Timeless Tales of Honor

by Suzan Tisdale

  For a brief moment, Duncan was not sure if she wouldn’t thrust the sword deep into his heart. He quickly dismissed the thought, but when he made a move to stand, Aishlinn edged the sword closer to his chest.

  “You think I’m good with a bow? You should see me with a sword, Duncan,” she seethed at him.

  He decided perhaps it best not to take the chance at the moment as he could see the intense fury within her eyes.

  Of course Aishlinn had been stretching the truth a bit with tempting him to think she could actually do anything with a sword other than swing it. She felt Duncan needed not to know that at the moment. She was attempting only to get this ridiculous situation under control. If it took a lie to do it, then so be it.

  “Are you two quite done?” she asked, scowling at the men who lay before her, each of them thunderstruck at the way in which she held the sword and scabbard. The fury could be seen in her eyes and warned them not to tempt her.

  The two men cast furtive glances at one another before they nodded their heads. “Aye.” They spoke in unison before casting disdainful looks at one another.

  Aishlinn studied them very carefully for a moment and decided they would indeed settle down. She carefully returned the sword to the scabbard and walked back to Wee William, who stood with his mouth agape.

  ’Twasn’t very often you saw a young lass settle two men with both a sword and a scabbard. Wee William, though disappointed the fight had ended too soon for his liking, was growing more proud of Aishlinn as the days passed.

  Aishlinn turned to face the men who had been fighting over her. They had remained firmly planted upon the ground, breathing heavily as they attempted to wipe the sweat from their brows with the backs of their hands. It was more than utter disappointment she felt in each of them, she was furious with their behavior.

  “I cannot believe that two grown men would behave in such a manner!” She began pacing back and forth as Duncan and Black Richard stared at her.

  “Of all the pig-headed and foolish ways for ye to behave. Fighting like two mangy cur dogs over a piece of fresh meat!”

  Both men began to protest and Aishlinn stopped them both with an angry scowl. “I’ll hear not a thing from either of ye at this moment!”

  She continued to pace and yell at them that they be daft, eejit men. She came and stood over Duncan, with her hands on her hips. “Do you, Duncan, intend on beating every man who ever might say good day to me?” she fumed at him.

  “Aye. I do,” he said.

  “I think the correct answer is ‘nay’ ye daft fool!” she yelled at him.

  “Nay. I meant what I said,” he said, trying to catch his breath.

  Aishlinn stood over him, her hands on her hips, severely disappointed in him. “Why? Why would you do such a thing?” she asked angrily

  “Because yer mine,” he said with a broad smile.

  Aishlinn was determined not to let his beaming smile and twinkling blue eyes get the better of her. She did love him, but she wasn’t about to let him behave in such a beastly manner any time any man might say good day to her. She’d simply not allow it.

  “I am not a possession Duncan! I’m not a trinket nor a trophy,” she seethed at him and resumed her angry pacing.

  She was speaking more to herself at this point than to anyone else. “Of all the stupid. I just canna believe. It is just downright. I am just. Appalling behavior.” Complete sentences were simply too much work at the moment. “What exactly were the two of you fighting about?” she asked them.

  Neither man could put into precise words just what had happened. Duncan knew it was a fierce jealousy that had overcome him when he had seen the two of them together. Black Richard had fought merely to get Duncan’s goat, jealous over the fact that he had won Aishlinn’s heart.

  “That’s what I thought! You don’t even know,” she said. “Or you won’t even admit it.”

  She went back to pacing and talking to herself, turning on occasion to chastise them again. As she rambled on, Duncan watched his soon-to-be betrothed with great admiration. He loved the fire that came to her eyes when she was perturbed. He thought those eyes might be able to melt iron this day, for she was completely furious with him.

  “Damn, but she is beautiful when she is angry!” Duncan and Black Richard spoke at the same time. They turned and looked at each briefly. The scowl had returned along with the jealousy.

  Black Richard smiled at him and he raised his eyebrows. “’Tis true!”

  Duncan saw red again and he tackled Black Richard back to the ground. Wrestling and tossing each other about, Black Richard could not help but egg Duncan on.

