A Knight For Her Highland Heart (Scottish Highlander Romance)

by Barbara Bard

  “Who are they?” Sir Renly asked.

  “Bandits. Savages.”

  Without hesitating, Sir Jessup grabbed a bow and set of arrows from one of the archers, dropped his sword, and began lining up shots. He dropped one of the approaching bandits quickly as the others began flooding into the encampment.

  The bloodshed that followed was quick and unforgiving. Several of Sir Jessup’s knights were killed almost immediately, with only two more of the bandits slain as the rest of the numbers spilled into the camp and began engaging the Sassenach in hand-to-hand combat.

  Sir Jessup barked out orders to his men. They fought, tooth and nail, each of them underestimating the might of the bandits as swords clanked and terrified screams called out.

  Sir Renly, just a few feet away from Sir Jessup, engaged two of the bandits single-handedly as the numbers of his fellow knights slowly began to dwindle.

  “This is preposterous!” Sir Renly said. “They have fewer numbers than us!”

  But Sir Jessup did not reply. He merely continued to engage the bandits and struck down one after the other, his teeth gritted as he slayed one man after the other. He moved away from Sir Renly at one point, attacking the remaining bandits with sheer ferocity. He engaged two at a time, striking down one and focusing his attention on the last man standing as he drove him to the ground, sliced his leg clean off, and then forced him to yield as he held the tip of his sword against the man’s neck.

  “I surrender!” the bandit said, holding his hands up high. “I give up!”

  Sir Jessup drew a breath. “Yes…I know you will.”

  “Jonathan…” the weary voice of Sir Renly called out.

  Sir Jessup turned around and saw Sir Renly approaching with a kind of drunken swagger, his hands clutching his waist where a clean laceration had been made by one of the bandits. Sir Jessup wasted no time, dropping his sword and rushing to his friend’s side as he collapsed into his arms.

  “I am wounded,” Sir Renly said, surprised, like he had not seen it coming.

  Sir Jessup pointed to the legless bandit. “Someone watch him!”

  One of the knights stepped in and obliged.

  Sir Jessup laid Sir Renly on his back and examined the wound in his belly. “Hold on,” he cooed. “We can fix this.”

  Sir Renly saw the copious amounts of blood spilling out of his body and shook his head. “This is fatal, my friend.”

  “No. Do not say that.”

  “We cannot fix this.”

  “Quiet! We will fix this.”

  Sir Renly grabbed Sir Jessup by the hand. “My friend…”

  Sir Jessup looked into Sir Renly’s eyes.

  “I am fine with this,” Sir Renly said. “We both knew this day would come…”

  Both of them said nothing as they held the embrace. Sir Jessup leaned into Sir Renly’s ear and said: “Do not leave me…I cannot do this alone.”

  Sir Renly shook his head. “You must…You have to.”

  “My friend—”

  “All is well, Jonathan…All is well…Just know…” the life began to flee from Sir Renly’s eyes, “just know that you can still walk away…”

  They stared at one another for what felt like an eternity as Sir Renly took one more breath, released it, and passed away into the unknown. For Sir Jessup, it had all happened so fast. He could still barely process that his friend had been slain. He laid there with Sir Renly for several moments, tears welling in his eyes as he laid his friend back, closed his eyelids, and stood back up.

  The knights surrounding him said nothing for several moments, all of them dismayed at Sir Renly’s death. Eventually, one of them pointed to the legless bandit and said: “What of this one?”

  Without any hesitation, Sir Jessup grabbed his sword, marched over to the bandit, and beheaded him with one quick stroke. The other knights stood around in shock as Sir Jessup’s eyes then glossed over with a lethal glint. He was mad—the most angered he had ever been in his entire life.

  “Prepare a funeral pyre,” Sir Jessup said to his men. “And toss the bodies of the bandits in the woods. Let the local animals have their way with them.”

  The knights set about Sir Jessup’s bidding, disposing of the bandit’s bodies in the woods as a funeral pyre was prepared for Sir Renly.

  Sir Jessup, preparing to burn Sir Renly’s body, got down on one knee beside his friend and whispered into his ear: “They will pay…All of them will pay…”

  Chapter 32

  A murky and foreboding fog settled over the scene as Gavina, Christian, Lachlan, and Tessa arrived on the outskirts of a narrow trail that ascended up the steep side of a mountain. It was quiet, quieter than they would have wished, with no sound being emitted from even the local wildlife.

  The fog around them was overwhelming. They could only see a few feet in front and behind themselves. Palms rested on swords as a close eye was kept steady on the surrounding environments.

  Tessa, shaking her head as she rode in the rear, turned to Gavina and said: “I dinnae like this, Gavina. This feels wrong…”

  Gavina huffed. “Since when has anything felt right tae ye in a long while?”

  They continued to ride, the group piercing through the fog and climbing farther up the hillside. The area began to slowly spread out, the greenery beneath their feet become richer the higher they rose. They travelled for another ten minutes before they heard a twig snap from off to the left. Gavina held up her hand and ordered everyone to hold their positions.

