Devil May Care

by Unknown

  “As soon as you can, get away from here,” Ewan ordered in Gaelic. “Alec, even if you have to carry him away. I won’t be responsible for the death of Rachel’s boy.”

  Searc cursed loudly, but Alec answered. “Aye, until then, we have your back.”

  More guards ran forward, pushing their way through the loose crowd. It would soon become impossible to get the two Munros out of the mess. The guard before him lunged and Ewan met his thrust with his blade, moving to let the man’s own force throw him off balance. But he spun instead, ready to strike behind him and Ewan jumped back. Alec and Searc fended off attacks on each side. So as not to hit one another, the guards stood ready but only one guard attacked each man at a time.

  Ewan concentrated on the English guard before him who was a strong swordsman. Spit marked the guard’s lips as he grunted under Ewan’s return assault. He blocked out the crowd, the heckling and urging. He blocked out the continued rush of guards and the realization that there were just too many. He blocked it all out and focused on each thrust, each turn, each step in combat, so familiar from a lifetime of training he could do it blind. The twang of steel slicing against steel and grunts from the men were muted as blood rushed through Ewan’s ears. Sweat cooled his body in the breeze as he turned and slashed, no longer holding back. This Englishman was out for his death. All because he hadn’t died on the field.

  A glance showed a second guard about to attack Alec from behind. The Munro chief would have to turn or be run through. Ewan ducked and pivoted, ready with a heartbeat’s time to help. But before he could reach the second guard at Alec’s back, Searc cut a vicious path through his guard and grabbed the man about to kill his father. A flash of light caught Ewan’s attention at the same time the talented guard he was fighting turned back to attack him, and Ewan pivoted on his boot heel with a midsection slash of his own. The guard doubled over Ewan’s sword at the same time the man behind him, the one Searc had grabbed, gave a gurgled scream as if his throat had been slit.

  Ewan yanked his sword free. Damn, blood streaked it. English blood! There was no going back now.

  “Siuthadaibh!” Ewan yelled to Alec and Searc as he severed the arm of another guard who’d jumped over his fallen comrade. “Get out of here!”

  Ewan managed to glance over his shoulder for a quick instant to where four guards lay in a path as Alec dragged his son through the throng. The crowd backed up as if a plague victim was being carried through, their eyes wide as their gazes followed the two, but they didn’t try to stop them.

  “Grab him!” Cromwell yelled and four guards lunged for Ewan at once. He brought the pommel of his great sword down on one guard’s head and the man fell with a grunt, but before he could turn to defend his back a couple of large bodies slammed him to the ground. His breath knocked from him at the force of two heavily clad guards, Ewan stilled, his blood pounding until the pain in his chest forced an inhale.

  Someone kicked at his sword hand until it was numb enough for someone to wretch it from his grasp. Och, a Highlander without his sword. The contest was over. He let his body sag as they dragged him up, and he couldn’t help the small grin playing along his lips. After all, he’d just won. Dory and his countrymen had escaped.

  …

  Dory felt the rolling gate under her and fought to open her eyes. Where was she? Her cheek rested against a hard chest, yet the smell… not Ewan. She pushed away.

  “Whoa, lass.” Ewan’s friend, Caden, steadied her while shops seemed to flash by. Dory gasped softly as the clopping sound of hooves registered. She was on a horse, a huge horse. Gaoth!

  “Where’s Ewan?” Her voice only came out as a hoarse whisper.

  Caden didn’t answer but tried to pull her back into the circle of his chest and arms. She kept rigid there but knew better than to pitch forward with her dizziness.

  “Caden, where is he? What happened? Did I…?”

  “Aye lass, ye saved him.”

  Dory released her breath. “Then he’s alive.”

  Caden didn’t say anything and she turned her face up to the Highlander’s grim face. “Tell me,” she said. “Tell me he’s alive.”

  Caden didn’t glance down, but kept his gaze moving among the side streets. The sour smell of stale ale and human waste hung in the air as they flew through it. “Caden?”

  “When we left him, he was alive. I do not know now.”

