Highland Guard

by Hannah Howell

  “Do ye think so?” Annys bit back a smile and began to unlace his shirt. “I think I can guess how ye might do that.”

  Harcourt began to undo her gown, kissing each small patch of skin he uncovered. “I suspicion ye can. Ye are a clever lass.” He touched his mouth to hers. “I will make ye smile again. I will make ye shout with joy,” he vowed and kissed her.

  He did. Twice.

  Later, lying naked, sweaty, and pleasantly languid beneath an equally naked, sweaty, and languid Harcourt, Annys smiled. The knowledge that an army would soon be hurling itself at the walls surrounding her keep and that she had a lot to do to prepare for that was easily pushed aside. For now she wanted to cling to this moment. This time out of time when she was sated and content, holding close a man who could make her shout with joy. The world and all the trouble it held was still out there. It could wait for a little while longer.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Annys stared out the window at all the activity in the bailey. She had taken a seat on the cushioned bench to gain the best light for her sewing only to have her attention caught firmly by what was going on outside. The preparations for battle were now obvious, far more so than they had been when Harcourt was just seeing to the strengthening of the defenses already in place. Her heart ached as she watched her people work. This was not what she wanted for them, for herself, or for her child. What had always made Glencullaich such a beautiful place had been its peace. Sir Adam had shattered that with his greed.

  The cat she had rescued jumped up on the bench, pushing its head into her hand. Annys smiled and scratched its ears, pleased with the diversion. The animal refused to stay in the stables and she did not have the heart to chase it away every time it sought her out.

  “There is a dark cloud o’er Glencullaich, Roban,” she said, the animal’s loud purr comforting her for the moment. “It has a name, too. Sir Adam the Bastard.”

  “Are ye actually talking to that cat?”

  Annys ignored the tingle of a blush on her cheeks and smiled at Harcourt. “Aye, and Roban is a verra good listener.”

  It was absurd but he had to acknowledge that there was a territorial battle going on between him and the cat. This very morning he had woken up, begun to pull Annys closer so that he could kiss her awake, and found himself staring into the cat’s eyes. Shaking off an odd unease over being watched, he had bent his head to place his lips on hers only to have the cat place one surprisingly large paw right over her mouth. He knew people would think he was mad if he said so, but Harcourt knew that was when the battle lines were drawn.

  “It was in the bed this morning.”

  “I ken it but I am certain he is verra clean. I just dinnae ken how he keeps getting inside the room.”

  And now it was he. Harcourt inwardly shook his head. The women in his family always did the same, naming the animal first, and then calling it he or she and treating the animal as if it were a part of the family. Harcourt could see the same path being walked here. Then he told himself that, if his brother Brett could deal with little Ella’s cat Clyde, which snarled at him all the time, he could learn to deal with Roban.

  “Slips inside when it thinks no one is watching it, just waits for someone to open the door.”

  She nodded. “I suspicion that is just what he does. Cats can be verra quick. So, tell me, how does the work progress?”

  “It goes weel.” He sat down next to her, ignoring the way the cat glared at him from the other side of her. “I wish I could tell ye that this is all but a waste of time, that there will be no battle.” He took her hand in his and kissed her palm. “I cannae. It would be a lie and I willnae lie to you, nay e’en to put ye at ease. I believe naught short of that fool’s death will stop it. Sadly, we cannae find the lackwit so that we might test the truth of that.”

  “Ye have been looking for him?”

  “Aye, but cautiously. ’Tis nay verra safe for any of us to be far from these walls without a large, weel-armed force at our side. The woods fair crawl with Sir Adam’s men.” He smiled. “And a few MacFingals. Those lads have lessened Sir Adam’s army by a wee bit.”

  “They go out there e’en though ye believe it isnae safe?”

  “MacFingals do what they please. They also do some things with an enviable skill the clan has become renowned for. One of those things is slipping out, creeping up on an enemy unseen, and winnowing away at its strength.”

  “By killing them.” She shivered, the cold, brutal reality of what they were all being forced into hitting her hard.

