by Alisa Adams
“Yes, I want Mungan to hear what I said,” Gordon said firmly.
“That he has no right to be Laird of Fionnaghall? Because he is not truly a Ross but a Munroe?” she said, barely able to contain the disgust for Mungan in her voice.
“Yes, that. And my name,” he said, pausing as he watched the men ride further and further away.
“Yer name? They know ye are Laird MacDonell.”
“They know my father was Laird MacDonell. He was James and he and me mither were attacked by a Munroe. They were left to die like animals,” he explained roughly.
Godet stared at him in surprise. She reached over and touched his hand. Gordon looked at her, turned his hand over to clasp hers. “That is not all I want them to tell Mungan,” he said.
“What more is there?” she asked.
“I want them to tell Mungan that ye are mine,” he said fiercely. With that, he pulled her roughly onto his lap and kissed her with a hunger that made her cling to him as his lips slanted over hers and his tongue swept into her mouth to thrust against hers. She pushed against his chest as he held her close.
“Ye cannae kiss me, Gordon!”
“I just did,” he said, his voice low and husky as he stared down into her eyes. His mouth lowered to take hers again.
“No, no more,” Godet said as she jumped down off his horse and walked quickly back to Bluebell. “Ye belong to another. I am not yours. Ye can niver touch me again,” she said, turning toward him as she held Bluebell’s reins. Her eyes held the glimmer of unshed tears as she looked at him. “Ye must dae as yer clan needs.”
“What of Mungan? Ye need protection from him. I can offer ye that,” he said gruffly.
“I dinnae need the kind of protection ye are offering,” she said heatedly as she mounted Bluebell. “Me sisters and I can protect ourselves. We’ll find a way.”
10
“…and that is why he needs the alliance with the MacKenzies and must marry Bridga,” Godet explained as she swiped angrily at the tears on her face.
Flori sat beside her on the bed, gently rubbing Godet’s back as the sisters listened. Ina stared sadly at her sister. “So, the poor, poor man is being forced into a marriage with a cold, mean-hearted, ill whilly bampot for the sake of his clan,” she summed up with a sigh. “Oh, he is a true hero…”
“That’s a load of… Well, niver mind that!” Ceena said forcefully, “There’s got to be another way. ‘Tis not a good enough reason for an alliance nor to force a man into marriage, I say! Nor a woman!” She gave a tremble of disgust.
Godet looked at Ceena. “He has to have a way for his clan to get their whiskey to the ports. He says through MacKenzie land is the best way.” She took a deep breath, nibbling on her bottom lip. “We have to figure out how to protect ourselves from Mungan. Maybe Gordon could let us have an empty crofter’s cottage to live in so that we still have this clan’s protection. We could find other husbands here…?”
“Och, Godet, ‘tis Gordon for ye and no other,” Ceena said firmly, “we can all see it with our own eyes. Now, number one, his supposed betrothed ran away from the men that were holding a musket to him. Number two, there are other ports.”
Ina sat up straighter. “’Tis a good point that is! Ye were the one that stood yer ground like a brave, fiery warrior goddess, standing up for the man ye love... to save him from certain death at the hands of those blackguards who would have killed him! Probably wounding him, as I am quite certain they are not good shots, and then leaving him bleeding on the cold, damp, and hard ground to slowly and ever so terribly painfully, die there alone on the forest floor. His very lifeblood seeping into the ground as he breathed his last, gasping, and groaning breaths.”
Her sisters went quiet, staring at her. Their mouths were agape.
“Really Ina…” said Godet quietly. “That is just too gruesome…” She gave a meaningful look in Flori’s direction. Flori had gone rigid as she listened to Ina, her face had turned ashen.
Ina rushed over to sit on the bed and hug her sister. “Flori, I dinnae mean to bring back yer horrid memories. Forgive me, Flori…” she whispered to her sister who was staring off into the past.
Ceena and Godet’s arms surrounded Flori as well, hugging her tightly. Murmuring soothing words to her. Flori finally looked at them. Her eyes glistened brightly with unshed tears.
