A Knight To Call My Own

by Sherry Ewing

  “Ye are aware that is what Laird Davidson is most likely planning to do?”

  “With a dowry the size of Lynet’s, I have no doubt they will do everything within their ability to seize it.” Ian stood and began making his way from the hall with Angus walking beside him.

  “What if he wants the young lady for himself?” Angus asked.

  Ian stopped to turn and stare at the Highlander who had already risked his life for his wife. “My Uncle would not dare such an offense,” he fumed.

  “Nay, not yer uncle, but Calum.”

  “Bloody Hell! The man would need to step over my grave afore I would let that happen,” Ian replied hotly.

  “I believe, my laird, that is exactly what he has planned.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Lynet hummed an old familiar tune her mother used to sing to her when she was young. ’Twas a fine day, and she had already made incredible progress on the cleaning of her hall. The floors had been scrubbed clean and fresh rushes with dried lavender made the room pleasant smelling. ’Twas a vast improvement of its earlier condition, and everyone was more than eager to help her now that Ian had married her afore the clan’s priest. She had found her place amongst them.

  After giving her directives on how she would expect the same meticulous care to be given to the kitchens, she had called to Nessa to join her in the gardens to see what she could do to help the plants that were suffocating between the rocks and weeds. Nessie, as she preferred to be called, was a young wee lass of ten summers and had been more than willing to head outdoors, instead of staying in the unyielding heat near the fires in the kitchen. Lynet could hardly blame her and had spent her own childhood in much the same manner.

  There was something incredibly soothing about taking care of the earth beneath one’s feet. She had always enjoyed the task of making things grow and bloom into the thriving gardens found at Berwyck. A fleeting memory of her mother as they tended the flowerbeds together flashed in Lynet’s mind and made her homesick for her family. A sigh escaped her, knowing she would soon be making her own family here within the walls of Ian’s birthplace. ’Twas her home now, as well, and she doubted she would see Berwyck anytime soon.

  Moving aside her basket, she took out another tool to dig at a rock that had no business being in a garden. It seemed even a place that would provide the much needed herbs for their food or medicine was just as neglected as the rest of Urquhart. At least, she now had free reign to put things aright.

  Consumed with her task at hand, she hadn’t realized Nessa was chatting away, and she had no clue as to what the child had been saying.

  “…and we ne’er ’ave tae worry about the cattle raids again,” Nessa said with innocence.

  Lynet stopped tugging at the weed surrounding what must surely be a boulder hidden underneath the dirt. “What cattle raids?”

  The girl gave a carefree shrug, but continued on with her work. “They been going on fer years now. Neighboring clans steal our livestock from us. We steal ’em back. ’Twill change, now that the laird is ’ere.”

  “You have such confidence in your new laird, then?” Lynet surmised, hiding her grin.

  “Oh, aye, he’s verra bonny, isna he?” Nessa got a far off dreamy look afore coming back out of her daydream. “Beggin yer pardon, milady…”

  Lynet laughed and watched as a pretty blush crept up the child’s face. “No need, Nessie. I agree with you, completely.”

  A look of understanding passed between them afore they continued on in silence. Lynet saw they were starting to make some progress when her eyes alit briefly on a figure hovering near the entryway of the garden just afore the person disappeared. A frown crossed her features afore she put herself back into her work.

  They had been making a significant difference in their surroundings, if the growing pile of weeds was an indication, when a voice behind her caused Lynet to flinch. She had been wondering how long ’twould take afore she was confronted.

  “Leave us,” Lady Fiona ordered.

  Lynet stretched and laid a hand on Nessa’s shoulder. “Why do you not go over near those roses, Nessie, and see what help you can give the poor things. They are in much need of your loving care.”

  “Aye, Mistress Lynet,” the girl whispered afore quickly gathering her things and heading out of hearing distance.

  Lynet stood and turned to face Ian’s mother who had a grim expression on her visage. “What can I do for you, my lady?” Lynet asked quietly whilst wiping her hands on the apron tied at her waist.

