“Argh!”
It worked. He shoved her away from the door, and toward the cook’s worktable. The wide wooden surface, dusted with flour, was adequate…should the old man decide to ravish her. Keeping him occupied until help arrived, made Izzy close her eyes. If no help arrived, and soon, she prayed for a swift death.
***
Bull lunged and parried with the pike, and deflected blows with the shield. The shouts of Marcus’ warriors, running to his aid, was music to his ears. When the warriors and the attackers merged, he searched the group for The Sinclair.
“Bull. You’re bleeding.” Jake was suddenly at his side.
“A minor problem, I’ve suffered worse.” Neither his gashes nor his back hurt. Thank heavens for adrenaline.
After he blocked a blow heading for Bull’s shoulder, Jake raced toward the castle stairs.
“Where are you going? The fight’s here!”
“We have to protect the women,” Jake shouted over the racket.
Bull followed, without releasing his grip on his weapons. He was thankful he had remembered the festival implements that the Mackenzie laird had pointed out, earlier. Heading inside the empty doorway, Jake slowed.
“Although the sun is coming up, it’s hard to see by moonlight inside. Eerie, too. Most of the torches are out. The attackers could already be inside. Any idea who attacked the castle?”
“The Sinclairs.” Bull peered toward the great room. A few women servants cowered in the corner, near the massive fireplace.
“You. Upstairs. Lock yourselves in a room,” Jake yelled.
As the frightened women ran by, the one called Cinnie stopped in front of Bull. “Yer…lady. A man took her.”
“Izzy? What man? Took her where?”
CHAPTER 24
“An older man, dressed in dark leather, took her. He had long gray hair.” Cinnie pointed down a long hallway. “He held a blade to her throat and dragged her toward the kitchen.”
Bull cringed. “Thanks.”
“What should we do?” Jake asked. No one else was in the great room, besides the working women, who were racing up the stairs. The rest of the castle was too quiet.
Bull winked, and said, “We save the girl.” Realizing the pike was too big for the hallway, he set it on the floor.
“Take this,” Jake said. Bull accepted the short blade from his friend. Feeling more secure, he padded silently toward the kitchen. They passed a large bolted door, similar to the door he and Izzy had passed through, at Tulac castle.
“Castle Ruadh’s dungeon,” Jake said.
The bolt was in place. As they neared the kitchen, a feminine voice penetrated the hallway’s silence, through the closed kitchen door. When a woman shouted, he recognized Rae and Gavin’s names, but little else. When a deep, angry, male voice answered, Bull pushed through the door.
“Take your filthy hands off her, Sinclair.”
Stunned by Bull’s appearance, The Sinclair turned to glare at him. Izzy took advantage of the diversion, slamming both hands against the old man’s chest. When he staggered, further disoriented, she snatched her dragon pendant from his neck. The gold chain broke, and she thrust the pieces into a hidden pocket of her skirt.
As Izzy pulled a small bottle from her skirt’s pocket, Bull was too confused to move. She smashed it against The Sinclair’s left cheek, splashing yellow liquid over his face as the bottle shattered.
The old laird roared with pain, threw Izzy toward Bull, and escaped out a small door that led to the garden. Izzy stumbled closer.
Bull lowered his weapon. “What the…I almost stabbed you.”
“But you didn’t, Bull. Glad you’re fine, Izzy. That bastard ran into the garden.” Jake ran out the door, on the heels of her assailant.
Izzy seemed unfocused, with tears in her eyes, as she raced around him, grabbing a pitcher from the cook’s worktable. As she poured water over the hand that had held the tiny bottle, he recalled how The Sinclair had screamed.
“Are you hurt?”
“Nay, ‘tis a slight burn.”
A knot stuck in Bull’s throat. “A burn?”
“ ‘Tis my potion. Cow-cakes, remember?” She slammed the pitcher down, grabbed a dirty kitchen linen from a chair, and dried her hand. Izzy had backed away from him, but once dry and out of danger, she ran her hands over his chest and arms.
Startled, he dropped the dirk, and it clattered on the stone floor. Her eyes flicked from the weapon, to his face.
