The Highlander's War Prize (The Highland Warlord Series Book 2)

by Tessa Murran

  ‘A day or two behind me, Your Grace. They were eager to join forces with you and are, as ever, at your command. As you know, my loyalty is yours, always, as is that of my brother, Lyall, here with me.’

  ‘Aye, and I know I can rely on you, Cormac, not like these wolves here at court.’ Everyone around them laughed nervously at the King’s joke. His trust could mean life or death.

  Their voices faded to nothing as Giselle stared at Lyall. ‘Look at me, please,’ she screamed in her head, but he did not. His jaw was bruised an angry purple and dark circles shadowed his eyes. His jaw was clenched, his knuckles white where they gripped his sword hilt. Everything about him was fury and stiffness, and the look on his face was one of flinty determination. This man, who she loved with all her heart, had not smiled at her, nor did he glance again in her direction. Was Lyall appalled at the sight of her, as Banan said he would be?

  ***

  Lyall tried hard to stop his hands shaking, such fury overwhelmed him as Banan leaned in to Giselle and whispered in her ear, all the while staring at him, declaring his ownership.

  That look on her face - he’d seen it before, on the faces of men who had endured too much battle and too much death. Giselle’s features were frozen into a blank stare as if she were a doll, not a living, breathing woman.

  He knew that look because he’d had it once, after the carnage at Bannockburn, where he had spent two days watching men hack each other to death, seen the aftermath of gutted horses, and corpses, torn open as carrion for the birds, all rotting under a summer sun. That look spoke of a horror too awful to bear. That look told him just how much anguish was swirling beneath the surface. When he’d looked in her eyes, the pain he saw there, tore him apart. And all he could do was kneel, like a passive fool, listening to the King drone on about his delight at seeing Cormac at court.

  ‘Tonight you will come to me, Cormac, and your brother too, for he is a veteran of many sieges, and Lord Douglas speaks highly of him. We will meet and make our plans to bring the English to their knees. But now, I grow weary, this malady I have plagues me sorely. I bid you leave me, all of you,’ he shouted, with a shake of his hand.

  The throne room emptied slowly and, just as Banan was dragging Giselle away, her eyes found his.

  ‘Giselle,’ Lyall called out.

  She shook her head at him, but he forced his way through the crowd, ignoring Cormac’s shout of ‘No, Lyall, don’t be a fool.’ All he knew was that he had to speak to her.

  He barged in front of them and held Giselle’s eyes with his.

  ‘Get out of my way,’ hissed Banan, but, to Lyall, he was invisible. There was only Giselle, looking at him with such love in her eyes, and such sorrow as to make his stomach flip over.

  ‘I want to talk to Giselle, and, Banan, and you will not stop me.’

  Cormac’s hand came down heavily on his shoulder, but Lyall shook it off.

  ‘Giselle, I would have come sooner, but I did not know where you were and, for that, I would beg your forgiveness. I will get you free of this dog, I will…’

  ‘Get her free, Buchanan. How can you get her free when we have been joined?’ snarled Banan.

  ‘For that, I will be avenged, this I swear to you, Banan. Giselle is mine, and she is coming with me.’

  ‘No, Buchanan, you misunderstand me when I say we have been joined. I have joined with her body many times, and very pleasurably too, but we are also joined by God, in the kirk. Giselle de Villers is no more. She is Giselle MacGregor now. She is my wife.’

  Lyall’s world spun into darkness, and his reason slipped away as Giselle stared at him, white-faced, and Cormac tore him away back into the crowd. As her face disappeared from view, she mouthed the words, over and over, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’

  ***

  Back in their chamber, Banan locked the door and leant his head against it. Giselle dared not move, her legs shook, her hands too, and she felt sick to her stomach. It had been a shock to see Lyall. A few short weeks ago they had been declaring their love for each other, and now, all that was laid to waste by this man, whose shoulders were heaving with some great turmoil.

  When Banan turned around, Giselle was shocked to see tears in his eyes. He came at her in a rush and pulled her to him.

