“I’m no’ so sure I agree,” said Gregor.
Nairnie headed slowly toward the wagon. Martin’s heart jumped into his throat when he noticed Winter, his father, and his brother emerging from the dungeon and sneaking into the back of the cart. Mayhap he wouldn’t have to pursue this battle if they managed to get out of the castle while hidden.
“Perhaps we should see what yer brathair has to say about all this,” said Gregor, almost making Martin moan aloud. “Guards, bring me the prisoner. I swear, de Grey, ye are weaker than I thought. Yer faither would never have folded so easily, wantin’ peace. Next thing I ken, ye’ll want to make amends by givin’ me a flower.” Gregor looked around. “Where did that peddler woman with the flowers go?”
“It looks like she’s leavin’,” said Aidar, pointing to the wagon moving toward the gate.
Nairnie drove the wagon through the crowd, looking straight ahead.
“Let the woman through,” Martin told Rock and Sir Gawain, moving to the side. Nairnie kept a cool composure as she passed by them. Martin prayed Rock wouldn’t acknowledge her in any way.
“The prisoner is gone!” shouted his guard, running up from the dungeon.
“Gone?” Gregor spun on his heel. “Stop that old woman and close the gate! Check the back of her wagon and kill anyone ye find in it.”
“I can’t let you do that,” said Martin, fearing for Winter’s life. “I tried to be peaceful, but it’s just not going to happen.” He drew his sword and headed his horse straight for Laird Dunbar. Sir Gawain and Rock started fighting as well. Martin’s father and brother sprang out of the back of the cart with their swords drawn.
“We’ve got visitors approachin’ on the bridge,” shouted out another guard.
Martin figured it was his troops coming to help them. He had to do something to keep the gate from closing. He hurled a dagger through the air, up at the guard on the battlements controlling the gate. It stuck into the man’s chest, dropping him to the ground. Scots surrounded Martin, causing his horse to rear up, pawing the air. His fingers slipped on the reins, and Martin fell to the ground.
“I want to kill him for what he did to me,” said Aidar, grabbing a battleaxe from one of the Scots and running toward Martin with it raised high over his head.
Martin quickly got to his feet, blocking the axe with his new sword. The axe handle broke in half and fell to the ground.
“He’s got a sword forged in hell,” shouted Aidar with eyes of fire.
“Dunbar, what is goin’ on here?” Two Scots entered the courtyard just before the gate came crashing down. Martin could see his troops coming over the bridge, but they wouldn’t be able to get inside to help them now.
“Well, well. What do we have here?” asked Gregor, pulling Winter from under the hay.
“You harm her and I’ll have your head, Dunbar!” Martin fought off several men, making his way to Winter.
“That’s his wife,” shouted Aidar.
“Oh, good, I have myself another prisoner,” chuckled Gregor.
“Nay, leave me alone,” said Winter, struggling against the man’s hold. “We’ve come for an alliance.”
“It doesna seem that way to me when ye are hidin’ in a cart with my escaped prisoner!” shouted Gregor.
“Winter?” asked one of the Scots who had entered just before the gate closed. He was an older man with red hair, wearing a dark green plaid. “What are ye doin’ here?”
Winter’s eyes opened wide when she saw who was speaking. “I am so sorry, really I am.”
“Hold up, ye fools,” cried out the newcomer. “Dunbar, dinna hurt the lass. She is my daughter!”
Chapter 25
“Douglas! MacKeefe! I didna see ye arrive,” said Gregor.
“Put down your weapons,” said Winter’s father, Ross Douglas, his sword drawn now as well as the man who accompanied him. Winter recognized the second man as one of the two lairds of the MacKeefe Clan - old Ian MacKeefe. His son, Storm, ruled the clan with him in the Highlands as well as at their border castle, Hermitage Castle.
“I willna put down my blade unless de Grey and his men do the same,” shouted Gregor.
“Martin, please,” begged Winter. “Stop the fighting.”
