A Knight To Call My Own

by Sherry Ewing

  Angus came to stand next to Ian’s side, but his laughter only angered the men afore them. “The garderobe? Ye chose the garderobe tae gain access tae the keep? The smell alone would have alerted us all tae yer arrival, ye fools.”

  “What the hell have you done with my wife?” Ian roared, ignoring the odor that assailed his nostrils.

  Calum practically choked on the laugh that escaped him. “I have done nothing with her, as you can plainly see, if you but care to take a closer look. The woman has eluded me, yet again,” he sneered with contempt.

  “Where is she?” Ian shouted once more, looking about the room, but seeing for himself, his wife was not within their chamber. Angus and Connor moved about the room to guard Calum’s men and hold them at sword point.

  “Damnation, man, I do not have her! If I did, do you think I’d be standing here in an empty room, contemplating life’s mysteries, instead of making my getaway in order to collect her ransom?”

  “Harrumph! Have you not seen for yourself Urquhart’s condition? I barely have enough monies to see us fed through the coming winter, let alone pay a ransom,” Ian retorted fiercely.

  “If I canna get coinage from you, I am sure Dristan of Berwyck will pay me most handsomely to see his wife’s sister returned safe and sound.”

  “Dristan no longer has claim upon the Lady Lynet. She is mine,” Ian proclaimed, trying to calm his anger.

  “And yet, you do not seem to know of her whereabouts, now, do you? ’Tis no fault of mine if you canna keep your wife where she belongs, and you have misplaced her…again,” Calum mocked. Ian’s fury rose, not only from losing Lynet, but from the audacity of the bastard in front of him.

  Ian swung his clenched fist, punching Calum hard in the face. The man stumbled backward from the blow, falling into the men that stood behind him whilst Angus and Connor moved to place their blades in a location that would ensure they would not see another day if they did not yield. Ian turned and pointed his sword at Calum’s throat when the man tried to rise.

  “Do not insult my wife, sir,” Ian snarled.

  Calum put up his hands in surrender, but Ian knew better than to trust him. He motioned for Calum’s men to help their laird to his feet, which they did after a moment of hesitation.

  “Take them to the dungeon,” he ordered his men. “But leave him.”

  Calum smiled evilly as his men were shoved from the room.

  “Do you really want to fight me, boy?”

  “I am no boy. Draw your sword, and we shall see who wins this day.”

  “Is this revenge you seek?” Calum said with a shrug. “I did not steal your wife.”

  “Nay, you did not, but ’twas your intent.”

  Ian charged forward, but Calum easily dodged him, elbowing him in the face. Ian fell against the wall, facing his enemy who drew his sword confidently. Instead of engaging in a fight, Calum darted from the room like a coward, which was not what Ian was expecting. Yet, Ian was quick to follow, and Calum began swinging his sword like a mad man. Ian’s blade rang out as it encountered Calum’s. A crossroads perhaps, but Ian got the advantage when he pushed Calum away. The passageway was dimly lit, but there was enough light to see every bit of movement.

  The battle between them went on down the corridor towards the stairs. With every attack Ian performed, Calum countered it ’til he ducked beneath Ian’s arms, leaving Ian dangerously close to the edge of the stairs. Once more, Ian brought his sword forward, and the sound of the metal connecting resounded in the air. He stared into the face of his nemesis.

  “Give up,” Calum said, pushing Ian closer to the edge of the stairs.

  “Never!” Ian shoved him away, but received another blow to the face, leaving him stunned. He collapsed to the ground and spit out the blood that pooled in his mouth. Calum was chuckling as he took a moment to circle Ian, like an animal stalking its prey. Ian wiped his lips and reached for his sword, but Calum kicked it away.

  “You have become weak, lad. I expected more of a fight from a knight who has trained with the Devil’s Dragon. Has your woman made you so soft that you forget how to battle someone superior to you?” he said with a sly grin of satisfaction. Calum squatted down to face Ian afore grabbing his hair to tilt his head and get a better look at him, as though he knew he had already won. “How did you think you could ever beat me?”

