“Yes, Your Grace. I am sure that all is well,” William replied.
“And have you seen the army?” the Duke asked.
“Indeed. They are a fine bunch of men, and I have no doubt that we will be the rightful victors. You have excellent men at your disposal, and they are extremely loyal to you. We will all be ready to march by your side and bring your daughter safely home,” he promised.
“Excellent. And that boy will be as good as dead for all he has done to us. For the murder of my son and the captivity of my Isabel. He shall be put in the ground,” the Duke declared with passionate hatred gleaming from his eye.
“Brother,” called Ezra, entering the room. “We have gathered the extra horsemen. The Earl of Lancashire has sent an entire fleet for our use.”
“Ah, this is good news indeed!” the Duke said with delight. “I feared we may have to move onward with only our limited supply. But the Earl has quite skilled horsemen, and this is excellent news.”
“We are ready then, sir. Weapons, armor, we have it all. We are ready for battle,” William said again, with greater confidence.
“William, please leave the Duke and me to discuss a matter,” Ezra requested. William looked to the Duke who nodded before he took his leave.
“What is it, Ezra?” the Duke exclaimed in irritation.
“I only wondered, what is your primary objective? We are moving to rescue Isabel, but is that your true goal? Or are we aiming at revenge?” Ezra asked.
“Can we not choose both?” the Duke asked.
“Indeed, brother, but hear me. Our army needs a focus. As it is, there is some confusion as to what their purpose must be. Those with dreams of being heroes are divided between their plans to single handedly kill Edan or single handedly rescue Isabel. They need a cohesive focus, or else we will have an excess in casualties,” Ezra explained.
“Good. We want casualties. So long as they are Scottish. We want them dead. Men. Women. Even children should they get in the way. That is what happens when my children are taken. When my children are murdered. When my children are abducted,” the Duke said viciously.
“Then I may offer no clarification to the army?” Ezra asked again.
“None,” the Duke said with resignation. His only wish was to see Scottish blood running.
“I understand,” Ezra replied. He was frustrated that his brother’s anger might get them all killed or put in greater danger, but he had no choice. It was unjust that he should have greater wisdom than the Duke and no power to execute it.
Ezra left his brother’s room and found the group of archers. If his brother would not take matters seriously, he would have to.
“Archers, your focus shall be killing as many Scottish as possible. Especially the Laird, his sister and uncle. We must wipe them out if at all possible,” he ordered.
Then he made his way to the swordsmen.
“Your focus shall be seizing the castle and finding my niece. Bring her out safely,” he commanded.
He may not have been a strategist, but here and now, his brother was too clouded by grief and anger to lead.
“Right, so the spy says they be coming early, like at sunrise. Are yer men prepared to be ready that soon?” Robert asked.
“Aye, they are always ready for battle,” replied the guard.
“Good, they’ve had a full week to plan their attack, and we’ve got barely a day and a half to ready ourselves. So long as ye ken what ye be doing, then I trust ye. The Laird and the prisoner are safe away and will cause nae distraction or unexpected complication,” Robert declared.
Caitriona had stationed herself near the archers as they trained. They would be at the top of the castle, with the best view of the invaders and the best access to shooting down at them. She would be allowed to stay with them as one of the best archers in the clan.
A few other women had also made their way into the army, most of them trained by fathers or husbands in archery, a handful in swordsmanship. But they would all be stationed with the archers at the top of the castle, the last stage to be reached should the English gain ground.
“Do ye feel yer blood pumping?” Caitriona asked Robert.
“Aye. It’s flowing in me veins like fire. Now that everyone has been sent away to safety, that is,” he said.
The women who were not fighting had been sent underground with the children and elderly into a safety tunnel below the castle. The entrance was well hidden, and it would be extremely unlikely that they might be discovered. Five guards stood in a hidden room just beyond the entrance in case they had to act as a last line of defense.
In all, the clan’s army was small, but mighty and hardened. And even now, Cormag would come in handy. He had been given free reign to strike down any Englishman save for the Duke and his brother. Edan had not wanted any more bloodshed to come upon their family.
But Cormag knew that it was only a matter of time before his days were numbered. It was clear that Callum had plans for his removal. Taking down the Duke, one final Englishman, that might bring him the last bit of satisfaction he needed.
“We are ready then,” Robert decided as the sun began to set. “Rest, men. In but a few hours ye will all be at war.”
The men rested in their places. The first line of defense, a group of a hundred men hidden within the forest along the path that would be taken by the English, rested among the trees. They waited in the dark until their watchmen would alert them.
