Bethany’s eyes returned to Matthew — she could see his smug smile even through the wall of shields, and she ground her teeth. Baldric had given up trying to control the men — she could see him defending Weatherby, desperately trying to cover his Lord’s retreat. Weatherby was spurring his horse into motion, heading for the hills… clearly, the heroic rescue fantasy had been more than he’d bargained for. The men he left behind continued to fight one another — three of them were attacking Baldric, who fended them off with some difficulty as he covered his Lord’s escape.
And now Cristabella’s attention shifted… Bethany screamed in horror as she saw the woman’s eyes move to the top of the walls. She was close now — close enough to the men at the top of the walls to curse them…
“Graham, I have to get out there,” Bethany called to Graham. He stared at her for a long moment, clearly conflicted… but she’d drawn her pistol. He looked down at it, remembering what she’d shown him it was capable of… then nodded, and wrenched the door open for her, following at her side with his sword drawn.
Men hurled themselves forwards, attacking furiously. Graham fought judiciously, not trying to harm the berserkers, just trying to push them back, to turn them onto each other. He was doing well, his sword glinting as he struck and parried with it… but Bethany knew it was only a matter of time before one of his myriad foes got lucky. She had to act fast. It wasn’t Matthew she needed to get rid of, or even Sven or Adolf — Cristabella was the only reason this battle was going so poorly. Once Cristabella was dealt with, she knew the tide of the battle would turn.
She waited, her gun drawn, for an opportunity. The shields parted briefly — she fired, the sound of the gun barely audible amongst the screaming of the berserk soldiers — but the shot missed, ricocheting off a shield. She bit her lip. Four left. She lined up the next shot, waited, fired… missed again. She was beginning to panic. Three shots left, and everything depended on this… she could hear chaos on the walls above as the spell took hold of even the men of the Keep. One more shot went wide, and another.
One left. This is it. Bethany’s focus shrank down to one, tiny point in the darkness. She took a deep breath, oblivious to the battle waging around her, to Graham’s grunts as he pushed their foes back… and when Cristabella’s face came into view again, she squeezed the trigger.
She knew the shot had hit its mark before the echo of the gunshot had died in her ears. The shield formation broke, the men clearly shocked by the sudden scream that Cristabella had uttered — she caught a glimpse of the woman dropping to her knees, clutching at her shoulder, Matthew at her side with a mixture of horror and rage on his face. But that wasn’t what Bethany needed to know about — she looked around at the confused mercenaries around her, realizing to her relief that they were waking up from their stupor. With Cristabella wounded, the spell was broken.
Bethany looked up at the walls. The men who’d been scaling the walls were falling — their superhuman strength and commitment fading with the spell, they had found themselves halfway up a castle wall and succumbed to gravity. The others were scattering, clearly panicking as they realized they were in the middle of a battlefield — but there was Baldric, shouting at his men to pull themselves together, complicating the retreat.
Donal’s forces came charging through the gate as the tide of the battle turned. They made short work of the confused mercenaries, Graham fighting at their side — and Bethany, her knife at the ready, bringing up the rear. It wasn’t long before the force of the assault was thoroughly shattered. Donal had Matthew at the point of a sword, the disgraced knight’s face purple with rage as he breathed hard, blood running down his face from a wound in his head. Sven and Adolf were among the captured men, too — Adolf was grinning from ear to ear, for some bizarre reason, though Sven’s face was thunderous.
Graham was by her side, and she tugged at his sleeve. “Why is Adolf so happy?”
“He just loves fighting.” Graham shrugged. “He always grins like that. Win or lose.”
“Looks like you picked the right side, you traitorous bastard,” Adolf called over to Graham — but to Bethany’s surprise, there was no sting in his words.
What a strange man, she thought with some amusement. But Sven was a different story.
“You really threw your lot in with these — these whores?” Sven snarled, his face twisted with rage as Graham approached him. He stayed in control, his blue eyes cool.