  “We left him?” she yelled.

  “His only concern was for your safe escape.”

  “Bloody swiving hell! Turn around!” she screamed and felt the world spin again. Her fingers clutched the saddle.

  “Hold yer tongue,” he said near her ear. “He has his sword and a warrior’s training.”

  “The devil,” she seethed. “We need to go back.” She glanced around Caden’s arm to where two other Highlanders rode, one holding a wide-eyed Margery before him. She raised her hand to Dory.

  Dory couldn’t do anything but stare back. Ewan could be dead! The weakness that had enveloped her at having healed such a deadly wound had taken her physical strength, but it was the fear that nearly took her breath from her. She forced an inhale and exhale to combat the stars sparking in her periphery. She leaned into Caden, letting him keep her on the horse.

  They rode for several more minutes while Dory repeated Caden’s words over and over again in her mind. He has his sword and a warrior’s training.

  “Searc?” she asked. “His father?”

  “I saw them running toward Ewan,” Caden added and glanced over his shoulder but apparently didn’t see them. “They are aiding him.”

  Dory’s stomach unclenched somewhat. He wasn’t alone then. He had help, and he’d find them soon.

  Caden stopped before a slightly tilted three-story building. “Yer father should be here,” he said and tipped his head at a fancy sign that read “Lady Nell’s Parlor.”

  She groaned inward. Leave it to her father to hide out in a brothel.

  “Let’s get ye inside,” Caden said, signaling to his men with a few Gaelic words. “Then I’ll go back to find Ewan and the Munros.”

  Margery gave her a strong hug and clasped her hands. They marched slowly up the steps, Dory still drained, but recovering quicker now.

  “I thought never to go into one of these places,” Margery whispered.

  “Hiding out within doesn’t mean you’re staying here.” Dory squeezed her hand, though her mind played over Caden’s words. He’ll be all right. Alec and Searc would aid him.

  “Hello?” A scantily clad woman stepped out from a dark, velvet-draped parlor. A slight frown crossed her features as she took in Dory and Margery, but she hid it behind an appreciative look as she eyed the Scotsmen. “Can I help you brawny lords?”

  Several other women stepped up, some wearing rouge on their lips, others with their bosoms half out. None of them looked clean, nor fed enough. That was one thing about Adela. She demanded cleanliness and kept her girls properly plump.

  “I was told I could find Captain Bartholomew Wyatt at this address,” Caden announced, his voice too big for the small entryway. He sounded angry, unless that was his normal gruff speech. It did make several of the ladies retreat into the parlor.

  “Why yes,” said the lady in charge, Nell, perhaps. “The good captain has leased a room above. Will you be needing a room, too? I’m afraid all of them are full.”

  “We will see the captain first and then decide whether we need to find lodging,” Caden said. They followed her up the thin stairway.

  “If you decide that you need a place to stay, I’m sure my girls wouldn’t mind sharing their rooms with you, for a price of course.”

  The only answer was the sound of the Scotsmen’s boots on the steps. Lord, she hoped Captain Bart wasn’t entertaining one of the girls when they barged in.

  “Second door,” Nell started to say, when the door opened and Dory’s father stepped out—thankfully clothed.

  “Heard you when you entered the house,” Captain Bar
t said and brushed past Caden to hug her.

  “Really,” Dory said against his rough cheek. “What would Adela think?”

  “Ah, what Adela don’t know won’t trouble her.” He laughed. “Anyway, Will and I are just boarding here, not whoring here.”

  Will’s deep chuckle came from the room and he stepped out. “Quite poetic.”

  He began to shove his way past Caden, but the Scotsman stopped him. “I was told to find Captain Wyatt, who I assume to be that man. Who are ye?”

  “God’s balls, more Scots,” Will swore. “I’m her brother—well, nearly so. We were raised together. Where’s Ewan? Did you leave the dolt?”

  Dory turned on Will as her magic pulled a lightning bolt down outside the window. It cracked, causing screams to echo throughout the house. “He’s back at the tournament, probably sacrificing his honorable life to save mine, so shut your crusty, swiving hole,” she said and looked at Captain Bart.

