The Eagle

by McQueen, Hildie

  The woman nodded in understanding and walked out.

  “Drink the tea, it will help ye feel better.”

  Cait wasn’t sure what to do. Confused at the entire situation coupled with the throbbing pain made her want to kick and scream like a child and not really caring what anyone thought. Her head pounded and every single moment that passed seemed to increase the anxious feelings inside her chest.

  When Stuart’s hand cupped her jaw, it was as if everything stopped whirling. The warmth of his hand seeped into her skin and she leaned into it, closing her eyes.

  He must have knelt, because when he pulled her against him, they were at the same level. Pushing away all thought, she rested her head on his shoulder.

  “When I am in pain,” he said in a low voice, “I force myself to drink whatever Greer concocts. It will be vile, but it always works.”

  His lips pressed to her neck, just below her left ear sending out tingles of awareness. “I do not know what I feel for ye Cait. But I must admit that ye are always on my mind.”

  The statement broke the spell and she attempted to straighten, but his arms tightened around her as he lifted her and carried her to the bed.

  Cait’s breath caught. Surely, he did not mean to take advantage of her injury and have his way with her. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to do much more than continue crying.

  Upon lowering her onto the soft bedding, he straightened and went back to fetch the cup that Cora had brought.

  Holding it to her lips, he met her gaze. “Drink.”

  She took a sip and cringed.

  “I told ye it would be vile. ’Tis best to swallow it fast and do yer best to keep it down.”

  Cait nodded and took the cup with her left hand. Because his gaze locked with hers, she barely noticed the horrible taste of the drink. Instead, she marveled at the fact that she—a mere servant—was getting so much attention from him.

  “Now,” he said making Cait stiffen and wonder what would happen next. “I will kiss ye and leave ye to rest.”

  True to his word, he bent down, pressed his lips to hers in a sweet lingering kiss, trailed kisses to her ear, then looked her in the eyes and order her to, “Rest.”

  The door closed and she stared at it with fascination.

  She slipped from the bed, slid her shoes on, and walked out. No matter how nice he was, she would maintain her dignity. It was not her place to have one of the guest rooms.

  Cora caught sight of her when she stumbled groggily in the servant’s corridor. “What are ye doing? I thought ye to be sleeping by now.”

  “I am seeking my bed,” she said stubbornly. “Mister Stuart feels responsible for my injury. Although it is partly true, there is no need to install me in a guest chamber.”

  “Come along,” Cora said helping her walk to the small room that she kept at the keep. Once settled onto the slender bed, Cait fought to remain awake. “Be sure to come and fetch me so I can help as much as I can with last meal.”

  When Cora left, Cait realized that Stuart’s kisses had distracted her from the pain. Thankfully Greer’s concoction was completing the task. And as her pain eased, her mind cleared, leaving her better able to decide what she needed to do.

  One thing she knew for certain, she had to clarify things with Stuart. She had to make certain he understood that she could not leave her mother and younger brother on their own. They were her responsibility.

  Of course, there was also the circumstances of their social stations. Although his family seemed to accept that there was the possibility of a relationship between them, Cait wasn’t so sure. Her being so far below him is what led her to believe that—despite his assurances it wasn’t true—he did not desire her for a relationship. He was just looking for a dalliance. And if she was right, she had to put a stop to any physical contact between them. Immediately.

  Unfortunately, as her body continued to relax and her eyes drooped close her thoughts were filled with just how wonderful his kisses were.

  The next morning, Stuart rose early to go to see about the western portion of Ross land as his brother had directed. He’d spent the majority of the last evening figuring a way out of his current predicament.

  The entire idea of marriage as a way for clans to unite was one of the things he disliked about being part of the laird’s family. Thankfully his brother was giving him the choice of who he married. He could only hope it wouldn’t come to him having to marry someone else’s choice as part of his duties to the clan.