  Ian pretended he was seriously wounded from the punches he had received in order to get closer to his enemy. He began to finger the hilt of the dirk hidden from Calum’s view. The fool was too focused on a clear victory, and leaning his head back, Calum let out a wicked laugh. ’Twas just the moment Ian was waiting for, as he pulled forth the dirk at his waist and drove the blade into the pit of Calum’s stomach with a twist, for good measure. Calum fell backward with a howl of pain as Ian staggered to his feet. He retrieved his sword and stood over Calum’s dying body.

  “Just like that,” Ian spat out his answer. With as much force as he could muster, Ian swung his sword forward in a wide arch, severing Calum’s head from his body. He did not bother to look down at the now dead man, or what he had done, but wiped away the remnants of blood from the sword afore taking the stairs.

  Ian was panicking about Lynet’s whereabouts as he made his way to the lower level of the keep. He saw the girl called Nessa down a deserted hallway. When she saw him, the little girl ran to him immediately.

  “Me laird,” she squealed. “I ’ave tae tell ye something important.”

  Ian picked her up and set her on the window seat so he could face her better.

  “You said something about the Lady Lynet,” he started to say calmly, wishing he had listened to the young lass afore.

  The girl nodded. “Aye.”

  “Where is she, Nessa?” Ian’s head was pounding, but he was determined to find out where his wife had gone.

  “She was taken me laird,” she said, spinning a thread of her shawl around her fingers as she looked at him with big eyes.

  “Taken? By who? What did he look like?”

  “’e was a tall man, but ’e wore a hood, me laird,” she gave a nervous reply. “I did not see his face.”

  “What else, girl, what else?”

  “’e put her in a cart, wrapped in a tapestry.”

  Ian thought but an instant about Nessa’s words afore he realized his own foolish mistake. Unknowingly, he had let that very same man escape with his wife. He had unwittingly, let the culprit walk straight out of his own damn front gate.

  Knowing with each moment that passed Lynet was being swept farther away, he strode with a determined purpose. As he reached the Great Hall, he espied Angus coming from the opposite side of the room where the dungeon was located in the lower levels of the castle.

  “Angus,” he called out as the Scotsman rushed to his side.

  “Aye, me laird,” he said briskly.

  “There is something offensive in my keep, and it can be found in the passageway on the floor where my chambers are located. Fetch it, and follow me outside,” Ian ordered.

  Angus’s brow raised in question. “He is dead, then?”

  Ian smirked, waving his hand towards the stairwell. “You doubted my skill? Go see for yourself. But hurry with retrieving what I asked of you.”

  Whilst he awaited Angus’s return, he saw his mother entering the keep. A look of anguish appeared on her face afore she took up the fabric of her dress in order to hasten to him with tear-filled eyes. “Son, I must beg your forgiveness for acting so rashly towards Lynet and listening unwisely to my brother’s council. I just learned Lynet has been taken, and we must needs find her.”

  Ian wrapped his mother within his arms and was thankful to at last see the woman he had cherished in his youth. He laid a kiss upon the top of her head afore he held her once more at arm’s length. “There is nothing to forgive, my lady mother, and unfortunately, your brother met his demise at the hand of our enemies. Be at ease, and see to our people. Lynet will be returned to us shortly.”

&
nbsp; “But what of the throng of armed men about to storm the barbican gate?” she asked in fright.

  Ian’s gaze took in the people within his hall, knowing they were in his care. With Angus returning and carrying a sack in his hand, he was confident the enemy army would disperse.

  “Let me worry about those who wish to take what is rightfully ours,” Ian answered with a grim line of displeasure. “Angus…follow me.”

  Ian and Angus made their way from the keep and into the baily. Standing afore the gate, Ian motioned his men to raise the portcullis. With steady feet, they walked the short distance beneath the metal spikes that would be the demise of anyone foolish enough to fall beneath them. They waited just outside of the gate to witness the small army Calum had amassed. To Ian’s practiced eye, there appeared to be just over two score of men.