Martin looked up, seeing that the Dunbar Clan was holding off with their attack. He motioned to his squire and steward. “Hold up, men. Father and Jamesson, you, too.”
The troops were trying to bang through the gate, making so much noise it was hard to hear each other. Martin whistled to gain their attention and the banging at the gate stopped as well.
“Winter Douglas did I just hear someone say ye are this man’s wife?” asked her father.
“Aye, Father. This is my husband, Lord Martin de Grey of Northumberland. Castle Heaton to be exact.” Winter waited for his reaction.
“What in the blazes is goin’ on here?” asked Ross.
“They’re stealin’ my prisoner, that is what’s happenin’,” answered Gregor.
“Nay! I have returned only to bring my brother from the darkness of your dungeon,” Martin shouted.
“By the rood, are ye still enemies with the de Greys after all this time?” spoke up old Ian MacKeefe. “Even I have made alliances with the English, and ye ken how I used to hate the Sassenachs.”
“Aye,” said Gregor. “The feud started with de Grey’s father years ago.”
“It did,” spoke up Lambert. “But I honestly don’t even remember what the feud is about anymore, do you?”
“It was over a spilled drink,” said Gregor.
“I thought it was over a servin’ wench,” said Ross.
“It could have been.” Gregor shook his head and then waved his hand through the air. “Hell, I dinna ken, but it doesna matter. I still want the bastard dead.”
“Laird Dunbar, do you know who I am?” asked Winter. “Although I was young and only remember my father’s stories about Dunbar Castle, I once visited here when I was a child.”
“Nay,” said Gregor, perusing her. Then his eyes lit up and he nodded. “Och, I remember Ross tellin’ me about ye. Ye are his daughter with the dark hair that likes to spend her time in the forge.”
“Yes, that’s me,” said Winter. “I know how to forge weapons now. I made that sword that Martin is using.”
“The one that just sliced through the battleaxe like it was butter?” Gregor seemed very interested in the weapon. “Let me see that sword, de Grey.”
“Like hell,” answered Martin. “This is my sword and you’ve got my wife. Now return her and my colleagues, and we will be on our way.”
“Ye sent the old woman in for a distraction while yer faither and wife tried to steal my prisoner,” said Gregor. “Isna that a little below ye, de Grey? I’ve never kent ye to have lassies and old women fight yer battles for ye.”
“I didn’t do it,” he snarled.
“Nay, I did it,” said Nairnie, getting off the seat of the wagon and heading over. “It was all my idea, Laird Dunbar.”
“And ye’re a Scot! I am very disappointed that ye’d be workin’ with de Grey,” said Gregor. “Ye’ll be punished for that.”
“It was solely my idea,” said Winter, stepping forward. “Please, don’t harm Nairnie.”
“Nay, it was my idea to save my son,” said Lambert stepping forward as well.
“What kind of loyalty has ye all wantin’ to die for the other?” asked Gregor.
“You’ll not hurt a one of them,” warned Martin. “I am lord of Heaton and I take full responsibility for everything that has happened here today.”
“For God’s sake, Dunbar, my daughter is involved. I take responsibility for her.” Ross hurried over, pulling Winter away from the man. “Winter, why did ye marry the Sassenach? I kent nothin’ about it.”
“Father, how can you even say that?” asked Winter in shock. “You married Mother and she is English. Summer and Autumn are married to Englishmen as well. I married Martin because . . . because we are in love.”
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br /> “Nay! Ye canna be in love with him. Ye dinna even ken him,” said Ross.
“We know each other better than you think, Laird Douglas,” said Martin.
“I’ll kill ye, de Grey,” shouted Ross. “Ye defiled my daughter, didna ye?”
“Father, we’re married!” said Winter. “And in love.”
Gregor laughed. “It seems my work is done, as Douglas is goin’ to kill ye for me, de Grey.”
“Dunbar, ye fool,” shouted Ross. “Didna ye hear my daughter? She said she loves this man. Now make an alliance with him and stop all this petty foolishness.”
“I’ll no’ make an alliance with the bastard,” said Gregor.
