Revan soon began to fear that he and MacKinnon were too evenly matched, that they would fight on until they both collapsed from exhaustion. It was as that concern entered his mind that his break came. MacKinnon’s next swing was awkward. Revan blocked it as he pushed the man hard up against the stone wall. As MacKinnon fought to free himself, Revan drew his dagger and buried it in the man’s throat.
He stepped back, allowing MacKinnon’s body to slide to the floor. The death rattle had just sounded in the man’s throat when the rustle of skirts caught Revan’s attention. He whirled around in time to see Brenda rushing toward him with a dagger in her hand. As she tried to plunge it into his heart, he caught her by the wrist and twisted until the knife slipped from her fingers. He ignored her curses and threats as he dragged her toward the great hall.
Inside of the great hall Silvio, Tomas, and some of their kinsmen were swiftly culling the guards who tried to keep a swearing Thurkettle out of their reach. Revan shoved Brenda toward a youth who stood guard over those who had surrendered or were too wounded to fight, then plunged into the battle. He intended to reach Thurkettle first.
Tess frowned as her concentration on her prayers was broken a moment later. There was something going on in the keep, she was certain of it. The sounds were indistinct, and it was impossible to guess at their cause, but before there had been only silence. The fact that she was hearing anything at all was worthy of attention. It would require a great deal of noise to reach her deep in the bowels of the keep.
Suddenly for one brief moment, the sounds were clearer. There was the clash of swords, men shouting, and a scream of pain. An instant later a heavy thud echoed through the dungeons, and the noise was muffled again, the clatter of footsteps on the stone stairs further disguising them. Tess gasped when a wild-eyed, disheveled Brenda appeared, a bloodied sword in her hand.
“What is happening?” she demanded, trying not to let her hope of rescue rise too high.
Brenda just glared at her and ran past. Tess tried to lean forward but winced as her shackles held her in place. It was possible Brenda was headed for the tunnel. A moment later Tess had that suspicion confirmed as Brenda’s screech of fury ripped through the stone caverns.
“That fool! That thrice-cursed and damned idiot. He has sealed it.”
Tess watched as her cousin raced back and grabbed the keys from the wall. She tensed when Brenda tossed the sword on the ground and frantically scrambled to unlock the cell door, trying key after key. Something had filled Brenda with fear and a need to escape. Neither boded well for Tess, for a Brenda driven to survive could be a very dangerous animal. If it was an attempt to save her that was causing the uproar, Tess could find rescue near at hand. And Brenda, she mused, as she watched her cousin pick up the sword and enter the cell, could easily steal all hope just as it was in reach.
“Your father has chosen ye as my executioner?” She eyed Brenda warily as the woman stood in front of her.
“Nay, but I may yet have that pleasure.”
“Someone has arrived to clear out this nest of traitors.”
“Aye, your mongrel kinsmen and Revan. Those idiots my father hired are either surrendering or dying. ’Tis all gone—all chance of escape, all hope of a high place within the Douglas’s court. I could have been so rich, so powerful. Now ’tis all gone. Even all my careful plans to get free of my father’s plots canna work now. And ’tis all your fault.”
There was the sharp edge of hysteria to Brenda’s voice, and Tess knew that could make her cousin even more dangerous. “I didna draw your father, and ye, into the Douglas’s plots.”
“Since ye and that stupid king’s knight ran off, nothing has gone as planned. Nothing. Well, I have a fine new plan now.”
“Using me to buy your freedom?”
“Nay. I have no hope of freedom. None of those gallant knights”—she spat—“will allow me to escape punishment. Nay, I am for dying, and I mean to take ye with me.”
“Ye could throw yourself upon the king’s mercy.” Tess tried to suck in her stomach, pull it back from the sharp sting of the sword point Brenda had pressed there.
“The mercy of the king? The same mercy his mother the queen showed those who plotted against his father? The same mercy his regents showed those two young Douglas earls when they dragged them out into the gardens and beheaded them? The same mercy James himself showed yet another Douglas earl as he stabbed him to death over dinner? I think I shall choose my own death, thank ye very much.”