An explanation might calm her fears. “I see you noticed the blood. Your friend tried to kill me. I can’t wait to get home!”
When Izzy’s face paled, easily visible beneath the kitchen’s torch light, Bull cursed beneath his breath. She’d been attacked, too. She was probably scared to death, and here he stood complaining.
“He is no’ my friend,” she whispered.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” Bull glanced toward the door, through which her attacker, and Jake, had fled. “Do you suppose Castle Ruadh has a secret door in their garden?”
Her eyes were wide and full of horror. Not at him, he hoped.
She grabbed a kitchen knife, and pulled the door open.
“The bastard is getting away!” When she disappeared through the door, following Jake toward danger, he frowned, then understood.
“My lady is a Highlander.”
***
After a grueling search through the gardens, they found no sign of The Sinclair. “I sense magic aided his escape,” Izzy whispered to Bull, who stood beside her. She worried that his wound needed tending, but was distracted by raised voices.
“What do ye mean, he got away?” Marcus glared at Jake, then nodded toward a few of his warriors. Each issued their reports.
Marcus’ men searched the castle until dawn. The sun, barely risen in the east, highlighted the dead and injured in the bailey. The Sinclair laird’s surviving warriors were led to the cells. Marcus had grounds for his anger. Another clan had sneaked into his castle under his guards’ noses.
“Why did they attack us?” Marcus asked.
“Well, The Sinclair surprised me in the barn, and he had Ian MacGregor with him. MacGregor and I have…a history.”
“Ian is just a pawn. I believe the attack was a means to recapture me,” Izzy broke in. She did not want Marcus angered at Bull, for drawing the attackers to his home. The Sinclair was after Rae, but she did not share this information. If she did, she would have to explain why, and she wanted no one to know about Rae’s magical abilities. Some would shun him, and others might try to use him the way the Sinclair wanted to, so it seemed better to let them believe she was the man’s target.
During their late evening meal, Skye told her how she hid her abilities among the people of Castle Ruadh. As guests of the laird, she only created potions, and herbal remedies, to aid the sick, as much of the Highlands frowned on openly-used witchery. Without Dorcas Swann to protect her, Skye agreed it was best to hide her abilities.
Rae should hide. But, where? Would he agree to travel forward in time, with Jenny? When, or if, Jenny returned to the safety of Castle Ruadh, she would need an escort, unless Bull…
Nay, I will no’ think of his leaving, until the deed is history.
She smiled. He would return to his profession and teach history, and she would find herself relegated to the pages of his dusty tomes.
“What does a guy have to do to get a bandage around here?” Bull asked, holding a bloody hand to his stomach.
“Here. Use this.”
Izzy spun toward the familiar feminine voice. Jenny handed Bull a torn piece of fabric. Shocked at her friend’s arrival, Izzy’s eyes flicked to the ragged hem of Jenny’s dress, then toward Gavin, who walked up behind Jenny, setting his hands on her shoulders.
Interesting.
“Thanks, Jenny.” Bull said, then strode toward a water-filled barrel. He ripped his bloody shirt in two, and threw it to the ground. Wiping his hand and neck, he then pressed the cloth
to the gash across his stomach. Izzy’s breath caught at the sight of his beautiful body. Even with the scars on his back, and the bleeding gash, she wanted him with every fiber of her being. To draw him down into the heather, and kiss his pain away, would be like heaven.
Instead, she turned all her attention on Jenny. Her friend’s flushed cheeks, tanned skin, and freckle-dotted nose, were becoming. Was her short hair wind-blown, or had Gavin tousled the pretty locks?
Jenny tilted her mouth in a sly smile.
Instantly, Izzy understood. Gavin had kept Jenny safe, while gifting her and Bull with a distraction, which had allowed them to rescue Rae. “I am so glad to see ye, Jenny. Are ye healthy?”
“I’m fine, now that I see you’re okay. I was worried. We both were,” Jenny said, glancing up at Gavin.
“Aye, ‘tis true. I see we are all here, but what has happened? Why is Bull bloody?”
“The story ‘tis long, and no’ pretty. Let me tell ye mine, then you must share yer adventures.”
Jenny’s cheeks flushed an even brighter pink.
Hmmm.