“’Tis fine,” she said low and quiet. “’Tis such a terrible shame he died so young. He called out for his mither with his last breath, not for me,” she recalled looking at them. “Did ye ken that?” she whispered, her brows furrowing. “He truly was still sich a young boy, not a fully-grown man, but we were friends. Aye, since we were young. He was always me friend, we just expected to marry one another, but a boy he still was really. I hadn’t thought that, not until coming here…” Her voice trailed off as she focused on the worried faces of her sisters who sat around her. They were all touching her, comforting her.
“Until coming here?” Godet prodded.
“I understand,” Ceena said softly with a quiet laugh, “The men here are… Well, definitely real warriors…” she stated.
Flori looked at her with a slight grin that grew bigger. “Yes, very manly…” she said with her head down, hiding her smile.
“Warriors,” said Ina with a sigh as she stared out the window. “Warriors with large, bulging muscles and strong faces…”
“What is a strong face, Ina?” asked Godet with a laugh, shutting out the vision of Gordon that instantly came to mind with his strong, square jaw, beautiful lips, and steely green eyes.
“Och, ye know girls…” Ina said and blushed furiously.
“I’m not sure I want any man unless he can fight better than me... or if he had a gorgeous horse then... Well, maybe,” Ceena said, thinking about Tristan who had become a friend but seemed to be changing, looking at her oddly, and she didn’t like it. She looked back at her sisters with a fierce frown. “No, no man for me unless he can fight better than me and isnae prettier than me!”
The girls stared at Ceena then collapsed in a fit of laughter.
Ceena and Ina disappeared to explore the whiskey making rooms while Godet and Flori went for a walk. They followed the verdant green paths that wound down the gently sloping hill from the castle. The hill itself was strewn with purple heather and bright bluebells that nodded their heads in the sun and tipped and tilted in the breezes as if they were dancing happily. Here and there, there were rock outcroppings jutting out of the ground, proof that the hill the castle sat upon had a solid bedrock foundation under it. It was a wild place for sure.
Towering above them in the distance were tall mysterious looking mountains that looked down upon them. But down below and before them, they could see the glistening blue waters of the loch whose waters were fed from clear streams that flowed from those tall imposing peaks. Its shoreline was dotted here and there with a mix of oak and pine trees. The path wound down past the neat and tidy crofters’ cottages and the small gardens beside each one. Some of the cottages had lovely little flower gardens out front. Each looked well-kept and in good care. Castle Conell and all around it shown with care and pride.
They continued down the path and out to the open pastures where their horses were peacefully grazing. Across from those pastures they could see some warriors training. They stood and watched the men training in the fields for a bit, leaning up against the horse fence and enjoying the sun and the soft breeze which carried the smell of the heather and the clear, sweet smell of the loch. Then they turned their attention to petting the mares when they ambled up to the fence to greet the sisters. They chatted softly as they watched the mares grazing peacefully in the field.
“Yer mares are looking fit and healthy here,” Gordon called out as he came over to them. By his side was Loud Loughlin who stared silently down at the women.
“’Tis true they are. Their foals will be fat and healthy at this rate to be sure,” Godet said with a smile at the two warriors. “Good day to ye,
Loughlin,” she added with a smile at the silent man.
He looked at Godet and gave the slightest nod of his head, crossed his arms across his chest, and planted his feet wide as if bracing the wide bulk of his shoulders. He stared at Flori. Flori stared up at the big man. She tried to be brave in his presence, but it was difficult. She fidgeted nervously. She could hear the low hum of conversation buzzing in her ears as Godet and Gordon talked about the pregnant mares.
Loughlin just continued to stare at her. She had to admit he was fierce looking with that mane of blond hair falling to his shoulders and those blue eyes and the scars marking his forehead, cheeks, and neck. There were even scars down his arms! So very many scars. She couldn’t help but wonder about them all. He wasn’t staring at her with hostility though. Nay, it was more like he was staring at food he wanted to eat. She tilted her head up at him.
“Why dae they call ye ‘Loud Loughlin’?” she asked him quietly, raising her chin, trying to be brave.
