TWO LAIRDS ONE LADY

by John Ryan

His pulse quickened as the voices grew louder. Although he couldn’t determine precisely what was being said, Thayer could ascertain the dark mood of the gathering inside. Clearly, a bitter quarrel was being waged. Crouching by the partially open door, Thayer peered inside. As his eyes adjusted to the pale light of the chambers the figures of Elspeth, Lord Devlin, and three men in their cells gradually came into view. He gripped the hilt of his blade ever tighter as he leaned forward to listen to the heated voices inside.

  Elspeth was clearly furious.

  “Surely, even the word of a bloody Sassenach has to count for something!” she raged.

  “Ha! Didn’t your cursed father teach you that it is easier to sway a man through his vices than his virtue?” Lord Devlin quipped with a throaty chuckle.

  Witnesses to the heated discourse, Graham and Faolin angrily rattled the bars of their cells in protest. The clamor shook the very room.

  Thayer watched, grateful for the impromptu diversion. The din allowed him to creep closer without being noticed. He would soon be in striking distance.

  “That bloody cur has no honor, Elspeth!” Graham growled. “’Twas folly to come here! He means to hang us, whether ye give yourself to him or nae! ’Twas a trap all along.”

  In his cell, Sir Rhoenne was uncharacteristically silent. Unbeknownst to Elspeth, he had spent the better part of the last fortnight methodically filing through the bars of his cell with the broken blade of the dirk he had concealed since his capture.

  The bars were just about ready to give.

  Lord Devlin lifted a sardonic brow. “Lass, it occurs to me that I have been remiss in searching you for any concealed weapon you might design to use against me. After all, you are a Mourney. I know the desire for vengeance is a trait that all of your family shares.”

  “Mindless knave,” Elspeth scoffed. “Considering the wretched manner in which ye have detained my family, as well as the breaking of your word, dinna ye think I would have used it already?”

  Scoffing, Lord Devlin cocked a bushy brow.

  “We’ll just have to see, withal, lass,” he suggested lecherously as he inched closer to her.

  ***

  His glare transfixed on Lord Devlin, Thayer’s face darkened as he edged ever closer.

  Ye will surely die this very day, Devlin, he silently raged. The reward for your treachery will be the forfeiture of your worthless life. But I must be patient. Elspeth is standing too close. She might be injured if I pounce prematurely.

  Thayer had slain many of his enemies upon the battlefield. In hand to hand battle, he was as deadly as any wild predator. He was a tiger ready to spring upon his prey.

  “Dinna ye touch a hair upon her head, Devlin!” the earl protested angrily.

  “So help me, Devlin, ye will breathe your last this very day if ye touch me sister!” Graham growled.

  “Stay yourself, Devlin!” Faolin demanded.

  Despite their heated protests, Lord Devlin sidled up to Elspeth, his hand brushing her skirt.

  “Well now, I must lift your hem so I can be assured you do not have a dirk hidden amongst those creamy treasures,” he demanded as his eyes swept the long, slender length of her legs.

  Gritting her teeth to hide her disgust, Elspeth complied. As she hiked up her skirt, an ivory comb tumbled out and skipped along the floor.

  “And what have we here, lass?” Lord Devlin queried as he stooped down to pick up the comb.

  “’Tis a wee comb, is all. By the looks of ye, ye haven’t been acquainted with one in a quite a spell,” Elspeth quipped.

  Lord Devlin laughed huskily as he handed the comb back to Elspeth. Lifting his lecherous gaze from his crouched position, he lingered to accord himself a better view of Elspeth’s partially exposed legs.

  “I don’t suppose even a Mourney could do much damage with a blasted comb,” he quipped, dripping with sarcasm.

  Lord Devlin slowly rose and stood erect, drawing Elspeth’s gaze by the glint of the heavy sterling chain he wore around his neck. There was something clasped to it, but it remained hidden under his tunic.

  Apparently noting her distraction, Lord Devlin commented, “I see ye have good taste in jewels, lass.”

  As he pulled the chain free of his tunic, the breath caught in Elspeth’s throat. On the end of the chain was a richly etched, bejeweled Celtic Cross , identical to the one that Thayer had bestowed upon her during their journey! She knew in an instant that it was the very cross Thayer’s grandmother had placed around his grandfather’s neck before he rode into battle. An icy chill ran down Elspeth’s spine as pondered she its significance.