“If ye remain enemies with de Grey then ye are also enemies with the Douglas Clan,” said Ross.
“And the MacKeefes,” added Ian MacKeefe.
“Let us in,” shouted one of Martin’s men at the gate. They all started trying to break down the gate again.
“Stop it!” Martin commanded his men. He turned and looked over to Winter. “My wife has been trying to get me to make an alliance with you all along, Dunbar. I didn’t want to listen to her because I was furious that you had my brother imprisoned. I wanted to kill you for that.”
“And I wanted to kill ye for imprisonin’ my son, Aidar,” said Gregor.
“No one is a prisoner anymore,” interrupted Winter. “Can’t we all just align and call a truce?”
The courtyard went suddenly silent, waiting for Gregor’s answer.
“Do ye really mean to be enemies with me now, Douglas, if I dinna make an alliance with de Grey?”
“He’s married to my daughter,” Ross reminded him. “I have been friends with ye for a long time, Gregor, but my loyalty is with my daughter – and the man she loves.”
“Thank you, Father,” said Winter. This told her that her father accepted her marriage to Martin after all.
“Is an alliance what you want, de Grey? Or is it just what your wife wants?” asked Gregor.
“It is what I want,” said Martin. “I want the same thing as my wife.”
“Then I’ll make the alliance,” said Gregor. The troops at the gate and the Scots all started shouting at once. “Under one condition.” Gregor held his hand over his head.
“What condition?” asked Martin.
“I’ll make the alliance, and everyone goes their own way without any more fightin’ or deaths. But if ye want yer alliance so bad, ye are goin’ to have to give me that sword of yers as well.”
Martin never expected Gregor to say that!
“My sword?” he asked, making sure he heard him correctly.
“That’s right. I want the sword the lass made that just sliced through that battleaxe. So, what do ye say, de Grey?”
“Martin, give it to him,” pleaded Winter in a soft voice. “I can always make another one for you.”
Martin didn’t want to give up his sword. It was his prized possession. Made from the finest Damascus steel, he didn’t know when he’d ever get more supplies to construct another one. Besides, Winter had engraved her mark of a heart upon it. It was special. He’d waited so long for it and now it was being ripped from his hand before he’d barely gotten a chance to use it. He’d felt powerful and invincible with this sword at his side. From the way it just performed, he was sure it could bring him many victories in battle.
“What the hell is the matter with ye, de Grey?” asked Winter’s father. “Are ye goin’ to choose a sword over the safety of my daughter?”
Martin shouldn’t have even had to stop to think about giving up the sword, but he’d become attached to it. But Winter meant more to him than any sword ever could. It was just a sword and, as Winter said, she’d make him another one someday.
“Swords can be replaced,” he said with a nod of his head. “No one can ever replace my wife. Lady Winter, I would never do anything to jeopardize your safety.” He threw the sword down on the ground between him and Gregor. “It’s yours, Dunbar. Now open the damned gate so we can get the hell out of here.”
Gregor picked up the sword, inspecting it, and nodded his head in satisfaction. “Open the gate,” he called out, pleased by their deal.
“Martin!” Winter ran to him. He gathered her into his arms, hugging her and kissing her atop the head.
“You are wet and shivering,” he said.
“I can’t wait to get back to the castle and in front of a fire, cuddled up to you,” she told him.
“If I weren’t so happy that you are alive and unharmed right now, I’d be angrier than all hell by what you did,” he said, kissing her again.
“What we did,” Lambert corrected him, coming over to join them. He put his arm around Jamesson who was next to him. “Come on, sons, we need to get home.”
“I agree,” said Martin, ordering his troops to disassemble. “I can’t wait to get out of here.”
Lambert walked toward the gate with his arm still around Jamesson’s shoulder. “Your mother and sisters are going to be so happy to see you.”
Things hadn’t changed all that much, even with an alliance, Martin realized. His father was still as crazy as ever.
