Sword drawn, Ruari entered the fight. It was well known that Mackenzies relied on their numbers and were not expert swordsmen. It was evident by how quickly he was able to cut a path toward his men.
A large warrior appeared in his path and he recognized the red-haired male from when he’d been dragged to the Mackenzie. Ruari charged, the swords colliding with so much force that his arm shook. Taking one step back, he swung a second time and, once again, the guard blocked effectively. When the warrior held his weapon with both hands and sliced across, Ruari jumped back to avoid being cut.
The man was a better swordsman then most of his clan. Ruari growled and charged, sweeping across with his blade. Each swing was blocked and then he, in turn, did the same to blows from the man.
He managed to cut the man’s upper arm, but it was not a deep wound. When he charged again, the red-haired fighter pulled one of his own men to use as a shield. Ruari’s sword sunk into the hapless man’s stomach and he withdrew it just as the red-haired man dropped the dying man.
A scream from behind caught his attention and he turned just in time to block the downfall of a strike. It was a quick moment before he downed the man and turned to face his earlier opponent.
The red-haired warrior had gone.
Ruari reached the rear wall and scaled up to the top where Ross guards shot arrows down at the courtyard.
In the distance, a large contingency of riders appeared. At seeing the number, his heart sank. He turned to look into the courtyard. Even though Clan Fraser was holding its own, it would not be for long. Eventually, they would run out of arrows.
There was one evening he’d been up late, unable to sleep and he’d stood at his balcony and watched as basket after basket was lifted up to the gates. He’d wondered what they were storing in them and now he knew. Clan Fraser had been preparing for this.
A new group of Mackenzie warriors entered the gates. They grouped together using their shields as a barrier.
He exchanged looks with the guards on the wall. “We wait until those arrive and try to hold them off as long as possible. I do not expect ye to fight to the death. We must just try to keep them at bay until the rest of Clan Fraser arrives.”
With hard expressions that would make most men’s blood run cold, the warriors nodded. His clan had been at war for a long time. These men were not strangers to conflict.
Below, Fraser guards fought valiantly against their enemy. Thankfully, the rumor about Mackenzie leaning too heavily on numbers seemed to be true as the Fraser warriors were much better at hand-to-hand battle.
Although there was no doubt that they knew they were outnumbered, there was bravery in fighting to keep one’s home and defend what rightfully belongs to the people of the clan.
The fighters were almost even in number now proving what amazing shots the archers were. The Mackenzie would not have an easy time conquering Clan Fraser.
Until the other warriors, who rode at full speed, arrived, the Frasers stood a chance to win.
Ruari looked to his men. “When the reinforcements arrive, head out the same way we came. Return to Ross lands immediately and ensure the archers do the same.”
He climbed down from the wall and upon hitting the ground, once again, he drew out his sword.
Slicing a path through to the front entrance of the keep, he had but one goal in mind. Not to let Esme die. He had to save her from what was sure to be a slaughter.
He raced through the great room, his heart thundering in his chest and raced up the stairs to the top of the keep.
Once atop the keep, arrows whizzed by and several men lay on the floor with arrows impaled in their bodies. No one was dead. Not yet.
“Esme!” he called out. He spotted her as she loosed an arrow.
Her hair flew around her head like flames as she concentrated on the scene below. Her gaze did not waver to him when he came to her side, holding up a discarded shield in front of them.
“We must go, more come.”
“They will fall, too, then.” She loosed another arrow and it hit her target, the man falling with it impaled in his neck.
“Ye should go with him.” Her father neared and Ruari noted he’d broken an arrow off that had hit him in the upper left arm.
The man had continued to fight despite it, which didn’t surprise Ruari. A true laird fought alongside his men to the death.
The three of them rushed to the other side of the building to see the huge army headed their way.
“Why would he do this?” Esme exclaimed. “If he kills us all, what will he gain?”
Ruari took her arm and led her away from the edge. “We must go. I did not bring my men here to die.”
She smiled up at him, her brown eyes full of tenderness when meeting his. “I agree, ye and yer men should go. This is not yer fight.”
It would be useless to try to convince her to leave with him. It was obvious she would die alongside her father. Ruari cupped her jaw. “Ye are extraordinary.”
Esme shrugged. “What I am is determined to take down as many of those bastards as I can. Please move aside. I do not have time to watch ye leave.” Although her words were said with impatience, her eyes became shiny with tears.
Of course, he would not leave. Esme was the woman meant for him and if fate decided they’d die together, then so be it.
Ruari grabbed a bow and arrows from one of the downed men and stood next to her. Although a good marksman, he preferred hand-to-hand fighting. However, it was best to do what he could from up there and not waste more time.
Without knowing who the local people were and who was the enemy, Ruari had to pay extra attention before shooting, which meant he was a lot slower than the other archers.
It was a short while later that battle cries sounded. “Buaidh no Bàs!” At first, he wasn’t sure of what he heard. Then again, the arrivals cried out, “Victory or death!”
“Do not attack those who arrive,” Ruari called out and hurried back to the opposite side just in time to see the red banner with three lions upon it. His heart squeezed at the sight of his cousins, Tristan and Kieran, leading hundreds of Ross warriors at full speed.
