Knight Protector (Knight Chronicles)

by Rue Allyn

  A single tear did fall then. “They were nae there.”

  “Where were they? Why take nae precautions, if they were to be away?”

  “They could nae take precautions because they were dead. Your father, with Brice’s help, murdered them.”

  He snatched his arm from around her. “Nae!” Then more quietly, “Nae.” Nae wonder Sorcha had such difficulty accepting her desire for him. His family murdered hers.

  They couldna. But he knew they could. They wouldna. Or would they? His father, yes. When madness overtook him in a temper—and sometimes that madness had lasted for days—he had been capable of killing. But Brice? Would Brice have murdered Sorcha’s parents just to keep their father’s approval?

  Once, a long time ago, Brice and he had been close, the best of friends. But then their mother had died, and gradually Brice had changed. Daily he’d become more like their father. More selfish, more autocratic, more mercurial in his moods. He’d burned brighter, and that brightness attracted Sorcha’s attention.

  What horrors had happened at Strathnaver after I left?

  Colin reached for Sorcha, but she pulled away. He let his arms fall to his sides. “Tell me everything.”

  “When you fled without any explanation, my parents broke the betrothal. I was left to tell everyone that kiss I gave you meant nothing.”

  He closed his eyes against the pain of her words. With so many years passed, the words shouldna matter, but incredibly they did. “Go on.”

  “Mother and Father would nae see me wed to a man whose temper would allow him to strike me or attack his brother nae matter the offense. They felt Brice should never have tried to hit me and that he should have talked with you before assuming we had betrayed him together.”

  Colin nodded. “Aye, they would see it that way.”

  “Your father was furious. He cursed all MacKais as we took to our mounts and departed. We were only a few leagues away, climbing into the mountains at the far north end of Strathnaver’s valley, when we heard the sounds of pursuit. The old earl, Brice, and more than twenty clansmen galloped after us.”

  Colin kept silent, but his bones were screaming. Everything he believed in as a knight was about to be destroyed more violently than if Brice had slit his throat all those years ago.

  “At first my father thought Brice and the old earl had come to apologize with witnesses to their sincerity. Still, he said my mother and I should go on. He would stay and speak with your father, if he wished to talk reasonably. Mother and I had topped the first rise when we heard swords clashing. I watched as Brice disarmed my father then stood back as the old earl and five men stabbed my father to death.

  “Mother would have gone back to aid him, but it was over before she could recover her astonishment. I grabbed her bridle and forced her to ride away. Once we were galloping up the next slope—you know the one that shears off to a cliff side track halfway up—she’d regained her senses and, to protect me, dropped back to ride behind.

  “It didna take long for your father and his men to catch up with us. Arrows flew about us. Mother took three in her body before she fell from her horse, shouting at me to flee as she died. I urged my mount to as much speed as possible. I only turned to look behind for a moment, but in that instant my horse reared and screamed with an arrow in its flank. I held on as best I could, but we were too close to the cliff. We both went over the edge.

  “I remember being thrown from my mount and tumbling over rocks for what seemed an age. As I fell I caught glimpses of the men gathered at the cliff side. I saw Brice gesture and your father hit him with a fist. Then as I came to a stop against a large stone at the bottom of the gorge, all the men mounted and rode off but nae down the slope toward Strathnaver. They rode toward Dungarob. I was badly injured, and I lost consciousness then. ’Twas a blessing, for my last thought was at least I would die before I had to see my entire family murdered.”

  She wore a dazed expression on a face gone pale with remembered terror. Colin took her fingers in his. They were frigid. He clasped his hands over hers and tried to stroke heat into her. “I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged and finally her hands began to warm. “I was lucky, I guess. No wolf or other beast accosted me. I discovered when I woke that my leg was broken near the ankle. My horse was dead. I braced the leg as best I could and made my way toward Dungarob. After a few days, I encountered some of my clansmen out searching for me and my parents. They made a transom and carried me the rest of the way. Raeb had been sent for but was still in England with his foster family when I got home. I was ill for a long time, and only when I began to recover was I told that Clan Marr had stolen our breeding stock. That was also when I discovered my injury would be permanent. I had no time to mourn my parents or my lameness. Raeb and I had to act as parents to our sisters and find ways to eke a living from the sea until we could regain or replace the MacKai herd.”