  “There may nay have been any formal declaration, any call to arms, but this is war, Annys.”

  It was easy to see how that cruel truth was upsetting her. Harcourt knew she was too sharp-witted to have not seen exactly where the trouble with Sir Adam had always been headed. Even those who had not lived the quiet, peaceful life she had at Glencullaich could grow unsteady when the time came where no choices were left to pick from, when the army was actually at the gates and all they had ever cared about was at risk. Hope for a better outcome could be a stubborn thing, he thought as he put his arm around her.

  “I ken it,” Annys said as she leaned against him. “I have kenned it from the start, or, mayhap I should say, have feared it from the start of all the trouble. After all, I was ne’er going to give Sir Adam what he wanted, was I? What allies I might turn to are ne’er going to interfere in what they would see as a familial argument over an inheritance. E’en Adam’s own kin willnae stop him for, in their hearts, they want him to succeed. Glencullaich has always been the jewel of the family’s holdings. The greed for what it has was always there.”

  She looked at him. “There were times when I thought David was wrong to give his kin so much, as if he owed some tithing to them just for sitting in the laird’s chair. I cannae help but think that he was feeding their addle-brained belief that they deserved this place, nay him.”

  “That is verra possible. He was doing what he needed to do to keep the peace and they saw only weakness.” He kissed her cheek, ignoring the way the cat moved to sit on her lap. “David did the right thing. He wasnae a warrior; he was a scholar. He could fight but he was ne’er one who wanted to.”

  “Ye want to?” she asked, doing nothing to hide her disbelief.

  “Nay, not truly. If Sir Adam came to offer a truce, I would be willing to hear him out. But, I willnae say I dinnae feel a wee bit of, weel, anticipation. ’Tis the nature of a mon.”

  “But he willnae come forward with any offer of a truce.”

  “Nay. He is determined to claim this place, so determined he doesnae care how much blood he needs to spill or how much of it has to be destroyed to get what he wants. Nay, I dinnae want to fight, but I do want verra badly to make certain Sir Adam MacQueen doesnae win.”

  Harcourt leaned down to kiss her, pulling her closer as he brushed his lips over hers, immediately getting the taste for more. Before he could deepen the kiss, however, something moved between them. He pulled back just enough to look down at the cat now sitting on her lap between them. A quick look at Annys revealed her placing a hand over her mouth, her eyes alight with the laughter she tried to hold back.

  “I think he may be jealous,” she choked out and started to giggle.

  Under better circumstances Harcourt would have shared her amusement. He loved the sound of her laughter, an innocent, musical sound that begged anyone who heard it to share in her joy. Being denied the kiss he was craving made the situation a lot less amusing for him, even though her laughter made him smile. He narrowed his eyes at the cat.

  “It should be in the stables,” he said and watched the cat’s ears flatten.

  “Which is where he is constantly put,” she said as she gently picked up the cat, scratched its ears, and then set it down on the other side of her. “Yet he always finds me.”

  “My brother’s wife has a wee girl who has a cat named Clyde and he always finds her as weel.”

  Annys thought Harcourt spoke as if that was
the worst fate to ever befall his brother, but decided not to tease him about it. “’Tis verra like a dog, isnae it?”

  Harcourt did not think the world needed such an oddity, but said nothing, simply stole a brief kiss from Annys and stood up. “I must get back to work. When I saw ye watching out the window here I but thought to see if ye had anything to say about what ye were seeing, about what we are doing?”

  “If ye think I have any advice, I fear I must disappoint you. All I ken about battle is that women best be ready to tend wounds or, if the need demands, grab the bairns and run.”

  “And from all I have seen ye have prepared admirably for both needs though I will pray that ye dinnae have to meet either of them.”

  Annys stood to watch him leave and heartily cursed Sir Adam MacQueen. She was weighted down with guilt for having pulled Harcourt and his friends into this. She could claim she had never forseen the risks he would have to take, but that was only partly true. The danger Sir Adam had presented had been clear enough that she had sent for Harcourt. Despite that, she had never truly felt she was placing the man in a dangerous position.

