He and Gavin rose and strode to her side to look out. MacDonnell warriors had gathered in the bailey below. Alpin walked to the front of the ranks and signaled them into the keep.
Time had run out.
Five
Maggie crossed to the door and listened. Drustan stiffened beside her, but he didn’t move over to give her room as she would have expected.
The sound of heavy feet on the stone stairs reached her through the wood, and a strange kind of euphoria filled her. It was time.
She was going to fight and triumph, or it would all end here.
A hand on her shoulder startled her, and she spun around to find herself nose to chest with Callum. He looked pinched and worried, with lines slashed deeply in his forehead and his jaw clenched.
“We canna fight them all, Maggie. There’s too many. We’ll die, and everything we’ve done so far will have been for naught. We have to give Irvin what he wants. At least for now.”
“What he wants is all of you dead and me wed to him in unholy matrimony with a bairn in my belly so he can steal the lairdship!”
“I know that. But our options are limited.” A muscle twitched in his jaw before he continued. “Gregor and my foster brothers will be here within a week, and men have already been sent to find John. Once we have the manpower, we will fight to take back the castle and to save you and Ross.”
“Ross doesn’t want saving.”
“Aye, but at least he can die with you and John by his side—and see Irvin hanged for his treachery. We will set things right for your family.”
He was trying to tell her something without saying the words, and a shiver ran up her spine.
Then she understood. He was abandoning her too. “You’re leaving,” she said.
Callum’s mouth tightened, and he nodded curtly.
Bleakness engulfed her, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Irvin will kill all of you as soon as he can make it look like an accident.”
“Aye, but he has to catch us first.”
She crushed the hurt that rose within her chest. It didn’t matter what Callum or Gavin did. It only mattered what she did. How she was going to get out.
“Go to your bedchamber, Maggie, and bar the door. Or hide in the tunnel.”
“Doona worry about me, Callum MacLean. I know what to do.”
He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and shoved his hand through his hair. “It willna be for long. Doona come out until I or one of my men returns for you.”
A loud banging sounded on the other side of the solar doors, then Alpin said, “Laird MacLean, Laird MacKinnon. Open the door. ’Tis imperative we speak to Laird MacDonnell.”
Callum looked at her brother. “Are you ready, Ross?”
To her amazement, her brother put his hands on the desk and pushed himself up, with only some help from Father Lundie. He was still a big man and dwarfed the priest. After a slight wobble, Ross walked slowly but steadily to the door. Callum clapped him on the shoulder, then nodded for Drustan to pull back the bar.
The door opened, and a row of armed MacDonnells faced them. Alpin stood in the second row, and he gasped when he saw Ross.
“Lower your weapons,” Alpin said to his men.
Ross looked out over the sea of warriors that filled the hall. His eyes landed on Irvin, who stood at the very rear, open-mouthed in alarm. “Have we been invaded by an enemy that you feel the need to bring warriors and weapons into my keep, Cousin?”
Irvin shifted on his feet, and a tic jumped in his cheek. “We needed to know you were safe, Laird.”
“From my sister and her betrothed? My boyhood friends and a priest? Have you lost your mind?”
Even from the distance of the passageway, Maggie could see Irvin grimace. He was indeed coming apart, and one wrong glance or word would send him over the edge. Why had nobody killed him before now?
Firming her lips, she stretched out her fingers to loosen the joints. A steadying breath, then she reached for her dagger. Callum’s hand got there first.
“Nay,” he said under his breath. “He isna stupid, Maggie. Look at the men he’s chosen to kill us. They doona fit together as a unit. He has something on every one of them. And if he dies, they’ll go down with him—even Alpin.” He grasped her hand and raised it to his lips. “We have to talk our way out of this.”
He looked out to the men and raised his voice. “Maggie and I have agreed to delay our nuptials. Laird MacDonnell wants a proper wedding for us with both John and himself by her side.”