  “I can see from your steady gaze, lass, that you have seen this cross before, haven’t you?” Lord Devlin observed.

  Elspeth stood in mute horror as Lord Devlin kissed the cross and held it aloft, its form casting an eerie shadow upon the blanched stone wall.

  Crouched in the shadows, Thayer could see it as well.

  Lord Devlin gloated. “Ye see, lass, your beloved Thayer MacCourt’s grandfather was no match for me. He died a coward, writhing on the ground, pleading for his life, as your blasted swain will soon do as well.”

  With those words, Elspeth’s fury was unleashed.

  Separating the hidden blade from her comb, she sank it deep into Lord Devlin’s side.

  Recoiling in pain, Lord Devlin struck Elspeth across the face with all of his strength. She went reeling to the ground and sprawled motionless, arms and legs akimbo.

  Lord Devlin grasped the blade, and with an oath, yanked it free from his side. He raised the blade over his head and proclaimed, “You have chosen your fate, bitch! If I cannot possess you, then no other man ever will!”

  Thayer was upon Lord Devlin before the blade fell.

  At the same time, Elspeth’s father had mustered all of his remaining strength and pushed mightily on the rungs of his cell. They gave way at last!

  But before the earl could reach Lord Devlin, the Englishman lay motionless. Thayer’s bloody sword protruded from his chest.

  Hearing the commotion, Colin and Brice bolted up the stairs and stormed into the room to join the fray.

  But Thayer had reached Elspeth first. He knelt down and swept her off the ground. Gently, he lay her upon a small table in the middle of the room.

  “Elspeth, m’love, come back to me!” Thayer pleaded as tears welled in his eyes. His heart was torn apart; his soul lost in utter despair.

  Sir Rhoenne hurriedly grabbed the keys from Devlin and unlocked Graham’s and Faolin’s cells. They rushed to join Thayer, Colin, and Brice as they huddled around Elspeth’s still form. Thayer pressed his ear firmly against Elspeth’s chest, desperate to detect a heartbeat.“Elspeth! Please dinna leave me! I need ye! Wake now! Please come back to me!”

  “Thayer?” Elspeth managed weakly.

  His heart nearly bursting with gratitude and love, Thayer swept her into his arms and smothered her with grateful kisses as the men cheered. Elspeth clutched his nape ever tighter as her weak laughs were swallowed by his kisses.

  The celebration was cut short by a blood-curdling battle cry.

  Thayer whirled around as Colin and Brice darted to the window to peer outside.

  “‘Tis the King’s Army! They’re attacking the castle!” Colin shouted with exhilaration.

  Thayer kissed Elspeth and gently placed her in her father’s arms.

  Placing Lord Devlin’s sword into the earl’s hands, he implored, “Lord Mourney, I must go now to ensure the King’s success. I ken ye surely yearn to join the battle, but ye are too injured to partake in it. Please, stay and keep your family safe. I will leave young Brice with ye. He’s a fine lad--and a devil of an archer as well. I will return ‘ere the eventide. Dinna give cause to worry, we will retake your Dirleton.”

  Sir Rhoenne extended his hand. Grasping it firmly, Thayer watched with immense gratification as earl’s face split into a wide grin.

  “Aye, that’s some grip ye have there, son!” Sir Rhoenne attested with a
hearty laugh.

  Graham, meanwhile, had stooped down to inspect Lord Devlin’s splayed form. Nudging the prone body with the tip of his dirk, he gratefully noted no response.

  Bending his mouth to Lord Devlin’s ear, he murmured, “And ye had the Stone within your grasp, ye bloody oaf! Right in my cell, ha!”

  With a triumphant grunt, he yanked the cross off Devlin’s long neck. Handing it to Thayer, he remarked, “I believe this belongs to ye.”

  “Thank ye, brother,” Thayer replied as he grasped Graham’s hand firmly and looped the chain over his head.

  “Come. Uncle, Faolin, we have a castle to retake,” Thayer beckoned as he pivoted on his heels to leave the room.

  “I thought ye would never ask.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Elspeth stood breathless as she watched Thayer bolt from the room. Her eyes misted, and clearly noticing this, her father gently clasped her hand in his.

  “Sweet Jesu, child, you’re trembling,” he said as he gently dabbed the tears from her cheeks. “Ye mustn’t worry, Thayer will return to ye. He is as fine a knight as he is a gentleman. Come, let me have a good look at ye. I missed ye so!”