“And go to your Lord with the stain of murder upon your soul?”
Brenda laughed, a high unsettling sound. “He will never see that one amongst all the others. I am fated for Hell, and we both ken it, dearest Cousin. But, I shall have one last moment of pleasure ere I leave this earthly cesspit. They will be coming for you soon. Just as they do, just as soon as ye taste the sweet chance of freedom, I will kill you before the eyes of the men risking so much for your sake.”
Tess felt a little sick. She looked past Brenda to the steps leading out of the dungeons, then down at the sword scratching her belly. It would require a great deal of luck to break free of this tangle.
Revan yanked his sword free of the man he had just fought and killed. He turned and found himself face to face with a sweating Fergus Thurkettle. The man had used his hirelings as shields, pushing them between him and his enemies. There were none left now. Revan smiled. It might not be an easy fight, but he was confident that he would win it. Thurkettle had let others do his fighting for him for too long. Even the man’s fear and will to live could not replace the skills he had let rot over the years.
“Ye have the chance to surrender now, Thurkettle,” Revan said, his sense of honor forcing him to make the offer.
“Surrender and face a crueler death at the hands of James himself? That is no choice at all.”
“ ’Tis the only one ye will get.”
“Then I will die or live where I stand.”
“Ye will die.”
Thurkettle’s first swing was easily blocked. Revan was not surprised, however, when the man’s skill quickly grew less abrupt and ill thought out. Thurkettle had to have been a good swordsman once, or he would not have lived so many years. It was not long, though, before the man began to sweat badly and breathe heavily. Thurkettle was not in fighting trim anymore, and that would quickly prove to be fatal. Revan swallowed the savage urge to play with the man.
The end came a moment later. Thurkettle stumbled badly as he tried to avoid Revan’s sword thrust. Revan’s sword cut deeply into the man’s soft stomach. It was not until Thurkettle collapsed, his hand clutching at his gaping wound, that Revan realized Silvio, Tomas, and the others were standing around watching him. He was grateful they had stood back and left Thurkettle to him. Glancing at the small knot of prisoners, Revan frowned. One was missing.
“Where is Brenda? The woman?” he demanded.
“Havena seen her since ye and this bastard began to fight,” answered Tomas.
“She was here only a moment ago. I could hear her screeching.”
“Does it matter?”
“It could. She is no better than her father.”
“Ye think she has gone after Tess?” Silvio asked, a little anxiously.
“I feel sure that she has—either to use her to bargain with or to seek revenge. Wait,” he called when Tomas and Silvio both bolted toward the door. “Brenda will be expecting us to rush down there. She probably wants us to.”
“And what do ye suggest we do? Wait until she tires of the game?”
“Nay, we must play it out, but it need not be by her rules.”
Revan strode over to a wall where a number of weapons were hung in grim decoration. He took down a savage-looking hunting crossbow. Grimly he fitted a bolt into the weapon.
“What do ye need this for?” Tomas asked. “Ye have a sword.”
“I doubt Brenda will allow me near enough to put that weapon to use. I need something that will allow me to cut her
down from a distance if she forces my hand.”
“Ye can throw your dagger.”
“My aim with a dagger isna true, I fear. This is better. Much better. If it can bring down a deer, it can bring down Brenda Thurkettle. I just pray she doesna force me to it. I have no stomach for killing a woman—even that traitorous whore.”
“Ye mean to go alone,” said Silvio.
“Aye. It might give some chance of surprise. I just believe that one man going to face the woman is the only way to do it, the safest. If a lot of us rush down there . . .”
“She could act hastily,” Silvio finished. “Go and God be with you.”
As he hurried toward the narrow stairway that led to the dungeons, Revan prayed that God was with him. He felt in need of such divine aid. Brenda was cornered. The woman had to know that escape was now impossible and that her chances of being excused from the charge of treason were slim. That made the woman especially dangerous. He prayed that he was not rushing to Tess’s rescue only to watch her die.