  Her voice trailed off, and she withdrew her hands from his clasp, turning away to stare out the window.

  Colin struggled with shock, guilt, and the longing to comfort her, but he knew she would nae accept it from him now, perhaps never. She clearly believed he’d run away, leaving his father and brother to rampage, thieve, and kill unchecked. He’d lost his family that same day, but they’d nae been murdered before his eyes. He could only imagine the grief she suffered and the extreme struggle she’d had in order to give her sisters as normal a life as possible.

  One question remained unanswered.

  He rose to stand behind her, placing a hand on each shoulder. Silently, she shrugged him off. “Why did you wed Brice?”

  She gave another shrug. “He turned up at the selkie’s grave more than a month ago when I was alone there. I did my best to kill him with my knife, but he still had some strength though he’d begun to sicken. He took my knife away, and said I must listen to him or he would see Dungarob razed to the ground and the MacKai clan wiped from the face of the earth.

  “I wanted to scream loudly enough to bring every MacKai running. But fear that he might somehow be able to fulfill his threat kept me silent long enough to hear him out. I’d nae wish for Raeb and our sisters to suffer more pain and anguish. Brice claimed he still loved me and would leave my family in peace if I would marry him. If I didna cooperate and willingly say my vows, he would make good the destruction of all I loved. Then, after I had none left to fight for me, he would take me to Strathnaver as his leman and eventually share me with all his men.”

  “My God.” Colin stumbled backward to sit on the bed. “Did he say why he wished to marry you?”

  She shook her head. “Other than to claim he still loved me, nae much. He mumbled something about getting an heir and making amends.”

  “Did you believe him?”

  She clenched her fists at her sides and whirled on him. “What matter if I believed him or nae? I couldna put my family, my clan, at risk. But then you are probably too concerned with spies and kings to worry about family.” With that, she ran from the room.

  Colin stared after her. What had he done? His decisions had forced her into this pretense of a marriage. Then he’d urged her to act on her physical desire for him when she was so conflicted. Clearly she despised Brice and his father. ’Twas surprising that she had any empathy for the other folk of Clan Marr. He’d nae have expected such courage and strength in the face of danger from the laughing, flirtatious beauty she’d been at sixteen.

  He had to make things right for her, but how? He could hardly threaten her into taking his amends. That was Brice’s method, never his. She’d sought nae aid in protecting her family from Brice’s threats. Colin knew she’d feed him to the flames of hell before she’d accept help or promises from him now. Nae matter what he wanted, he could do nothing to change matters until the spies were eliminated, the letters were found, and Scotland was safe from Edward Plantagenet.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Sorcha fled to the walled herb garden. Too many memories haunted the place, and she’d avo
ided it since her marriage to Brice. However, she knew ’twas the one spot none would look for her, Colin most of all. She locked the gate behind her and sat on the bench against a far wall. The same bench where they’d shared that “fatal” kiss. Certain she was alone, she let the tears fall. She hadna cried since waking against the stones of that cliff. She wept for every crippling step she’d taken toward Dungarob all those years ago. She wept for the weakness that hadna allowed her to murder Brice when he threatened her family. She wept for the years lost to raising her sisters, when she should have married and raised her own family.

  She couldna stem the flood. She’d never told anyone that she’d seen her parents murdered. Her silence had been her bulwark. How Colin had found a chink in that wall, she didna know. But he now knew how weak she was. He could even more easily threaten her family and her peace. She was doomed. The only thing she could do was see this charade to its end and pray he would keep his promise to allow her to leave Strathnaver.

