by B. J. Scott
Keith straightened his posture. “You haven’t eaten since yesterday and I’d wager you’re famished and thirsty. I brought you something.” He raised a wineskin to her mouth.
Fallon stared at him in disbelief. Until now, he’d been gruff and unaccommodating.
“Dinna glare at me as if I am trying to poison you. It’s ale. Drink.” He brought the vessel to her lips again. “If you dinna want it—”
Fallon drank greedily then pulled her head away. “Thank you.”
His act of kindness surprised her. Fallon glanced around the camp, but amidst a flurry of activity, Dungal was not present. “I’m not sure your brother will approve.” She accepted another sip of ale.
“Dungal isn’t here. He had an important matter to tend to and left me in charge.” Keith raised his chin and puffed out his chest with pride.
“Where did he go?” she couldn’t help but to inquire. Her uncle’s wise words sprang to mind. Always keep your enemy close, so you know what they are about.
“You’d do best not to fash over things which are none of your concern. Dungal will return soon enough.” Keith stood and capped the wineskin. “Are you hungry?”
Fallon gave a hesitant nod. “Aye. I would appreciate something to eat.”
Keith trotted off, but unlike Dungal, he did not ask anyone to stand guard. Fallon searched the surrounding area, hoping to find a suitable means of escape. She tugged at the ropes binding her hands behind her back, but the knot tightened. She blew out a deep sigh of frustration. Unless she convinced Keith to untie her, there was no way she could flee.
“It’s not fancy fare, but will fill your belly.” Keith carried a trencher and eating knife. He squatted beside her, stabbed a small portion of meat, and held the morsel to her lips.
Fallon accepted a piece of venison and then another. The spicy flavor exploded in her mouth. She closed her eyes savoring each bite, forgetting for a moment she was being held captive. The oatcake that followed was dry and not as tasty, but Keith was right, it did allay her hunger. She swallowed the last mouthful then coughed to clear her throat. “I must tend to my needs.”
Keith grunted. “I, um, I dinna know where to take you,” he stammered, his face turning a deep crimson. “Mayhap we should wait until Dungal returns.”
“Your brother may be an arrogant, insufferable . . .” She refrained from further comment on Dungal’s despicable character. “But he granted my request when the need presented itself. It will take but a minute and the thicket at the edge of the camp will do fine.” She inclined her head in the direction.
As he took a minute to ponder the request, her mind raced with possibilities. Was he softening to her? Guilt niggled at her belly. If she managed to flee, he’d be left to face Dungal’s wrath. After showing her a gesture of kindness, she hated to deceive him, but she had to try. Keith was different in many ways from his older brother, but desperate times called for her to use whatever tactics were necessary to get away. “Please, I would not ask if it wasn’t urgent.”
Keith raked his fingers through his hair. “I guess there is no choice but to trust you.” He bent and untied her bonds, releasing her from the tree. “Get up.” He cupped her elbow and helped her to stand.
Fallon rubbed her raw, swollen wrists and rotated her shoulder to work out the stiffness. “Thank you. I am again indebted to you for your kindness.” The words left a sour taste in her mouth, but she had to win his confidence. Her legs were numb from sitting, but after a few steps the feeling returned.
“Wait. Dinna go any farther.”
The deep rumble of Keith’s voice stopped her in her tracks. She glanced over her shoulder.
“Give me your hands or I’ll tie you to the tree again.” The rope dangled from his fist as he closed the gap between them. “I am not the buffoon Dungal believes I am. If you dinna cooperate, you can sit and wait for my brother to return.”
Fallon slowly raised her hand. There was no point in challenging and her compliance might win him over. “I never believed you were. Dungal is the fool.”
Keith shrugged. “That may be, but he is my brother and laird of the clan. It is my duty to serve him. If I let him down, he’ll see me flayed.”
“Even if what he does is wrong?”
Keith grunted again, but did not respond to her question. He tied the rope around her wrists then led her to the thicket. “Hurry and do what you need to do,” Keith mumbled under his breath as he placed his hand on the small of her back and urged her to move.