“Someone’s coming.” Brenda tensed and peered toward the darkened stairs.
“Ye are letting your fear make ye hear things,” Tess lied, for she had heard the soft scrape of a boot against stone.
“I dinna think so. ’Tis quiet now, which means that the battle is over. Someone is coming to find you.” Brenda smiled briefly at Tess and pressed her sword point a little harder against Tess’s stomach. “I shall make this victory a very sour one, indeed.”
Tess winced as the cold stone wall scraped the skin on her back when she tried to pull back some more. She tensed when Revan stepped out of the shadows holding a hunting crossbow. Although fear for her own life still held her tightly in its grip, she felt joyous relief at seeing him alive and unhurt. She prayed it would not be her last sight of him.
“Step away from her, Brenda,” Revan ordered, struggling to keep his voice soft and calm.
“Nay, I think not.”
“Ye can gain nothing from hurting Tess now. Your father has lost. He is dead, most of his followers dead or captured. This will buy ye neither time nor mercy. ’Twill only add murder to your crimes.”
“A person can only be hanged once. But then, a traitor isna hanged. He is gutted like a pig for market.” She drew her sword point across Tess’s quivering stomach. “Contessa betrayed us. I should execute her as a traitor.”
As he raised the crossbow to aim it directly at Brenda, Revan hoped Tess still had the wit to try and help herself. Despite her bonds, Tess still had some ability to move. She could twist her body out of the way. Brenda still might be able to stab her, but if Tess moved at the right moment, the wound did not need to be fatal. He could not tell Tess what to do, however, without alerting Brenda. A trickle of cold sweat wended its way down his spine, and he shivered.
“Put the sword down, Brenda, or your well-used body will be sheltering this arrow.”
“Ye would kill a woman? The great gallant Sir Halyard? Nay, ye havena the stomach for it.”
Brenda laughed, and Halyard could not believe his luck. The woman relaxed ever so slightly as she mocked him, easing the press of her sword against Tess. He fired, nearly cheering with relief when Tessa twisted her body away from Brenda’s weapon, but winced as his arrow found its mark in the woman’s body.
Tess cried out softly as Brenda thrust the sword toward her. She contorted her body to avoid having that steel blade bury itself in her stomach, but she felt it cut into her side. Brenda screamed as Revan’s arrow plunged through her chest so swiftly and deeply the point protruded out of her back. For one brief instant Tess held Brenda’s gaze and trembled. In her cousin’s eyes there was no sign of fear or regret, only fury and hatred. Tess sagged in her chains when Brenda collapsed onto the floor, her sightless gaze fixed upon the mildewed ceiling.
Revan threw aside his crossbow and yanked the keys from the lock in the door. He hurried over to Tess and pushed Brenda’s body out of the way. The moment he freed Tess from the chains that had once held him, she fell into his arms. He cursed as he caught her and felt the blood from the wound on her side.
“How bad is it?” he asked, unable to see anything in the dim, insufficient light cast by a few torches.
“A flesh wound,” she answered as he picked her up in his arms. “Her sword but tried to make my waist a wee bit smaller.” She looked down at Brenda’s body. “She is dead?”
“Aye. I am sorry.”
“There is no need to be. She chose her path. She would have killed me just as she had threatened to. Aye, and ye as well if ye had continued to hesitate. She was her father’s daughter.”
After gently holding Tess close for a moment, Revan touched a kiss to her bruised mouth. “They have treated ye poorly. Do ye have any other wounds?” Although Tess did not act or look as if she had been raped, Revan could still hear MacKinnon’s vile words. He needed Tess to reassure him that the man had lied.
“Nay, a wee bit bruised and saddle sore, but aside from this nicking Brenda just gave me, naught else.”
“Ye werena mishandled on the journey here?”
“Ah, ye fear I have been abused. Nay, MacKinnon talked of rape, but Dermott told him to wait, that there wasna time for it. He also feared how much it might cost them if ye or my kinsmen caught them. He convinced MacKinnon it was wiser to rein in his lusts until I was in Thurkettle’s hands.”