  Eventually she ran out of tears, but she continued to sit on the garden bench, staring into a painful past and a bleak future. Regaining her composure took much longer than it should have; the wound Colin had opened would not scab over easily. Still she had no business wallowing in self-pity when she had the power to help her family. And help them she would. Colin Marr would pay dearly for her cooperation. The fee would return wealth and pride to Clan MacKai.

  Late afternoon shadows lengthened in the garden. ’Twas past time she went inside, took up her duties as countess, and used those duties to search out the spies Colin wanted. The sooner the enemies were found, the sooner she could obtain restitution, get thief payment or the return of the MacKai breeding stock, and peace for her family then leave the past, Strathnaver, and its earl behind forever.

  She stood, smoothed her skirts, rubbed away all trace of tears, and marched into her future. She entered the stronghold and made her way down the passage to the kitchen. Though she had faith in the cook’s memory, she wished to test the woman for diligence’s sake, and, depending on the result, discuss what the chamberlain had said.

  On her way to the kitchen, she saw the door to the larder open and Sir Broc MacAba emerge with a small sack. What he did in the larder she couldna imagine. However, too many odd events were happening so she wouldna reveal herself. Sorcha stepped into the deeper shadows on one side of the passage then stilled, praying she would not be seen. The knight shut the door, produced a key, and locked the portal. He cocked his head as if listening for something, then looked both ways down the passage. She held her breath.

  He pocketed the key, secured the small sack at his belt, and set off toward the kitchen. Sorcha followed silently, taking extra effort to keep her foot from dragging and staying within the shadows.

  Only four people had keys to the larder: the chamberlain, the cook, Sorcha herself, and Colin. How had Sir Broc gotten a key? Could the chamberlain have sent this man to fetch something? Why would Sir Broc do the chamberlain’s bidding? Was there something to be made of the relationship between clans MacClaren and MacAba? Or was that meant to distract them from the true traitors?

  She kept her quarry in sight. Nae logical explanation for the man’s presence in the larder leapt to mind. The question so occupied her she almost missed the moment Sir Broc left the stronghold, by a door just outside the kitchen. That door was close to the stables and the laundry and was used by anyone to get easily to either spot.

  Sorcha waited a few moments to be certain the man didna see when she opened the same door. She hoped she would witness him returning the key to the chamberlain. She hoped in vain, for nae a body was in sight between the stables and the laundry. She hadna waited so long that Sir Broc would have disappeared before getting to either building. So where could he have gone?

  She was tempted to stroll into the stables. ’Twas the most likely place for a knight to go. But what if the laundry had been his destination? What if he had gone to neither place but had skirted around the stronghold walls, heading for some other destination? The chapel, the granary, the dovecote— he could be anywhere.

  Deciding she was better off speaking with the cook, as she’d planned, Sorcha turned around. She could report the results of that conversation and this strange incident to Colin. He’d help her figure out if the presence of Sir Broc in the larder was anything to worry about or nae.

  She arrived to find the kitchen in an uproar.

  A hefty scullery maid stood screaming in the opening before Sorcha.

  Looking over the woman’s shoulder, Sorcha observed the cook prostrate on a long bench near the servants’ dining table. Beside her, Colin knelt and pelted out orders.

  “Bring me water and clean cloths, immediately.”

  The spit boy raced away.

  “Send for my wife, the healer, and the priest,” Colin ordered.

  “Aye, my lord,” replied a squire, who then raced off past Sorcha and the still screaming maid toward the door to the stable yard. Sorcha plastered herself against the far wall of the passage to let him by.

  “Someone stop that screeching.”

  Sorcha stepped up behind the maid and placed a hand on her shoulder.

  The pitch of the woman’s scream rose to earsplitting, and the maid leapt into mid-air as she turned. Eyes wide with horror, she stared at Sorcha. Then the maid’s eyes rolled upward, her head sagged to the side, and her legs folded. Sorcha managed to break the woman’s fall, but the maid’s weight and size pulled them both inevitably to the ground.