  As he and four guardsmen mounted their horses and prepared to ride, Artair rode up. “I hear ye are not going to the southern post.” His cousin gave him a side glance before adding, “I am not going either.”

  “Why?”

  “My father is ill. I prefer to remain close by.” Artair brought his mount alongside his as they headed out of the keep.

  “I wasn’t aware Uncle Angus was unwell. Why has no one told us?”

  Artair shook his head. “We did not think it was serious. But it seems to linger. The healer is seeing to him.”

  They rode for a while in silence until reaching the cottage where Cait’s mother and brother lived. Both came out as soon as he rode up.

  “Did something happen to Cait?” Her mother looked up at him, her face pale and filled with worry. “Why is she not with ye?”

  Stuart explained about Cait cutting her hand—leaving out his part in the incident—and after giving them a basket Greer had prepared and reassuring the woman her daughter was well, he and Artair continued on their way.

  “Ye seem to know them and the daughter well,” his cousin said. “Is there something between ye and the lass?”

  Stuart watched a hawk fly overhead. Its wings spread with the concise fluidity of a predator that spotted its prey. The bird let out a piercing warning call, as if to warn of its plan before diving behind the trees.

  “I do not wish for any romantic entanglements at the moment. However, Lennox Maclean seems determined to follow through with his late father’s wishes. They hated each other, so it came as quite a surprise when he sent a message stating that his sister Lila is to come for a visit.”

  Artair blew out a breath. “And ye are the one who’s been chosen as suitor?”

  “Aye.”

  “I do not blame ye for not wishing to be involved. I will never marry. I do not agree with the idea of it. Especially not an arranged one.”

  Stuart let the comment go. Ever since they were children, Artair made statements with a certainty that no one questioned. Even if he didn’t follow through, he always maintained a sort of formality about him. It was what kept Stuart and his brothers from pointing out when Artair did not see something through.

  They’d barely ridden out of the forest when men on horseback burst from the trees; their swords lifted. Both he and Artair drew theirs just in time to defend against the attackers.

  He had no time to try to identify who they were as they battled against the group of men. Despite the four guardsmen rushing forward to assist, they were still outnumbered.

  His and Artair’s horses circled as trained while they swung their swords. The sounds of metal against metal echoing through the trees.

  Stuart fought against two men, who seemed intent on separating him from the others. Tiring, he fought to lift the heavy sword and lean into his swings. The men kept their distance, not coming close enough for him to reach past their sword.

  A swoosh sounded as one of the men struck his hand and his sword flew from it. Unarmed, Stuart jumped down from his horse and dashed to the protection of the forest. Just before he reached the trees, a hard blow to the back of his head sent him sprawling to the ground.

  Then everything went black.

  Chapter Seven

  The first thing Stuart wanted to do was retch upon waking. His stomach heaved and he gagged. The swaying under him meant he traveled on water. He attempted to sit up but being bound made it impossible.

  “I am about to be sick,” he t
old the closest man, who stood and grabbed him by the back of his tunic and roughly dragged him to the side of the bìrlinn.

  The combination of nausea and his hatred of being at sea made him furious. He threw up until he was sure his next heave would send out his stomach. The continued movement of the boat made him want to jump into the water and drown himself.

  “For a man who lives on the isles, I am shocked that ye are not a seafarer,” the man said.

  He recognized the voice. It was Ethan, one of the Uisdein’s sons.

  “What in the devil do ye want with me?” he snapped. “Did the lesson after imprisoning Darach not teach yer father anything?”

  “Father wishes to see ye. I am bringing ye to finish what ye started.”

  The blood in his veins turned cold. “What exactly do ye mean?”

  “Ye and my sister are betrothed. Ye must marry her.”

  Falling back, Stuart began to laugh. In turn, heaving and laughing until he felt delirious.

  “What is so funny,” the Uisdein’s son asked.

  “I-I cannot marry them all.” Stuart could not stop laughing. “Can I have three wives?”

  Ethan glared. “What nonsense are ye spewing?”

