by Willa Blair
Toran walked among the mounted men one last time, checking for anything loose that might rattle or clink and betray their presence to an enemy patrol. His men were well-trained; he’d give Donal credit for that. There was nothing to find. Their mounts were more restless than usual carrying the double load, but they’d distributed the weight of two riders among the strongest horses, and once they were underway, the horses would settle down. In truth, Toran should ride with the heaviest MacAnalen since Banner was the biggest and strongest of the Lathan mounts. But he refused to relinquish Aileana to any one else. If they were attacked, he could best defend her and he would not share the risk for her life or freedom with any of the other men, even Kyle. She meant too much to him.
Aileana was already seated atop Banner, looking concerned, but calm. Toran swung up behind her and settled her against him, reveling in the warm roundness of her body nestled between his thighs. “Are ye ready, lass?”
“Aye.”
“Good. I’ll have ye home before false dawn.”
Toran turned to Angus, who stood at Banner’s withers. “Keep ye safe, Angus, and send more men as ye can spare them.”
“I’ll do that,” Angus replied evenly. “We’ll meet again in a few days, Laird Lathan.” He faced Aileana. “Keep ye safe, lass,” he said solemnly, “and take the gratitude of the MacAnalens with ye as ye go.”
“Angus, I’m sorry.” Tears tinged her voice.
“Dinna say it, lass. Ye did what ye could. Now we must wait.”
“Aye,” Toran replied for her and nodded to Kyle, who led off, followed by Toran and the rest of the riders.
The first few hours passed uneventfully. They proceeded as they had on the trip out, silently, in single file, communicating by hand signals. Aileana even dozed in his arms. They stopped more often than on the outward journey because of the horses carrying two riders. They also shifted riders to further rest the animals carrying the greatest burden. Over Aileana’s energetically pantomimed objections, he stayed with her as she moved well away from the others to take care of her personal needs. She had sense, and there was no doubt by her silence that she knew how dangerous any conversation would be, even when she clearly wished to forbid him to accompany her on such a private mission.
Hours later, Toran was beginning to think that they might reach the main gate without incident. True, the closer they got the the Aerie, the closer they got to Colbridge’s camp and the chances of meeting one of his patrols went up. But this late in the deep, dark hours of the night, Toran hoped that most of Colbridge’s men would be abed, not ahorse and looking for trouble.
Aileana stirred in his arms, awake and, he suspected, trying to ease numbness in her hips and seat from the long ride. He gave her a gentle squeeze to let her know all was well. Unused to long hours in the saddle, she must be uncomfortable. But Kyle would soon call another halt to rest the horses. She would not have long to wait to get down from her high perch on Banner and walk off some of the stiffness she must be feeling.
And speaking of stiffness, all the stirring about that Aileana was doing against his thighs was giving Toran’s body ideas of its own. Apparently, Aileana was aware of the hardening fullness at her back, for she suddenly sat up straighter and grabbed his thigh.
Then Toran heard what had alerted her and gave the signal to halt. Horses, moving in their direction. The trees muffled the sound and made it hard to distinguish exactly where the riders were, but the hoofbeats were getting louder.
Aileana tensed in front of him. Toran waited, listening, praying that this patrol would pass them by as the last one had, not run right into them. It took only a moment to ken that they were going to be close, too close. Kyle turned his mount around as Toran signaled the riders behind him to turn back they way they’d come. If they moved quietly and fast enough, they might still avoid a fight.
Then one of the horses stumbled over something in the dark and neighed its distress. No one spoke, no one swore, but the damage was done. The hoofbeats, nearer now, veered directly toward them.
“Form up!” Toran ordered and the MacAnalens dismounted to allow the Lathans to fight unencumbered. Weapons clattered against tack. Toran considered putting Aileana down among the armed MacAnalens, but could not do it. He had no choice. If he set her down, she could be trampled, or lost, or worse, picked up by one of the patrol and carried off into the night, back to Colbridge’s camp. Nay, better she stay with him. They would win or die together. She was his to protect, and so he would.