  Captain Bart nodded and looked to Caden. “He told you to bring her to me?”

  “Aye. Ye will need to sneak her out of London at dark.”

  “I’m not leaving without Ewan,” Dory said, her voice still raised.

  “Do you know where he is?” Captain Bart asked, his eyes on her.

  “He was creating a diversion so she could escape,” Caden supplied. “Searc and his father, Alec, were headed back to help him.”

  Dory’s eyes welled up and she blinked.

  “Were you being showy?” Captain Bart asked softly, and even though there was no disappointment in his tone she felt it in herself.

  “He was shot through with an arrow from a long bow,” Caden said. “She had to heal him or he’d have died.”

  “God’s balls, Dory,” Will said. “You gave yourself away before a country of witch hunters!”

  “Someone shot him,” Dory defended.

  “He looked like one of ye,” one of the other Highlanders said in a thick brogue and nodded to Will.

  “A pirate?” Caden asked and the man nodded.

  Captain Bart looked to Will. “O’Neil planted one of his crew in the stands to finish him off probably.” He turned back to Caden. “Did Ewan kill O’Neil?”

  Caden paused but then shook his head. “He was injured, but I don’t believe it was life-threatening unless the slice under his arm becomes tainted.”

  Captain Bart rubbed his jaw and Dory started to pace, her energy finally starting to return to normal. “We need to go back,” she mumbled but the men seemed to ignore her.

  “Damn,” Will muttered. “What happened to the shooter?”

  “Got away,” the Highlander said and the other one said something in Gaelic. “Gavin almost caught him, but the crowd had pulled in tight when Ewan fell. We would have injured bystanders reaching him.”

  “By the devil,” Dory said. “Then he could still be out there trying to shoot Ewan again.” She turned to Caden. “I’m going back with you. He could be injured.” Or worse!

  “That would only make his distraction mean nothing,” Caden countered, his face set.

  Will gave a dark chuckle. “Aye, Dory, make his distraction mean nothing,” he said, referring to his foolish distraction at port to save her that had started this whole disaster.

  “Shut your rat-arse-licking gob,” she snapped at Will. “I got you out of the Tower.”

  The two Scotsmen looked at one another. Caden didn’t even blink.

  “I suggest you tie her to a chair,” Will continued despite her order, “if you don’t want her to interfere.”

  She gave him her sharpest glare. “Just try to tie me to a chair.”

  Thunder cracked outside again. Caden glanced between them, and one of his eyebrows rose.

  “I’ll tie her up if you’d like,” Will continued to goad her.

  “Try it and I’ll slice it completely off this time,” she challenged.

  One of the other Scotsmen chuckled softly. “Ye are Ewan’s woman?”

  “What’s so funny?” she asked with a snarl. They were wasting precious time.

  The Scotsman smiled. “Ewan doesn’t like complicated lasses and ye seem as complicated as a wildcat among kittens.” He looked to Caden with a grin. “Perhaps all Englishwomen are so.”

  “We are wasting time,” she reminded them. It didn’t matter what they thought of her. They needed to find Ewan.

  Caden’s firm stare stilled her pacing. “Ye will stay here.” She opened her mouth but he kept talking. “Ye will watch the wee one and stay out of trouble.”

  “I’m not wee,” Margery grumbled.

  “Both of ye will stay here,” Caden said, leveling his glance on Margery first and then Dory. The young girl swallowed hard and nodded.

  “Donald, stay here,” Caden ordered.

  Captain Bart shrugged into his long coat. “I’ll be going to reacquaint meself with the captain of the Ebony Whore.”

  “There’s a ship called a whore?” the Scot called Donald asked.

  “They call her the Queen Anne when in port,” Captain Bart chuckled. “And she’ll be our way out of this English cesspool even if I have to slit the captain’s throat to do it.”

  Caden nodded and Captain Bart kissed Dory’s forehead. “Don’t do anything foolish, Panda, and we’ll get out of this scrape.” With that he left the room, his boots trotting down the stairway.