***
After seeing to Jenny’s comfort, and addressing Bull’s injuries, Izzy walked to the stables. The cool shadows, and homey smell of horses and leather, calmed her. In exchange for Bull’s promise to rest, she had agreed to check on Balfour. She was pleased the animal appeared healthy.
After sneaking him a few wilted carrots, Izzy headed away from the stables. Halfway across the bailey, a loud argument between the two Sinclair brothers made her hesitate. She was unaware that Niall and his men had arrived, having talked their way inside the castle. Mackenzie’s warriors surrounded the armed, road-weary visitors. Only Niall had dismounted, his longbow clutched in his fist. Pointing the tip, he poked his younger brother’s chest.
This is not good.
“Gavin, I doona’ believe yer lies. Our father might have hired mercenaries, but those who attacked us in the camp were no’ following his orders.” Niall muttered curses, and strode toward his mount. Looping the deadly bow over his shoulder, he swung up onto his animal and added, “and nothing ye or anyone can say will convince me our sire breeched Castle Ruadh!”
“Ye are pig-headed, as always. Our father’s treachery is widely known, but ye just will no’ listen. The man is a monster, many have died, while he seeks some treasure.” Gavin turned on his heel and whipped past Izzy, but she grabbed him by the wrist, to stop him from leaving.
Niall’s eyes locked on Izzy. She took pity on a man torn by the love of his sire, and the truth he would not accept.
“I apologize, Isobel. I dinna’ mean for anyone to hear that, except Gavin. His lies…”
“Are not lies.” Izzy said. Gavin stepped closer to her, and they both looked up at Niall.
Niall glared down at them.
“The Sinclair attacked me. He took me by force, and tried to ravish me.” That got Niall’s attention.
“ ‘Tis yer explanation of why ye disappeared?”
“He tried to have his way with me again, while the battle raged in yer camp. Bull saved me, but not before he did this,” Izzy pointed to her bruised cheek, and to the nick on the skin beneath her chin, “and put a blade to my throat.”
“I doona’ know what to do. This canna’ be my legacy, to be the heir to such a man.”
Izzy stepped closer and brushed her hand up and down his boot, in an attempt to calm Niall’s anger and disbelief. His world, the world he had built around his father, was crumbling. What she had to say next would devastate him, but the man was in denial. She smiled, then quickly wiped it from her face.
“Ask him why his left hip carries the symbol for coward. I cut him last time he attacked me. How else could I have gotten so close? Also, yer father admitted to me that he killed his wife…and yer own mother.”
CHAPTER 25
“My father killed our mother? Niall’s roar echoed off the bailey’s walls. Startled animals pranced, and their riders brandished their weapons. Guards on the walls called down for an explanation, and Marcus ran down the castle stairs.
“What ‘tis the meaning of this? I would rather no’ have had to leave my warm bed.”
“I am sorry. ‘Tis my fault,” Izzy said, glancing at Niall. His face had turned ghostly pale.
“I have received bad news, and I am a tad upset. I will leave ye in peace.” Niall said. With a curt nod to Marcus, he raised his fist to his men. The mounted warriors followed Niall out the castle gate.
Marcus grumbled something that sounded like good riddance. Izzy stood silently beside Gavin, as they stared at the sudden emptiness of the bailey. Armed men walked the balustrade, and women went about their chores. Horses whinnied in the darkness of the stable, and chickens pecked in the dirt near the garden. Peace and quiet had returned, but Izzy sensed that Gavin was not thinking about this.
All of a sudden, Izzy blurted, “How could I be so cruel? I had not realized that the news I shared with Niall concerned ye, as well. Forgive me?”
Gavin shook his head, his face pale, and his fingers brushed her bruised cheek, “Isobel, if ye spoke the truth, how can I blame ye? He killed my mother?”
She nodded.
Lowering his voice, Marcus said, “If that be the news ye shared with Niall, I understand his outburst. Grief and betrayal can turn a man…inside out.”
Before Gavin could utter a response, a rider raced through the gate.
“Laird! Laird Mackenzie!” the man cried, practically falling from his mount. His face, streaked with blood, matched the ruddy splotches on his clothing. Archers pointed arrows at him, and a guard placed himself between the distressed visitor, and Marcus. His plaid heralded him as one of Niall Sinclair’s warriors.