“Stay on Banner,” he told her tersely. “Ye’ll be safer with him than on the ground. Stay low so I can swing a blade above ye.”
“Aye,” she answered tightly, and he kenned she must be terrified at the prospect of going into battle.
“Dinna fash, lass,” he told her, though he knew she would, and truth be told, he was worried enough for both of them. “If something happens to me, Banner will take ye home.”
The first rider blundered into the middle of their line and was quickly dispatched before he knew what happened. Two of his companions were cannier, pulling up and engaging the end of the line where there were fewer defenders to harry them. Toran parried the blow aimed at his head and beheaded the attacker for his temerity, then whirled Banner around to parry another blow.
A sword cut barely missed Aileana. She shrieked and ducked lower on Banner’s neck. Toran’s heart leapt to his throat at her cry. He was more terrified than he’d ever been during battle. Normally coldly calm until the fight ended, he was keenly aware of the woman clinging to Banner’s mane between his knees, distracting him. He saw Robbie gut the next attacker headed his way, and gave him a quick salute with his bloody blade.
In another moment, it was over. He heard Kyle call “Report,” and let go a breath when he heard all of his men reply. Only then did he lift Aileana up from her crouch over Banner’s neck and back into his arms. The warm wetness along her side coated his fingers.
“Lass, are ye hurt?” he cried, nearly panicked at the thought of her suffering a mortal wound here in this dark forest. Who would care for her?
“I’m all right,” she choked out between terrified sobs. Toran, frantically patted her down and finding no wound, realized the blood was not hers, but her attacker’s.
They would have to finish the ride home with the smell of blood on her dress. It would not bother the unflappable Banner, but it bothered Toran more than he was willing to admit. They’d had a close call. And they weren’t home yet.
Toran breathed a sigh of relief until he heard hoofbeats racing away from them through the trees. A lone rider, escaping the fray? They could not allow a report of this confrontation to get back to Colbridge. If that rider had heard Aileana’s shriek and knew a woman rode with them, Colbridge would search, hoping to find Aileana, and would be after them before they could reach safety. And when he realized the Lathans were not locked up inside the Aerie, but able to roam the countryside at will, he’d redouble his attacks on their walls. Instead of just lay siege, he’d search for ways other than the main gates in and out of the fortress. Time marched against Colbridge. The longer he maintained the siege, the worse off he was. The last thing Toran wanted to do was give him an alternative, not yet.
“Kyle, Robbie, after him!” Toran ordered, swinging Banner around, fighting the urge to pursue the quarry. “Everyone else, pick up yer riders. Let’s move!”
Toran pulled Aileana tighter against him. He snapped the reins and Banner took off. One by one, he heard the rest of his men fall into line behind him. Stealth was no longer a concern. They were close enough to the Aerie that speed would have to win the day. They rode. They encountered no more of Colbridge’s patrols. Instead, as they started up the trail to the Aerie’s gates, Kyle and Robbie joined up with them.
Then the outer gate stood before them, and Toran shouted for the night watch to let them in. Just as they swung open, he heard horses pounding up behind them. It was too dark still to see, but it had to be another patrol. If Toran did
n’t get his group inside the outer gate quickly, they’d be caught between the gates, or risk allowing the battle to spill into the outer bailey.
“Ride!” he shouted. He had to get Aileana safe inside the gates before he could return to the fight.
Inside the bailey, he handed Aileana down to one of the stableboys. He spotted Donal up on the rampart with the watch standers, making sure they were ready to mount a defense, inside or outside the walls. Toran raised a hand in salute, then turned Banner and raced back to defend the gates.
The last of his group approached the gate, but a group of six riders was coming on fast. Toran pulled his claymore and rode them down, swinging with deadly precision. Kyle joined him on one side, Robbie on the other and they beat the patrol back down the trail away from the gate before the Aerie’s archers could take aim. By the time the survivors turned tail and ran for the glen, only two of them remained alive to report to their leader that the gates of the Aerie had opened.