  ‘You want him. You want him still.’ He moaned and tightened his grip. ‘Why can’t you want me? Why so cold, Giselle? I know what I am, and it tears at me. I can find no respite from the demons in my head, tormenting me.’

  ‘What do you want me to say?’ she replied.

  ‘That you have some, small feeling for me. That I have touched your heart, if only for a few brief moments when I am kind and good, and I try to be a man you could love. I am not always cruel, am I?’

  She pushed him away, and it took guts to do it.

  ‘I cannot ever love you, Banan, no matter how much you plead or how much you threaten. That is the God’s honest truth.’

  ‘Then can you not lie, to ease me?’

  ‘No, I will not lie to ease you. I will only lie to save Lyall.’

  The back of Banan’s hand hit her face with a stinging slap, which brought her to her knees and made her sob with misery.

  ‘Have it your own way then, whore, but don’t cry and snivel. Pain makes you strong, it forges your character into steel. That is what my father told me when he beat me from an age when I was scarce old enough to reason. He said it would make me hard, and it has. That bastard beat me black and blue as I grew up, so often, that there was not an inch of my skin that was not marked, and all the while, my mother, the cold bitch, did nothing to stand in his way.’

  ‘Is that why you sent him to the executioner’s block?’

  ‘You dare to speak of that! Do you want me to kill you? My father was a traitor, the shame of my clan, as Lyall Buchanan is a traitor. Like my father, I will get him a traitor’s death.’

  ‘Why do you hate Lyall so much?’ she sobbed.

  ‘Because that cur looks down his nose at me, because he thinks he is better than me. We both fight and kill, and yet he tries to claim honour in it. Aye, he is the honourable hero, and I am the bastard, the monster everyone shrinks from.’

  ‘What people think of you is all your doing, not his. Lyall was never cruel. He has kindness in his soul, and you have no soul at all.’

  ‘Is that so?’ He drew out his knife and, for a moment, Giselle thought she was going to die.

  ‘Here is my knife,’ he said, placing it on the table before her. ‘When I sleep, take it up, slit my throat, for I know you long to.’

  ***

  Hours later, after Banan had taken out his anger on her, Giselle lay, staring up at the ceiling, watching shadows creep across it, like the fingers of the dead reaching out for her. Often, she wished they would take her so that she could be done with this hell she was in.

  The fire had died down to a tiny, orange glow. It would be pitch black soon. She could position herself and wait, and then she need not see the horror of it.

  Giselle eased herself slowly out of bed. The stone floor was icy against the soles of her feet as she padded softly, like a cat, to the table. Feeling around, her fingertips soon found the blade. She took it up and crept back to the bed.

  Looking down at Banan’s face, relaxed in sleep and shadowed in darkness, he seemed peaceful and almost handsome. It was a pleasing face when it was not driven by rage – gentle-looking, with the possibility of kindness and good humour upon it.

  It seemed that this man wanted her to end him, to stop the struggle raging inside his head. Soon, his madness would consume him, and Banan would lose what little restraint he had. He would bang her head against the wall a little too hard, press her face into the mattress for a few minutes too long, squeeze her throat with too much violence.

  Banan would kill her. It was just a matter of time.

  It would be better to strike first, plunge the knife into his throat to silence him, and then withdraw it and keep cutting, as he gurgled out his life
’s blood. Retribution would be swift, and King Robert would hang her as a murderess. It might just be worth it to end this monster, but it might not keep Lyall safe. If it weren’t for the suspicion that she might be harming more than herself by killing Banan, she would have opened his throat.

  Instead, she turned and put the knife back and climbed back into bed.

  ‘You should have done it while you had the chance,’ Banan hissed into the darkness.

  Giselle pulled the blanket up to her neck and lay still, her breath coming in fearful gulps. She squeezed her eyes tight shut.

  ‘It would have been a mercy for us both,’ he said, as he turned his back to her.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Lyall walked into his Lord’s chamber, unannounced. James Douglas was leaning over a bowl, washing, and, with a quick glance at him, he carried on with his task.

  ‘Lord, I would speak to you.’

  ‘Silence. Do not disturb my little bit of peace with your insolence.’

