue her. For the first time in more years than she could remember, she felt safe. Truly safe. Her mind tried to argue that those who wanted her dead could still find her, but when she voiced her concerns for his family to Rob, he vowed that Gilles would die by his hand should the Admiral ever dare step foot on MacGregor land. He swore to protect her, and even more meaningful than that, he wanted to. It was a wonder she had never dared to hope for.
Of course, she worried that poor Edward believed he’d failed her. She offered him her most tender, thankful smile each time she found him looking at her that day. Her dearest friend had fallen on the battlefield because he’d fought too many alone, and for too long. Yet even wounded and exhausted he’d risen from the ashes to find her. No, Edward had never failed her, but he’d never given her hope before.
Rob did.
She smiled and drew out a soft, cleansing sigh as the sun went down with her eyelids.
She was awakened a short while later, cradled against Rob’s chest as he strode on foot toward a small clearing. She couldn’t see him but she knew his strong arms held her, his steady heart beat near hers. Only when he set her down—and he did so as gently as his size would allow—did she feel exposed to elements around her.
She sat up, meaning to do her part and help build the camp, but he stopped her with a husky order. “Sleep, lass.”
She couldn’t, not when the freedom from worry of what tomorrow might bring had been awakened. She even smiled at Will when the first spark from his birch bark became a flame. He winked at her in response and she rolled her eyes.
“You’re faring well through all this, my lady.” Edward folded his legs at her feet and handed her a small bundle tied at the top with string.
“What do I have to fear when I am in the care of such courageous”—she opened the sack and pulled out a generous hunk of black bread—“and thoughtful men?”
“It’s pleasing that you think so of me,” he said, then lowered his voice so that only she could hear. “But there is somet
hing I feel must be told between us.”
He looked ill and Davina suspected what he wanted to say to her. She knew he loved her. She knew how difficult it must be for him to see her riding with Rob. But Edward knew her well, and perhaps he saw even more. She couldn’t bear the thought of hurting him and reached her hand out to comfort him.
“Edward, I—”
“Is that black bread?” Finn bent to have a closer look at her lap.
“It is, young sir,” Edward answered him. “And there’s honey to go with it.”
In the firelight, Finn’s eyes flickered with a hint of wickedness as he turned them on Edward. “Did ye pilfer it from the nuns, then?”
“No.” Edward returned the boy’s smile, seeming to forget the grim talk he wanted to have with Davina. “You have a familiar look to you, lad,” he said while Davina tore off a chunk of bread and handed it to Finn with the sack.
“My brother is Captain Connor Grant,” Finn told him, settling in close to Davina and squeezing the honeycomb over his bread. “Mayhap ye know him.”
Edward thought about it then shook his head. “I don’t. But I have not left St. Christopher’s in the last four years. I don’t know many of the other captains.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Finn glanced up at Rob, about to sit at Davina’s right. “I don’t resemble Connor, do I, Rob?”
Davina glanced at Rob to find him staring at Edward with a scowl so dangerous it would have frightened away the moon had he looked up at it.
“Rob?”
He blinked his gaze to Finn and his jaw twitched before he spoke. “Aye lad, ye do, but ye resemble yer mother more.”
“Aye,” Finn agreed and gave Colin the sack when his friend joined them. “Connor looks more like our uncle. Him, ye most likely have heard of, Captain Asher.”