Highlander Unbroken (Highland Adventure Book 8)

by Vonda Sinclair

  Before he could, another guard rushed into the great hall. "Chief! Sleat and the MacRankins have returned and are coming up behind the MacCromars."

  ***

  Blackburn turned about to face the clan approaching from the rear. Had the MacDonalds somehow split their force and slipped around to their back? The kilted warriors, coming forward at a non-aggressive pace, carried many weapons, but had not yet drawn them.

  "Get Kristina on your horse and hold onto her tight," he told Red Holme, then turned to his other soldiers. "Half of you guard the lady and half come with me." He guided his horse across the wet sand again to face the newcomers who wore metal-studded leather armor. "Who are you?" Blackburn demanded, stopping a few feet away.

  "Chief MacDonald of Sleat," the burly, bearded leader said in an aggressive tone. "Who are you?"

  Upon hearing the name MacDonald, Blackburn's hackles rose. "Stay back or I'll have the lady killed!"

  "What lady?" Sleat asked, his eyes searching those behind Blackburn.

  "Lady MacCromar's sister."

  "MacCromar? Ah, the lady Neacal was helping?"

  "Aye. She's my wife and she's being held prisoner in this castle!"

  "What do you think, MacRankin?" Sleat asked the man with short brown hair and beard beside him. "Neacal MacDonald has stolen another man's woman."

  "Whoreson," MacRankin hissed, sending a murderous glare toward the castle.

  "Are you the MacDonald chief, or is Neacal?" Blackburn asked.

  "Both. We're distant cousins and lead different branches of the clan, but he is my worst enemy."

  "Indeed?" Blackburn had no problem believing that. The situation in his own clan had been similar… when he'd been forced to kill his own cousin to gain what he deserved.

  "For a certainty. He and his men killed my son," Sleat said, his nostrils flaring. His sideways glare toward the castle was both anguished and lethal.

  This was a man Blackburn wanted fighting beside him, for his rage and need for revenge would drive him to fight harder. "I'm sorry to hear that. Looks like we're on the same side, then."

  Sleat nodded. "I plan to lay waste to this castle. If my son can't have it, no one will."

  "Two years ago, the bastard turned my betrothed against me, and now she's dead." MacRankin clenched his jaw tight. "Mayhap you can flush him out and I'll kill him."

  "As long as he's dead, I don't care who kills him." Blackburn smiled. These men appeared strong and they had a large force of men with them.

  MacRankin nodded. "We've been watching the place for days, waiting for the whoreson to leave the castle. When we saw you approaching, we wondered whether you're friend of foe."

  "Enemy of my enemy is my ally, I say," Blackburn said. "And we all want the same thing—Neacal MacDonald dead. He killed over a dozen of my men days ago."

  MacRankin snorted. "Singlehandedly?"

  "At first I doubted it. I figured it must have been the whole clan, but nay. The head of my guard said 'twas only one man. He hid in the darkness and shot them with arrows."

  "Stealthy bastard, aye?" Sleat said.

  "Nay for long," Blackburn growled.

  One of his guards shouted, "Galleys approaching!"

  Blackburn, Sleat and MacRankin eyed the loch. Several galleys quickly glided into view from the west end of Loch Moidart, their white sails filled to bursting with the strong wind. In the sky behind them, dark gray clouds rolled in from the sea.

  Blackburn counted the galleys—ten. And each one appeared to be filled with between ten and twenty men. Were they friend or foe of Neacal MacDonald?

  "Who the devil is that?" Blackburn asked.

  "'Tis the damned MacKenzie," Sleat growled through clenched teeth, his eyes narrowed. He muttered several more curses.

  "I've heard of them. Friends of yours?" Blackburn asked dryly.

  "Nay, I hate the whoresons. One of the MacKenzie's brothers married Neacal's sister. So they're allies."

  Blackburn cursed.

  "He has almost two hundred soldiers with him. We'll be outnumbered." Sleat looked around frantically as if counting men.

  Blackburn glanced at Red Holme, charged with holding Kristina. "We'll keep the upper hand as long as I have the lady."

  ***

  "Stay in here and keep the door barred," Neacal told Anna as he rushed her into his chamber. "Do not open it until I return."