  Wriggling out from underneath the servant, Sorcha stepped over the prone form and marched into the kitchen. “Go attend that maid,” she addressed the nearest person—a young woman who stood wringing her hands.

  The wide-eyed, terrified stare this woman gave Sorcha echoed the first maid’s expression. “A … aye, my lady.”

  As Sorcha made her way to the bench and the cook, the remaining servants scattered. Only those assisting Colin remained.

  “What’s to do, husband?”

  “Cook’s been stabbed and the wound is deep.” Colin looked up from where he’d been staring at his hands covered in blood as he pressed a cloth against the cook’s ample side. “ I need you to place your fingers atop mine and press on the wound as I slip my hands from beneath yours.”

  Sorcha nodded. “Let me just get another cloth to put atop the one already soaked with her blood.”

  They made the change.

  “Pray that the bleeding slows and stops. I must speak to the servants who were present when the cook was attacked. I’ll take them aside one by one so none can interfere with what another says.”

  Sorcha nodded again and concentrated on keeping the cook alive, praying, until the healer arrived with the priest hard on her heels.

  “We’ll care for her now, my lady,” the healer said.

  Sorcha scooted out of the way then seated herself on the opposite bench. “Mary, Queen of Heaven, I beseech you keep this woman alive. Help her to heal and thrive. Bless her in her time of need. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

  Time passed slowly before the healer stood, giving her patient over to the priest. She washed her hands, gave the bloodied water and cloths to the recovered scullery maid, and came to sit beside Sorcha.

  Sorcha ended her prayers and turned to the healer. “Will she live?”

  The healer nodded. “She is lucky. The wound is deep but clean. If she escapes infection, Cook has a good chance of recovering.”

  Sorcha let out a breath. “Praise God.”

  “Amen.”

  Aware that a number of servants had crept back into the kitchen and now circled the walls, Sorcha raised her head. “Who can tell me what happened here?”

  One by one she stared each servant in the eyes. One by one they all dropped their gazes and shook their heads.

  Several trembled or wrung their hands. Finally the woman who fainted stepped forward. “I’d just finished talking with Cook at the table. We stood up to g
o back to our work when a squire came running into the kitchens. He carried a small sword, stabbed the cook, and raced out the way he came.” The hefty servant straightened and lifted her chin, giving it a defiant tilt. “The squire wore the badge of Clan MacKai.”

  The watching circle of servants gasped.

  Sorcha jerked backward and shouted, “Nae!”

  “I dinna lie, Lady.”

  The priest stood from where he’d knelt beside the cook.

  “Lady Marr, our cook is resting now, but before she slept, she said the same as this servant. The attacker was a squire with a small sword and wearing the badge of Clan MacKai.”

  Sorcha wanted to deny everything, defend her clan and family, but how could she in the face of two eyewitnesses?

  At that moment, Colin strode back into the room. Sorcha would never have imagined she could be glad to see him.

  “Why is everyone standing about? Get back to your work.” His glare swept the arc of servants.

  Chastised, the circle broke up, and the servants went about their normal tasks.

  “You.” Colin gestured to two big men. “Move the cook to her bed.”

  “I will go with and see her settled,” the healer said.

  “If you’ve nae need of me, my lord, I will return to the chapel,” the priest said.

  Colin nodded and set his gaze on Sorcha, extending his hand. “Wife, please, come with me.”

  Confused about what she’d heard and keenly aware of all the watching eyes, she went to him without hesitation and followed him to their bedchamber. He seated her on her bench beneath the window then sat in the chair nearby.

  “Do you know what happened?”

  Still dazed, she spoke without thinking. “I was told that a squire wearing the badge of Clan MacKai attacked our cook with a small sword.”

  “That matches what I was told.”

  A chill shuddered through her. “Do you think I ordered this?”

  He lifted a brow. “The thought hadna occurred to me—until just now.”