Highlander's Guardian

by Joanne Wadsworth

  “What is ye name, lass?” The guard leaned one shoulder against the grimy wall nearest her.

  “Lizzie,” she uttered, choosing the most common name amongst the staff. “Is there just the four of you then?”

  “Aye, is that nay enough for you?” Suggestive words, ones that made her shiver with revulsion. Oh goodness, what had she gotten herself into?

  Footsteps pounded down the stairs and two chainmail-clad warriors strode in. The walls of the guards’ station encroached in on her as it filled with large men. Swiftly, she handed each of the warriors a drink and waited as they bumped their tankards together and drank.

  “Thank the captain for us, lass,” one of the warrior’s grunted as he wiped his top lip, his gaze on her.

  “I will.”

  “We’ll take these drinks upstairs. We’ve our duties to attend to.” The two disappeared the way they’d come.

  Alone again with the first warrior, she said, “There’s still one guardsman I’ve no’ served.”

  “He’ll be busy, otherwise he would’ve come.” The guard plopped down on an overturned crate and yawned. He kicked out his legs and the keys looped around his belt clinked.

  She itched to grab them, to toss them through the bars to Colin so he’d have no issue getting inside. Instead, she held her place. “Could you open the door then? The kitchens are busy with the ball in full swing and I’ll be needed in the great hall.”

  “Aye, in a moment.” Groggily, he lifted his head.

  “Please, open the door. I dinnae wish to get in trouble.” She stepped up to the door.

  “I—I—” He staggered to his feet and swayed. “I’m com—” He tripped and toppled into her, squishing her between him and the hard wall. He mumbled as he tried to push himself upright. “I cannae keep my…” His eyes slid shut and he fell in a crashing heap to the floor.

  “Annie,” Colin rasped. “Get. Here. Now.”

  “I’ll find the key.” She shoved against the hefty warrior’s side and rolled him from his front onto his back to free the chained keys from underneath him. The man was like a rock.

  “Hurry.” Colin fisted the bars. “I’m going to kill Arthur for allowing you in here.”

  “Nay, he told me to get in and out quickly. This isnae his fault when ’twas I who stayed.”

  “I still intend to kill him.”

  “Duly noted,” Arthur groaned as he stepped in beside Colin and glared at her. “You dinnae listen to instructions. Get those keys and do it fast. If aught had happened to you, I’d never have forgiven myself.”

  “Where are your other men?” she asked Colin as she unhooked the keys from the warrior’s belt.

  “Keeping watch outside. Ian will take you back to your chamber, and once there, you will lock yourself inside until the morn when your MacLeod guardsman is due to arrive. Do. You. Understand. Me?”

  “Perfectly.” She removed her mask as she hurried to the door so she could see better. “There’s one guard who never took any of the ale.” She tried the first key in the lock, but it didn’t turn.

  “Give them here.” Colin snuck them from her hand and through the bars worked each key in turn until the lock popped open. The door swung wide then he clamped her against his chest, so tight she lost her breath with a whoosh. To Arthur, he bit out, “Upstairs with you, and dinnae let any of the guards kill you. That’s my job.”

  “Aye, Captain.” Arthur dashed past them in a whirl of black, his sword in hand as he vanished up the stairwell.

  Colin tipped up her chin and looked into her eyes. “Go straight to Ian, and keep to the shadows. I’ll see you at Dunvegan.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  He released her and bolted upstairs, gone before she could whisper another word.

  Chapter 6

  Without a lantern to light his way, Colin negotiated the cramped stairwell in the dark of night, his sword at the ready. Somewhere up ahead, a snore broke the quiet, and as he stepped onto the landing, he found one of the guards who’d drunken the ale lying slumped across the floor. Two down, two to go. He tapped Arthur’s arm with his sword. “How much potion did you give them?”

  “I poured the entire vial into the pitcher instead of only a few drops. I didnae want to take the chance they only napped. We need some light in here.” Arthur wedged his dirk under one of the thin boards across the narrow window and popped it free. A trace of moonlight shone in and beamed over a third warrior lying prone halfway up the next flight of stairs.