Edan could not close his eyes. All day he and Isabel had ridden, and they were now drawing near to Land’s End. He knew they could reach it before noon the following day. The day that his castle would be attacked by his enemy.
Sun would rise in but a few hours. His blood pounded in his veins. Fear rattled him. He knew that the terror was greater being away than if he had remained behind to see what would come to pass.
Isabel stirred in his arms. He had not kissed her since they departed for their journey. He longed for a taste of her comfort, for a touch of her lips on his. And yet, he knew that his fears were too great to allow him the full pleasure of her.
Those green eyes opened, and she looked up at him.
“What is it, my Laird?” she asked with concern.
“Nothing, lass. Ye are bonnie when ye sleep is all. Rest yer head,” he said softly.
“No,” she said rising to sit, her face close to his. “Tell me, tell me what concerns you the most.”
“I am afraid for me clan, and I wish only to be with them. I ken they wanted me away to protect their leader. But how am I to lead when I cannae even be in battle with them?” he asked.
“Are you always sent away?” Isabel wondered.
“Nae, I am right with them most times. This time is different. This time, the enemy believes I am responsible for something I had nothing to do with. And ye. We cannae let them see ye. They arnae to ken we’ve an English prisoner,” he said.
So, they do not know who I am. Isabel exhaled with relief.
“Well, do not fear. I am sure your men are well trained,” she said, hoping he would deny it. She worried for her father, knowing how his anger could lead his mind.
“Aye, we are right warriors. Rarely have we failed, and rarely have we left many survivors. But I’ve always been there. Now, I’m nae with them,” he said.
Isabel was stuck. She feared for the safety of her own countrymen, and that of her father and uncle, the only family she had left. And yet, she realized that she was growing to love the castle and the friends she was beginning to make. Like Caitriona and Robert.
“Well, I suppose we shall just have to wait and see what comes of it,” she said quietly.
She curled herself into Edan’s chest, and he held her close, kissing her forehead lightly. Isabel looked up at him, and he stared into her eyes.
“Kiss me,” she said, before accepting how deeply she meant the words.
His lips were on hers, a warmth against the cold of the night. They were in the coach, blankets covering their bo
dies, but Isabel could not think of a greater comfort at that moment than Edan’s lips and hands.
His fingers drifted to her waist, and he gripped her close. Isabel melted into his form.
The kiss did not make her feel powerful as Caitriona had described. Isabel realized that when she truly wanted it, when it was not a tool for seduction, the kiss itself had power. The kiss was magic she had never dreamt of.
“What shall become of us?” she asked when Edan broke from her.
“I dinnae ken, lass,” he replied with a sigh.
Isabel felt the weight of the knife in her skirts. It felt as though it had stabbed her through her heart.
Chapter 21
A sound broke in the gentle pink light. The sound of feet and horses. It was rapidly growing in volume, and the Scotsmen were in position within an instant.
Charles had not come to meet the English as anticipated. Yet they marched forth, a vast army ready for revenge.
Archers hid in the trees and swordsmen behind them, lining a distance of half a mile on either side. They waited until the English reached the end of the line, and the first wave of the army was surrounded.
“For Scotland!” rang the shout of the kilted general. The swordsmen leapt from the forest onto the path and began their massacre. From the trees, the archers shot down any man without a tartan.
Cormag remained hidden, waiting until he saw the Duke. He allowed the battle to commence and watched as the small number of Scotsmen expertly overcame the first group of Englishmen. A mere fifty or so had made it past the ambush.
But the larger English army pressed forward and continued to swell the path with their numbers until the fight traveled closer to the castle with Scotsmen trying to keep the English at bay. The ground began to drink the blood of English and Scottish alike.
Both tasted the same.
After the English swordsmen came the horsemen, trampling through the Scotsmen and cutting them down with very little effort.
“Pull back!” shouted the general as the Scotsmen moved quickly, blending into the second line of defense surrounding the village. The Scottish army was larger here. They existed to keep the English away from the castle as best they could.
The archers from the castle stood ready. Caitriona bobbed up and down with anticipation and excitement. Her first true battle. She had trained and even fought here and there, but this was a war, and she was thrilled to be a part of it.
The battle continued to rage, and the Duke was still nowhere to be seen. Cormag watched …and waited.
“Ye look so bonnie when ye sleep,” Edan said again. Isabel stretched and sat upright.
“You are awfully comfortable to rest upon,” she replied.
Edan smiled; it had been a comfortable night for him despite his anxiety. The presence of this beautiful woman seemed to continually bring him strength.
“Did you hear that?” she asked suddenly.
“Hear what?” he asked. It was too late.