  His pale blue eyes glazed as he added thoughtfully, “I am so very proud of ye, dear daughter. But next time ye have it in I that bonny little head of yours to act the heroine, please think of yourself first.”

  “Father, if I were to do that, I would be going against all ye have ever taught me,” Elspeth replied as a bittersweet smile played about her bruised lips.

  Gazing into her father’s weary eyes, her brows knit in disbelief as an errant tear slipped from his eye and rolled down his ruddy cheek.

  This was the first time that Elspeth had ever seen him weep!

  Tenderly dabbing his tears with the silk of her sleeves, she murmured, “Da, I too have missed ye dearly. Mother and I have been worried to death since ye left us.”

  “And ye, Graham!” she added lovingly as she cast a gaze over her shoulder at her brother.

  “And, of course I have not forgotten ye, dear Faolin,” she added.

  “Elspeth, how is your mother?” the earl interrupted with trepidation.

  Graham and their father held their collective breath as they waited for Elspeth’s response.

  “She says she wants both of ye home this instant” Elspeth decried jubilantly, shattering the uneasy tension. “And she insists that when ye return, ye are to cook a feast to end all feasts!”

  The earl’s brows knit in confusion as he implored, “Ye mean she wants us to have the servants prepare a great banquet, eh, child?”

  “Nae, she expects ye and Graham to prepare it by yourselves,” she responded giddily.

  The earl’s guffaws were interrupted by Graham’s tentative query. “Eh, Elspeth, isn’t Mother residing at the Manor on the Townsend estate?”

  “Aye,” Elspeth replied. “Why do ye ask?”

  “Ummm...’Tis just that I was wondering if ye had a chance to see Orla?” he replied as his cheeks took on a rosy hue. The color of his cheeks made him look more alive.

  “Nae, I’m sorry, Graham. I wasn’t at the Manor very long. But ye’ll have your chance to see her when Thayer takes back the castle and we are able to return to fetch Mother back to Dirleton.”

  “I see that both of me children have been pierced by the arrow of Eros,” the earl quipped, bemused. “Come here, the both of ye.”

  Throwing his burly arms around his children, Sir Rhoenne squeezed them tightly. Elspeth nuzzled her face in her father’s brawny chest. Though a terrible battle raged outside, for this brief moment at least, the warmth from her father’s embrace stayed the fears she held for Thayer.

  ***

  Thayer surveyed the still battlefield. Lowering his head solemnly, he watched as the pallid moon cast a pall over the scores of broken bodies of the fallen. Many Scots were lost that day, but the battle to retake Dirleton was over. Victory had come to the Scots. He murmured a prayer of thanks for sparing his brother and uncle, and with a hearty sigh, strode over to stand beside his uncle atop the castle wall.

  With a victorious cry, Colin proudly hoisted the saltire flag. It whipped triumphantly about, snapping smartly in the cool dawn breeze. Thayer ran his gaze over the royal blue field of the banner. In its center, a white X-shaped cross represented the cross of the Christian martyr, St. Andrew.

  “It looks as though your mind is a thousand leagues away, nephew. Mayhap, it’s in that room in the tower over there,” Colin suggested teasingly.

  “Eh? What was that, Uncle? I beg your pardon, did ye say something?” Thayer replied softly.

  Colin clapped his hand on Thayer’s shoulder. “Now that the battle is won, Thayer, I believe ye have a bonny young lass to tend to.”

  Peering thoughtfully at his battle-begrimed uncle, he replied, “Aye, I assure ye I dinna forget about her. She’s the very reason I’m here.”

  “Aye, good! Then I’ll join Faolin over yon and catch up with ye later. I ken there’s some ale around here somewhere. I could sure use to lift a mug—or ten.”

  After he exchanged hearty embraces with his uncle, Thayer watched as his shape melted into the smoke which lingered over the remnants of the battle.

  A grateful sigh escaping him, Thayer pivoted on his heels and faced the tower. With wings on his weary feet, Thayer dashed toward the tower to reunite with Elspeth.

  Entering the chambers, Thayer’s eyes were met with a rapturous sight. Elspeth, her father, and Graham were gathered around the small oaken table which stood in the corner of the barren room. Each hoisted a stein aloft, all of them overflowing with frothy ale.

