A Knight For Her Highland Heart (Scottish Highlander Romance)

by Barbara Bard

  Sir Jessup moved toward Glenn and Lord Torstein and began to circle them, pointing to them as if putting them on display like criminals—which he was.

  “These men, including your leader, Lord Torstein, have made a pact with the Highlanders we seek in order to conceal their location from us. How does this sit with you?”

  Several men shifted their weight. The others tried their best to not huff or grit their teeth in reply.

  “A betrayal of the highest caliber,” Sir Jessup said. “And they still withhold this very information from us even after I have discovered their sinister plight. I bet that there is not one among us who would relish being able to dispatch them based on their transgressions.”

  No one said a word—but again, the looks in their eyes confirmed everything.

  “I do not wish,” Sir Jessup continued, “to drag this matter out any further, so the time has come to present these two traitors with an ultimatum. Being that they do not appear to fear death or any repercussions for their crimes, a believe that a more necessary motivation is needed in order to convince them.” Sir Jessup then motioned to Sir Renly.

  Sir Renly turned and nodded to two knights already standing at the ready. They moved into the crowd and moments later returned with two people—a woman and a child. Both of them were nervous, tears welling in their eyes as they were brought onto the execution stage.

  The crowd perked up, Lord Torstein and Glenn both looking dismayed as the woman and the young child, a girl no older than eight or nine, were placed in front of the beheading blocks.

  “I do not relish this,” Sir Jessup said, shaking his head as the two knights posted up behind the woman and the child. “This is not how I wished this matter to play out.”

  He pointed again to Lord Torstein and Glenn.

  “But these men insist on pressing their luck. They seem more than comfortable with the notion of placing these two innocent Highlanders in jeopardy because of their actions…”

  Silence took over. Sir Jessup continued to circle Lord Torstein and Glenn as Sir Renly waited with a nerve-wracked tension beside him.

  Sir Jessup stopped in front of Glenn and Lord Torstein. “I ask you,” he said, “right here and now to end this. Tell us the location of the Baird’s encampment, and we shall spare the lives of this innocent woman and her child.”

  The woman and the child whimpered as the knights behind them kept a firm grip on their swords.

  Glenn and Lord Torstein exchanged glances, both of them silently pleading with the other to not give up the location of the Baird’s village.

  “I will ask once more,” Sir Jessup said, leaning in. “And the next blood that will be spilt will be entirely on your hands.”

  The two men said nothing, both of them praying that Sir Jessup was bluffing—as did Sir Renly.

  Ten seconds passed. Fifteen.

  Sir Jessup let out a sigh. “You fools,” he said, shaking his head at Lord Torstein and Glenn. “You have no idea the pain you bring with your decisions…” He then gave a gesture to the two knights behind the woman and the child. They withdrew their swords, raising them high above their heads as the woman and the child held hands and closed their eyes tight.

  Sir Jessup held up a hand to the sky, the knights waiting for him to bring it down and give them the order. He looked at Glenn and Lord Torstein, his lips pursed into a tight line. “Last chance,” he said.

  Five seconds passed. Ten.

  Sir Jessup closed his eyes and went to give the order.

  “Stop!” Lord Torstein cried out.

  Sir Jessup slowly lowered his hand. “The next words out of your mouth had better be the location of the Baird’s.”

  Lord Torstein shook his head. “I can’t…”

  “This is not a game.”

  “Then kill me!” Lord Torstein slapped his tethered hands against his chest. “Take me, Jessup. Do not slaughter these innocent people because I will not give you what you want. Take my life!”

  “I would be taking the life of one of two men who possess the knowledge that I seek. You can see how me dispatching of you would be a fool’s errand.”

  “I beg of you!”

  “Then you do it in vain,” Sir Jessup said. “Either give me what I want, or these people shall perish.”

  Glenn, his face red and filled with rage as he stared on at the Highlander woman and child, could not let his Scottish gusto go on unchecked. He was mad, madder than he ever had been in his entire life. He couldn’t tell Sir Jessup the location of his clan, and he couldn’t allow this innocent woman and her child to be slaughtered. As he watched Sir Jessup raise his hand to the sky and prepare to give the order—he charged forward and knocked Sir Jessup with all his might to the ground.

  “Die!” Glenn shouted as he prepared to charge again.

  A whoosh followed by a thunk reverberated through the air. Glenn, standing fully erect with a wide-eyed look on his face, began to mumble something as a slow trickle of blood began to flow out of the corner of his mouth.

  Lord Torstein, staring on in wide-eyed horror, watched as Glenn felt a hand to his back and immediate laid a hand on an arrow protruding from his back. It was a fatal blow, the arrow quickly bringing Glenn to his knees in front of Sir Jessup.

  Sir Jessup, despite being the master of the event, looked on Glenn in shock. He hadn’t expected the man to be so bold, and the look on his face was indicative of nothing more than sheer regret.