  He sobered and glared at the man. “I will not marry Flora. Yer father is who broke off the betrothal. What has changed?”

  “Ye do not know anything,” he responded bluntly. “Ye will marry her as soon as we arrive.”

  The trip to the Isle of Benbecula was not long, perhaps a pair of hours. Stuart mentally timed how long it would take for Artair, or one of the guardsmen, to make it back to the keep—if they’d survived.

  “What happened to my men?”

  Ethan shrugged. “None were killed if that is what ye wish to know. We are not barbarians.”

  “No, that is not the reason ye did not kill them. It is because ye fear my brother’s wrath.” Once again Stuart chuckled. “Ye underestimate him if ye think he willna come after ye with all his fury.”

  Because of the seasickness, the short trip seemed to take much longer. Of all his brothers, he was the only one that got sick when on a boat. Despite it, he was not glad to see the shoreline.

  Once they came ashore, Ethan ordered that his hands be untied. Horses waited on the shore. Stuart mounted, eager to get the confrontation over with. When Ethan gave him a suspicious look, he hitched an eyebrow. “Let us go and see what yer father hopes to accomplish.”

  Ethan grunted but did not reply.

  The Uisdein was a pampered egotistical man, with little sense. Stuart prayed he’d find a way to talk himself out of this predicament before anything permanent occurred.

  It was not Stuart’s first time visiting the isle. Several times he’d accompanied his father, who for some reason wished an alliance with the Uisdein.

  Part of the agreement was for him to marry the Uisdein’s daughter, Flora. At the time, it had been a surprise to Stuart and the lass.

  Apparently, his father had not chosen Darach, as he hoped for a more beneficial match for him. Duncan could not be forced to do anything, and Ewan was gone. That just left him. He was given no say in the matter.

  Although he had come to care deeply for Flora, now all he felt was contempt. Not only for the Uisdein who’d abruptly broken the agreement, but for his daughter who he’d been told had decided to marry someone else.

  If Flora was in love with someone else, it was understandable. At the same time, he often wondered why she’d initiated intimacy between them.

  His stomach had yet to settle so he breathed deeply in an effort to be in a good frame of mind once coming face to face with people he never thought to see again.

  They passed through the gates into a small but well-tended courtyard. Once there, he dismounted and was shoved forward into the main house.

  He entered flanked by Ethan and another man.

  “Stuart Ross, I am pleased at yer appearance.”

  The Uisdein made a show of waving him in. Sitting at the high board in a chair that would be best suited for a king, the laird looked down at him.

  At Stuart remaining silent, the man continued, “There is much to do and little time. I am sure yer brother and his army of warriors will arrive soon. Therefore, this marriage must be completed immediately.”

  “Are ye mad?” Stuart asked.

  The laird glared at him. “No, ye are the one who is mad to think ye can stand up to me. I am Laird Uisdein.” He motioned around the room to guards that stood at a ready. “I will not stand for disrespect from another Ross.”

  “I am not going to marry yer daughter.”

  “Where is Flora,” the Uisdein asked, clapping his hands. “Tell her to come at once. It is time.”

  A maid ran across the room, tripped on her skirts, and fell to the floor, sprawled with her hands and feet at odd angles. The woman squealed in fright when someone yanked her up, and then rushed up the stairs.

  Again, laugher bubbled from deep in Stuart’s gut. The situation was ludicrous. Of all the hardships his family had faced in recent months, if this was the worst fate could do to him, he was one lucky bastard.

  He imagined the three women, not that he had any idea what Lila Maclean looked like. The only one that held any appeal was Cait.

  “Ye will keep yer word to my daughter.”

  “It was not I who broke the betrothal, but ye,” Stuart rebutted.

  “Do not contradict me,” the laird replied. “Ye remain without a wife, therefore ye can marry Flora.”

  Stuart looked to the other men in the room and then to two maids who stood frozen with trays of food. Obviously, they were unsure if to serve or wait.