  The Scot’s leader spoke to Donald in Gaelic, and she heard her name mentioned.

  “’Tis quite rude to talk before others in a foreign language,” Dory mumbled.

  Caden snorted. “The Scots are not known for their manners. Now stay here with Donald and him.” He pointed to Will, who leaned back on the simple, unmade bed. Caden and the other Scotsmen followed her father out.

  Dory looked around at the sparse room. Margery sat on a wooden chair at the crude table. Donald took a stance in front of the door as if she might charge past him and he glanced nervously at the window. Perhaps she should spook him by leaning out of it.

  Long moments crawled by over what was probably less than a quarter hour when hard boots crunching on pebbles outside the window drew Dory to peek around the dingy curtain.

  Gaelic words came from the alley behind the establishment and Donald followed her to look out from the other side. He said something in Gaelic, but the words sounded relieved.

  Dory tore the curtain back then, her eyes searching. Please let Ewan be with them! But all she saw was Searc and his father. They were arguing in low tones.

  Donald called down to them and they looked up. Dory stuck her head out, Will by her side. “Where is Ewan?” she asked.

  Searc met her gaze, his youthful features suddenly a decade older. “We couldn’t get him out of there. He was still fighting when… we abandoned him.”

  Alec cursed and pushed against Searc’s chest so that they flattened against the building as a group of riders on horseback passed, and Donald grabbed Dory back inside. She felt numbing fear radiate out from her stomach and didn’t even try to stop the magic from swamping her as she leaned against the wall. A cold gust of icy wind blew inside, sending the simple square of cloth flanking the window flapping. Dust floated in the air as the faded rag settled.

  Will yanked the blanket from the bed and draped it over her shoulders. “No twisters or lightning or they’ll know where we are.” He looked at Donald. “I think we need to do something. Those were guards riding by. They will search the public buildings, probably followed those two back here.” He jerked his head toward the open window.

  Yes, they had to leave, had to try something. She refused to give up on Ewan, not if there was a chance he was still alive. “Where will they take Ewan?” Dory asked, her voice low, but completely firm.

  Donald rattled off a series of Gaelic, probably curses, and gazed back out where Searc and Alec stood looking between the open end of the alley and the window. Somewhere down the street, several shouts came, followed by pounding on a door. Hell! They had to get moving.

  “Searc,” Do
ry called softly. “Where would they take Ewan if he’d been captured?”

  “Caden said not to leave,” Donald said, but even he had to know that the plan had to change. Margery came up to her shoulder and looked down at Searc, too.

  “The Tower,” she said. “Everyone needing to be locked up in London is just thrown into the Tower.” Her voice dropped. “Even if they are injured.”

  Donald cursed in Gaelic, looked heavenward, and rattled off more in his tongue, something about Caden and Ewan. He then crossed himself. Somehow, Dory didn’t think he was praying for them but rather for himself once Caden and Ewan found out he’d let her go to the Tower.

  Dory squeezed Margery’s thin shoulders but returned to Searc’s steady, stubborn gaze. He gave a brief nod as he rattled off more Gaelic to his father. Alec Munro frowned fiercely but nodded and Dory’s heart thumped. Aye, they would brave the Tower of London once more.

  Dory looked down at the street-wise girl. “Do you know a quick way to get there?” she asked.

  The girl smiled broadly and nodded.

  Will groaned. “God’s balls,” he cursed but hoisted himself over the wooden sill first.

  …

  The cell door clanged shut, adding a tone of finality to the constant dripping of foul water in the corridor. Just as before when he’d visited Captain Bart, the cold air lay thick with must tinged with the tang of urine and dung. Silence and despair filled the darkness, interrupted occasionally with a cough or groan. These certainly weren’t the accommodations afforded nobles. He was housed down with the criminals, pirates, and those the king and his advisors wished to forget.

  Ewan rubbed a hand over his sore jaw and touched the sticky spot at the base of his skull where they’d cracked him unconscious with the butt of a sword, most likely. Bloody English had taken their fury out on his face. True he’d probably killed one or two, but he’d been trying to stay alive.