Chapter 26
Two months later
Christmas Day
“That’s right, cover up each and every one of those erotic paintings,” Winter told the servants as they whitewashed the walls in the bedchamber. Nairnie was overseeing the process, inserting comments every so often as to how appalling it was – although she kept looking at the figures on the walls before they disappeared.
There came a knock at the partially open door and Winter turned to see Rock standing there.
“My lady, this was just delivered to you from a foreign tradesman on the docks,” he said, holding up a burlap bag.
“Oh, good, it’s here!” She rushed over and took the bag from the squire.
“It is very heavy, my lady. Can I ask what it is?”
“Aye, I’d like to know, too,” said Martin, walking into the room. He looked up in surprise to see the servants painting over his walls around the bed. “Winter? What are you doing? Do you know how much those walls cost me to get them painted in the first place?”
“It’s for a good purpose,” she said.
“You’d better have a good explanation,” he warned her.
With her hand on her stomach, she looked up and smiled. “I don’t want our child seeing erotic paintings around our bed. Is that a good enough reason?”
“Did you say . . . our child?” he asked, almost choking on the words. The disturbance on his face when he first entered the room, quickly disappeared.
“I did. I just found out I’m pregnant, Martin. We’re going to have a baby!”
Martin whooped in joy, leaning over and kissing her and then picking her up in his arms, twirling her around. She laughed, feeling happier than she ever had in her life.
“Congratulations, my lord and lady,” said Rock. “But do stop spinning the pregnant woman before she retches on me.”
“Lord de Grey, be careful with her,” scolded Nairnie from the other side of the room. “Ye dinna want to harm the bairn before it is born.”
“Oh, sorry,” he said, putting Winter back on her feet. “What a wonderful surprise – especially on Christmas.”
“I have another surprise for you,” Winter told him, taking the bag from Rock and handing it to Martin.
“What is this?” he asked testing the weight of the bag.
“It is your Christmas present, now open it quickly,” she said, anxious for him to see what she’d managed to find for him.
“Mayhap, I should wait until tomorrow.”
“Open it,” she urged him.
“Yes, open it,” echoed Rock. “I am very curious myself since it came from a tradesman from the East.”
“It did, did it?” he asked, a broad smile spreading across his face. He opened the bag and pulled out the hunk of Damascus steel.
“What’s that?” asked Rock with a perplexed
look on his face. “Not much of a present. It doesn’t look like anything at all.”
“It’s me fulfilling my promise to my husband,” Winter said. “I told Martin I’d make him another sword from Damascus steel since he gave his to Laird Dunbar as part of our alliance.”
Martin smiled, inspecting the steel. “This is wonderful, Winter, but I don’t want you to be working so hard at the forge now that you are pregnant with our child. It could be dangerous.”
“It’s not dangerous,” she assured him. “But if you feel that way, what if I engage a little help?”
“From who?” he asked.
“Wallace and Josef are planning on returning to Ravenscar, but I’d like to ask them to stay and help me forge the sword.”
“I like that idea, but it’s not enough,” he told her.
“What do you mean?” asked Winter.
“Aye, what does that mean, Lord de Grey?” added Rock, weaving his way in between them.
“Rock, do me a favor and stay out of our private conversation,” grumbled Martin.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was private,” said Rock. “After all, you are talking in front of Nairnie as well as the servants.”
“All right, then stay,” said Martin. “Winter, I was going to suggest that Wallace and Josef stay on as my blacksmiths, right here at Castle Heaton.”
“Oh, that would be perfect,” said Winter.
“Aye, they will like that,” said Rock. “I think it’s a good idea, too.”
“Thanks for your approval, Squire, even though it means nothing to me,” grumbled Martin.
“Martin, I am not sure how Wallace will feel about it,” said Winter. “He is a proud man and is not taking the partial loss of his sight very well. I’m not sure he won’t feel as if this is naught but an act of pity.”
“He’s got a reputation for being one of the best blacksmiths in all England,” said Martin.
“Yes, but that was when he had good sight. That time has passed for him.”
Winter's Flame (Seasons of Fortitude Series Book 4) Page 21