He kissed her again, relief adding a hint of ferocity to the kiss, then started toward the stairs. “We will have this wound seen to.”
“The battle is won, then?”
“Aye, and with little cost to ourselves. Not many of Thurkettle’s men felt inclined to die for him.”
“What of the ones who took me before—Thomas and the others?”
“Dead. As is MacKinnon, Dermott, and Thurkettle. They chose to die with a sword in their hand rather than face the gibbet or worse. They chose us to be their executioners.”
“I think that was what Brenda was doing as well. She had no intention of surrendering or being taken prisoner.”
Holding her close against his chest, Revan nodded.
“Their ending was more merciful than they deserved.”
The moment they emerged from the dungeons, Tess found herself submerged in the care of her relatives. They all sought assurances that she was all right even as they tended to the wound in her side. It was decided that they would spend the rest of the night where they were and leave for Donnbraigh in the morning. Despite being separated from Revan, Tess was relieved when she was taken to her bedchamber. It was nice to be fussed over, but she was tired.
She was barely settled into the bed when Revan strode into the room. With exhaustion weighting her eyelids, she watched as he prepared for bed. His armor was gone and his hair was wet. It was obvious that he had taken a bath while she was being cleaned and dressed. When he slid into bed beside her, she cautiously curled up in his arms, needing to be near him, but not wishing to antagonize her wound.
“Will this make it hard for ye to reach the king in time to fight at his side?” she asked.
“Nay.” Revan smoothed his hand up and down her arm, aching to make love to her yet knowing it would have to wait. “However, it will be a close-run race.”
“Ye will win it—the race and the battle. Ye will fight at the king’s side and defeat the traitors.”
“Aye. I feel we will. And when that is done, I ride back to marry you.”
“Aye. To marry me.” She closed her eyes and held him a little closer, for she knew now that the only right thing to do, the only thing she could do because she loved him so much, was to set him free.
CHAPTER 21
“Come away from that window, child.”
Tess sighed and turned to smile at her aunt Kirsten. Silvio’s wife watched her closely while kneading the bread dough. Cousin Isabella’s little house was filled to the brim with the wives of the Delgado-Comyn men. Tess loved them all, but she was also heartily sick of the constant company.
Af
ter leaving Thurkettle’s keep, it had taken them three days to get back to Donnbraigh. Tess would have felt guilty except that she had not been the only wounded one they had had to move slowly for. Then there had been a week of recovery at Donnbraigh amidst frantic preparations for battle. Messages flew back and forth between Donnbraigh and the King’s supporters, including the assurance that Simon had spoken to the King, relaying all of his information and successfully convincing their leige of Revan’s innocence. Her wound healed enough for them to travel to her cousin Isabella’s—ten miles north of Arkinholm, where the opposing armies gathered. After a day of rest her wound had been healed enough for her and Revan to make love, but there had been no opportunity for privacy.
She had wanted to spend one long night making love with Revan before he rode off to war. Instead, they had to settle for a hurried coupling in Isabella’s small orchard. While it had been gloriously fevered and frantic, it had not been the long romantic interlude she had craved. She had to smile, though, when she recalled how nearly every other woman waving at her man as he had ridden off to battle had looked as flushed and rumpled as she had.
“Your staring out that window hour after hour willna bring him home any sooner, lass,” Meghan, Tomas’s very pregnant wife, said as she tucked a loose curl of red hair back under her kerchief.
“I ken it.” Tess walked over to the table and joined in the kneading of the bread dough. “ ’Tis just that they have been gone nearly a week. I keep thinking I might see or hear something.”
“From ten miles away?” Kirsten shook her head, then smiled, her green eyes soft with understanding. “ ’Tis clear ye have lived a blessed life, child, and havena learned how it is when your man rides off to fight.”
“There must have been some battle during my eighteen years upon this earth.”
Hannah Howell Page 26