Fallon planted her feet and refused to budge. “I canna hold my skirts with my hands bound. If you’ll untie me for just a moment, I promise to be quick.”
“Dungal will skin me alive if I cut you loose. I won’t go against his orders. You’ll have to manage.”
“Your brother took my slippers. We are in the middle of a dense forest. What harm can it do if you untie me for a few minutes? Surely Dungal would understand a woman’s need for privacy,” she concluded, and dropped her chin, hoping he’d be embarrassed enough at her implications to comply. Her heart leapt when he cupped her hands and the cold blade of his dirk brushed her skin.
“Dinna make me regret my decision.” He cut the rope. “Do what you must and make haste.”
“Will you step away or at the least turn your back?” she asked while offering him a pleading pout.
She was pressing her luck, but she stood a better chance of getting away if he wasn’t watching.
Keith grumbled something indiscernible, threw up his hands, and turned around. “Make haste. You have but a minute.”
Fallon stepped into the bushes, then bolted without glancing behind her. The moment of remorse at duping Keith was brief. This was war, and despite his compassion, he was duty-bound to Dungal and her enemy.
Keith let out a string of ribald curses that she was certain resonated for miles then shouted for warriors to join him in the chase.
She started out on a well-worn path, but if she had any hope of eluding capture, she needed to find a less conspicuous route. She could never outrun highly trained men in a sprint, especially if they hunted her down on horseback. Leaving the marked trail might prolong her journey, but it gave her a fighting chance.
Making her way through bracken and branches, stumbling over rough rocky terrain, she headed east, in the direction of Loudon Hill.
Her heart hammered and her chest constricted, begging for air. The painful stitch in her side worsened with each step, but she kept up the pace. Her feet were bloody and laced with cuts and bruises from the stones and twigs on the forest floor. Taking her slippers was a strategic coup for Dungal, but while it slowed her down, it would not deter her from her goal.
She heard Keith and the others in pursuit and judging by the closeness of the approaching voices, they were gaining ground. To linger in one spot was not prudent. However, with her feet in their current state, things could only get worse.
She paused for a moment and sucked in a gulp of air. In desperate need of a rest, she was frantically searching for a place to hide when an idea came to her. She quickly scaled a nearby tree, climbing to a large curved branch. From her perch she could see for miles and the thick foliage kept her hidden from view.
“I found a scrap from her gown, but her tracks end here,” a male voice echoed. “She must have doubled back.”
She covered her mouth, stifling a gasp. Keith and five warriors stood directly below. Even the slightest movement would alert them to her presence.
“I canna believe we lost her.” Keith bent over at the waist, planted his hands on his knees, and drew in a slow breath. “Dungal is going to kill me.”
“I dinna want to be present when he finds out she’s gone.” One of the men let out a long, slow whistle as he sat on the ground then rested his back against the base of the tree. “She scurries like a hare, and I’m spent. I’ll rest here for a while if you want to go on without me.”
Fallon couldn’t breathe and panic squeezed her lungs. Her heart raced
and remaining still seemed to be an impossible task. But she had to try. If she made any noise or rustled the leaves and the man raised his eyes, she’d be discovered.
“Get up.” Keith kicked the man’s boot. “If we dinna locate her before Dungal returns, you will be the target of his ire as much as me. And you’re right when you say he’ll not be pleased about this turn of events.”
The man’s face paled and he lumbered to his feet. “I’m suddenly refreshed.” He brushed the dirt and dried leaves from his tunic then trotted into the woods with Keith and the others on his heels.
A temporary reprieve did not mean she was free—far from it. But in case they returned, she decided to wait several minutes before climbing down. When she felt it was safe to do so, she lowered herself to the ground, but not before tearing strips of fabric from the bottom of her kirtle and wrapping them around her feet. The makeshift bandages provided meager protection for her throbbing soles, but offered some relief and would hopefully prevent further injury.