  “You could leave Urquhart and return from whence you came, but I have no doubt that is not an order you would care to follow,” Fiona huffed with a frown marring her otherwise wrinkle-free complexion.

  “The only orders I plan to follow are my husband’s.” The audacity of this woman astounded her. “Do you really believe I would leave Ian to suit your whim, because you insist that we are not man and wife? I would think the ceremony last eve afore your own priest and the entire clan would have settled such an issue.”

  “I am his mother. Ian will listen to me and my council.”

  “Aye, you are the woman who gave him life. Give him sound advice, and I believe he would listen to what you have to say…within reason, of course.”

  “You do not belong here,” Fiona declared. “There are others here, who would be far better for our clan and to our way of life in the Highlands than a woman who is obviously more English than Scot!”

  Lynet eyed the lady and was thankful her upbringing at a border castle had prepared her for this type of confrontation. She considered herself more than capable of handling this woman, much as she had seen her sister do as mistress of Berwyck.

  “And yet, here I am, and by Ian’s own words, sworn to him in the eyes of God that we are wed. I have no plans on going anywhere, madam, so you may as well get used to having me around.” Lynet watched as her words sank in with the woman standing afore her. Did it appear some of the fight left her as the reality that she was unable to control the situation finally registered?

  “I only wanted what was best for Ian,” Fiona whispered afore she rubbed at her eyes as though to clear her vision.

  “What makes you think I will not be good for your son? I have loved him for as long as I have known him, even when he thought of me as only a child. I cannot think of a better reason than such a devotion as love to be good enough for another to hold dear.”

  “Love? You are so young,” Fiona surmised, looking Lynet up and down as if assessing her worth. “What do you know of love, or what a mother would do for her child?” Fiona went but a short distance away to sit on a lone stone bench. Since she left enough room for another to sit next to her, Lynet did just that and watched as the woman began wringing her hands in uncertainty. “I suppose, since I caused you such ill will, that you will now have Ian send me away.”

  Lynet surprised her when she reached over to take hold of Fiona’s shaking limbs. “I may be young, my lady, but I know what love is. One day I, too, will know a mother’s love and will no doubt protect my bairns just as fiercely as you yourself have done. My children will need their grandmamma near so they can learn from her. I would not think of sending you away, but we must needs find a common accord. Do you not think the love we both bear your son is enough for us to begin again?”

  “You willna send me away?”

  “Nay, I will not.” Lynet watched the resolve in Fiona’s face and gave Ian’s mother a timid smile that she hesitantly returned.

  “Then let us begin, again,” Fiona proclaimed.

  For the first time, Lynet saw the woman give her what appeared to be a genuine smile. Perchance, there was hope for them after all. “I would like that, my lady.”

  They sat in silence with clasped hands, listening to nature’s song. The chirping birds in the treetops, the rustle of leaves within the branches overhead, the feel of the soft breeze caressing their cheeks as they sat side by side in thought and enjoyed this moment together. But ’t
was the sound of a distant thunder that began rolling over the hills that caused both women to look up to the sky in puzzlement. ’Twas unusually sunny, considering Urquhart’s location so far north, and the sky did not appear as though a storm was in the vicinity that they would need to worry about rain.

  A warning shout from a guard posted upon the battlements was repeated by another. Lynet and Fiona came simultaneously to the same conclusion.

  “Nessie!” they called in unison.

  The girl looked up as Lynet grabbed at her skirts and ran in her direction.

  “To the keep!” Lynet yelled.

  The girl took off like a jackrabbit bouncing away from a hungry fox intent on devouring its next tasty meal. She obviously knew the routine and was used to raiding clansmen intent on stealing whatever was available on MacGillivray land. Lynet could not say the same, since she was as yet unfamiliar with the complete inner workings of this particular keep.

  “Go on, now,” Fiona urged, “follow her, and get to your chamber. ’Tis the safest place for you.”

  “I have to find Ian,” Lynet protested.