“You really kept serving a man who was so determined to bring death to hundreds of innocents?” he replied levelly.
Sven snarled… and then, so quickly that Bethany could barely react, he lunged forwards, drawing a knife out of his sleeve and seizing Graham with his other hand. They struggled for a moment, Graham yelling in dismay — but then Adolf was at his side in a blur of motion, rolling his eyes in exasperation as he buried a knife deep into Sven’s back. The Viking stared at his comrade for a long moment, puzzlement in his eyes… then he slumped to his knees and dropped face-first into the churned-up dirt at the base of the castle walls.
“I never liked that guy,” Adolf said brightly, impervious to the horrified stares of Graham and Bethany. “What?”
Matthew was dragged past them, rope binding his hands and a thoroughly defeated expression on his face. Donal followed, a satisfied expression on his tired face.
“What will you do with him?” Graham asked. His former lord was refusing to look at him, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground… it seemed his betrayal was still a fresh wound.
“The dungeons, for now,” Donal said. “Sir Baldric informs me that there are a few people in London who are very interested in our friend Matthew’s whereabouts. We’ll send word that they’re welcome to collect him at their earliest convenience.”
Bethany and Graham watched them head back inside the walls. There was already the sound of celebration going on — she could hear men inside the walls singing. It didn’t feel especially appropriate, especially surrounded by the bodies of the mercenaries who hadn’t made it through the night. Adolf was looking at them, his hands still raised in supplication.
“I’m your prisoner, of course,” he said, giving Graham a look. “But —”
Graham sighed… and lowered his sword. “Don’t let me see you again,” he warned him. The soldier’s grin widened — he moved forward to embrace Graham.
“All the best with this one,” Adolf said to Bethany with a roguish wink. “You take care of him now that I can’t.”
And with that, he was gone, melting into the treeline at a rapid pace. Bethany watched him go, a little torn. On the one hand, he had been one of Matthew’s lieutenants… on the other hand, he had saved Graham’s life. Graham sighed.
“I should have kept him prisoner, probably,” he said, glancing down at her.
She shrugged. “He got away. What can you do.”
“Speaking of…” Graham frowned, glancing around. “Where’s Cristabella?”
“They must have taken her inside already,” Bethany guessed.
But they hadn’t. When Graham and Bethany got inside, exhausted from the evening’s exertions, it was to discover that nobody had seen hide nor hair of Cristabella since Bethany had shot her, breaking the spell. Had she escaped somehow? Was she hiding in the woods? That wound in her shoulder had been serious… were they likely to find her body in a few days, claimed by infection or blood loss? Bethany hoped not. One way or the other, Cristabella was free now… free of Matthew, free of the orders of men. Bethany hoped she’d find somewhere she could be happy. Despite all the carnage and death she’d caused, she still couldn’t shake the sympathy she felt for the woman.
It was a long night, even after the fighting was done. There were bodies to be dealt with — Margaret presided over that particular job, her face solemn as she instructed the servants to deal with the bodies with care and dignity. In life, these men might have been their enemies… but in death, they deserved a proper burial at least.
Inside the c
astle, there was chaos. Matthew was the only prisoner that had been taken — the rest of the mercenaries had either been killed, like Sven, or turned tail and fled once the battle was over, like Adolf. But the castle was still full of rowdy villagers, full of joy that their enemy had been defeated… and determined to celebrate. But there was work to do, too. Many of the men of the castle had been seriously injured in the fight — Audrina, Cora and Karin were presiding over the infirmary, which had had to spread into several adjoining rooms to deal with the volume of injured men that were flocking to them. Bethany helped for a few hours there, fetching and carrying water and clean bandages, delivering messages and helping with crowd control on a few occasions, when rowdy villagers threatened to spill over into the area that had been set aside for treating the wounded.