Despite her discomfort, she took off running again. She had no idea how close she was to Loudon Hill, but she knew it was east of the camp, and she willed herself to forge ahead.
Keep going. You can do this. Bryce needs you.
The deeper into the woods she moved, the farther away the voices sounded. Relief washed over her and she paused to catch her breath. Had she managed to get away?
A tree branch snapped, and her head shot up. She felt certain she’d been discovered. Winded, and unable to take another step, she closed her eyes and waited with baited breath for Keith to pounce.
Steely determination coursed through her veins. She’d not give up without a fight. A thick hardwood stick lay at her feet and she snatched it up, along with a palm-sized rock, her pulse pounding and her breath coming in ragged pants. She widened her stance, braced herself, and prepared to face her fate.
A red doe and her fawn stepped onto the path and passed a few feet from where she stood. With a soft cry of relief, Fallon dropped the stone and sank to her knees.
Her hope of escape renewed, she climbed to her feet and moved through the woods with speed and vigor. Certain she must be getting closer to her destination, she decided to return to the path. She scurried up a small embankment, only to come to a dead halt when she reached the road. In her effort to avoid her pursuers, she had somehow doubled back and had almost run full circle. How could fate be so unkind?
There was no point wallowing in self-pity and she had no time to waste. Fergus had been captured before he’d had a chance to send a messenger to warn the Bruce. It was now up to her. Reoriented, she took off running along the path, in the direction she had originally intended to go.
It had been a while since she’d heard Keith’s voice and the forest around her was silent. Had she managed to elude capture? She blew out a shuddering breath and slowed her pace to brisk walk.
The sound of an approaching rider caused her heart to lurch. As the echo of hooves pounding against the ground got closer, she frantically searched for a place to hide. But it was too late. The rider rounded a bend in the path and came to an abrupt halt directly in front of her.
“Going somewhere?” Dungal slid from his destrier and stomped toward her.
Tears pricked the back of her eyes and her shoulders slumped forward as she faced her enemy.
“Where in damnation is my brother? He better provide me with a good explanation as to how you managed to escape. I should never have left that buffoon in charge.”
She wanted to dash again, but her legs felt like anvils. Before she took a single step, he was on her. He buried his fingers in her hair and snapped her head back. “What have you to say for yourself? Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now. Or mayhap sate my needs. This time, no one is around to hear you scream or to interrupt.”
“Over here!” someone shouted.
Keith and his companions stumbled onto the path, all looking the worse for wear.
“Dungal.” Keith stopped in the middle of the trail. “Let me explain. I—”
Dungal placed his hands between her shoulders and shoved, forcing her to her knees. He faced his brother. “There is no excuse for your incompetence. Leaving you in charge was obviously a huge mistake. I’m gone for a few hours and come back to find my unfettered prisoner darting through the woods with a band of idiots chasing her.”
Dungal pulled a rope from behind his saddle and approached her. “Give me your hands.” When she didn’t comply, he lunged forward and grabbed her wrists then tied the rope around them. “Stand,” he growled and dragged her to her feet. He glared at his brother. “We join Aymer at daybreak so best you return to camp. That is if we still have a camp to go back to.” He whistled and his horse trotted forward. He hoisted Fallon onto the saddle and mounted behind her. “I will be briefing the men on the battle plans before we leave. I’d suggest you start walking, brother.”
Chapter 15
Six hundred strong, the Scottish patriots assembled atop Loudon Hill. Dressed in their heavy quilted gambesons, steel and leather skullcaps, they prepared for battle. Bryce joined Alasdair, John Kennedy, James Douglas, and a few other Scottish nobles, including Robert’s brother, Edward, as the Bruce prepared to address his army.