  “Have ye asked her to marry ye yet?” he said, as he flipped Duncan over to his back. He could see the rage as it burned in Duncan’s eyes.

  “For if ye haven’t, I was thinkin’ of askin’ her meself!” Black Richard had to stifle a laugh for he knew that even if he had the courage to ask such a question, Aishlinn would undoubtedly turn him down. Black Richard knew her heart belonged to Duncan, but at the moment, he was deriving too much pleasure in infuriating the man.

  Duncan growled as he knocked Black Richard backwards. Rolling around in the dirt and grass, he cared not why Black Richard was intentionally attempting to anger him. If anyone were to propose marriage to Aishlinn, it would be Duncan and no other.

  They had all but forgotten Aishlinn’s rage as they rolled and tumbled upon the ground. But she soon reminded them. Suddenly they felt a deluge of icy cold water as it hit them hard and gushed over their bodies. Barely a moment passed before they were hit with another.

  “What the bloody hell!” Duncan yelled.

  Aishlinn tossed an empty bucket to the ground as she grabbed a third and flung its icy cold contents at them. So angry she was at the moment, she could have beat them both senseless with the empties.

  The two men held their hands up in surrender. “We’re done lass! We’re done!” they shouted at her.

  “Are you certain?” she asked as she cocked her head to one side. She still had a firm grip on another full bucket of water.

  “Aye!” they told her. The history over the past minutes told her not to believe them. She flung the contents of the other bucket at the two of them for good measure.

  Duncan let out a string of blasphemies as the cold water crashed over his body. He was ready to jump up, grab his soon-to-be betrothed and fling her over his shoulder and paddle her arse soundly. Well, perhaps he would lavish her with passionate kisses first.

  Aishlinn stood, out of breath and overwhelmed with anger. As she was about to give them another tongue lashing, Harry came racing towards them shouting Duncan’s name. He fell to his knees in front of Duncan, fighting for breath.

  “What is it, lad?” Wee William’s voice boomed from behind Aishlinn. It startled her nearly witless and it seemed even the birds had decided it was now best to remain quiet. Now he decides to use his voice?

  “Tall Thomas sends for ye, Duncan!” the boy said, gulping for air. “He says for ye to come straight away!” The lad sounded serious and fearful.

  “Did he say why?” Duncan asked and jumped to his feet before helping the boy up to his own.

  Harry shook his head. “He said to fetch ye, to tell ye ‘twas important and to not say anything in front of-” he stopped and cast a look at Aishlinn.

  “In front of who?” Duncan’s face had turned hard and sober.

  The boy pulled on Duncan’s tunic to whisper in his ear. Duncan bent down and listened. The color drained from his face before he straightened himself. He turned and stared deep into Aishlinn’s eyes. She was certain she saw black clouds of worry and rage flash over them.

  “What is it?” she asked uncertain she truly wanted to know the answer.

  His worked his jaw back and forth as he walked towards her. He could see the fear rise in her eyes as she figured it out.

  * * *

  “What is it?” Aishlinn asked as Duncan took her by the arm and led her towards
the castle. Panic turned in her stomach when he would not answer. Wee William and Black Richard followed close behind, their faces belying the fact that they were just as concerned as Duncan as to what was taking place. The two men had managed to glean from Harry what Tall Thomas’ message had been.

  Duncan led her through the kitchen door. “I need ye to go to yer room, Aishlinn, and stay there. I’ll come for ye soon, I promise,” he said as they walked through the gathering room. Richard, Gowan, Manghus and Findley stood huddled near a table. Rowan and Angus were racing down the stairs.

  Without stopping, Angus boomed, “Aishlinn, go to yer room and wait. Do no’ come out until we send for ye.”

  It did not take long for her father to start acting fatherly. She nearly shook out of her slippers when he boomed his order. Under different circumstance she would have protested vociferously. But with feeling as though the wind had just been knocked from her sails she did not have the strength or the courage to test him.

  Duncan tugged at her arm. “It’s the English isn’t it?” she asked, the fear in her voice quite evident.