  "Make certain you do return," she said urgently, tugging him down for a fast kiss.

  "I will," he murmured against her mouth. A surge of adoration for her smashed into his chest. "I love you."

  "And I love you. Please be careful," she begged, tears in her eyes. "And remember Blackburn is completely ruthless."

  "Aye. I'm going to leave a guard posted just outside the door."

  "Chief!" Leith yelled from the corridor. "The MacKenzies approach in their galleys!"

  "Thank the saints!" Neacal said. How had they gotten here so quickly? No matter. He would owe them a grand debt. The rest of the MacRurys that the chief had sent for had not yet arrived, so Neacal was doubly grateful for the MacKenzies. "I must go." After giving Anna another kiss, he stepped from the room and closed the door. Once he heard the bar fall into place, he turned to Leith. "Do not leave this post for any reason. You're to guard her with your life. And don't allow her to leave the room."

  "Aye, chief."

  Neacal rushed down the stairs, across the great hall and out into the bailey. Dunn ran to greet him. Damnation, he couldn't risk Dunn being killed in the coming battle. He'd meant to leave the dog safe inside the keep with Anna. He had no time to spare now to take him back in. He had to update the MacKenzies before the battle began.

  Grasping Dunn's collar, Neacal ran with him to the kennels where the other hunting dogs were kept, near the stables. Multiple dog barks echoed and Dunn tried to resist being confined. Finally, Neacal locked him inside.

  Fully armed with a sword, targe, and four dirks, Neacal emerged from the walls through the postern gate, several of his men following. They hastened down to the shore as the MacKenzies pulled their galleys in.

  Saints, he couldn't believe the number of twenty-oar galleys. And there had to be almost two hundred men aboard them.

  Strong westerly winds blasted against Neacal's face as he raced across the sand. Leaden black clouds rolled overhead signaling an approaching gale storm.

  He hoped that, since the MacKenzies hadn't needed to row, they would be well-rested and ready to fight. Either way, they were highly trained and had incredible endurance. Three of his own men, whom he'd sent north only a day ago, dragged his small galley into shore also. How on earth had they had time to travel such a great distance in a short time?

  Chief Cyrus MacKenzie and his brothers Fraser and Shamus, all of them tall, dark-haired and well-armed, leapt onto the wet sand, then their many clansmen followed. Neacal was heartened to see such a large garrison of allies. He could thank Maili for this; she'd secured this alliance by marrying Shamus MacKenzie. And Neacal had had no idea at the time how much he would need the clan.

  "You came quicker than expected!" Neacal called once he was within earshot.

  "Maili sent us," Shamus said, his long hair in a queue.

  Neacal stopped and waited for them. "What do you mean?"

  Shamus and his two brothers joined him. "She had a vision of three clans attacking you."

  "She's right. 'Tis happening now." Neacal motioned toward the mainland. Maili had second sight and never had it come in so handy for him. "I thank you for coming."

  "We're glad to help. Who are we fighting?" Cyrus was known far and wide for his thunderous, warlord reputation.

  "Sleat, MacRankin and MacCromar."

  "I know Sleat, but not the other two." Cyrus frowned darkly, his brownish-black eyes scanning the forces gathered further up on the mainland shore.

  "MacRankin is the whoreson who tortured me two years ago," Neacal said. "And MacCromar… he's even worse than the other two. Sleat's son was kille
d in a skirmish here a few nights ago, so he'll not give up until he's dead."

  Shouts and the clang of weapons rang out from the mainland. "Hell. 'Tis starting." Neacal ran toward the center of the fighting.

  "Who's helping you?" Cyrus asked, keeping pace beside him.

  "A few of the MacRurys, and several dozen Camerons. Close allies of ours for many years."

  "I know the Camerons. Let's crush these other bastards."

  ***

  The fierce wind whipping at him, Blackburn kicked his horse into a trot toward the shouting and conflict on the sandbar causeway leading to the castle. Three men jumped Red Holme and Kristina. One grabbed Holme's knife hand, another yanked his left arm, and the third caught Kristina as she slid off the horse.

  "Nay, you bastards!" Blackburn yelled.