  Colin sheathed his sword, grabbed the man’s feet and hauled him down. Kneeling, he checked his breathing. “’Tis slow but steady.”

  “Then we’ve only one more to find, the warrior Annie didnae serve.” Arthur crept upstairs.

  Following him with his senses on full alert, Colin reached the top landing and surveyed the passageway ahead. The darkened corridor remained bare, although Lachlan’s cell door remained propped wide open. “He waits for us in there.”

  “Damn. He must have discovered his fellow guards had gone down afore we did.” Arthur tugged his hood lower over his mask.

  “I’ll go first.” Sword raised, Colin snuck into the cell lit only by a single candle.

  “Come one step closer, and I’ll slit his throat.” The guard held Lachlan in a choke hold, his blade pressed to his neck and his chief the man’s living shield.

  “Hand MacLean over. He does no’ deserve to be here, kept in the dark like some rat and fed the scraps King James decides he might have.” Colin nodded at Arthur. “Check on the MacDonalds. Make sure their door remains locked.”

  “They’re no’ there,” the guard snickered, his long hair covering one beady black eye. “Both were taken to more comfortable quarters in the palace. Apparently they’re more receptive to the king’s terms than the Chief of MacLean has been.”

  “You lie. Donald and Angus MacDonald would never relent.”

  “He speaks the truth,” Lachlan rasped against the blade at his throat. “Just afore dusk they were taken away. I was told they’d agreed to pay the hefty fines and have sworn their obedience to the king. They’ve also stated they’ll no’ oppose the government and when summoned to Edinburgh, return within twenty days. Is that you, Malcolm?” Lachlan shot Arthur a warning look as he returned. “And is that you, Munroe?”

  “Aye, ’tis me Munroe,” Arthur answered him. “We’ve come to free you.”

  “Then you should know”—Lachlan slid his gaze back to Colin—“the king has offered to look into the return of my land on the Isle of Islay. Should he do so, and if all works in my favor, then I intend to accede to his demands to get the Rhinns back.”

  Colin could barely believe it. For too many years to count, Lachlan had been fighting the MacDonald of Dunnyveg for the return of that land. Lachlan had lost the Rhinns to Angus MacDonald when his father had gambled it away during the short five years he’d been chief, but Lachlan had always insisted his father had lost it illegally. Hell, ’twas no wonder Lachlan had changed his mind. The MacLeans might once again own a portion of Islay. ’Twould be worth the hefty fines and summoning to Edinburgh for such a triumph. “Then I take it you would like us to leave, Chief?”

  “Aye, a rescue is no longer needed.”

  Lachlan MacLean was one of the greatest strategists, and if he now wished to negotiate with the king for his land on Islay’s west coast, then Colin wouldn’t stop him. He dipped his head and stepped back. “Then I bid you a good night.”

  “Aye, but, Malcolm, it would pay for you and Munroe to get away from here as fast as you can.”

  “That we will. Virtue mine honor.” He pulled the cell door shut. “Find me something solid enough to bar the door,” he snapped at Arthur. He couldn’t have the guard raising the alert, and locking him in with Lachlan right now was his only alternative.

  “Here.” Arthur grabbed a plank of wood propped against the wall and slotted it through the shaft designed to bar the door should the lock be unusable.

  “That shou
ld give us a few hours, I hope.” Colin rushed down the corridor then traversed the tight stairwell as fast as he could. Outside, Ian and Murdock waited in the shadows. “Where’s Annie?” he asked Ian.

  “In her chamber, safe and well,” Ian tipped his cloaked hood back enough for his eyes to show. “Where’s the chief?”

  “He’s been offered a deal by the king he does no’ intend to turn down. The Rhinns in exchange for acceding to his demands. Which means you need to leave, quickly. Return to the faerie stones and wait for us there.”

  “You’re no’ leaving with us?” Ian grasped his arm. “’Twill be an easy guess for the guards to look first at you and Arthur as the culprits for this attempt on the tower.”