All told, it was almost dawn before Graham appeared at her side, his own face drawn and tired — he’d been helping with the funeral arrangements for the men outside the wall and was clearly in a somber mood. After all, many of those men were probably old comrades-in-arms of his… a bittersweet victory, overall. Bethany slipped her hand into his and squeezed it, unable to offer much more comfort than that. Seeing them there, Audrina headed over, a fond smile on her face.
“I think it’s about time that the two of your got some rest,” she said gently. Audrina had been here the longest of all of them, and her accent, though still noticeably American, had softened and begun to pick up a slight Scottish lilt. “We can handle things from here, Bethany. You’ve done more than enough for one night.”
“Thanks, Audrina. You’re sure?”
“Get some rest,” she laughed, her eyes crinkling. “We’re all safe now — thanks to you.”
Bethany took Graham’s hand and headed for the stairs. She knew it had been a hell of a day — they’d be dealing with the fallout of this siege for months. The village destroyed, the damage to the castle… not to mention the injuries, the deaths, the emotional toll of the attacks. But right now, she was taking all of that stuff, and she was putting it in a box labelled ‘Too Hard’. She’d open that box in a few days and start sorting through it… once she was rested. Once she’d spent a day or two in bed with Graham, with her… what was he? Her lover? Her boyfriend? Her betrothed? She had no idea how it worked in medieval Scotland, and she didn’t much care. All she wanted was to lie in bed with her head on his chest and his strong arms wrapped around her.
And from the exhausted but affectionate way he pulled her into a hug at the top of the steps, he felt the same way. She beamed up at him as they walked down the hallway toward their room, her heart full of warmth and affection for him. Neither of them needed to say a word… they both knew what they needed.
They climbed into their little bed and fell deep into the most restful sleep either of them could remember, wrapped in each other’s arms.
Chapter 30
Bethany urged her horse down the road, her breath visible in the cold air in front of her face. The old mare picked up a quicker pace, huffing with resentment as Bethany insisted she move faster. In the last five months, she’d learned a great deal about horses — including when they were trying to get out of doing a bit of honest work.
“Come on, darling, the faster you move the warmer you’ll be,” she promised, grinning a little in the freezing late morning air. The whole countryside was blanketed in snow — winter had set in well and truly, but that didn’t mean that the MacLarens were in hibernation. Far from it. Bethany had a picnic basket under her arm and a destination in mind — the village, where her betrothed had been working hard all morning.
It is coming along well, she thought proudly as she rounded the bend in the road and saw the village come into view. There it was — not exactly the same as it had been, but getting there, that was for sure. The rebuilding project had brought the villagers and the MacClaran clan together like nothing ever had. Everyone had pitched in to help — the guards, the servants, even Donal MacClaran himself had spent a couple of weeks lending his strength to the rebuilding effort.
Fiona MacClaran had presided over the whole thing. She’d been in her element — this was what she’d done back in the future, after all, and the utter destruction of the village had seemed to her an excellent opportunity to build things better than they had been. As a result, the whole village was laid out much more efficiently — and she’d even installed some rudimentary plumbing systems that she promised were going to more than make up for the extra work they’d involved.
“No wonder this place was always getting flagged in the history books,” Delilah had murmured with amusement when she’d found out about those particular adjustments. “Sooner or later we’re going to destroy the whole universe with a time paradox.”
But the villagers were thrilled that their homes were being rebuilt. And thanks to Donal’s quick thinking — and the well-timed intelligence from Bethany, of course — they’d managed to save the vast majority of their livestock from the raiders. Nor had the crops been laid to waste — Matthew had been more interested in destroying the buildings in town — so even though the village had taken some rebuilding, there was no shortage of food to get them through the long winter.
And it felt good to know that the relationship between the people of the village and the people of the castle had been repaired. It had been an opportunity for the townsfolk to really get to know the so-called ‘witches’ of Castle MacClaran — to realize that the women were just ordinary people like them, women with perhaps a little more knowledge of certain things than average… but far from the evil monsters that the rumors had made them out to be. A few weeks into the reconstruction effort, a handful of men had come forward with dismay painted clear across their faces to confess that they’d sided with the mercenaries when they’d ridden into town, even giving them information about the MacClarans.