  The tawny-haired enemy soldier, a Cameron, threw her over his shoulder and ran, while the remaining two dragged Holme from his mount.

  In the melee and the start of the fighting, Blackburn could not see where the whoreson who'd snatched Kristina had gone. Why had his men not been guarding her as he'd ordered?

  Holme hit the ground between the other two Camerons. One of them kicked the dirk from his hand while the other held a sword to his throat. Blackburn charged them on horseback. One of the men swung his blade at Blackburn's leg, but he blocked the blow with his own sword at the last moment.

  Blades clanged all around him. He wheeled his horse about, scanning the area for Kristina. Someone leapt onto his back and dragged him from his mount. He plummeted to the ground, pain shooting through his hip. One of his guards engaged the enemy in swordplay above him. He crawled from beneath them, and leapt to his feet, keeping hold of his sword.

  He glanced around but did not see Lady Kristina anywhere. "Where did she go?" he yelled to his men but they were otherwise engaged, fighting enemies along the trail leading to the castle. Kristina couldn't have been taken that way or she would still be within view.

  Blackburn snarled curses. Where the hell was she? Had the bastard taken her into the wood? His leverage was gone. Rather than look for Kristina in the forest and fight Camerons there, 'twould be far easier to slip inside the castle and take Lady MacCromar by force while everyone else was busy fighting.

  He ran along the sandbar which led to the castle, passing his own guards and other men clustered about in sword fights, too busy to notice him. He climbed the hill and hid behind a large boulder before the enemies charging down the hill saw him.

  Once they were gone, he crawled the remainder of the way up the hill among the heather, then ran alongside the high stone wall. At the postern gate, a guard stood inside.

  "Who are you?" the guard demanded.

  Blackburn thrust his sword through the iron bars, but the guard leapt back.

  "Are you helping Sleat?"

  "What do you think? I'm Chief MacCromar and my wife is being held inside. I must rescue her."

  "Well, why didn't you say so?" The guard took out a key and unlocked the gate.

  Blackburn was stunned. "Who are you?"

  "Gegrim. Make sure Sleat kens I helped you rescue your wife."

  "I'll tell him. And I thank you. Where is she?"

  "Inside the keep somewhere, most likely barred in a chamber on the second floor. Go in through the kitchen." Gegrim pointed.

  Although Blackburn didn't fully trust the guard, he ran in the direction indicated, then found a doorway. Indeed, 'twas the kitchen, strangely empty but still very warm. No doubt the servants were hiding someplace.

  Blackburn hastened up the steps into the empty great hall and ran up to the floor above. Finding a carved oak door with a padlock on the outside, he frowned, then knocked.

  "Who is it?" asked the female voice inside.

  Was that Susanna? Nay. Didn't sound like her. But maybe all the women were locked in the same chamber.

  He stepped back and kicked the door with all the strength he possessed. The hasp pulled out of the door frame and the door swung open.

  He charged in, wielding his sword and the young blond woman inside screamed and ran to the other side of the room. "Who are you?" she asked.

  "Blackburn MacCromar. Where is Anna Douglas?" He glanced about the room, finding it empty.

  The young lady's eyes widened. "Oh, you're Anna's husband!"

  "Aye."

  "I'm Constance Gordon, the one who sent you the missive, letting you know where she is."

  "Aha. I'm glad you did. 'Haps you can help me further by showing me where she is now."

  "I've been locked in here for days, so I'm uncertain." She stepped into the corridor. "But we'll find her. You must promise me something first, though."

  "What's that?"

  "That you will take your wife away and never allow her back here."

  "Of course. That's my plan exactly."

  "Good. I would wager she's in Neacal's bedchamber."

  "Bedchamber?" Blackburn growled, rage burning over him. "I'll kill the bastard if he survives the battle."

  "Even better." Constance smiled and rushed along the corridor.

  He followed, his anger growing with each step he took.

  She paused at a corner. "Wait here," she whispered. "I'll see if Neacal left a guard."

  Blackburn nodded. "Tell her that her sister, Kristina, has been brought into the great hall," he said in a hushed tone.

  "'Tis a great idea." The lass stepped around the corner out of sight.

  "How did you escape your chamber?" a man yelled, further along.