The door of the coach was flung open and a burly man — who reminded Edan much like Cormag — stood with his meaty fists clenched. The door on the left was then wrenched open, and Isabel gasped to see men on that side as well —three of them!
They were trapped.
The burly man pulled Isabel out of the carriage, wrapped in the wool tartan she had taken from the room and Edan followed after much protesting.
“What in the actual hell are ye doing?” he demanded.
“We ‘eard an English voice. Didnae ken she’d whipped wen of oor oon,” the man said with a Scottish accent so deep it was barely understandable to Isabel.
“I’m nae whipped. She isnae what ye think,” Edan defended, pulling Isabel back to his side.
“Fer yer sake ‘Ee ‘ope not,” the man said.
“Wh-what is he saying?” Isabel asked Edan quietly.
Edan tried not to laugh. “Just remain quiet,” he instructed.
“We’re takin’ yer right fancy carriage, me li’l lassie,” the man said. “Cannae be ‘avin’ yer strong gen’leman coom af’er me noo, can we?”
“I-I just do not understand,” she said to Edan again.
By this point, Edan couldn’t hold in his small burst of laughter at Isabel’s inability to comprehend what was being said to her.
“They be taking the coach, lass. Calm yerself,” he explained.
“It isnae ‘ard to unnerstand!” the man sneered.
“Alright, forgive me,” Isabel said with worry.
“Get yersel’ oot the way,” the man shouted, pushing Isabel aside and jumping into the coach with his brigands.
“Wait! My trunk!” she called after, but the men were already gone along the road, the horses being whipped into speed.
Edan cocked his head back, and he gave a laugh.
Isabel stared at him as though he were mad.
“What is so funny? I can’t possibly understand why you find this so amusing!” she shouted.
“Perhaps that’s part of it, lass! Ye just kept asking me what he was saying. And it only makes sense that now we’ve been robbed of the same carriage that brought ye to me in the first place,” he said.
Isabel sat on the ground and pouted, feeling the hardness of the knife pressing against her thigh. Perhaps now was not the best time to kill Edan. She would be lost and alone in a land where she’d been kidnapped and now robbed. Twice.
“Anyhoo, we’d best start walking,” Edan declared.
“Walking?” Isabel asked.
“Ye dinnae have legs?” he asked.
“Why, of course, I do. It’s just so very far in any direction. We are out in the middle of nothingness, Edan,” she said. A blush came over her cheeks for the familiarity she had shown in using his name directly.
Edan smiled, glad that she had felt so free despite her embarrassment.
“F-forgive me,” she said nervously, looking any direction but to his face.
“There be nothing to forgive,” he said, coming closer and placing a hand on her cheek.
“We must walk,” Isabel said, leaving him stunned before he followed her. He took her hand so that he might lead.
The army had drawn nearer the castle, so Cormag knew he had a clear chance when he saw the Duke and his brother coming side by side on their horses, surrounded by thirty swordsmen.
He left the trees and cut down two men before the others realized what was happening. The path had been so quiet a moment ago with the battle far ahead.
“Ye slimy English, I’ll kill ye all!” he yelled.
Ezra looked to his brother.
“You are protected by your men, brother. He is but one Scotsman. I will ride forward to the battle,” he said.
“Go,” agreed the Duke, who had unsheathed his sword, but had not yet any need to use it.
He watched as his thirty men dwindled, being cut down one by one at the hands of the brute. Three English men came upon him at once, and Cormag created a momentum the Duke had never seen, as he used his weight to spin his sword in a circle that cut through the middle of all three men. Their armor had not protected them.
“Ride, Your Grace!” shouted one of the men. The Duke prepared to charge forward when Cormag cut into the leg of his horse. The beast whinnied and fell.
The Duke leapt to avoid being crushed, but not only the injured animal remained between Cormag and the Duke. All the remaining swordsmen came upon him at once and distracted the Duke in a fiercely composed battle of thirteen against one.
The Duke had never seen so strong a warrior.
He ran in his clunky armor, his large girth, and his patched eye. There was a great risk, he realized. He was no match for the Scots.
But soon he came upon the battle, and quickly he was given a horse from the Lancashire army. From there he was able to cut down some of the men and truly be a part of the fight.
Still, they had not reached the castle. The Duke watched the battle with his eye and saw that it was unlikely they would. The English army was gr
eat, they were large in number, well trained.
But they were no match for the Scots. They were hardened and strong. They knew how to use the ground to their advantage. They knew the land and had maneuvered accordingly.
“Pull back,” the Duke hissed, but no one heard.
“Pull back,” he said a little louder, heard only by the nearest of men.
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