  “Does anyone see anything?” Gavina asked.

  Eyes searched—but they found nothing.

  “Naw,” Lachlan said. “Nae a thing…”

  They waited; the overwhelming notion that eyes were focused on them from several vantage points overcoming them.

  “Should we continue on?” Christian inquired.

  Gavina took her time. Instead of answering, she dismounted her horse and began walking in a slow and steady pace forward.

  “Gavina!” Christian called out in a hushed tone. “Mount your horse! What are you doing?”

  Gavina held up her hand in reply, her hand slowly unsheathing her sword as she walked through the fog. Her breath showed as she breathed, and the further she walked the more certain she was that someone—perhaps many—were resting straight ahead of her. She walked several more feet, the fog slightly clearing—and then she saw it: ten men, all on horses, the brawny frames cloaked with dark colors and pensive eyes staring at her through the fog all positioned in front of her with overwhelming force.

  Gavina felt her heart skip a beat. The other Bairdsmen slowly began to unsheathe their weapons as they laid eyes on what had to surely be the McManus clan. Not a word was spoken for several turns, until the man in the lead, his long hair and beard going well past his shoulders, nodded and said: “Who are ye?”

  Gavina, the fear inside of her practically choking her, said: “Me name is Gavina. I am a member of the Baird clan.”

  Silence continued to hold sway for several moments. The man in the lead, again, spoke up: “Why are ye here?”

  She jutted her chin. “I wish tae speak with ye. Ye are the McManus clan, are ye nae?”

  A nod. “We are. And we dinnae take kindly tae outsiders trespassing on our lands.”

  “We mean naw disrespect. We merely wish tae take council with ye.”

  Another moment passed. Then the man in the lead dismounted his horse, his feet hitting the ground and crunching underneath him from his weight as he slowly walked up to Gavina. Christian, fearful for his love, also dismounted his horse. Carefully. Slowly. Making sure to not get a rise out of anyone in attendance.

  The man in the lead stood a few feet shy of Gavina and puffed his chest, analyzing her from head-to-toe. He huffed: “Ye are dressed like a warrior. Ye sport warrior’s garb…but a woman is nae a warrior.”

  Gavina jutted her chin. “I am a warrior. I hae killed many men, some quite bigger than ye.”

  The man in the lead laughed. “Q
uite a confident soul ye appear tae be…” he withdrew his sword and took a swipe at Gavina. Gavina, quickly holding up her sword, parried and blocked the blow as it came within an inch of her face.

  The man in the lead pouted his lip. “Ye are quick, lass.”

  Gavina shrugged. “Continue tae test me and ye shall see how quick I really am.”

  The Bairdsmen were tense, each of them shifting their weight as they worried a fight was near.

  The man in the lead shook his head. “We dinnae want ye here. We are well within our rights tae kill ye…but I will let ye leave if ye turn around noo and nae attempt tae come back.” He pulled back his sword and stood back. Gavina did the same.

  “It is nae that simple,” Gavina said.

  The man in the lead turned away. “Leave noo,” he said. “Leave noo and dinnae come back.”

  “Our people are being threatened.”

  “Yer people are being threatened. This is nae our fight.”

  “A knight approaches. His name is Sir Jessup. He plans on wiping out our entire village.”

  “And we could hae done the same on several occasions. I ken of yer village. I ken of who ye are. The only reason I dinnae mount an attack on yer people is by me own discretion.”

  “Please!” Gavina pleaded. “Ye maist hear us out. The number of approaching knights is overwhelming. If they destroy our village, they were surely come after ye next!”

  The man in the lead stopped in his tracks. “How many men?”

  “Hundreds,” Christian called out from the rear. “Maybe more.”

  The man in the lead perked up upon hearing Christian’s accent. He turned, slowly, fire filling up in his eyes. “Is that man…a Sassenach?”

  Gavina nodded. “He is. But he is with us.”

  The man in the lead shook his head. “Naw Sassenach can be trusted. Ye ken this well enough.”

  “Desperate times,” Gavina shrugged, “desperate measures…but ye maist hear us out. Let us converse. If ye see fit tae destroy us after our conversation…so be it.”

  The man in the lead took his time, eyeballing Gavina and the rest of her company before he placed his hands on his hips and said: “Follow us. Our camp is just a short distance away. We can discuss this matter there.”

  Gavina nodded. “Aye. We shall…And what is yer name?”

  The man in the lead took a moment to answer. “Me name is Rory. Noo, follow us. We can decide yer fate over a drink.”

  The McManus clan held fifty men. About ten women, hiding in tents, were also among their ranks. Their camp was simple and rested on top of a hillside overlooking the valley currently shrouded in a dense layer of fog.

  A fire was kindled, and seated around it were the Bairdsmen, Rory, and several of Rory’s comrades. Not a word was spoken for several minutes as whiskey was poured and everyone warmed themselves by the fire.