  Glenn, casting his last look at Lord Torstein, nodded the man in commendation before falling face first as his soul departed from his body.

  Not a word was spoken for some time as Sir Jessup wiped the small blotch of blood that had shot out from Glenn’s chest wound on his face. He then looked to the crying woman and child on the execution block, both of them looking like they were on the verge of passing out from the emotional exertion.

  Five seconds passed. Ten.

  “Take them away,” Sir Jessup said to Sir Renly. “Get them out of my sight.”

  Sir Renly gave a gesture to the knights who removed the woman and the child from the execution stage and then retreated with them into the crowd.

  Sir Jessup cast a look around at his men, some of them relieved that he didn’t go through with the execution as the others stared on in disappointment.

  Sir Jessup grabbed Sir Renly by the arm and leaned in. “Get rid of the Highlander’s body,” he said. “Then take Lord Torstein back to the dungeon.”

  Sir Renly nodded and complied with his friend’s orders.

  As Sir Renly retreated with Lord Torstein, Sir Jessup took another look around at his men.

  “What are you looking at,” he said. “Huh? What is so amusing? Be gone! All of you! Back to your posts!”

  The knights complied and left in formation, all of them setting about their regular duties as Sir Jessup cast a look at the execution stage, followed by the pool of blood that Glenn’ body had left in the earth from the fatal arrow that killed him. He questioned his worth in that moment. He questioned if perhaps Sir Renly was right in his theory that Sir Jessup was not a ruthless man.

  Sir Jessup was stewing as he approached the dungeon a half hour later with Sir Renly in tow. “I cannot believe this has happened,” he said.

  “Our archer,” Sir Renly said, “made the right call. That Highlander was too unpredictable. He could have killed you.”

  “And now I appear weak in front of my men.”

  “That is not true.”

  “It is. The moment I dismissed that woman and her child I all but sealed my reputation as a weakling.” He stopped in his tracks and pressed a finger into Sir Renly’s chest. “This will not stand. We must find the location of the Baird’s. We must end this.”

  “And what do you propose?” Sir Renly asked.

  Sir Jessup did not reply as he ordered the knight standing guard by the door leading into the dungeon to let them in.

  Sir Jessup and Sir Renly entered the room. Lord Torstein was still shackled by
his hands and legs. Eirlys stood in the corner and hung her head from fear of making any eye contact.

  “Lord Torstein,” Sir Jessup said. “I will make this simple—you have one day, one day, to tell me the location of the Baird’s. If you do not, you will be executed. Do you understand?”

  Lord Torstein looked at Sir Jessup and saw the commitment in his eyes. The man was a raving lunatic like Lord Henry was—but he was certainly on the cusp of losing his patience. But Lord Torstein said nothing as Sir Jessup just continued to stare.

  “One day,” Sir Jessup said. “And then I will have your head cut off.” He then turned and left the room. Lord Torstein wished that he had been able to call Sir Jessup’s claim out for being a bluff. But he knew from the sincerity of how Sir Jessup spoke this it most certainly wasn’t.

  Chapter 17

  Christian awoke with a smile on his face. He stretched and turned over to drape his arm across, to Gavina, still lost in reflection of the night’s prior events. But when he laid his arm down—nothing was there. Gavina was gone.

  Christian quickly fetched his garb, got dressed, and went outside. He spotted Ava and Tessa off a few yards away, pointing at something curiously off in the distance. Lachlan was tearing down the camp. Gavina was saddling her horse.

  He walked up to her. “A pleasant morning it is,” he said.

  “Aye,” Gavina said with no enthusiasm as she stowed the last of her supplies on her horse.

  Christian couldn’t help but note the less-than-enthusiastic timbre of her tone. “Are you all right?”

  She turned and looked at him like she had the moment they met—somewhat neutral. No real enthusiasm. “Of course.”

  He squinted. “Are you sure?”

  She arched her brow. “Why do you ask?”

  He let out a hint of laugh, incredulous at Gavina’s tone. “Do…Should we not talk about last night?”

  She smirked. “Naw. I enjoyed it. It looked like you did too.” Gavina then patted her horse and moved to mount it.

  Christian, standing in a minor daze, didn’t understand how Gavina could be acting so callous. He followed her; his arms outstretched. “Was it something I said?”

  She shook her head. “Naw. All is well. Come we maist ride. We hae a long day ahead of us.”

  Gavina then called out to the Bairdsmen and ordered them to mount their horses. The group then rode together in unison, Christian unable to help himself from feeling the overwhelming notion that a distance was growing between him and Gavina.

  Back in the village, Finlay was finally on his feet. He was still weakened, having lost a significant amount of weight but nonetheless strong and still on the mend. Isla, escorting him from their domicile as they set about a stroll through the village, looked at him with concern in her eyes.