  No one had to say a word for the looks upon each of their faces was enough to confirm her fears. Duncan led her up the stairs and to her room. “Lass, ’twill be all right. Do no’ worry. Just stay here and I’ll send Bree to ye.” He left quickly without uttering another word. She promptly went to her private privy and retched.

  * * *

  Duncan could tell from the serious expressions upon his men’s faces that nothing they were about to say would be good news. Rowan was waiting for him in the gathering room.

  “What in the name of God is going on?” Duncan demanded as he barreled through the halls towards the private meeting room.

  “I dunna ken, Duncan. All Richard and Findley would say was that they had word on the English and Aishlinn.”

  Duncan flung the door open to the war room and saw his men huddled near the end of the large table. The McDunnah sat at one end of the table to Angus’ left. Several of the McDunnah’s men stood behind him, arms crossed, curious expressions upon their faces.

  “What’s happened?” Duncan asked. He was not afraid of the English, he was afraid for Aishlinn.

  Richard came to stand beside him. “I’ve word on the English,” he said. “And Aishlinn.”

  “Tell me!” Duncan shouted.

  “Duncan!” Angus boomed. “Calm yerself lad or I’ll have ye removed.”

  Duncan took a deep breath and nodded his head, first to Angus then to Richard. He did not doubt for a moment that Angus wouldn’t make good on his promise.

  “Findley and I went to Dunblane for supplies,” Richard began. “We were in a tavern having an ale when some English soldiers came in. Findley and I got close enough to listen.” He paused for a moment knowing that what he was about to tell Duncan was not good news. “They be looking for Aishlinn.”

  Duncan’s heart went cold. “Yer certain?” he asked calmly.

  “Aye,” Findley said. “Green-eyed beauty with blonde hair cut short.”

  “How many men?” Angus asked as his face paled.

  “There were only a few in the tavern. We left immediately. Did not even bother to get the supplies. As we traveled back, we caught sight of several campfires.” Richard recounted the event while he watched Duncan closely.

  “We got as close as we could. There looked to be at least a hundred.”

  Duncan’s jaw clenched as his hands balled into fists. A hundred English soldiers sent to look for one young woman? It made no sense they would send that many. His mind raced as he thought of Aishlinn and what Angus would do. It felt as if the earth was giving way under his feet. Slowly he sat down in the nearest chair.

  “Duncan,” Findley said. “They be a day and a half away.”

  He could not speak for his mind was racing with how quickly he could get Aishlinn to safety. There was not a cowardly bone in his body. He was not running from the fight. Once he got Aishlinn to a safe place, he could then concentrate on the fight. If he had to worry over her, he would be no use to anyone.

  “Duncan,” Richard said. “There be more.”

  Angus and Duncan looked to him. “In the tavern, the English were speaking of a troth.”

  A deep crease came to Duncan’s forehead. “A troth?” he asked perplexedly.

  “The soldiers said the earl had given a troth to her family but she had run away.” He paused to let the words sink in. “The earl be no’ dead Duncan.”

  Duncan shot up from his chair. “What do ye mean, the earl be no’ dead?”

  His chest tightened. Intense white-hot anger burned spots in front of his eyes and his palms began to sweat. Duncan did not doubt that Aishlinn had stabbed the earl as she said she had. But she had been wrong to believe he had died from his wounds.

  Findley walked to him. “He evidently survived the stabbin’, Duncan. They’re sayin’ the earl has given a troth for her hand. They’re saying he misses her dearly and wants his beloved returned as soon as possible.” He paused for a moment. “He’s offerin’ a reward to anyone who returns the lass to him.”

  Duncan’s mind whirled. His first thought was of Aishlinn and how she would respond to the news. Aye, she had become stronger over the past sennights, blossoming into a fine, strong woman. But that strength had been built partly on the premise that the earl was dead and no one had been looking for her to punish her for the crime of killing him. Would learning that the whoreson wasn’t dead and the English were in fact looking for her be enough to destroy the woman she had become?