  “So,” Rory said. “Ye claim that the Sassenach are approaching, aye?”

  Gavina nodded. “Aye,” she replied. “But is naw mere claim. They approach in great numbers. They will arrive shortly at our village.”

  “And who is this knight that leads the charge? Ye mentioned his name.”

  “Sir Jessup. He is one of the king’s right-hand men. They intend on destroying us all.”

  Rory laughed. “This is nae a new plight for the Sassenach.” He pointed to Christian. “He can surely vouch fer this.”

  “I can,” Christian spoke up. “And as Gavina said, it is a certainty that Sir Jessup and his men will come after you after he dispenses of all of us.”

  Rory shrugged. “Then we shall move away. We hae done this mair than once. We naw longer wish tae meddle in other people’s affairs.”

  “And how long can ye plan on running?” Gavina asked. “Ye hae a solid number of men at yer disposal, but ye ken as well as I dae that ye can only run so long before Sir Jessup, or another, will catch up tae ye and destroy every last member of yer clan.”

  “So, what? I sacrifice a significant number of me men tae assist ye?”

  A nod from Gavina. “That’s right.”

  Rory laughed, along with several other members in his clan. “I think,” Rory said, “that it was a mistake fer ye tae come here.”

  “So, ye will kill us then? Is that right?”

  “I am considering it, aye. What I should dae is dispose of ye all and move me people far and away from this area.”

  “Again—ye will only get so far before Sir Jessup catches up tae ye. Dinnae be a fool, Rory. Understand the predicament that ye are in.”

  Rory leaned back, stroking his beard and taking his time to digest Gavina’s words. “Dae ye ken how long I hae fought against these Sassenach bastards? Dae ye ken how much I hae suffered?”

  Gavina pointed a finger. “We hae all suffered. We hae all had to endure the wrath of the Sassenach. Yer story is naw different than me own. But taking up arms against yer own people will dae nae a thing mair than breed mair bad blood between clans. The war is nae with us—it is with the Sassenach knights that are attempting tae undo us all.”

  Rory sighed. “I tire of war. I tire of taking up arms. That is why I fled. That is why me and me clan hae naw alliance with anyone. We are better on our own.”

  Gavina shook her head. “We are running in circles, Rory. And I ken that ye hae heeded the words I hae spoken. We maist form an alliance. And if need be…” Gavina gestured to Lachlan who produced a satchel and tossed it over.

  Rory was handed the satchel. He opened the contents and looked inside to find a collection of gold coins, enough to feed a village for months, staring right back at him. “Quite a collection,” he said.

  “Enough tae buy yer services?” Gavina inquired.

  Rory stared at the gold and thought of all the supplies and medicines that he could purchase with it. The offer to take up arms with Gavina and her people was now more tempting than ever. “How many men would ye require?” he asked.

  Gavina shrugged. “All of them. Every last one.”

  More laughter rang out. “Quite a request,” Rory said.

  “And a necessary one. Look, we hae stated our intentions. I hae told ye what we want. The decision noo lays with ye…and I desperately await yer answer.”

  Rory took a moment. He turned to one of his men, whispering something in his ear and exchanging a quick dialogue. And then he stood, his chest puffing and forcing the others to stand as well, uncertain as to whatever actions he had planned on taking next.

  “Alright,” Rory said. “We shall take up arms with ye.” He shook the satchel. “I shall consider this a down payment.” He pointed. “But we are nae friens. Consider us nae a thing mair than business associates.”

  With that, Gavina grinned, extended her hand, and shook—the alliance cemented in stone. Or gold, to be precise, gold.

  Chapter 33

  Sir Renly’s body burned bright on top of the funeral pyre. The entire collective army that was led by Sir Jessup stood around it to pray witness. Night had fallen, and the men that had been slayed at the hands of the bandits, all twenty of them, had also been placed on top of pyre. Smoke curled and rose toward the heavens as all in attendance hung their heads and waited for their leader, Sir Jessup, to offer up words of condolence.

  Sir Jessup was enraged. His fury had never before reached a pinnacle as it had that day. He was angered at himself for not being able to save his friend. He was angry at the bandits, the Highlanders, everyone. His only friend in the whole world had been taken from him, and he was now unsure of how to proceed forward now that the one person he had confided in had been taken from him.

  Sir Jessup looked around and saw the dismayed looks in his men’s faces. He knew that the time had come to step up and offer them something that would help in easing their troubled minds.

  Sir Jessup took a step forward, all eyes now looking at him as he kept his gaze fixated on the roaring fire in front of him. “We have suffered a great loss today,” he said. “We, once again, have lost more men tha
n we should have. They were friends. Confidants. Brothers.”

  All of those praying witness could feel the sting of his words. Indeed, most if not all of the men that had been slain that day were friends and brothers.

  “As I watch this burning fire,” Sir Jessup said, “I cannot help but think that the same fire now burns inside of us. As the bodies of our comrades give aid to fueling the fire…I feel that they also do the same with the rage now boiling over inside of us…”