“Retreat!” the Mackenzie lead guards called out. The ones that were left began rushing to their horses, many riding off without waiting for their comrades.
Esme rushed to his side. “Who are they?”
“My clan,” Ruari replied, his voice hoarse with pride. “My family.”
Together with Laird Fraser, they hurried inside and down to the great room. There was chaos as men who’d been dragged in were being cared for by the healer and his helpers.
Outside, the clanging of weapons still sounded as some of the Mackenzie warriors had not been able to get away.
The laird went to the doorway, Ruari and several other guards with him. “Cease at once!” the man called out. “Take those that remain prisoners.”
Several Mackenzies immediately put down their weapons, but two of the Mackenzie men refused to stop fighting. Blood-soaked, they fought on and Ruari understood. They would rather die than accept defeat.
Finally, one fell, too injured to continue. The other was cut through with a sword and fell next.
“Bring the one who is alive inside,” Laird Fraser instructed. “Ensure the healer sees to his wounds.”
A brave warrior was respected and, as such, the man would be allowed to live. A code of battle that baffled Ruari at times.
Moments later, Mackenzie warriors that had been captured were bound and lined up on their knees and his cousins, along with a small group of Ross warriors, entered through the gates.
Kieran dismounted and headed to him. “Where’s Ewan?”
“Ye missed all the fun!” Ewan approached, his tunic bloodied. He took two more steps and fell forward like a plank.
Both Kieran and Ruari stared at their cousin for a moment before reacting and picking him up and carrying him into the keep.
“Are ye injured?” Tristan, his other cousin,
asked Ruari, the hazel gaze roaming over his body. “The men here put up a good fight.”
Ruari shook his head. “Nothing of note.” Together, they walked after his cousins to see about Ewan.
“I do not need to be sewn up,” Ewan protested as a healer held up a needle and thread.
Ruari stepped closer to where the injured cousin lay atop a table, his tunic torn open to show a gash across his left rib cage. “I will hold him down,” he told the woman who looked to Ewan with a worried expression.
Ruari chuckled when Ewan glowered, but lowered his head back to the table. “I will kick ye if ye stick me too deep.”
“I will stick it deeper if ye do,” the feisty woman replied.
Chapter Twelve
Esme washed out her father’s wound, inspecting it to ensure there was no part of the arrow left.
“Go see about the others, I am able to take care of this myself,” he protested once again and looked around her to a guard. “Has my wife and the other women been found yet?”
The guard hurried off to find out.
“Keithen and his men will bring them back safely.”
In truth, she wasn’t sure. Both her mother and Catriona were among the women who’d been sent off.
“Yer brother’s men have arrived,” a guard announced.
Her father none-so-gently pushed her aside and stood. “Ah, very well. With the number of the men here, the Mackenzie will know we are a force to be reckoned with. Alone without reinforcements, we were winning even outnumbered.”
The look of pride on her father’s face was reflected on the other men in the room. This would be a day which would be told about for many years to come. Esme was proud not only of her clan, but of herself. She’d not cowered or left but fought alongside her father.
She beamed at the guard. “We are Frasers. We are strong.”
“Ye are a brave lass, tis true,” Ruari said, his gaze clashing with hers. There was a definite connection with him that she could no longer deny. Something about Ruari Ross made her soft inside.
*
By the end of the day, a mixture of happiness and sadness hung in the air. The dead were taken to be buried by their families. The great room would be used for the many injured to be cared for. And as a sign of compassion, the Mackenzie prisoners were released and sent on their way on foot without shoes or weapons.
Several tables had been set up in the courtyard.
Cows had been slaughtered to feed the many people who’d gathered. Out in the fields, campsites were set up and scattered among them were fires with cauldrons of stew being cooked for the warriors.
The bakers from the village arrived with carts heaped with loaves of bread to feed the men as well.
“Keithen should have returned by now,” her father said to them as they sat at a long table to eat.
Esme had been thinking the same. They’d not had time to get far. Why had her brother not returned yet?
“Someone comes,” a guard announced, and they rushed out.
A lone rider entered through the gate and upon recognizing him as one of Keithen’s men, Esme jumped to her feet and ran toward him.
“What happened?”
The man dismounted and stalked toward her father with purposeful strides. “Laird.”
Her father was on his feet. “Where is my son? My wife?”
“We found the group. The servants are all alive and well. The young men who escorted them are dead. Lady Fraser as well as Miss Catriona were taken.”
Color left her father’s face. “Was it the Mackenzie?”
“They believe so. They left behind a message with the servants.”
“What is it?” Her father’s voice shook with fury. They were surrounded now by her uncles, Ruari, his cousins and two lead guards.
“That Lady Esme be sent to marry a man of the Mackenzie’s choice. Upon the marriage, yer wife and Miss Catriona will be released.”
Her father’s shoulders fell. “And we will then be in alliance with the Mackenzie by marriage.”
It was all for naught. In the end, the Mackenzie would win. Esme looked to Ruari who studied her face without expression.