He looked surprised for just a moment then the hint of a grin appeared on his normally fierce looking mouth. “Because I don’t talk much,” he explained. His voice was deep, guttural. He continued to stare down at her with those piercing blue eyes and that hint of a smile.
“Please stop staring at me,” she whispered.
“I like to,” he said with a grunt.
“I don’t,” she replied firmly in a quiet voice.
“Very well then,” he said simply and looked at the mares. “But I’m keeping ye. Just so ye know.”
“What?” Flori said loudly in surprise.
“I’m keeping ye,” he repeated nonchalantly.
“Ye can’t keep me,” she sputtered, “and I dinnae want ye. I dinnae want anyone.”
“Still…” he said firmly as he was quietly studying her. “I will be here. For ye.”
“No!” Flori cried in frustration.
Gordon turned from talking with Godet at the sound of Flori’s voice. So far, he hadn’t heard her utter two words and if she did, it was in a quiet voice or a whisper. She had yelled!
“Flori?” Gordon asked with concern.
“Flori? What is the matter?” Godet demanded urgently. She glanced up at the huge, scarred, and blond man smiling down at Flori.
Flori sputtered a bit. She was blushing furiously as she looked up at Loughlin.
“Did Loud Loughlin say something to upset ye?” Gordon asked with a grin. “He does talk a lot, ye never know what he is going to say.” Gordon stopped, seeing Loughlin’s intense look. “Dinnae scare her, Loughlin,” he commanded with a shove at Loughlin’s shoulder.
The man didn’t budge at all and Gordon was almost as large as he was. He just continued to stand there with his arms crossed and his feet braced wide. Loughlin looked back down at Flori and his eyes twinkled.
“He said he’s keeping me!” she exclaimed.
Gordon visibly relaxed. “Oh! Oh well then, that’s all right.”
“It isnae all right, Gordon!” Godet exclaimed as she glared at him.
“Truly, ‘tis all right Godet,” Gordon said with a crooked grin.
“Does he just keep anything that he wants?” Godet said indignantly.
“Pretty much,” Gordon said scratching his chin. “No one can stop him after all.”
“Godet,” Flori whispered quietly and urgently. “Riders incoming! Mungan’s men again I think…” she said with dread.
Gordon and Loughlin immediately stepped in front of the women. Gordon looked over to the field where they had been practicing. The other men on the practice field had dispersed. He, Loughlin, and the girls were at the farthest field out—alone. Gordon frowned furiously.
“How dare they?” he growled. “They arenae giving up are they?”
“I told ye they wouldn’t,” Godet remarked as she tried to move to stand beside him. He would not let her and he once again stepped in front of her. Loughlin was quiet, he stood still, but he braced himself and his fists were at his sides. His arms were flexing, preparing for a fight. He pushed Flori directly behind him.
“What dae ye have on ye?” Gordon asked in a low growl to Loughlin.
“Knife. Ye?” Loughlin replied curtly.
“Same,” Gordon said in a harsh voice. “I count eight men.”
“We can take them.”
“That’s the most that have come so far, Gordon,” Godet said with a hand on his back. She was peering over his shoulder.
“Stay behind me, woman!” Gordon hissed at her, putting his hand behind him to hold her waist and keep her tightly up against his back.
“I have six dirks in me belt, Gordon,” she whispered.
“Of course, ye dae,” he growled. “Dirks versus muskets will be useless Godet, stay out of this.” At her huff of breath, he added, “I command ye.”
Flori let out a soft whimper. Loughlin turned partially to look behind him at her. “I have ye,” he said.
Flori looked up at him. He put his arm behind him as Gordon had and snugged her tightly up against his back. He felt her stiffen, felt her panic, as she tried to back away from his touch and his body. He lightened his hold but kept her there safely behind him. His breathing slowed as he braced to protect this woman. He watched the riders coming forward with their muskets drawn.
11
“What are ye doing on MacDonell land?” Gordon roared in a commanding voice as the eight riders halted in front of them. He studied their faces. These men were new, he did not know them nor had he ever seen them in the other groups that had come.