  Fiona took hold of her arms. “Ian will know where to go to find you and will expect you to keep yourself safe. The laird’s wife would bring quite a high ransom, and we cannot risk you being captured in the event the gate does not hold. Run!”

  Lynet’s eyes widened at the thought of being apprehended, yet again. With a nod of assent, she hitched up her gown and began running towards the keep. She was unprepared when she rounded the corner of the garden wall to meet a shovel that was well aimed at her head. Once again, she fell backwards and watched as the sky swirled around and around ’til her vision turned fuzzy. An unexpected face loomed afore her with an evil leer.

  “You are mine now, my lady,” the face afore her jeered in satisfaction.

  “Nay…not you,” she managed to whisper.

  She tried to yell out, but she could not form any words as she began to lose consciousness. His arms stretched out towards her and something heavy was thrown over her head, suffocating the air from her lungs. Lynet had no energy to struggle. Her last thought afore she blacked out was to wonder why on earth this kept happening to her, for ’twas becoming a most annoying occurrence!

  ~***~

  Calum was disgusted that he was reduced to climbing his way up through a garderobe just to gain access to the keep. The stench alone permeating from his clothes would alert the entire MacGillivray clan that something was afoot. The chute was narrow and slick with…well…piss and shite. He knew he needed coin to refill his coffers, but he was beginning to rethink the methods and lengths he would go to get it. He was not entirely sure, at this very moment, if ’twould be worth it.

  Perchance, he should have sent Lachlan to achieve this part of his plan, instead of entrusting him to lead their small contingent of men towards the castle. He was unsure Lachlan would have been capable of taking the lady without her screaming her bloody head off and alerting the entire castle, even though they had infiltrated the keep’s defenses with the help of one of its own. But he knew he could not trust his brother, and with good reason, given all their past arguments they had had throughout their entire lifetime.

  With one hand after the other, he pulled himself up by clawing at the rocks to ensure a firm grip to get out of the hell he had put himself in. It could not happen soon enough. Looking up, he was satisfied to see for himself he was almost to his goal. His two men, who were below him, grumbled, cursed, and echoed aloud his own thoughts running amuck within his head.

  “Shhh, you fools,” Calum scolded with a hiss of displeasure, “lest you wish this travesty to be all for naught and get us captured.”

  Their grumbling quieted, and Calum continued upward ’til he reached the top. He knew the rest of his army would be fast approaching the barbican gate of the castle. Time was of the essence, in capturing the laird’s wife to ensure an easy escape from those very same front gates.

  Slowly, he lifted the wooden seat to peer into the small closet. There were a few garments hanging from a peg, but that was not what infuriated him. Nay, ’twas the smirking face of Edric that had Calum ready to wipe the amused, annoying look from the obnoxious man’s features. He did not so much as even offer Calum a hand to assist him from the confines of the narrow hole, not that he could entirely blame the man.

  As Calum rose from his self-imposed temporary prison, Edric took a cloth from his jacket and held it to his nose.

  “Eh gads, man,” Edric gagged as he went to the window to get a breath of fresh air. “Mayhap, this was not the best of suggestions.”

  Calum narrowed his gaze at the fool afore him. “You think?” he growled as fiercely as any angered or trapped animal would. Peering down at his clothes that were covered in filth, he yanked at the cape hanging from a peg and began wiping his hands and face, not that it did much good. He would smell the stench of the garderobe for days, and the disgusting odor was only getting stronger whilst the small, confined space of the closet began to fill with the addition of two extra men. They were in much the same condition as Calum. ’Twas horribly revolting.

  Squeezing around his co-conspirators trying to avoid contact with the filth of their clothes, Edric made for the exit to peer into a vacant room. “’Tis empty,” he declared, pushing the door wide for everyone to follow.

  “Where is she?” Calum asked, reaching for his sword as Edric went to the next door to peer into the passageway.

