Claimed by the Highland Warrior

by Michelle Willingham

  His ragged tunic was the colour of rust and she covered her mouth when she understood why he hadn’t removed his garments. They were coated in blood; it was likely that removing the clothing would cause him pain.

  Nairna swallowed hard, remembering the scars upon Bram’s back. He wouldn’t talk about them, nor share anything about his captivity, but it was clear that Callum had suffered a great deal.

  Once they started up again, she brought her mount beside Bram’s. ‘Your brother needs a healer.’

  ‘I know it.’

  ‘His clothing is stuck to his flesh, isn’t it?’ she murmured beneath her breath.

  He nodded. ‘We tried to take it off him yesterday, but he fought us. He’s not in his right mind. He isn’t aware of what’s going on.’

  ‘Is there something I can do?’ she asked. ‘Tell me and I’ll arrange it.’

  ‘There’s nothing, Nairna.’

  ‘I don’t believe that.’ She met his gaze with resolution of her own. ‘He’s alive. And we can help him recover.’

  Her husband shook his head, a weariness in his eyes. ‘There are some wounds that never heal, Nairna.’

  That night, after they arrived home at Glen Arrin, Bram tried again to talk to his brother. Callum sat, staring into the distance while a bath of hot water grew cold.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Bram murmured, though he knew the words meant nothing. ‘We tried to go back for you sooner. For a time, we didn’t know where you were.’

  Silence. His brother made no response, gave no indication that he’d heard a single word. A knot swelled up in the back of his throat and Bram tried to think of something he could say that would get Callum to open up.

  His brother’s face was filthy, his hair matted with mud. Bruises and cuts marred the surface and his clothing smelled of blood and decay.

  ‘Let me help you, Brother,’ he pleaded. He took a step forwards, hoping that Callum would let him closer. But as soon as he tried to reach for the tunic, his brother’s mouth twisted into a snarl. Like a cornered animal, he refused to let anyone near.

  When Bram reached out to touch him, Callum’s knuckles smashed into his eye. Pain exploded from the blow and Bram released his frustration.

  ‘Damn it, Callum, why won’t you let me help you? I know you’re hurt. I’ve seen the blood.’

  But his brother refused to speak. Bram sat upon a bench, his head lowered, his hands shaking.

  The door opened quietly and Nairna stepped inside. ‘Has he eaten anything?’

  ‘Very little.’ Bram met his wife’s worried gaze and she walked over to his side. ‘I don’t want to restrain him, but we need to treat his wounds before they get worse.’

  ‘Will you let me try to help?’ Nairna asked.

  Bram lifted his shoulders in surrender. He’d done all he could; if Nairna could break through to him, so be it.

  His wife bade him, ‘Wait here. I’ll return in a moment.’

  Callum stared at the wall and Bram set a cup of mead near him. It remained untouched.

  When the door opened again, Nairna entered with Lady Marguerite. Bram couldn’t understand why, but the moment Callum laid eyes upon Marguerite, something stirred in his expression. Though he didn’t speak, he stared at her instead of into the empty air.

  ‘Let Marguerite try,’ Nairna said. ‘She met him weeks ago.’

  From the way the maiden was already approaching Callum, it seemed that they did know one another.

  Marguerite wore a sapphire silk gown trimmed with grey fur, her hair spilling over her shoulder, though it was covered with a veil. Callum watched her as though he were dreaming and Bram felt Nairna take his hand, guiding him out.

  ‘We’ll wait just beyond the door if you need us,’ Nairna was saying. She led Bram into the hallway outside the chamber, closing the door all but a few inches.

  ‘How do they know each other?’ Bram whispered, peering through the crack in the door.

  ‘He was beaten after you left,’ Nairna said. ‘Marguerite found him and tended his wounds. He was sent away the next morning.’ She moved beside him, resting her head upon his chest while they both watched over the pair. ‘He allowed her to help him then. He might again.’

  Marguerite was speaking to Callum in soft tones, seated across from him. In the flickering light of the torch set within a sconce, Bram spied a tear running down the woman’s face. She continued talking, though she spoke in the French tongue. And after several minutes, Callum turned his back to her. Lady Marguerite came near, still talking. And when she reached him, her hands came to rest upon his shoulders.