  Ian held up his hand, even as the men prepared to charge. He gave Angus the briefest of nods, afore his man made his way to the end of the wooden bridge. In the sack, he carried Calum’s severed head. Angus strode but a few more yards to where he placed the atrocity on a pike afore proceeding to remove the sack. A mighty roar of outrage emitted from Calum’s clan.

  “This is what is left of your leader,” Ian shouted for all to hear his words. “This is the man who chose to trespass into my keep and attempt to steal what is rightfully mine. As you can now undoubtedly surmise, you will not be granted such easy access into the interior of my castle.”

  The bravest of the lot stepped forward. “Where be our two clan members who traveled with our laird?” he hollered, his anger barely contained whilst witnessing the offense of his dead laird.

  ’Twas then Ian heard his clansmen take their places behind and above him. They took aim at the intruders from above, upon the battlement walls, arrows knocked into their crossbows. Other arrows appeared through the narrow slits in the walls of the keep. Only someone with no common sense would dare attack, for he would lose more than half of his men in such a foolish confrontation.

  “They are enjoying my hospitality in my dungeon. Leave now, and, if I feel gracious, I may release them, as long as you never step foot on MacGillivray land again. Or perchance, you would prefer to suffer the same fate as your laird. ’Tis your choice, of course, but be quick about making your decision. I will not show mercy to those who try to harm my people.”

  One foolish enough to doubt Ian’s words, standing behind their new leader, bellowed out a battle cry in order to vindicate the death of their laird. He rushed forward swinging his blade whilst the rest of Calum’s men followed him at a run. Arrows began to fly from overhead, killing those in the front as they all pushed forward. Ian and Angus swung their claymores, even while Ian’s own men rushed from the gate to protect him. Swords clashed, but ’twas soon apparent Calum’s men were outnumbered. Those who had not fallen quickly regrouped at a safe distance away from the deadly arrows. There were not many of them left.

  “Is there anyone else who would care to test my words and the strength of our arms?” Ian stood his ground and stared around at the few men left in front of him. “This is your last warning.” He finished his speech as he brought his bloody sword forward.

  One man stepped to the fore, as if he might take Ian up on his challenge, but ’twas not to be. He peered at Ian with contempt and spit upon the ground as if to insult him. Common sense prevailed, and with a whistle, the Scotsman signaled the remaining men to retreat. Ian gave an order to send a small contingent of clansmen to escort their unwanted guests past the boundaries of his land.

  He watched them go in silence afore taking in the carnage in front of him with a grimace. Gravely, he pondered how long ’twould be afore he himself would feel it safe enough to travel. He did not wish to worry of his own sorry hide being attacked afore he could once again begin searching for his captured wife. With Calum and Edric dead, he could only ponder who in the hell had his wife?

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Lynet began to rouse with the uncomfortable feeling of being suffocated. Whatever kind of conveyance she was being carried away in, ’twas not one made for comfort, as she was jostled and bounced about whenever the vehicle hit a rut in the uneven ground. The rough treatment of her already abused body did serve some purpose, as she found a slight amount of relief when she felt the confining restrictions of the material holding her give way. At the very least she was able to move a bit, however slightly.

  She tried to remain still and not panic, for how was she to know her fate at the hands of the madman who abducted her from her very home. Vague images of his face swam within her memory, memories of seeing that very same face as he had killed poor Rolf. ’Twas obvious Lachlan was in cahoots with his brother and was just another determined man who was bent on having her dowry, despite it rightfully belonged to Ian. Was there anyone who was not chasing her for coinage and dowry left in England or Scotland? Surely, there were other ladies who were just as wealthy?

  Since she could see nothing, she felt what she assumed was a cart beginning to slow. Lachlan’s voice was muffled, but she could faintly make out her abductor humming a strange tune afore he turned to cursing. He must have led the horse to water, for she could distinguish the sound as the horse drank its fill. She licked at her dry lips, only to come in contact with the material in front of her face. She had never been so parched in her life.