  “The chief is still here and we’ve remained masked the entire time. He also gave the guard false names, so provided Arthur and I can merge back in amongst the guests, who’s to say we’ve no’ been in the great hall the entire time?” And if he had the chance to remain behind, for Annie’s sake, he’d damn well do it. His wife knew how to find trouble too well on her own.

  “The risk is too great.”

  “Have you been sighted?” he asked Ian.

  “No one can identify us.”

  “Then feel free to expose your MacLean plaids as you ride out. Two of Lachlan’s warriors must be sighted leaving here.” Colin clasped Ian’s forearms in a firm warrior’s hold before doing the same with Murdock. “We may need a few days. Take care.”

  The two warriors slunk away into the dark.

  Colin grasped Arthur’s shoulder. “Are you with me?”

  “Aye, and ’tis best when we leave, we do so with your wife. Mayhap you should even change into your monk’s habit. ’Twould be best if neither of us remained attired in domino as the guard saw us.”

  “A sound idea. Let’s go.” Against the castle wall, Colin slid through the shadows then hastened along the maze of passageways. In his chamber, he stripped off his robe and mask as Arthur did the same, then donned his brown monk’s habit and tied the leather strings around his waist. “Are you ready to face the masses?”

  Arthur tucked his tunic into his dark leather trews. “This will need to do for me. Let’s hope we dinnae get caught.”

  * * * *

  Annie couldn’t sit still after Ian had raced her back to her chamber and instructed her to bolt the door and get rid of the clothing she’d worn. No link must be made between her and the maid who’d delivered the ale. As quick as she could, she lit the fire, stripped off her kirtle and tossed her clothes and the wig into the flames.

  As it burned to ashes, she shakily dressed in a midnight-blue gown edged in black satin. Wishing for an escape, she paced her chamber. She needed to know if Colin had gotten past all the guards and reached his chief without issue. Even now, did he ride across the country for Duart Castle? Her stomach tossed and turned and her thoughts wouldn’t settle. Aye, she should follow Colin’s instructions and remain where she was, but the castle was filled with guests roaming about and it would take mere minutes to check the stables for his mount.

  She grabbed her black fur cloak and swung it over her shoulders. She’d take the utmost care, discover if his horse remained, then return.

  With her softly lined fur hood covering her head, she snuck out the door.

  “Well, well, if it isnae Annie MacLeod.” A warrior with a red bulbous nose wearing the MacDonald plaid under a steel-studded war coat eased out of the darkened alcove next to her door. “You’ve been busy this eve, dressed as Cleopatra one moment, then a lowly maid the next. Now you appear as if you’re ready to wander about again, yet this time unescorted.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Hugh MacDonald at your service.”

  “I’ve heard of you.” A man she had no desire to stand about chatting to. “Excuse me.” She hurried down the passageway.

  “James is courting you, but he’s no’ for you.”

  “He’s no’ courting me, and I agree.”

  “Good.” He offered her his arm as he kept pace but she ignored the gesture. “Allow me to escort you to wherever it is you’re going.”

  “No thank you. I’ll escort myself.” A buzz of voices echoed toward her from the great hall. She wasn’t in the middle of the woods, but a crowded palace swarming with guests and guardsmen. Aye, she’d find one of her MacLeod warriors and be done with Hugh MacDonald.

  “Take my arm, my lady, and if I were you, I wouldnae draw any attention to us should the opportunity arise.”

  “Are you threatening me?” She hastened her step as she searched for one of her kin.

  “You should have taken more care this eve.” He snorted. “Particularly after your jaunt to the tower, and if I were to hazard a guess at to the identities of the other men I saw you with, I’d have to say they were Colin and Arthur MacLean.”

  “I—I—” A chill shuddered through her. Hugh MacDonald knew too much.

  “Allow me to allay your fears. The men you seek have returned to the ball.”

  Colin would never have done so, not after he’d rescued his chief.

  “They also left the tower empty handed.”

  “What?”