The men looked at one another, confused. Some looked to Alpin for guidance, others to Irvin.
“It grieves me to leave Maggie so quickly, but now that our wedding date is set for next spring, I have important matters to attend to. I’ve lost too much time already coming here.”
Hadn’t she always known she’d be alone in the end? Callum could ride off and meet up with Gregor MacLeod and the rest of their allies, return, and take the castle for John, but she was leaving tonight. She would not be Irvin’s hostage for even one minute, let alone however long a siege might take.
And if the opportunity presented itself, she’d kill her cousin before she left.
Irvin moved slowly toward them, his keen gaze searching their faces. He kept returning to Maggie, as if trying to read the truth in her expression.
He must have seen something reassuring—her anger, perhaps?—for he turned to Callum with a sycophantic smile that belied the smugness in his eyes. “Allow us to escort you to the edge of MacDonnell territory, Laird MacLean. We can talk through the details of your marriage, so everything is as you wish it when you return in the spring.”
“Nay, ’tis not necessary, Sinclair. I shall leave the details up to Maggie. Also, we’ll be riding too hard to talk. We are intent on reaching my foster father and brothers before they begin to worry that we havenae arrived home. I wouldnae want them dispatching men unnecessarily.”
“Aye, ’twould be most unfortunate,” Irvin said.
Ross’s knees suddenly buckled, and Gavin caught him around the waist. “See them off,” Ross said to Irvin, his speech becoming labored. “And no more than that. I doona want any trouble with Gregor MacLeod.”
Irvin ducked his head. “Aye, Laird.”
Ross reached out for Maggie one last time. She hesitated, then stepped into his embrace and held him tight.
“I love you, Sister,” he whispered. “I would do more for you if I could. Trust that Callum will see you safe.”
“I love you too. Rest now, Brother. Dream of Eleanor and your wee one.” She pulled away, and Ross shuffled to his desk with Gavin’s aid.
Turning to Irvin, she said, “I’m going to my room. I doona wish to be disturbed.” Callum caught her hand, and she glared at him, throwing daggers from her eyes since she couldn’t do so from her fists. “Safe travels, Laird MacLean. As always, I’ll be waiting for spring with bated breath.”
Then she pulled her hand free, marched through the men to her room, and barred her bedroom door behind her.
* * *
Callum, Gavin, and their men strode briskly to their horses. They all knew the plan and the different roles each man would have to play.
Irvin wasn’t a warrior, but he was a strategic thinker. He would know that if the MacLeans and MacKinnons made it back to their allies alive, they’d either return in force and take the castle, or they’d come back in the spring expecting to see Maggie and Callum married.
Neither option worked for Irvin, so there would be an ambush along the way—of that Callum had no doubt. They just had to avoid the ambush, circle around, and wait for Irvin to send the rest of his men after them—which he undoubtedly would when he realized they’d avoided his trap. Then they would sneak back in, take the castle, God willing, and throw Irvin in the dungeon.
“Are you sure you
didn’t come up with this plan to impress Maggie?” Gavin asked as they mounted their stallions and headed to the portcullis.
Callum’s lips quirked, despite the trepidation that twisted his stomach at the thought of leaving her here, even if only for a few hours. “Maybe. Can you blame me for trying?”
“Aye, if it gets us killed.”
Twisting on Aristotle’s back, Callum smiled and waved goodbye to Irvin, who returned his wave. “I canna think of a safer place to wait for Gregor and the lads to arrive than inside the castle.”
“Aye, but first we have to get inside—with just nine warriors and a priest who can barely ride.”
“Six. Doona forget we need to plant some decoys.”
Gavin cursed as the group fell into formation and hurried under the portcullis. The quicker they moved, the less time Irvin and Alpin had to plan their demise.
Father Lundie shared a horse with one of Callum’s men. The priest’s lips moved fervently, eyes closed and arms squeezed tight around the warrior, as he prayed for their safety, no doubt. And probably for strength to get him through a hard ride.