  The earl was alive and had given a troth for Aishlinn’s hand in marriage? There could be no truth to it. The troth was merely a ruse, a lie told to either convince or entice those who did not know the whole truth to aid in finding her. He would kill the bastard before he would allow Aishlinn to be returned to him.

  His thoughts then turned to the three brothers. They had traded her to work at Firth without her knowledge or consent. It was quite feasible that they would have entered into a marriage arrangement without her knowing or consenting to that as well. He would kill the earl first, then the three brothers.

  A buzzing sensation began to build in his ears. He could not lose her now.

  “Well now, this changes things a bit, don’ it?” Caelen McDunnah offered. A curious smile had come to the man’s face and Duncan was not quite sure what to make of it.

  “What do ye mean, Caelen?” Angus asked, turning to face him.

  The McDunnah tilted his head. “If the Buchannans get wind of this, they’ll be after the lass fer certain. They’ll want to ransom her back to the earl. There probably would be no amount of coin the earl wudna pay to get her back.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “There’ll be no safe place fer the lass to go.”

  Every man in the room thought on that for a moment. This did not bode well for any of them. One of the McDunnah’s men, a stocky man with a bald, tattooed head and a full, long red beard spoke up. “Why should we be goin’ up agin the English or the Buchannans for this lass?” he asked bluntly, looking at the MacDougall men who stood across the table from him.

  Caelen McDunnah threw his head back and laughed boisterously for a long moment. “God’s bones, man! Have ye seen the lass?” He shook his head and whistled.

  “She be a damned beautiful young thing! Beautiful enough she could make a grown man cry with wantin’ her. ’Tis probably why the earl wants her so.” He shot a wicked glance towards Duncan who was slowly making his way around the table.

  The logical thinking part of Duncan’s mind told him it would do no good to start a battle with the McDunnah. But his heart beckoned him to defend Aishlinn’s honor against anyone who would defile it or speak out of turn regarding her, even a supposed ally.

  “If the lass weren’t already taken, I wouldn’t mind a go at her meself! A lass as beautiful as that makes a man’s bones ache with want! And it be the quiet ones that fool ye. They be the ones full of hidden passions that can set a man�
��s teeth on edge!” He was laughing again, apparently enjoying the effect he was having on Duncan.

  There was very little time for Duncan to act. He had taken no more than a half a step towards the McDunnah when Angus bolted upright out of his chair, took a firm hold of the man’s throat with his right hand, lifted him off his chair, and pinned him against the wall.

  He had moved so quickly that no one had seen him pull his dirk until they saw it firmly pressed against the McDunnah’s throat. It had taken only a moment or two however before every man in the room had pulled a dirk or a sword, one side pointing their weapons at the other.

  “That be me daughter ye speak of Caelen McDunnah!” Angus growled through gritted teeth. The sunlight blazing in through the window glinted off the blade of the dirk. “I’ll thank ye kindly to watch yer filthy tongue when ye speak of her.”

  A flash of surprise, blended with a pinch of insanity Duncan supposed, flashed across the McDunnah’s eyes. He caught also a glimpse of fear, for Caelen McDunnah, while always eager to fight, was not quite crazy enough to take on Angus McKenna.

  Caelen let out as much of a laugh as he could considering the firm grip Angus had on his throat. “Aye.” He gasped for air.

  Duncan was surprised at Angus’ words. He knew that Angus had met with Aishlinn earlier. Duncan had been certain that Angus would have eventually accepted Aishlinn as his foster daughter, especially once he had the opportunity to get to know her. However, he had not expected for Angus to accept her so quickly, or so readily. His behavior confused Duncan.

  Angus took his time letting the man down. Caelen coughed and sputtered and gulped for air. It took a few moments before he could speak.

  Between coughs, the McDunnah attempted to apologize to Angus. “I was told she be an orphan,” he coughed again.

  Angus stared at the man for a moment before turning his attention to the rest of the room. “Aishlinn is in fact me daughter. Me blood daughter.” He looked at Duncan, whose eyes had grown wide with surprise. “I’ve just learned of her return to me this day. I thought her dead but by God’s grace, she has been returned to me.”