  “How are ye feeling?” Isla asked.

  Finlay forced a smile. “Much better,” he said. “Still sore, but I feel me strength is returning.”

  She rubbed his back. “Ye look much better. The color has returned to yer face.”

  He laughed. “I am nae sure how much color can return—I hae always been quite pale.”

  “This is true. I fear that our children will forever be cursed by having inherited yer pale skin.”

  They laughed together and made their way to the center of the village where the archery range were. Several arrows still jutted out of the hay targets and made Finlay’s mind wander.

  “They should be returning soon,” Finlay said. “Gavina and the others.”

  Isla hung her head. “Are ye still troubled by the same thoughts?”

  He nodded. “Aye. And I can sense that ye do as well.”

  “It is hard nae tae dwell on it. I can’t explain it.”

  “I can.”

  “Really, noo?”

  “Absolutely. It is a fine trait that has been passed down through the generations of yer family.”

  “What dae ye mean?”

  He shrugged. “Ye hae always had a knack fer being able tae sense things before they happen. I feel that this has rubbed off on me in the past few years, especially when Eamon was born.”

  Isla thought back on her family, and the many times that the same thing had been said about the other members of her clan. “It is a blessing as much as it is a curse.”

  “How so?”

  Isla thought for a moment. “There are two types of people, those who think things through objectively, and those who gae off of their gut instinct. I feel that I hae always listened to me gut.”

  “And it has served ye well.”

  “But that is the part that leads me to acknowledging that possessing such instinct is also a curse. Sometimes I overthink things.”

  “That we all know.”

  Isla nudged him playfully in the ribs. “Me mind is wracked with fear,” she said. “I cannae help but think such dire thoughts, especially about Gavina and the others. The fact that ye feel the same just validates what I am already thinking.”

  Finlay said nothing for a moment. But he absolutely felt the same. It was hard to live the lives they did and still hold onto faith that all would be well. But something did not sit right with either of them about Gavina’s predicament, and they could only hope that she would return soon to alleviate them of their mental afflictions.

  “They will return soon,” Finlay said. “I am certain of it.”

  Isla squinted. “Is it nae just wishful thinking that leads ye tae saying that?”

  He shook his head. “I sense that they will return. Me own instincts tell me this tae be true…But I fear that they shall bring dire news with them upon their return.”

  Isla said nothing—but she felt exactly the same.

  “I dinnae,” Finlay said with a sigh. “I dinnae ken what this all could mean.”

  Isla took a look around the village. She saw all the faces of the men, women, and children smiling with satisfaction as they set about living their lives in the salvation that she and Finlay had established. It was in that moment that Isla was able to articulate what she was thinking.

  “I fear that war is upon us,” she said with a grave tone to Finlay. “I fear that notion is an inevitable one.”

  Finlay hooked his arm around his wife and held her close. “We maist take it one moment at a time, me love,” he said. “But I promise ye, whatever happens—we will prevail. We hae tae.”

  Isla held onto her husband and the two said nothing more as an odd silence settled over the village and further fueled the dire thoughts already running rampant through their mind.

  The Bairdsmen rode for several more hours before their horses had once again tired. They were close to the village, perhaps a half-day’s ride at the very most. But rest and sustenance were required, so Gavina gave the order for them to set up camp one final time.

  “We shall rest one mair night,” Gavina said. “Then we shall set about the final leg of the journey back home.”

  Ava set about making a fire as Tessa and Lachlan pitched their tents. As Gavina and Christian went about cooking a meal with the last of their supplies, Tessa and Lachlan began conversing quietly off to the side.

  “Did ye hear them last night?” Ava said with a whisper, nodding over her shoulder to Gavina and Christian.

  Lachlan squinted. “Naw. Why?”

  Ava flashed a smile. “Let me put it this way,” she said, “noises like that of wild animals were being—”

  Lachlan held up a hand to cease Ava from speaking any further. “Please. I dinnae care tae hear such things.”

  “Why? Dae ye fancy Gavina.”

  “God, naw! Never hae I. I just dinnae take pleasure in relishing in other people’s affairs. Besides, I lost me love so long ago. They were me all. I dinnae fancy anyone else.”

  Ava sighed. “Oh, Lachlan. Ye are a strong and wise man. Dinnae sell yerself short.”

  After the tents were pitched, the group once more gathered around the fire and ate. At one point, Lachlan produced the wine he had stowed in his bag
and held it up to the fire. “Suppose that a reprieve is in order?”

  Ava immediately snatched up the bottle and took a solid swig.

  “Dinnae get pished tonight,” Gavina said. “Ye dinnae want tae ride with a throbbing head in the morra.”

  Ava held out the bottle to Christian. “Here. It should assist with the stiffness of yer wounds.”