  Nairna’s fingers moved inside Bram’s tunic, tracing the scars there. As if shadowing Marguerite’s movements, his wife soothed his skin, her face pressed against his heartbeat.

  He’d been like Callum once. It had been so hard to face the outside world, so hard to accept that he was finally safe. There would be no one to shut him up in the darkness. No one to strike out at him or cut him down.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Nairna murmured. ‘Your eye is swollen.’

  ‘I got too close,’ was all he would tell her. But they both watched as his brother finally allowed Marguerite to help him remove the bloodstained tunic. He exhaled a sharp hiss when she had to peel back the fabric from his skin.

  When his bare back was revealed at last, Nairna’s arms held him tight. Bram breathed in the scent of her hair, holding her close as the years of his brother’s torment were revealed. By the Holy Rood, the sight of Callum’s raw, unhealed flesh was enough to send his stomach turning.

  Though her face turned white, Lady Marguerite said not a word. She merely soaked a clean rag in the cooled bath water and brought it to Callum, touching his face with it. Soothing him. Then she wet it again and lightly wrung it out before setting the cool cloth upon his brother’s back.

  ‘She’s doing well with him,’ Nairna whispered, moving out of his embrace. ‘We should leave them be.’

  ‘She’s a maiden,’ Bram argued. ‘It isn’t right to leave them alone.’

  ‘He’s not about to hurt her.’ Nairna pulled at his hand. ‘Look.’

  Callum had raised his face to Marguerite’s. Though his eyes held suffering, there was also relief there. There was no threat from Marguerite and his brother succumbed to her touch.

  ‘Bram,’ Nairna whispered. ‘Come with me.’

  He didn’t want to follow, but his wife wouldn’t let go of his hand. She led him down the winding stairs and outside.

  The rain had stopped and the ground was soft beneath their feet, coated with a light moisture. He thought Nairna would bring them back to their house, but instead she led him to the grain hut, where they’d spent their first few nights. It was dark inside and the interior smelled of barley.

  ‘He’ll be all right,’ she whispered. ‘You kept your promise.’

  ‘Why did you bring me here?’ He wound his arms around her waist, not understanding her purpose.

  ‘I know you’ll want to stay close to him this night. So we might as well sleep here instead of in our house.’

  He understood her intention, but he wasn’t going to leave Callum alone that long. For all they knew, his brother had fallen into the madness that haunted the prisoners he’d known.

  ‘You can sleep here, if you wish,’ he murmured to Nairna. ‘But I need to go back to the keep. Alex and I can take turns watching over him.’

  She touched his lips with her fingertips, before pressing a kiss upon his mouth. ‘I love you.’

  In her eyes, he saw the yearning and something inside him warmed to it. But he couldn’t voice an answer. He didn’t deserve to be loved, not after all this. If he could have gone back and changed his fate, he’d have freed Callum instead of seizing the chance for himself. His moment of selfishness might have destroyed his brother.

  ‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ he said to her, kissing her forehead before he left. As he left, his wife’s face held a sadness, as if he’d hurt her physically. And though he
felt her pain as his own, there was nothing he could do to change it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next morning, Nairna left the hut, feeling restless. It was early and the morning sky still held the darkened shade of purple. The air was heavy, with a chill that slipped beneath her wrap, making her shiver.

  Bram hadn’t returned last night, and she knew he’d spent the hours guarding his brother. Though she understood his desperate need to ensure Callum’s well-being, it seemed more of a penance. Her husband couldn’t let go of the guilt that plagued him like a disease, festering inside him, until he could see nothing else.

  He’d been right; there were some wounds that didn’t heal. The comforts Nairna had tried to give him over the past few weeks had done nothing to wipe out the memories of his imprisonment.

  She worried that no amount of love would take away his sense of blame. Instead of accepting her feelings, he’d drawn away from them, as if he viewed her love as another set of chains.