  Lord Douglas narrowed his eyes and splashed water over his face. He wiped it dry with a rag before speaking. ‘Do not ask me what you have come here to ask me, Buchanan. It cannot be done.’

  ‘You told me back at Wulversmeade, a matter of months since, that you owed me your life, and that you would not forget that obligation.’

  ‘Aye, no argument there.’

  ‘I want Giselle de Villers back. I want you to petition the King to have her freed and returned to me.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Does your word mean nothing, Lord?’

  ‘Careful of that temper, Buchanan. Any other man said that to me, and I would cut him down where he stood. Now I’ll own that I owe you a debt, and I would repay it gladly. I would still gift you the land if you would take it.’

  ‘I don’t want the land. I just want her back safe.’

  ‘Giselle de Villers is wed to wealth and power, and if your feelings are hurt, too bad. Forget the English girl. Find another to warm your bed, and be done with this nonsense.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You would be wise to heed my words, Buchanan. Stay your hand, else you take your clansmen down with you. I would give you back the girl if it were in my power to do so, but it is not. Instead, I will try to save you from throwing away your miserable life on a lost cause.’

  ‘Why bother on my account?’

  ‘Because I value your sword, you fool. Before me, I see a good man, a brave one, who I would have by my side in the struggle to come. I know full well how your family has bled and suffered for Scotland, and I never forget such sacrifice. I also see a man struggling with his conscience. There is doubt in your mind about the terrible things we have to do for the dream of a free Scotland. There is no such doubt in your brother’s mind. Cormac kills when he is required to kill, he is relentless and unflinching, just like me.’

  ‘Aye, and I know he has to be,’ said Lyall, ‘but he does not make war on the innocent, on helpless women, and Giselle is such a one. She has done nothing to deserve her fate at Banan’s hands.’

  ‘You should not care a fig for the fate of one woman, and an English one at that. Banan asked for a reward for naming his father a traitor, and he got it. This brutality you now suffer, seeing someone you love destroyed, perhaps it will drive that honour and decency from you, and make you the man you need to be to win this thing.’

  ‘I don’t think I want to be that man.’

  ‘You already are. You just haven’t reconciled yourself to it yet.’

  ‘The King had no right to take Giselle from me.’

  ‘No right! He is your King, and has he not suffered far worse in this conflict than you? His own wife was taken and imprisoned. His brothers – dead, all of them, sacrificed for the sake of victory.’

  ‘He is a fool to make an ally of Banan. You know it, and I know it.’

  ‘Don’t name my King and my friend a fool, unless you wish to lose your head,’ bellowed Lord Douglas.

  ‘Forgive my insolence, Lord, but you know what Banan is. If he has the stomach to send his own father to his death, he has the stomach to turn on his King. He could have been part of the plot to topple King Robert.’

  ‘Aye, he could. But, for now, he is Robert’s saviour. They were to cut him down, you know, our King, in his own hall. They were planning to murder him in cold blood, with the Queen looking on, and then they would have killed her too, just in case she had a bairn in her belly.’

  Douglas took a step forward and stood toe to toe with Lyall. He was a fearsome sight up close, black-eyed and hard-faced, but Lyall held his ground.

  ‘Do you know what imprisonment does to a woman, Buchanan? Bad enough for a man to suffer it, but Elizabeth has been sorely afflicted since she has been returned to him, begrudgingly, by King Edward. He only did so in exchange for noble, English hostages. His barons made him do it, else he was happy to let her rot. Now Elizabeth ails. Where she was once the King’s strength, she is now his burden. Robert cannot take another wife, but he must produce an heir. There is slim chance of that, no matter how hard they try. It has become a dreadful chore for them. Elizabeth’s womb is withered by her suffering, and no bairn will take in it. A man without sons is a man without a future. Every day that passes without an heir, the King becomes more fearful of his reign surviving, and he sees plots and betrayal everywhere.’

  ‘I am loyal to the crown, and I always have been. You know that.’

  ‘Aye, and the King knows that too. But Banan’s clan is one of the most powerful in Scotland. He can provide far more men at arms and coin to fund Robert’s war than you Buchanans. He cannot have the MacGregors turn on him. The truth of it is, our King needs Banan more than he needs you.