  Silence descended, and Lynet began to attempt to squirm loose of the material holding her captive. She began to roll back and forth, and, after much effort, she was at last free to take in great gulps of fresh, clean air. Her head was throbbing, and she carefully lifted her hand to feel the bump on her forehead that surely must be the size of a bolder. She held back a sneeze from the dust that lingered in her hair and clung to her clothes from the tapestry that Lachlan had rolled her in. Not knowing his whereabouts, she was unsure how much time she had afore he returned from taking care of his personal business.

  Carefully, she rose up to peek over the edge of the cart in order to obtain a glimpse of her surroundings. Panic struck her as she saw nothing but green landscape and determined the sun would soon set upon the earth. Clearly, she was no longer near the keep. She tried to steady her heart as she quickly attempted to formulate some kind of a plan. With her head fuzzy from being knocked unconscious, she was worried she would not be able to flee far.

  But try, she would, and there was no time like the present. Lynet began to scoot her way to the edge of the cart, only to stand on wavering legs once her feet hit the ground. Though her stance was unstable, ’twas now or never if she were to attempt an escape.

  With only one step forward, she found herself landing upon her hands and knees and almost planting her face into the dirt. ’Twould not be the first time such an occurrence happened, she thought, as she relived those disturbing memories at the hands of Calum, even whilst she made a fast attempt to collect her breath that had been knocked from her. Yet, ’twas not Lachlan’s doing, but her own inability to remain upright from her injury to her head.

  Stumbling to her feet, she knew she must make haste whilst the opportunity presented itself. Although the water appeared to offer her what she needed most to quench her thirst, she decided the best course of action would be to run in the opposite direction. Run…if only her feet would cooperate with her need to flee from her captor. She mentally cursed when her bare foot encountered a stone beneath the foliage upon the ground. ’Twas the first time she realized her shoes were missing, but she could not linger on what other injuries she might incur by a bit of rocks. Nay! She must flee and put as much distance as she could between herself and Lachlan.

  She had not gone far afore an ear splitting cry of outrage filled the air and echoed throughout the forest. Birds flew from the treetops. Lynet looked overhead as they took flight, and the noise from the flapping of their wings faded into the distance. Yet, there was no mistaking the man who was now trudging his way through the forest, as he made no attempt to lessen the amount of noise he was making in his attempt to find her
.

  Knowing her brief amount of freedom would soon be at an end, she hastily picked up a fallen branch and clasped it as if this meager bit of wood might save her from an enemy who would surely do his worst to her. Her heart raced as she frantically sought a place of refuge. But given her injury that was more of a hindrance than she cared to admit, she knew ’twas but a matter of moments afore she was once more captured.

  Lynet snuck behind a tree, as if hiding behind the oak would make her invisible. The stick she held afore her, as though ’twere the mightiest of blades made of the hardest steel. As she scanned the woods in front of her, she felt sudden dread as his hand gripped her upper arm from behind. She should have known he would find her. Still, she swung her branch and had a brief moment of satisfaction as it made contact with the side of his head. ’Twas short lived as he wiped at the blood where the wood left a scratch from his temple all the way down to his chin. At least, she would live with the knowledge that he would have a scar the rest of his life as a reminder of her defiance, and that ’twould mar his otherwise handsome face.

  “You vile, little bitch,” he grimaced as he took a piece of linen from his cloak to dab at his bleeding face. “Look what you have done to me.”

  Lynet could not keep the smirk from her features, even if she had wanted to. “’Tis more than you deserve, sir. How dare you take me against my will and beneath the very noses of my people?”

  “’Twill be a long time afore you see the place again. Calum will be busy with the taking of Urquhart, and afore my asinine brother can find me, we shall be far away, and I will claim your ransom as mine.”

  “I am already spoken for, if you have forgotten. Besides, you have a funny way of showing your loyalty to those who you demand are your kin. Your brother may have something to say about your plans, since he is technically laird of the Davidson clan,” Lynet sneered, waving the branch in front of her for protection.

  “My brother, could care less about his bastard sibling,” he spat, and Lynet realized the sibling rivalry went far deeper than just sparring brothers.