Her father’s decision would be to sacrifice his wife and Catriona in exchange for the clan. Everyone there knew it.
“I will go, Father. I will do as they ask until my mother returns. Then I will murder the man he marries me to.”
“I forbid it,” her father barked.
Esme would not be put off. “Father, think on it. This way, we have a chance of not losing Mother.”
“They will be suspicious. Especially if ye go right away,” her father said. “I doubt the bastard will let either woman live.”
Turning to her uncle, she hoped for him to see that what she proposed would be the best way to handle the situation. “Uncle, do ye not agree with me that this is the only way to save Mother’s life?” Her voice caught at not mentioning Catriona. What would happen to her dear friend?
“Please.” Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with her sleeve. This was not a time for weakness.
Silence hung in the air like a storm cloud. Finally, her uncle shook his head. “I agree with yer father. We cannot sacrifice the lives of many for two.”
Esme dashed around them, planning to go to the corrals. But Ruari caught up to her and wrapped his arms around her. “Do not go against yer father’s wishes.”
“They will kill my mother. I know the bastard will not touch his heart. He is ruthless and unwavering. There is nothing that can be done to stop him.”
Tears of fury flowed forcefully now. There had to be something she could do to stop them from killing her mother. “Help me, Ruari, please.”
“Take her to her chamber. Make sure she remains there.” Her father’s voice was tinged with anger. She knew he hated the decision he was forced to make. Perhaps she was not helping at the moment, but Esme could not bring herself to care. Sacrificing herself for her mother was an easy decision. Even if she died in the process of killing whoever the Mackenzie forced on her, it was worth it.
“Come,” Ruari said in a soft voice, half-dragging her back inside. “Let us talk about this. Maybe there is another way.”
The thought mollified her somewhat. “Do ye have an idea?”
“No, but I think we should all sit down and discuss alternatives.”
“What if the entire army that is here goes to rescue her?” Esme said, pushing away from Ruari and turning back to her father.
The sight of him with his head hung and the other men circling him made her stop. Of course, he was considering other ways. The decision would not be made lightly.
“As soon as the army is spotted, the Mackenzie will have yer mother killed.” Ruari’s words seeped through her skin like red hot pokers.
Esme closed her eyes and, like her father, hung her head. “There is no other way. I have to go, Ruari. I must go and do what I plan. Ye know it would be the only way.”
“If ye fail, then ye will be the cause of yer people coming under his rule. Think about it.”
Because the servants were busy with the injured, Esme went to the doorway just outside the kitchen and lowered a bucket into one of the rain collection barrels. She then hauled the water inside to pour into a large cauldron that hung over a bright fire.
Once the water was warmed, she filled a basin and hurried behind a screen set up on the opposite side of the room. Esme quickly washed away the grime and blood from her body.
She’d promised Ruari to go to her chamber after she cleansed herself, but he obviously did not believe her because he stood just outside the kitchen doorway waiting for her.
“There is more heated water if ye wish to wash up as well,” she offered.
Eyes narrowed, he kept his attention on her as he removed his tunic. Unlike her, he was beside the screen. Then, he, too, removed the evidence of battle. The beauty of his body distracted her away from thoughts of what had happened. The light from the firep
lace glistened off his wet skin, making every muscle more pronounced.
When he hooked his thumbs on the top of his breeches and lifted a brow in question, she realized he’d caught her staring. Esme turned her back to give him privacy to finish.
Splashes made her wonder where he was washing. She fought not to turn and look. Although she’d touched the most intimate part of him, she’d not been able to see much of his body.
“Come, it’s best I get ye upstairs before yer father thinks I disobeyed him.” Ruari took her elbow and guided her through the great room and up the stairs.
She shivered and wasn’t sure if it was from the dampness of her skin, or the ending of a horrible day. “Come inside with me,” she said to Ruari upon arriving at her doorway. “Please.”
The room was dark with no fire in the hearth. Every servant was put to use downstairs caring for the injured or cooking for the hundreds of warriors.
Ruari placed several logs into the hearth and used kindling to start a fire that soon grew to life, sending warmth into the space.
“Be truthful,” Esme said to him. “What would ye do in my place? Would ye not go?”
He studied her for a long moment, the darkness emphasizing the chiseled features of his face. “I do not have a relationship with my mother, so I cannot, in truth, say what I would do if it was she. If it was my aunt, who raised me, then I would grieve and try to come up with a way to save her.”
“Do ye think yer cousins would not go after her?”
He shook his head. “Esme, ye know that in most cases, the person held is killed. I am sorry to say it, but tis the truth. We would do exactly what yer father is doing. Weigh the options and do what is best for the clan.”
“If he will keep her alive while waiting our reply, then it makes my plan the best.” Esme wanted to stomp her foot but, instead, moved closer to Ruari. “Why does it always come to him winning over others? Why doesn’t he leave us alone?”
“The Mackenzie has set his mind to winning. It has more to do with showing his strength and power over others than actually acquiring yer clan’s lands.”
When she went limp, Ruari pulled her against him. “Do not give up. There may still be something to be done. In the morning…”
A Flawed Scotsman (Clan Ross Book 4) Page 10