  “That was some harsh language,” said Joan as she walked into the room carrying a stack of linens in her arms.

  “I just realized that I may have been lack-witted enough to think that just having a few seasoned knights here might be enough to discourage Sir Adam.” Annys waved her hand toward the solar window she had been looking out of. “That was nay what I had envisioned when I sent for Sir Harcourt.”

  “Weel, I did a lot of praying for Sir Adam to be struck down by lightning or smashed by a falling drawbridge or trampled by a horse. . . .” She winked at Annys when she laughed. “I decided God would forgive me for such prayers as Sir Adam means us harm and I am nay good with a sword.”

  “I am nay sure but I think ye may be nudging blasphemy.”

  Joan laughed as she set the pile of linens on the bench. “Dinnae think I be nudging. Think I be giving it a hearty kick or two.” She grew serious as she sat on the bench. “Annys, they couldnae have killed Sir Adam for crimes he committed for they really had no proof, only the word of that fool in the cell and what good is a hired sword accusing a knight? Biddy may have been seen as a good witness if we could have ever made her speak out against her lover, but she was the one who killed David. There would have been only her word that it had been ordered by Sir Adam. That family of his may nay be one ye want to claim as kin but they are nay without their own power.”

  “Aye, it just wouldnae have worked. But now he will be openly attacking us when we have done naught. He cannae lie his way out of that. Witnesses will abound. If the fool survives this he will be hanged. Our David wasnae without his own powerful friends and they willnae allow Sir Adam to escape justice for an unprovoked attack upon his widow and child.”

  “I ken it. They have people at court, Sir Adam e’en served in the king’s army for a time, they have a kinsmon as a sheriff, and they have wed daughters to some verra powerful men. David has much the same number of powerful people on his side. Yet, ye sound verra certain that Sir Adam will be the one who loses this fight.”

  “I am. We have Sir Harcourt and his men, and we have Nicolas. Our men have trained until they are nay only far more skilled than they were but have far more pride and surety in themselves as fighting men. We also have something that bastard doesnae have.”

  “And what is that?”

  “A deep, abiding love for Glencullaich. This is our home. This is a blessed place that enjoys more peace than most. Yet Sir Adam brings war to our gates because of nay more than his own greed. We also loved our laird and he didnae want this bastard to have Glencullaich. So we will do all we can with the help of Sir Harcourt and his fine friends to make sure he ne’er claims it.”

  “Such fire,” Annys murmured. “It makes me believe all will be weel.”

  “Good. Now help me tear these rags.”

  “Didnae we do enough?”

  “Best to have too many than nay enough, aye? And have already had to use some on that young Ned MacFingal. He got poked by an arrow.”

  Despite wishing they would not tempt her maids as much as they did, Annys liked the MacFingals and felt her heart skip with fear. “Is he weel?”

  “Och, aye. The arrowhead only went in a wee bit because he was running away. The lad is fast on his feet. Now, come help me with these and then we shall go see if we have enough salve, herbs, and the like.”

  Annys sat down and began the tedious work of tearing the cloth into strips for bandaging wounds. It was difficult not to think of what they would be needed for, but she did her best to adopt Joan’s more hopeful view of the future. The woman was right about the motives involved. The people of Glencullaich would be fighting for the home they loved. Sir Adam was fighting for the riches of the land he hoped to bleed away. That their motives for fighting were more honorable than his should count for something. Annys just prayed that it would be enough to bring them a victory.

  Harcourt winced and shifted his body on the ground until the rock stopped digging into his ribs. He and Nicolas were well hidden in a low-ceilinged cave in the hills. They had had to crawl inside and would not be standing upright again until they crawled back out. Harcourt was discovering that he did not like crowded narrow spaces, especially ones where a man was surrounded by rock. It felt too much like a tomb.

  What he could see below them, in a pretty little valley that usually held only cattle, was discomforting. Sir Adam was gathering an army, although he could not see the man himself. The man’s force almost matched Glencullaich’s now but more men continued to join the group. Seeing all the armed men, the cache of weapons, and the horses, Harcourt was certain that Sir Adam’s family was giving him a lot of help despite their denials.