  ‘You know I cannot let it lie, Lord.’

  ‘Aye, I feared you could not. A wise man would have taken that land I offered, not made an enemy of Banan MacGregor over some chit of a lass. But you are not a wise man, you are an honourable fool. You will die if you go against the King’s command and do what you want to do, what every nerve in your body is screaming at you to do. So it was with me when the English dispossessed me of my title, my home and my birthright.’

  ‘So, what am I to do? Walk away and suffer him to have her? Is that what you would do?’

  ‘For a start, I wouldn’t have lost any sleep over a bloody woman. There are many more to be had if you meet disappointment over one. But I will give you this piece of advice. Wars are not won in a headlong rush for glory. They are won by patience and suffering, by resilience and cold fury. A wise man, not a foolish one like you, plans. He thinks before he acts, no matter how towering his rage and how deep his despair. Have I not told you many times, it is not the biggest or strongest dog that wins a fight, it is the one with the most hate in his belly?’

  Lyall stared into the black eyes of Lord James Douglas, ruthless killer and clever manipulator.

  ‘If I were you, Buchanan, I would rein in my temper. Banan is leaving tomorrow, at my command, to squeeze whatever provisions he can out of the farmers hereabouts.’

  ‘I am sure they will contribute most generously to the war effort when Banan comes calling.’

  ‘Aye, they will. Sometimes his menace and violence are useful. I am sure his wife will take advantage of his absence to walk about the castle more freely. I suspect her path will take her through the castle’s grain stores. You might happen upon her there, at dawn tomorrow.’

  Lyall could scarce believe his ears. ‘My Lord, I thank you with all my heart.’

  ‘Aye, you may happen upon her there. It may be the only chance you get to say goodbye. Berwick will be laid to siege any day now. The King’s plans are far advanced. It is a great prize to be won.’

  ‘I swear I will fight to my last breath for you, and for my King.’

  ‘We might yet demand your last breath, Buchanan, for there is no surety in the outcome of such a siege. The English garrison is well dug in, and it will be bloody, and there will be great loss, of this I am sure.’ He turned
his back and poured himself a mug of ale and slung back the whole lot before he spoke again. ‘Battles are uncertain undertakings, some men die with no one to bear witness. Take my advice, play the patient game and, if your chance comes, seize it.’

  Lyall walked out of Lord Douglas’ chamber wanting to weep at his own impotence. He had failed to free Giselle as he had hoped.

  But he had also moved a small step forward with his vengeance, for he was sure that Lord Douglas, far too wily to say it out loud, had just given him leave to kill Banan MacGregor.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Stirling’s Castle’s rat-infested bowels were a stark contrast to the ornate beauty of the throne room and the oak-panelled chambers above. A maze of dank stone corridors and low ceilings spread out in all directions, festooned with cobwebs in dark, secret corners. The air was rank with damp, and it was deathly cold for the sunlight did not penetrate.

  Above him, all was rush and bustle as the castle’s occupants made ready to go to war. Below, it was quiet and deserted, eerie echoes tricked the mind, as shadows clawed their way across walls. It was the perfect place to meet and not be seen, but he hated having to bring Giselle to such a gloomy place. How had their lives been reduced to this - a furtive meeting in a dismal tomb?

  Lyall stood in the large chamber which served as the grain store, watching his breath leave his mouth in a white fog. He shivered in the cold, willing her to come. He had not slept a wink and had taken to pacing the battlements relentlessly, tormented and railing against his life. Every instinct shouted at him to grab Giselle and run, as far as they could, away from the King and Stirling and Banan. Treason was a small price to pay for love, wasn’t it?

  Instead, reason had triumphed, and Lyall had plotted and planned, and, at first light, he had witnessed Banan MacGregor ride out on his mission for Lord Douglas. Giselle would be in great danger if Banan found out they had met, so he had wanted to make absolutely sure his enemy had gone.

  A footfall sounded behind him, and she was there, making his heart thud and his breath catch.