“Ye have something that belongs to us. We’ve come to take it back,” the lead rider sneered, leveling his musket at Loughlin.
Gordon looked over at Loughlin. Loughlin’s scarred face was stone as he stared the men down. “I don’t think so,” Gordon said, his voice low with warning. “Now, turn yer horses around if ye know what’s good for ye and get off MacDonell land just as I told the others!”
“We want her. We’ll kill ye if we have to, MacDonell,” the man said easily. “Now, tell the big giant there to give up the little lassie that’s behind his back,” he continued while waving his musket at Loughlin.
Loughlin did not budge. His arm was locked firmly on Flori behind him. She was now clutching his tunic tightly in her fingers, and her body shook where it was pressed against his.
“She’s not the one ye want,” Godet spoke up firmly, stepping from behind Gordon’s back.
Gordon growled deep in his throat at her, pulling her tightly to his side.
The man shrugged, “Looks like her. She’ll dae. If we cannae take the eldest because of the Laird’s protection, this one will dae, I figure... for now,” he told them with a sneer. “Mungan can marry her as well as ye, Godet,” he said with a leering smile as his eyes traveled the length of her body. At Gordon’s fierce growl he quickly added, “If not, we’ll just have to trade if ye be wanting this one back.”
“Ye’ll no be taking me sister!” Godet shouted in a desperate voice. It was huskier than normal and shook slightly. She brought her hand to the dirks on her belt.
“Ye’ll not be taking anyone,” Gordon cut her off. His voice was fierce and furious as it carried like the boom of thunder to the men.
Flori felt Loughlin’s arm flex even tighter against her. She felt his body go rigid as he readied to attack. “No!” she whispered. “Please! No! I’ll go with them. Ye cannae! Not for me!”
Loughlin didn’t answer. His tunic was ripped out of her fingers as he charged forward in a powerful lunging thrust into the eight men. Tristan was at his side in an instant. The two big warriors pulled six of the men off their horses in the first lunge. Their knives were slashing and their fists were swinging.
Godet was quick to begin pulling her dirks from her belt, looking for an opening to fling them where they would make the most impact. Flori reached for her first dirk as well, but just as she let fly the first dirk, she was scooped up around the waist by one of the riders. She kicked and screamed and thr
ashed for all she was worth. Dimly, she heard the roar of Loughlin as he charged toward her. The man who had her threw her up in front of him on his horse and kicked it’s sides to put it into a gallop. But Loughlin reached out and grabbed the horses’ rein just as the rider started to fly past him with Flori. Loughlin pulled the rein hard, making the horse’s head snap sharply to the side. Loughlin kept pulling, causing the horse to swing around him and stop. He reached up effortlessly and pulled the man down, flinging him hard to the ground. Loughlin swung up behind Flori on the horse and readied to ride off just as he heard a musket shot. He curled his body around Flori, looking back. And froze.
They had their muskets aimed directly at Gordon and Godet who stood back to back. Godet had her last dirk in her hand and Gordon had his knife.
“I could have just as easily shot them,” Mungan’s man said, calling back to Loughlin. “That was a warning shot. The girl will come with us or these two will die.”
“Niver!” screamed Godet as she took a step toward Flori.
The men instantly stepped up closer to Godet and Gordon. Their muskets aimed at their heads. “Godet! Cease,” growled Gordon. He reached behind him and grabbed her to pull her snug to him until they were back to back once again.
“Drop yer weapons! Now!”
“Who are ye?” hissed Gordon. His voice full of rage.
“I am Red Munroe,” the leader of Mungan’s men sneered. “Now, dae as I say!”
Gordon stilled and his body went rigid. He knew of this man. He was named Red for all the women and children he had slain with his own hands which ran red with their blood. He was a sick man and did not deserve the title of a warrior. Gordon looked over at Loughlin who sat behind Flori on the horse. Loughlin’s eyes were narrowed on Red Munroe then he looked over at Gordon. Loughlin gave a subtle nod of his head with a slight grin, tightening his arms around Flori who was shaking violently. Her face was white in fear as she stared at the men holding their muskets to her sister and Gordon.