They galloped across the open field to the tree line in the opposite direction from their original course. The key to avoiding an ambush was to keep Irvin and Alpin guessing as to their next move.
When they were finally under cover and out of range of the castle’s archers, Callum released his breath and glanced back. Two groups of MacDonnells had emerged in the distance, one from the castle and one returning from the direction Callum and Gavin were supposed to have left by. Another group was probably farther down that trail.
“The chase is on,” Gavin said, his eyes glinting excitedly.
“Aye. And the more men following us the better. I make it about fifty warriors so far.” Callum also felt the rush of excitement and anticipation—and the heightened acuity that went along with it. If he wasn’t so worried about riding away from Maggie, he would be grinning just as wildly as Gavin.
“As long as we can shake them,” Drustan said.
They hit a stream, crossed to the other side, and up a muddy bank to a game trail that ran along the top of the creek. After a few minutes of riding, they slowed to a canter.
Callum pulled up beside three of his men, one of whom shared his horse with Father Lundie, and stopped. “Ride as long and as hard as you can. Alpin will keep after you until he realizes we’ve split. He canna afford to lose track of any of us. Go to ground if you have to.”
“Aye, Laird,” the men said together.
“Laird MacLean, are you sure you doona want me to come with you?” Father Lundie asked as he peered around the shoulder of the man he clung to. “I canna believe Irvin Sinclair would cause you harm in front of me.”
“It wouldnae be in front of you, Father. You’d be on your back, dead. Maybe looking up at your soul knocking at the pearly gates, asking for entrance into heaven.”
Father Lundie crossed himself and shuddered. “I pray it willna come to that. May the lord bless you in this fight, Lairds, and Michael the Archangel battle by your side.”
“Thank you, Father,” Gavin said. “Saint Michael would be a welcome addition.”
“The path turns to the right ahead,” Callum continued. “It follows the stream for another hundred paces or so, then enters the forest as the land rises.”
He clasped each man’s hand, one after the other. “Good fortune and Godspeed to you.”
“Same to you,” they replied.
Callum watched as they followed the path and turned with the stream. When they were out of sight, he urged Aristotle faster.
“Doona hesitate,” he yelled over his shoulder to Gavin and the four remaining men—Drustan, Gill, Artair, and a young warrior named Finnian. Aristotle picked up speed, and when he reached the point where the bank turned, Callum squeezed his heels into the stallion’s flank and yelled. “Gearr leum!”
The horse obeyed and leapt off the trail and into the stream. Callum held on tight, his plaid getting soaked as water sprayed up from Aristotle’s hooves. He kept going against the current, thankful the creek wasn’t higher than the horses’ fetlocks and the stones were small and round. The running water would hide their tracks. Hopefully, the MacDonnells would follow the two men and Father Lundie west into the forest, while Callum and the others circled back to the castle.
It would all be for nothing if one of Irvin’s men saw them. They needed to be around the bend and far enough upstream that their enemy could neither see nor hear them when they got close.
By Callum’s calculations, they had about a fifteen-minute lead on the MacDonnells, which should be just enough time to get them safely hidden.
Behind him, he heard the other men land, one after the other, with various splashes. Frantic curses reached his ears, and he looked over his shoulder to see the last warrior—Gavin’s man, Artair—barely holding onto his mount. The horse struggled to keep upright with the huge man hanging off his side.
Artair pulled himself upright, and the belabored stallion carried on. Gavin had said the man would be an asset, and Callum trusted his foster brother’s judgment, but they needed speed right now. Brawn would come later.
After finally rounding the bend with no MacDonnells in sight, Drustan signaled Callum to slow down.
“We’ve been going full speed for almost two hours. Let the horses rest,” he said.
“They can rest when we’re there.” The need to keep going and return to Maggie drove Callum like a demon torturing a sinner in hell.