Robert stood before them and raised his hand. The boisterous crowd immediately grew quiet. “Today we face our enemy, Aymer de Valance, second Earl of Pembroke. For some of you, this will be your first skirmish with the blackguard, but for many, this is an opportunity to seek revenge for the losses we suffered at Falkirk, Methven, and for the years of English tyranny we have been forced to endure. Your bravery and dedication to the fight for freedom will long be remembered. Scotland’s sons and daughters will forever be indebted to you. Before we enter into combat, join me in prayer.” He dropped to one knee, bowed his head, and began to speak in Latin.
After the benediction was completed, Robert’s expression hardened. “Fight well and hard, as if today was the last day of your lives. Fail to win, and de Valance will have you hanged for treason. Keep that in mind as you face the enemy.” Robert rose and lifted his sword. “With the Lord’s help, success is in our grasp!”
“Aye, Bruce!” The men, primarily spearmen, hoisted their weapons and targes, echoing their leader’s enthusiasm. The few bowmen present did the same.
Following Robert’s speech, Bryce stood on the rocky ledge overlooking the plain below. He tried to focus his mind on the upcoming battle, but thoughts of Fallon flooded his mind.
It was as if she called out to him. He’d swear he could hear the soft lilt of her voice, feel the beat of her heart in rhythm with his own. He could smell the sweet lavender scent of her hair and the spicy tang of her arousal when they made love. He could see her beautiful face and reached out to touch her, but she wasn’t there.
“Are you ready to kill some English?” Alasdair joined him.
Bryce inclined his head. “Today is a good day to fight and, if need be, a good day to die. Aymer de Valance appears to agree.” He pointed at the sea of English soldiers, some on heavy horse, the rest on foot. They spread out in rows across the flat grassland in an age-old pattern typically used for battle. “I must admit they are an impressive sight in their polished armor, chainmail, and stark white hauberks.”
Brightly colored pennons flapped in the breeze and armor-clad warhorses restlessly danced beneath their Saxon riders.
“They must number at least three thousand.” Alasdair cupped Bryce’s shoulder. “I wish you’d heeded my request, little brother, and were on your way back to Fraser Castle.”
Bryce slid his hand over Alasdair’s. “I couldn’t let you hog all the glory again. Besides, someone needs to watch your back.”
“I can fend for myself and would rest easier if I knew you were out of danger. I can still speak to Robert and tell him you are not strong enough to fight after your injury at Loch Ryan. He’d understand.”
“You’ve been like a mother hen, protecting both Connor and me since Da
was killed. I appreciate your concern, but this is something I must do.”
Alasdair pulled Bryce into an embrace. There was no witty banter or sarcasm, just a genuine show of affection between brothers. A bond no mortal man could sever.
“Do you think the MacDougalls are among them?” Bryce asked.
“I’m certain of it. We will have our revenge, brother. Not just for the losses suffered in battle, but for the slaughter of our parents and brothers,” Alasdair replied.
“I’ll not rest easy until Longshanks is in his grave, Dungal is brought to justice, and Robert sits on his rightful throne.” Bryce turned to face James and John as they approached.
“The men are ready. Will you and Bryce lead the first line of attack?” John glanced from one brother to the other.
With a spear in hand and Bryce at his side, Alasdair shouted to the group of patriots assembled and awaiting his orders. “God spede and keep your heads on a swivel.” He crossed himself, spun around, and led them in a charge down the slope.
After a short sprint, they reached the bottom of the hill and manned the first trench. There, they waited for the English to launch their assault.
Following a volley of arrows, the ground vibrated under the thundering hooves of heavy horse. Bryce wrapped his hand around the shaft of his pike, hoisted his targe, and drew in a slow, deep breath to steady his nerves. He’d been on countless battlefields, but had never grown accustomed to the unsavory mix of heart-stopping excitement and gut-wrenching anxiety. “May the Almighty be with us.” He raised his weapon as the first warhorse attempted to hurdle the trench.
Horses became impaled, along with their riders. The shatter of spears on armor and the bloodcurdling cries of wounded men and beasts echoed across the moor.
“Robert’s plan is working.” Alasdair yanked a claymore from the baldric on his back and swung it in a sweeping arch, felling the English soldier racing toward Bryce.