  “What of bringing our men to fight this army here, while they still gather?” he asked Nicolas.

  “Verra tempting but I hesitate to do it,” Nicolas replied. “Only a few of the men we have been training have actually been in or e’en seen a battle. I cannae be certain how they would fare when away from the safety of the walls, and the actual hacking and slashing begins. It wouldnae take many of them losing the stomach for the bloody business, mayhap running away, which could start a rout that would make them all easy prey.”

  “Yet ye think they will fare weel defending the walls? Blood will be spilt there as weel. No one can fight a bloodless war.”

  “True, but it willnae be a bloodletting close at hand. The men willnae be sword point to sword point. E’en if the enemy tries to scale the walls it willnae be as harsh. Bodies would fall ere one of the men actually saw what he had just done to another mon too clearly unless it was particularly gruesome. There isnae the chance of walking o’er a blood-soaked field of body parts, some of which might belong to kin or a friend, and, aye, e’en the stench of battle is less.”

  “So, what ye are saying is that the men of Glencullaich are best at defending and may nay be so verra good at offense.”

  “Aye. Every mon there will fight to their last breath to protect their homes, e’en the ones nay born there. And, if too many of the men fall, those women will pick up the swords and stand in their place. Glencullaich is more than their home. ’Tis in their blood, their hearts. They all live weel here and we ken how rare a blessing that is.”

  “Aye. I can see why though. ’Tis true there are ones who like a wee fight now and then to add something to what they think is a dull life, but most just want peace. They want to tend to their shops or their fields, marry, sire a few bairns, and ken that those bairns willnae be cut down whilst still nursing just because some fool wants something he has no right to.”

  “There will always be such men.”

  “And that is our curse, isnae it.” He stared into the camp when several men arrived dragging three cows. “And mayhap it would be best if Sir Adam would just get on with it so we can kill him. Much more of this and Glencullaich will have to replace a lot of livestock.”


  “Mayhaps the drovers and the shepherds can find a safer place,” Nicolas murmured and then scowled as, after the cattle were taken off to be slaughtered outside the camp, the men who had brought them handed over several sacks to two surprisingly large women. “Foragers. Appears our neighbors are also suffering because of this.”

  “And I suspicion Annys will be thinking of how to help them if they need it after all this is cleared away.”

  “Of a certain.” Nicolas shrugged. “’Tis what one must do, isnae it, e’en if it is done with as kind a heart as your lady has. This trouble has come here because of her, because of David’s kinsmen. She kens it isnae her fault but also kens that this wouldnae be happening if nay for the greed of David’s family.”

  “Ah, look. That is Clyde, isnae it? The tall mon who is picking what he wants from the things the foragers, and thieves by the look of it since no one can eat candles or candlesticks, have returned with.”

  “Aye, that would be him. Saw him once when Sir Adam came to rail at David. That mon has a darkness in him that e’en gives me the chills. He is the killer we all fear whether we want to admit it or nay. He kills without a hint of remorse or regret, mon, woman, or child, makes no difference. And if the way Biddy died is any sign, he can enjoy himself in the doing of it if he chooses.”

  “A mon who badly needs killing.”

  “Verra badly. If I was a good bowman, I would take him down from here and, I promise ye, nary a mon there would come hunting us.”

  “Weel, I believe I have seen enough.”

  Harcourt carefully moved away, staying low and quiet until he could stand out of sight of the camp, Nicolas following and doing the same. Then they kept to the cover of the trees and shadows until they reached the place where they had tethered their horses. Harcourt said nothing as they rode back to Glencullaich, keeping a watch for any of Sir Adam’s men, until the keep came into sight.

  “A part of one can understand the mon’s desire for this place,” he said as they slowed their pace and let down their guard a little. “Good land, plenty of water, a fine strong keep. But he doesnae want it for the right reasons, for what makes it such a prize.”