  One of them gave him a worried look.

  Like a maiden, he’d been kidnapped and would be forced to marry.

  “Will my virtue also be taken by force?” Stuart asked while staring at the laird. Once again it was hard not to laugh.

  A chuckle escaped. “Ye should be aware that I am not a virgin.”

  The Uisdein, Ethan, and the others exchanged annoyed looks, as he began laughing so hard, he was doubled over.

  “Not another word. And stop laughing,” Laird Uisdein growled. “Ye must marry Flora.”

  Stuart could barely speak between each eruption of laughter. “Mar-ry. I… must marry…” He laughed so hard his sides ached and unable to stand, he lowered to the floor. “My predicament is to choose between three women… ha ha ha…”

  “What is the matter with him?” the Uisdein asked.

  “He was laughing and throwing up on the bìrlinn,” Ethan replied. “I have never seen a man in hysterics, but I do believe that is what happens.”

  “They are here,” someone announced, which for some reason made him laugh even harder. It was to the point that he too wondered if he’d gone absolutely mad. Stuart pulled himself up to a chair breathing hard in an effort to regain some semblance of composure.

  “Ye either marry or die.” The Uisdein warned him and then turned away and shouted, “Where in the devil is Flora?”

  “She and yer wife have barricaded themselves in her bedchamber, my laird,” someone said.

  If not for the fact he was in pain from laughing so hard, Stuart would have erupted into more. Instead, he shook his head and said, “I’m going home.” He straightened and stumbled through the great room and out the door.

  No one stopped him.

  Upon reaching the gates, guards blocked him from leaving and without a weapon he was at their mercy. In that moment, he considered the fact that if he died today, it didn’t matter.

  He walked up to one of the guards and punched him in the stomach as hard as he could. Caught by surprise, the man doubled over.

  When he was grabbed from behind, Stuart swung and with great satisfaction felt his fist sink into someone’s face. He fought with all his might, not caring about the consequences. Unfortunately, after laughing so hard, he was weak. It didn’t matter. He reached deep into his last resources of strength and managed to hold his own for
a few minutes.

  Obviously, the guards had been instructed to contain him, not kill him, because they did not draw their swords. Four against one, Stuart was aware he would lose the fight, but it did not stop him from doing as much damage as he could.

  When a strike sunk into his gut, he doubled over letting out a loud whoosh of breath. He tried to lift his arms to defend against the next blow, but it was impossible he’d used up his last bit of strength.

  Just as he fell to the ground, war cries sounded, and arrows flew overhead impaling the ground all around him.

  What was his brother thinking? He could be struck as well.

  Then again, fury made little sense.

  Realizing his brother would not stop until he got his revenge, Stuart took advantage of the guard’s distraction and raced over to the wall and stood next to the gates where the arrows would not strike.

  Thundering hooves were quickly followed by the gates hit by battering rams and flying open. The guards had been slow to close them, so the Ross warriors were able to breach moments later.

  Darach’s blond mane flew around his head as he swung his sword from atop his horse.

  Too weak to move after the beating he’d sustained all Stuart could do was watch as the scene unfolded before him.

  When Duncan’s deep growl sounded, Stuart pitied those coming against the giant.

  Caelan jumped down from his horse to fight a group of men. Like a berserker, he left bodies in his wake, not hesitating but instead stepping over them as he attacked one after another. It was almost fascinating to see the otherwise proper Scot turned into a relentless killer.

  The sounds of battle filled the air. Men shouting orders. Swords clanging together. The powerful hooves of warhorses striking the ground. All mixed in with the groans of the dying. The unfortunate ones who’d been unable to seek shelter, scurried in terror as there was no mercy from the attackers.

  Doing his best to stand, he managed to get to his feet; but moments later, he stumbled backward onto the ground. The fight had taken the last of his strength, all he could do was sit in the grass and watch as his brothers became destroyers.