  “Take care. Dinnae draw any attention to us. If you do, Colin and Arthur MacLean will be hanging from the king’s noose at daybreak, and if that happens, ’twill be because you’ve forced my hand and I’ve had no choice but to expose them.” He gripped her elbow, tugged her through the doors and across the inner courtyard.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Ensuring you save your kin. I take it you wish to confirm their steads are here?” MacDonald steered her inside the stables, led her past two lads brushing down the guests’ horses, and toward the rear.

  Colin and Arthur’s horses remained in their stalls. Hugh had told her the truth. Colin hadn’t left.

  “Wait here.” Hugh stepped across the dusty corridor, stirring up loose hay scattered across the hard-packed ground. He clapped a warrior on the back, and said, “Fergus, gather four of our men, those loyal only to me and no’ James.”

  “Aye, Captain.” Fergus jogged past her.

  Their voices sent shivers down her spine. She brushed up against Colin’s destrier and scratched between his stallion’s silky black ears. “Where are they, and what happened to them?” she whispered to the animal, hoping an answer would present itself, somehow and some way.

  The war horse let out a throaty snort and knocked its muzzle into her shoulder as if pushing her to send her on her way.

  “We’ll be leaving soon.” Hugh saddled his horse.

  “Then go. I’ll no’ stop you.”

  “I would prefer it if you traveled with me.” He mounted, took his horse’s reins and nodded at Fergus as he arrived with his men. “Aid the lady, Fergus. She wishes to ride with us.”

  “Nay, I—” She squealed as the warrior caught her around the waist and boosted her into the saddle in front of Hugh. “You cannae do this.”

  “Oh, I believe I can,” he rasped in her ear. “And if you dinnae oblige and come willingly, then I’ll discuss what I’ve learnt this eve with the king. Do you wish to keep Colin MacLean from the dungeons, or do you prefer to send him to an early death?” He nudged his horse out into the bailey.

  Speak up and save herself, or remain quiet and save Colin.

  There wasn’t even an option.

  “I’m the Chief of MacLeod’s cousin,” she snapped at him. “You cannae abduct me without severe repercussions.”

  “This is no’ an abduction, but a willing agreement to a courtship.”

  “I’ve agreed to naught.”

  “Aye, you have.” Arms tight around her, he urged his horse out the gates, right under the watchful eye of the guards patrolling the barbican, and she could do nothing about it.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “To Dunscaith on Skye where I can keep you secured within the MacDonald stronghold. James is too lenient toward the enemy and longs for peace at the expense of our ow
n clan, whereas I shall fight against clan MacLean as my chief does. For that, we require an alliance with Rory MacLeod, and you are the perfect solution.”

  “Your chief cannae fight while he’s in the tower.”

  “Donald and Angus were removed from the tower earlier this eve and taken to secure quarters in the palace. They’ve both agreed to the king’s demands and will soon be released. And when my chief returns to his clan, he will hear of our alliance by marriage and be well-pleased.” He thumped his heels into his stead’s flanks, urging his horse to a faster pace. He raced through the city, his men close behind.

  “That’s a marriage I will never agree to, no’ when I’ve already handfasted with another.”

  “Handfast vows are easily broken.” He shook his head and snorted in disgust. “Did you speak them with MacLean?”

  “Aye.”

  “Then those vows are irrelevant. The clergyman at Dunscaith will gladly hear you speak true marriage vows with me. You will embrace your new role as my wife. Make no mistake about it.”

  * * * *

  Colin snuck into the great hall with Arthur. So many people enthusiastically greeted each other as they finally learnt who was who. Several wives giggled and fanned their flushed faces as their husbands found them.

  “What’s your plan of attack now?” Arthur asked him.

  “We need to find Rory and ensure we’re seen.” Across the hall, a dark blond-haired warrior in full Viking costume with his claymore holstered across his back and his battle-axe belted at his side drew his attention.

  “’Tis a good plan. Let’s hope it works.” Arthur rubbed his neck. “I’m no’ keen to have the king’s noose around my neck.”

  “Neither am I, and I do believe that’s Rory.” He weaved around the chattering groups and blew out a long breath as Rory turned, his mask swinging from one hand and his face clear to see. Colin grasped Rory’s shoulder. “About time I found you.”