Kyle and Robbie took off in pursuit, but Toran called them back. “Let them go,” he growled. “They won’t tell Colbridge anything he doesna already ken. There’s no way he didna hear this.”
Kyle started to protest, but Toran shook his head, disgusted with the turn of events. “Get inside. We need to plan how to get the rest of Angus’s men in without getting them all killed.”
****
Hours later, after a bath and some sleep, Aileana felt recovered from the terrifying return to the Aerie. She walked along the rampart, nodding to the men standing watch there and paying close attention to those she and Senga had treated in days past. Most of their injuries had been minor and Aileana’s healing touch had speeded them back to their duty sooner than it would have been possible without her. But were they returning to the walls too quickly? She trusted her talent and Senga’s judgement, but that did not stop her from harboring concerns about her patients.
Senga claimed that her old bones were no longer suited to climbing the stairs to the ramparts, and it gave a clearer picture of the men’s fitness to see them at their posts rather than lounging in the great hall or fidgeting in the herbal. So she passed the rampart walking duty to Aileana.
The more tasks Senga gave Aileana, the more a sense of belonging grew within her, so she welcomed anything that Senga saw fit to turn over to her. She hoped that as word of her healing spread, and as more people in the clan experienced it, her talent would no longer be feared, and she would be accepted.
She paused out of the wind, next to the entry to an enclosed staircase and peered over the wall between two merlons onto Colbridge’s camp, where she could see figures move along the edge of the trees, in and out of the patchwork of tents, and from campfire to campfire. The small army already had the look of long habitation. Tents showed travel wear, dirt, and stains. Whenever they weren’t trying to breach the Aerie’s walls, men lounged wearily around cooking fires or could be heard moving about deeper within the forest.
Most were too far away to identify, but a few stood out. Colbridge, with two other men, paced behind a fire, well lit by its brightness as if to say, Here I am, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Aileana had seen his aggressiveness demonstrated too many times to mistake the scene he set. No doubt their foray last night had provoked this display.
Another man approached the group. Ranald! Aileana smiled in recognition, but her smile turned sad at the thought of how he must be faring in the camp. She heard the faint cadence of voices in the distance, but by no means could she overhear what Ranald and Colbridge discussed, though she supposed their conversation might have something to do with her. Or with Toran. Thinking of him made Aileana smile again as she pictured his broad shoulders; his strong, yet gentle hands; the sheer masculine beauty of his face. Warmth spread through her, and she imagined she heard his voice amid the others that echoed around the keep. Nay, she did hear him.
“I canna explain how she does it,” Toran was saying, sounding irritated, and Aileana realized his words were carrying up the stairs in the tower she huddled against. “But Senga accepts her, and explain or not, we need her. She is training her up in her potions and herbs. What she can’t heal that way, she can heal her…special…way.”
Toran had talked to Senga about her? Why? Yesterday at Angus’s camp, he seemed to accept her answers, even though his expression had been fierce. What had gone wrong now?
“Aye. But she lied to ye and even if she has now told ye the truth, it concerns me.” Aileana recognized Donal gruff voice and understood the frustration in Toran’s. Donal didn’t trust her, and made no secret of it. Why had he told Donal about their conversation?
“It concerned me, too,” she heard Toran reply, and her heart sank as Toran acknowledged Donal’s suspicions. “But we’ve seen no sign of her doin’ anything unseemly save lying to protect herself.”
Donal’s voice was louder when he replied, “At least ye’ve seen that there are limits to her power. She canna raise the dead. But I still say it doesna mean she’s safe to have within our walls, no matter what Senga told ye.”
She realized the two were ascending the stairs. She quickly moved away from the tower, into the wind. With her back to them as they exited the tower, they would not know she’d overheard.
She clutched her shawl tighter around her and leaned over the wall to better see outside. A large hand gripped her shoulder and pulled her roughly aside, behind a merlon.