“What has happened? Speak up,” Marcus demanded.
“Attack!” The warrior fell to his knees, on the ground. Marcus motioned to his men at the gate. The castle gate slammed shut, and a huge beam lowered, bracing the doors from intruders.
A warrior above the gate called to others. More men arrived on the balustrade, and fitted arrows to their bows, while more men swarmed the bailey, and pulled blades from their sheaths.
“Fetch water and bandages!” Izzy called to a servant, standing at the top of the castle steps, then hurried toward the stricken warrior.
“We barely made it out of sight of the castle. They swarmed from the trees, pulled many from their mounts, and a bloodbath ensued.” He grabbed Izzy’s arm, and his words struck her silent.
“Unhand the woman,” Gavin demanded.
The man immediately released her. Izzy rubbed her arm, nodding her thanks at Gavin.
“Tell us more,” Gavin said.
When the servant arrived with supplies, Izzy wet a cloth, and moved close enough to wash blood from the fallen warrior’s face, while she listened to his tale of woe.
“My thanks, my lady,” he said, then struggled to his feet. “The men fought bravely, and soon pushed the whoresons back into the trees. They turned tail, and dissolved into the shadows. Unfortunately, many of our warriors lie dead or wounded.”
“Gather men, supplies, and litter bearers!” was Marcus’ response, before he dismissed the bloodied Sinclair warrior.
“Wait,” Gavin said, stepping closer.
“Aye?” The warrior’s voice grunted out his question.
“What of Niall?”
The warrior’s eyes flicked from his to Marcus, then stared at his bloody boots.
Apprehension stole Izzy’s breath, and she gripped Gavin’s forearm. The weary warrior raised his eyes, and gazed at her face. She nodded, encouraging him to continue. Good news, or bad, Gavin had a right to know.
“He battled valiantly. Three against one, and he nearly triumphed.”
“He was cut down?” Gavin’s face was ashen, and his hand went to the hilt of the dirk at his waist.
“Nay, he…when he slashed at the last man standing, he…lost his footing.”
“Nay!” Izzy stood, stunned. To hear that a war
rior, as strong as Niall, had fallen in battle was unthinkable.
“He is dead?” Gavin’s question barely registered.
“Most likely.”
Gavin grabbed the man’s shoulder, and shook him. “Ye dinna’ wait to see him die?”
“Ye doona’ understand. When he lost his footing on the cliff, he fell. I looked o’er the edge, but saw only crashing waves, and sharp rocks.”
“Then there ‘tis hope,” Izzy whispered to Gavin, but he strode away, heading toward the stables.
“I will also send men in boats. We have a cave entrance and dock, below. If he survived the plunge into the icy North Sea, they will find him.” Marcus bowed, and marched back into the castle.
Picking up her skirt, Izzy ran to follow Gavin into the stable, and did her best to ignore his presence under the same roof. They were still at odds over his father’s treatment of her, but forgiveness would come.
Unsure what to say to him, she slipped into Balfour’s stall. As she fed the beast another carrot, Gavin instructed the stable lad to ready his garron.
Her mind whirled. Niall might lay dead on the ocean floor; Gavin was readying his mount to go save Niall’s warriors from another ambush; Bull was injured, and resting.
Without me.
“Isobel?”
Izzy shrieked. Slapping a hand on her chest, she turned to face Gavin. “After the terrors I have survived, please doona’ sneak up on me!”
“My apologies. I beg ye, lass. Grant me one favor?”
“What be the nature of this favor?” If he forced his betrothal on her, again, she would scream. Or, stick a dirk in his heart.
“I must find Niall, before the men who survived the battle, slaughter our sire. The man might deserve it, but the clan will no’ accept it without proof of his atrocities.”
“Do ye believe me?”
“Aye. I believe everything ye have shared, including the truth behind ye wanting me out of yer life.”
“I still doona’ understand your pursuit. Have ye no’ enjoyed the servants, and village lasses in my absence? Rumors reached me before I left. Several claimed ye have sired many bastards.”
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