  “She will be in her chamber, as is the standard protocol for the laird’s wife, during a hostile siege. Down the corridor, four doors to the right. ’Tis the very last room at the end of the passageway. You cannot miss it,” Edric replied as he began rubbing his hands together with anticipation. “I can already feel the ransomed coins in the palms of my hands.”

  Calum’s brow rose. “Can you now?”

  “Aye, I can. You are going to make me a very rich man.” Edric cackled in glee as he peered into the passageway. “The way is clear. You should hurry afore someone gets a whiff of your stench.”

  Edric never knew what was coming when Calum pulled a knife from his waist, deftly reached around the unsuspecting man, and proceeded to slit the fool’s throat. ’Twas a clean kill, not that the man deserved such, after what he had put Calum and his group through.

  Calum gave no further thought to the gurgling sounds of the dying man who toppled over, grasping at his neck. He smirked at the stupidity of men and stepped over the twitching corpse. Edric had served his purpose. The rest would now lie with him.

  Chapter Thirty

  Ian raced from the forgery and made quick work of stowing the dirk the smithy had made for him into the belt at his back. The inner bailey was a beehive of chaos as the clan ran in every imaginable direction. Women rushed to gather their children and usher them into the keep whilst men hurried to their posts. Even the barbican gate was still wide open to allow more villagers to make their way inside the castle walls to safety.

  In the midst of all the activity, a merchant quickly dumped a rolled tapestry into his cart, jumped into the driver’s seat, and slapped the leather reins to urge his horse into motion towards the gate. Ian did a double take at the foolishness of the merchant’s choice, but assumed the man’s only concern was to reach whatever safe haven he thought was far from Urquhart’s soon-to-be upheaval.

  “Connor,” Ian called out to halt the Highlander, who was helping a crying child from the ground.

  Pushing the bairn into the arms of her mother, he closed the distance between them. “Aye, my laird?”

  Ian pointed his sword to the cart. “Who is that tradesman?”

  “Never seen him, my laird.”

  “Well, see if you can catch the fool. Surely, he and his goods will be safer within the castle walls than outside of its gates. Or does he wish to be ransacked for every bolt of cloth he has of any worth? When you’re finished, follow me.”

  Intent upon reaching Lynet to ensure she was safe, Ian gave no further t
hought to the trader, who cursed at Conner, waved his fist in the air, and then proceeded to yell at his horse to “giddy up” whilst narrowly missing the closing of the portcullis on his cart. Seeing Angus, Ian motioned for his kinsmen to join him, as well.

  He had just reached the first step leading to the keep whilst Connor ran to catch up, when his name was called by a small, wee voice.

  “Laird MacGillivray!” a young lass bellowed as she ran up to him to tug on the edge of his tunic to gain his attention.

  “Not now, lass. I must needs find Lady Lynet. Hie yourself into the keep and get yourself safe,” Ian said briskly, dismissing the girl.

  “But my laird…’tis about the Lady Ly─”

  The sound of her voice faded as Ian hurried ahead into the hall with Angus and Connor close behind him. He attempted to make quick work of dodging servants and villagers alike who were hastily filling the chamber to over-flowing, but ’twas near impossible. Clansmen and women were everywhere, and it appeared most had reached the safety of the keep.

  Finally, making his way through the mass of humanity, Ian raced up the turret to reach Lynet’s side. He was only half-way down the passageway when he noticed blood pooling from beneath a chamber door. Pulling his sword from the scabbard at his side, Ian carefully started to push upon the heavy oak, only to have to shove harder in order to make the door open. The cause…the dead body of his Uncle with his throat slit had been hindering it opening smoothly.

  “Bloody Hell, who would do such a ghastly thing,” Angus muttered, making the sign of the cross. “He may have been a greedy fool, but no one should die in such a manner.”

  “Lynet!” Ian bellowed, leaving the room to head to his own chamber, only to see his door was slightly ajar. Pushing the door wide, it should not have surprised Ian in the least to see Calum and two of his men standing there with a look of bewilderment on their faces.

  “By God’s bones, the stench,” Connor gagged, covering his mouth.