“Aileana! Stay back! Colbridge’s men can see ye here,” Toran growled. “A lucky shot by their archers, a following wind, and well—” He paused and gripped both her shoulders more gently, entreaty and…was it fear for her on his face? “Be careful, lass.”
“Aye,” Donal added, doing exactly what Aileana had done moments before, peering out at Colbridge’s camp. Then he swore. “That son of a cattle thief! Toran, take a look at this.”
Toran released his hold on Aileana, reluctantly, it seemed. Without his touch, the wind blew colder and she was bereft of support. She gathered her shawl again and joined the men.
“Damn, what’s he doing?” Toran muttered.
Donal cut a frown in her direction, but Toran kept his eye on the approaching riders.
“It’s taken him long enough to decide on a parley,” Toran muttered, “if that’s what this is.”
Aileana peered carefully over the wall. Colbridge led two other riders at an easy canter across the glen. Finally the riders stopped just out of range of the Aerie’s archers. Colbridge kicked his mount a pace forward.
“Laird Lathan!” he called out. Aileana ducked down, out of sight from the glen, afraid to be seen by that man.
“Aye,” Toran replied, mildly. “Have ye come to surrender?”
“Surrender?” Aileana could not mistake the fury in Colbridge’s voice. Toran’s taunt had hit home. “Never. I’m here to accept your surrender. And to retrieve something of mine that you took. I want it back—undamaged.” Almost she stood to peek out at her former captor, but common sense held her back, since she was the only thing within the walls of the Aerie that had once “belonged” to Colbridge.
“Something of yers?” Toran’s voice held nothing but innocent bemusement. “I can’t imagine what that might be. Since…guesting…with ye,” Toran continued, more forcefully, “I’ve received nothing from yer camp save insults and feeble attempts to scale my walls.”
“You can’t sit behind those walls forever,” Colbridge challenged angrily. “You’ll come out, and when you do, it’ll be on my terms. Send Aileana out, and I’ll spare your lives.”
Aileana blanched. He was after her. Of course he was. “No,” she whispered. “I won’t go back.” But she could not imagine Toran giving her back to Colbridge. She stared up at Toran, looking for reassurance. Surely he wouldn’t.
“Aileana is spoils of war,” Donal spoke up, his voice pitched to carry into the glen. Then he leaned over the wall, and smirked. “She is our property now. To do with as we wish. Later, we may toss her back to ye. But for now, we�
��ll keep her.”
“Harm her at your peril,” Colbridge shouted.
“Why is she so valuable to ye?” Toran finally asked after a glare at Donal meant to silence him.
“That’s my business and none of yours. But if you or any of your men violate her, then she will be useless to me and to you.”
“Surely ye can’t mean to ransom her? Or marry her off for an alliance? That’s no’ yer way, is it?” Toran said, deliberately misunderstanding Colbridge’s concern.
“My way is to offer you one chance to save the lives of your clan. Open your gates. Send out the Healer and surrender, or die.”
“Nay, I dinna think we’ll be taking ye up on yer offer. But perhaps I’ll consider a ransom. If ye want her back, pack up yer camp and return to where ye came from. Dinna trouble us again, and I’ll see her returned to ye.”
Aileana could not contain her gasp of dismay, but Toran either did not hear her, or chose to ignore the reaction of his “property.” She stared up and him in shock, waiting for some signal, some sign, for him to step aside and quietly tell her it wasn’t true. Could he truly be bargaining with Colbridge to send her back? Hadn’t he spoken of a special bond between them? Of handfasting together?
He continued to favor Colbridge with the mildest of regard and ignored her completely. She would not let him see her cry. She would not! All his words had been lies. She’d been right, and Senga was wrong. She was nothing to Toran but curiosity and a challenge. She turned and ran for the stairs, intent on getting as far away from her “master” as she could within the walls of the Aerie. He didn’t trust her. He’d told Colbridge as much. He knew the truth about her Talent; that she would not lose it with her maidenhead. And before he sent her back, he’d do the one thing that Colbridge believed would ruin her forever.