  She tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter. In time, he would come to care for her again, as he once had. They wouldn’t have a shadow marriage, like Laren and Alex. She couldn’t live like that, with a husband who hardly saw her or cared what she did.

  Alone, she walked outside, pulling her wrap tighter. She crossed past the rows of houses, letting her mind drift. More of the women had returned, and she saw one young woman speaking in a soft tone, shushing her crying infant, bouncing the child against her shoulder.

  The sight of them twisted at her heart, for she wondered if she would ever hold an infant of her own. Her hands settled over her flat stomach, and she let herself dream for a moment. The thought sent a quiet ache of longing inside. Bram hadn’t touched her in several days, and she didn’t know when he would again. He was so caught up in tending his brother, he’d forgotten all else.

  But she supposed that would change, in time.

  When she reached the outer area of Glen Arrin, she started to turn back. The clan members were rising to perform their morning tasks and she scented the peat smoke rising into the air, as more bricks were added to the fires.

  A flicker of light caught her eye and she turned back. Peering at the hillside, she couldn’t quite tell what it was. Perhaps it was nothing, but it looked like the flare of torches. Her heart quickened with worry and she hastened back to the keep. If there were intruders near, Bram and Alex ought to know about it.

  When she reached the interior of the keep, she saw an exhausted Marguerite resting upon a bench with her head upon the trestle table. An untouched plate of food lay nearby.

  Laren came down the stairs, followed by her daughter Mairin. Adaira slept in her arms, her head tucked beneath her mother’s chin. Though she greeted Nairna with a smile, there was apprehension in her eyes. ‘Callum still hasn’t spoken. Alex and Bram had to subdue him. He flew into a rage when Marguerite left.’

  ‘It will take time,’ Nairna said. ‘But at least they treated his wounds.’ Glancing around, she asked, ‘Where are Alex and Bram now?’ She wanted to tell them about the possible intruders, as soon as possible.

  Laren glanced upwards. ‘They’re both still with Callum, above stairs.’ She led her daughter to sit down, and lowered her voice. ‘I didn’t tell Alex about the glass—I told him it was a tapestry.’

  ‘Did you find out who cheated Dougal?’

  Laren released a sigh and nodded. ‘It was a travelling merchant. Dougal believed the man’s praise and thought he’d brought back a great deal of silver.’

  ‘At least the coins served a purpose,’ Nairna offered. She told Laren about the unexpected ransom and about the lights she’d seen this morning in the distance. ‘I worry that it could be Lord Harkirk’s men, if they discovered what we did.’

  The chief’s wife paled, but she nodded. ‘Tell Bram and Alex. I’ll gather the women and children and arrange for them to be hidden.’

  Nairna’s skin grew cold at the thought of an impending attack. Her father usually avoided conflicts and she’d never been in the midst of a battle before. The idea of hiding from the invaders should have comforted her, but all she could think of was Bram fighting alone. The last time she’d seen him sparring with Ross, he’d been injured.

  Though she wanted to believe that he was stronger, she simply didn’t know. And her fear overshadowed the hope that everything would be all right.

  Laren was already waking Marguerite up and the young woman took Mairin’s hand, following Laren outside. Nairna walked up the winding stone staircase to the chamber where Callum was staying. She knocked softly, and when Bram answered she saw the shadowed circles beneath his eyes. ‘You didn’t sleep, did you?’

  He shook his head. ‘Neither of us did. He kept waking up and fighting us off. I don’t know if he’s even aware of where he is.’

  Nairna wanted to take his hand, to reassure him, but something in his expression made her hesitate. Alex stretched and gave her a nod in greeting.

  ‘When I was out walking this morning, I saw torchlight in the hills,’ she told them. ‘Do you think any of Lord Harkirk’s men might have followed us?’

  Bram’s face tensed, and he exchanged a glance with Alex. ‘It’s possible.’

  ‘I’ll inform the men,’ the chief said. ‘If it is an attack, send a runner to Locharr and alert the Baron that we may need his help.’ He turned to Nairna. ‘Tell Laren—’

  ‘She’s already gathering the women and children.’