  “Ah, Sir Thayer. The ale, here, is compliments of your resourceful brother. That bloody good man! He said he had to find your Uncle Colin to show him the stash of ale he discovered!” Graham exclaimed excitedly as he tilted back on the two rear legs of his chair. Copious streams of ale dribbled down his face, thoroughly drenching his tunic.

  After lightheartedly admonishing his son to sit erect--lest he shatter his chair--Sir Rhoenne refilled his stein the moment he drained it. His face, ruddy and regaining its vigor, shone with joy.

  Thayer surveyed the scene with delight, noting that the large, hearty Mourney men seemed to retain their wits despite the ample flowing of ale. But by the sweet, twisted smile, and nearly crossed eyes of his love, Thayer could see that Elspeth couldn’t hold her liquor quite as well as her sire and sibling.

  He grinned broadly as he watched her lazily lift her gaze towards him. She shook her head and blinked vigorously to better her focus. As her eyes met his, she dropped her stein; it skittered across the floor before coming to rest at Thayer’s feet. As Elspeth struggled to rise from the chair, Thayer lurched forward just in time to catch her as she nearly stumbled onto the floor

  “That’s twice I’ve had to catch ye since we’ve been acquainted. Mayhap I should lock away the ale once we are married,” Thayer quipped as he wrapped his arms around Elspeth’s slender form to support her.

  Exhausted yet elated, Elspeth snuggled into Thayer’s burly arms, burying her face in the warm crook between his arm and chest.

  “Sir Thayer” Graham beckoned, raising his stein aloft. “Please, grab a stein and join us!”

  “Only if ye’ll address me as merely Thayer,” he replied with a laugh.

  “Thayer, son, please sit,” the earl replied warmly, and motioned for Thayer to take the seat next to his daughter’s.

  Gingerly ushering Elspeth back to her chair, Thayer made his way to the table. With a grateful bow to Sir Rhoenne, he eased out the chair next to Elspeth and sat down. Elspeth jumped with a start as her father absentmindedly slammed an empty stein heavily upon the table. He grinned broadly, mumbling an unintelligible apology. Thayer chuckled. Apparently, he was beginning to feel the effects of the ale as well.

  “Thayer, m’lad. There is something Graham and I should tell ye,” he confided as he motioned for Graham to pour Thayer some ale.

  “
Oh, what is it, Sir Rhoenne?” Thayer replied tentatively.

  The earl peered at Thayer through half-opened lids. Gesturing toward Lord Devlin’s lifeless body with his broad bearded chin, he grumbled, “That rotten bastard wasn’t telling the truth about your grandfather.”

  “I dinna understand,” Thayer replied as his heart lurched forward at the mention of his beloved grandfather.

  “Your grandfather fought--and died--with honor. Not at all the way that blasted Englishman claimed,” the earl decreed earnestly.

  “M’lord, please tell me how he was killed,” Thayer bespoke softly.

  “In a battle against the English, your grandfather fought bravely. He had killed nigh a dozen Sassenach afore...”

  “Afore what?”

  “Afore Devlin held a blade to one of the clergyman who had been on the battlefield to administer blessings to the dying,” the earl replied in disgust. “Your grandfather gave up his sword and offered himself in the priest’s stead. Devlin then ordered his archers to slay your grandfather before Devlin personally slew the clergyman. That is how he came to wear your grandfather’s cross.”

  Thayer peered thoughtfully at Sir Rhoenne.

  “Thank ye very much for that, m’lord. It means a great deal to me.”

  “Dinna thank me, Thayer. ‘Twas your grandfather who deserves that honor. Honor is what ye have demonstrated today on the battlefield. Your grandfather and your father would certainly be proud.”

  Deeply moved by his words, Thayer raised his stein to the earl’s. The mugs clashed with a heavy clink, splashing ale onto the table. Together the men drank, laughed and bantered the night away. Delight flowed as freely as the ale and the happy gathering lasted long into the night. Only after slivers of the morn’s first rays peeked through the window did they recognize the late hour.

  Rising unsteadily to his feet, Thayer shook Sir Rhoenne’s and Graham’s hands heartily before bowing gracefully to Elspeth. Planting a tender kiss upon her slender hand, Thayer took his leave and ambled out of the room. Savoring the sweet taste of her supple skin on his lips, he already longed to see Elspeth again. He not only yearned to hold her again, he ached to marry her.