  "Leith, I must see Anna Douglas immediately," Constance said in an urgent tone.

  "Nay. This door is not to be opened until the chief returns."

  "But her sister has been brought into the great hall!" Constance shouted. "And… and she's injured. She's asking for Anna."

  Blackburn grinned. What a talented liar the lass was. Listening carefully, he heard a door being unbarred and opened.

  "What? Kristina is here?" 'Twas Anna's voice echoing along the hallway. Victory surged through him and he could hardly contain his eagerness. He'd been searching for her for so long, and now what he wanted most was almost within his grasp.

  ***

  Anna gripped the hilt of Neacal's dirk, her quick heartbeat thumping in her ears. Oh, dear God, Kristina. "I must go see her, Leith! Come with me."

  "Nay, m'lady," he said. "The chief said you are not to leave this room until he returns. I'll have someone bring her up to you."

  "If she lives that long." Constance shrugged and strode away. "I was only trying to help," she called back, then disappeared around the corner.

  Anna glared at Leith, blocking her path with his massive bulk. "Let me pass! I must see my sister."

  "M'lady…"

  "Aye, let her pass or you shall find a dirk in your back," said a sinister male voice behind him.

  Leith spun, drawing his own dirk and striking out. Then Anna saw the man behind him—Blackburn.

  "Nay!" she yelled as the two men locked together in a knife fight.

  Blackburn hooked his foot around Leith's ankle, knocking him down, then stabbed him in the upper chest near his shoulder.

  "You bastard!" Rushing forward, Anna jabbed the dirk she held into Blackburn's back, but it hardly penetrated his tough leather armor.

  He rose up, yanked the dirk from her hand and shoved her into the chamber.

  A rush of terror and alarm shooting through her, she backed away from Blackburn. His eyes gleamed with triumph.

  "Where is Kristina?" Anna demanded.

  A sneer on his face, Blackburn bolted forward, grabbed her and shoved her against the wall. "How dare you stab me, bitch? The only reason you're alive right now is because I allowed it." He crushed his mouth against hers.

  She gagged. Turning her head aside, she pushed at him but he wouldn't budge. She yanked her knee upward, smashing it into his groin.

  He growled. "Damn you!" He grabbed her hair, yanked it painfully and threw her on the bed, face down.
/>   Fury and panic consumed her. "Where is my sister, you bastard?" she yelled, kicking at him and trying to pull away, but he held her in place on the bed.

  "Is this where you sleep with that Neacal whoreson?" he thundered.

  "Nay! I want no man touching me!" Anna knew she had to lie, else he might kill her in a fit of jealousy.

  "Then why are you in his bedchamber, slut?"

  "'Tis the safest place."

  Blackburn gave a humorless laugh. "Or so he thought."

  Dear God, please keep Neacal and Kristina safe, she prayed. She would endure much hardship if only she could be sure they were unharmed.

  "I ken where your sister is," Blackburn said. "If you'll be quiet and cooperate, I'll take you to her." He drew her hands behind her back and tied something around her wrists.

  He was lying, she knew. But even the smallest chance she would see her sister stilled her actions.

  "Is she all right?" Anna asked, starving for the least bit of information. "Is she in the great hall as Constance said?"

  "Nay, she's outside the walls and fit as a fiddle." He gave a short laugh that made her nauseous.

  "Did you hurt her in any way?"

  "Nay! Now cease your questions." He clamped her legs between his, wrapped her skirts tightly around her ankles then tied them together.

  She prayed her sister was well, but she knew better than to trust the word of this devil.

  If only she could get to the other knife secured on her leg, but that was impossible now.

  "How could you drag a blind lass across the country?" Anna asked. "What kind of monster are you?"

  "The kind who wants his wife back," he muttered, wrapping his hand around her throat and breathing heavily against her ear. "If you want your sister to live, you will do everything I say. By the way, you have become very fetching of late, much prettier than when you left." He ran his hand downward and squeezed her breast. "Did you allow that scarred whoreson to bed you?"

  "I already told you nay. Get off me, you bastard!" She shoved backward, trying to dislodge him.

  "Such unladylike language, my sweet." He laughed. "But I like it." He ground his hardened shaft against her derriere.