  ‘Good.’ The chief glanced back at Callum, whose eyes were open. The man had clenched his hands together; from the expression on his face, he’d understood what they were saying.

  ‘I’ll need your help guarding the women and children,’ Alex ordered his younger brother. ‘Even Lady Marguerite.’

  Callum gave a slight nod to show that he understood, and though his hands were shaking, he managed to take the sword his older brother offered. Nairna wasn’t so certain whether or not the man was capable of guarding anyone, but she understood it was a way of protecting Callum, by keeping him with the others.

  Nairna led the men down the stairs and outside to the place where she’d seen the torchlight. By now, the sun had risen, but the sky remained dark with clouds.

  Bram and Alex climbed up to the top of the gatehouse, but Nairna saw the threat as soon as they did. Not a few raiders, as she’d suspected.

  Instead, an army of men had spread out in the valley, their chainmail reflected in the light like hundreds of silver coins.

  Lord Harkirk had brought his soldiers. And with him were Lord Cairnross’s forces.

  This was what he’d been waiting for.

  Dougal clenched his dirk, hiding behind one of the huts as the MacKinloch archers began firing arrows against the English. The frightened cries of children were shushed by their mothers as Nairna and Laren helped them go into hiding.

  The dark scent of soot brimmed within the air and a flaming torch shot through the sky, landing upon a nearby roof. The dry thatch blazed and Dougal moved further away, to find his own position of safety.

  The last time the English had come, his brother Alex had shoved him down in the storage cellar with Lady Laren and the girls, as if he were naught but a bairn. They didn’t believe he was capable of fighting.

  Not this time. Dougal refused to stand back like a coward, hiding with the women. He could drive his blade into a soldier’s ribs, the same as any of them. Now that he was four and ten, he was old enough to help his brothers. If he slaughtered a dozen Englishmen, they’d finally stop treating him like a child.

  Men shouted as the flames began to spread, and the clang of swords rang within the courtyard. Dougal found a place behind a wooden cart, out of the range of the arrows, while he decided the best place to launch his own attack.

  Best to wait for the right moment to strike out and remain hidden until then. His kinsmen had already begun to attack the English, their battle cries roaring amid the chaos.

  A tightness constricted in his lungs and sweat co
ated his palms. But he wasn’t afraid to fight. No, soon enough, he would run out and join the MacKinlochs. For now, better to stay here and wait for one of the English to come closer.

  A flash of movement caught him by surprise, and an arrow shot past him, embedded in the cart only inches from his face. Dougal dived beneath the cart, his heart slamming within his chest. He’d never seen the English soldier approaching from the back side of the fortress. How had the man slipped inside?

  Dougal gripped his dirk, a bead of sweat rolling down his face as the soldier drew closer. He had to make a decision. His pulse quickened, a thick terror rising in the back of his throat.

  But then, abruptly, he heard the sound of a dog snarling. Seconds later, his enemy’s knees buckled beneath him. Dougal rolled out from under the cart and saw Bram’s wife Nairna holding a stone in her hand, her dog Caen at her side. She’d struck the English soldier across the head and the man lay motionless, blood streaming from his temple.

  ‘Take his sword,’ Nairna ordered. ‘And all of his weapons. Quickly, before he wakes up!’

  Her face was grey and she looked as if she were about to be sick. Though he’d been trained to fight, Nairna knew nothing about it. She didn’t belong here.

  ‘Go back with the other women,’ Dougal told her as he seized the unconscious soldier’s sword. ‘You shouldn’t be near the fighting.’

  ‘Neither should you,’ she said. ‘Come back with me.’

  He was about to argue with her, when another motion caught his attention. In a blur, his mind and body seemed to separate. Another soldier ran forwards, his weapon aimed at Nairna. Though Dougal tried to cry out a warning, the words smothered in his throat.

  Instinct took over and he rushed forwards, driving the sword into the man’s stomach. The blade sank deep within and Dougal staggered backwards, suddenly aware of what he’d just done.

  He didn’t hear Nairna’s words, nor did he know what was happening around him. Blood covered his hands and he couldn’t seem to take a deep breath. His ears rang, his vision blurring.