“We didn’t know,” they’d said. “We didn’t know he’d turn on us… that he’d burn the whole village down.”
But Donal had pardoned them — a gesture that had sent ripples of approval through the whole community. He was perhaps the most trusted man in town… to Lord Weatherby’s acute dismay. He was deeply offended that he hadn’t received more credit for riding to their rescue … at least until Baldric made a quiet suggestion in Laird Donal’s ear. Donal had agreed to name the newly-rebuilt tavern after Lord Weatherby — and when the pompous Lord received an invitation to the grand opening of the Weatherby Inn, all was forgiven. And if he noticed that the villagers sniggered every time they said the name of the place, he didn’t draw any attention to it.
Baldric helped with the building effort, too — he was often down there, lending a hand or supervising more detailed work. Bethany enjoyed getting to know the man — they struck up a quick friendship, often swapping war stories as they worked. She could see why Delilah liked him, and if Gavin and Graham felt any jealousy about their wives being friends with the chatty English knight, they didn’t bring it up.
And Graham. Bethany beamed to herself, the very thought of her lover filling her chest with joy. Every day she spent with him, she loved him more… they’d fallen so easily into each other’s company it was as though they’d been living together for years. Even in the cramped quarters of her tiny little guest room, they got on famously… it wasn’t hard to entertain themselves, after all, not with a bed and each other’s excellent company…
That being said, it had been nice when the villagers began to move out as house after house was rebuilt and made ready for human habitation. As the number of guests in the castle dwindled, they’d picked out new quarters — nice, roomy ones, with enough room for a luxurious double bed that they enthusiastically broke in that night. It had been that night that Graham had proposed to her. There was no elaborate presentation of a ring, no drama… just a sincere question, and an enthusiastic response.
But she wanted to get married in the spring, not the dead of winter. And besides, with all of the building work to be getting on with, there was no time for a
wedding. But she was still thrilled every time she looked down at the simple, beautiful engagement ring she wore on her left hand. She’d never liked rings… but she loved this one.
Her horse huffed as they headed down the main street of the village. The air smelled of freshly cut wood, and she smiled, looking forward to seeing Graham. She hitched her horse to a post by the house he was working on and slid down to the ground, a practiced gesture. Sure enough, there was Graham, his sleeves rolled up and a broad grin on his handsome face as he strode out of the half-built house to see her.
“How’s the house?”
“Getting there,” he said with a smile. “At this rate, we’ll be done by summer.”
“Then how will you spend your days?” she joked — and he grinned wickedly, sweeping into her arms to kiss her.
“Aunty!”
A familiar little voice pealed — and she turned to see her niece Emily, a year old now, but unlike any other one-year-old she’d ever seen, toddling along the street toward her, her arms raised and a huge smile on her tiny face. Laughing, she knelt down to catch the baby, scooping her into her arms and lifting her on her hip. Graham had taken a step back, a little wary of Emily.
“Still scared of a baby?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. In his defense, their first meeting had been rather frightening. Emily had been practicing her rather special talents when Graham had come in… and, clearly startled, she’d flung one of the levitating toys directly at his head.
“I’ve still got a scar,” he pointed out woefully, rubbing his head dramatically.
Emily giggled, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
“You do not,” Bethany said with dignity. “She didn’t hit you that hard.”
“Is it safe for her to be out here? What if she starts levitating cows, or something?”
“She’s not going to levitate a cow! Are you, Emily?”
“Cow,” the little girl repeated solemnly. She didn’t have a great many words yet — but she was learning more and more every day. It was amazing, how quickly she was growing. It seemed like only a few days ago that she hadn’t even been walking… now, it was all anyone could do to get her to stop running around the castle. She was going to be a handful, that was for sure… even without the magical powers, that was always going to be the case.
Highlander Avenged: A Scottish Time Travel Romance Page 24