“I agree with Drustan.” Gavin looked up at the sun, only just beginning to lower in the sky. “Why push them so hard when we canna move on the castle until dark anyway? Keep them rested, so if we need a burst of speed, they’ll have it in them.”
Callum rolled his head, trying to loosen his tense muscles. “Aye, you’re right. I just…”
“You just want to be as close as possible. I understand,” Gavin said. “If it was Ewan in that castle, I’d be hard pressed to wait.”
They slowed to a walk, and both men and horses caught their breath.
Or Callum tried to, but his chest squeezed tight. “I canna imagine what she’s thinking. How betrayed she must feel—again. She’ll hate me for leaving this time, if she doesn’t already.”
“Maybe. But she’ll be alive. You canna give her a greater gift. Even her castle will pale in comparison to that.”
“If I’d just told her—”
“Nay. I watched Irvin’s face. It was Maggie’s fury—at you—that convinced him to let us go. I’ll tell her that tonight when we see her. All is not lost, Brother.”
Callum wasn’t so sure. Once Maggie had made up her mind, it would take an act of God to change it.
He signaled the men, and they picked up the pace.
When the water deepened, Callum knew they were almost there and they would soon lose the concealment of the trees.
After directing Aristotle out of the water, he dismounted. The others followed. He signaled Gavin, and the two of them continued on foot for a better look.
Callum pushed a branch aside when they reached the edge of the forest. Ahead of them, on their side of the stream, a cliff rose upward.
On the other side of the stream stretched an open field that encircled the castle about a quarter mile away. A single large tree stood halfway between the creek and the castle.
His heart rate increased as he looked upon Maggie’s home, the sun’s dying rays turning the gray stone a brilliant reddish-gold. He peered up at her bedchamber window and prayed she was safely inside—behind barred doors.
“Let’s go up before we lose the light,” Gavin said.
“Aye, I wouldnae want you to lose your footing and tumble o’er the edge like you did before.”
Gavin huffed. “I didn’t trip, Kerr bloody well pushed me. ’Twas fortunate the water was d
eep enough to break my fall.”
All five of the foster brothers had climbed this rock face several times as lads, alongside John and Ross. The creek was deep enough in early summer to safely jump from the cliffs, but someone invariably got hurt, and Maggie’s father and Gregor had threatened dire consequences if they ever did it again.
So, of course, they’d done it again—at night after sneaking out of the castle through a back way. Callum intended to use that same route, the one Ross had shown them years ago, to sneak back in. According to Maggie, the breach in the MacDonnells’ defenses was still there.
“Do you think Gregor knew?” he asked. Callum fit his foot in a crevice and crawled up the rock, staying behind scraggly bushes as much as he could.
“That we jumped?”
“Aye.”
“Most likely. Not much got past that old buzzard.” Gavin said it with affection, and Callum smiled. Hope grew in him now that he was here and Maggie’s window was in sight. He knew they were far from safe, but the plan was a good one. And it might just win Maggie’s appreciation, as Gavin had suggested, for its daring and audacity.
They were up high enough that they could see into the bailey over the top of the tree and across to the land beyond. Men on horses rode in groups to and from the castle through the portcullis, on the opposite side from them.
“The guard on the wall has been thinned,” he observed.
“Aye, it looks like. ’Tis a good thing we doona plan on riding out of MacDonnell territory. They’ll have every trail and pass blocked.”
“I’m afraid Gregor and the lads will have to go to war to get through to us.”
“Maybe. But the MacDonnells willna fight for long. Our combined forces will outnumber them at least four to one. And once they know the castle has been taken and Maggie is on our side, they’ll surrender.”
They pulled themselves up over the highest ledge and lay flat, looking out over the land. The gloaming was upon them, and it was a glorious view, the sky painted in brilliant shades of orange, pink, and purple.
Callum looked down at the stream. The cliff didn’t seem quite as high as it had when they were lads. Still, he had no desire to jump.
Highland Betrayal Page 6