“You sound worried.”
“I suspect a siege may be underway. Curse my stupidity. I should have seen it coming.”
“How could you?”
“Think about it. I’ve been drawn out from the castle and while I’m gone the massed ranks of an army approach my land. I should not have gone wandering. I should have stayed at home to prepare.”
She tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault but he knew the truth. He had been too distracted by her, unable to think straight about what was going on around him. If he’d concentrated on the outlaws and not on her, he would have been better prepared, might even have been able to stop them before they marched on the castle.
But no, he had to spend his time staring at her, thinking about how she looked in that dress, the way her eyes lit up when she smiled, and all manner of things that were increasingly irrelevant when war was coming.
They headed back the way they’d originally come. He hoped to make it to the castle before dark but it was not to be, the horse was too tired. They stopped at Old Manor Woods just as the last of the light vanished.
“Where are we?” Heather asked as he skilfully led the horse between the trees, ducking beneath a low hanging branch.
“We will rest here for the night and tomorrow morning we should reach the castle by noon.”
“Are we not better getting there tonight?”
“I cannot gamble by travelling so far in the dark. The outlaws could be anywhere and I will not risk your safety.”
He tied the horse to the nearest tree, looking around him. “I think it’s to the left.”
“What is?”
“This.” He stepped off the path and through a length of dry and crumbling hedge. Hidden behind it was an old farmhouse long abandoned but still roofed.
“It will do for tonight.”
“You clearly have a thing for dusty old places,” Heather said as she glanced inside. “How did you know this was here?”
“A laird must ken his land well. I am aware of every secret place where a man can hide out.”
“Just don’t ask me to play hide and seek, I don’t think I’d have a chance.”
He frowned. “You say much I do not understand.”
“Sorry. Where I come from, we talk quite differently. In fact, shouldn’t you be speaking Gaelic?”
“I am.”
“No you’re not.”
“Yes I am. As are you.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
He shook his head. “Is this some riddle because if it is, now is not a good time.”
“Weird,” she muttered to herself. “I’m seriously speaking Gaelic right now?”
“Same as me.”
“Must be the key,” she muttered to herself.
“I will be back,” he replied, leaving her to her thoughts. He headed outside to gather wood for a fire. He needed to find out the truth about her and quickly. It was still possible she was a spy for Mungo and if so taking her back to the castle was filled with risk.
He thought for a moment about leaving her and heading off alone. Almost at once he felt sick. The very idea of abandoning her was painful to his very soul. He would never do it.
But what if she was a spy? What if she was using the old story about the keys to get close to him?
He could offer to marry her of course. Call her bluff. If she was a spy, she would refuse at once. No other woman would refuse such an offer from a laird. He found himself liking the idea more and more. If she was a Frazer spy and she said yes that would cement the two clans together better than any war ever could.
He returned to the farmhouse, finding Heather had been busy clearing a space for them to sleep in, gathering loose straw and piling it together to form rudimentary mattresses. “Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Starving.”
He set a trap nearby, and then returned once more to light the fire. By the time the flame was going a rabbit was dead in the trap. He brought the carcass inside and skinned it quickly.
Heather watched him in silence as he cooked the flesh, the mouthwatering smell filling the air. He passed the first cooked portion to her.
“You must eat too,” she insisted, refusing to take it.
“I will eat when we reach the castle.”
“I won’t touch it unless you have some too.”
Did she know he thought she was a spy? Was she refusing in case he’d poisoned it? If so, she was more cunning than she looked. She was an enigma, he could not make up his mind who she really was.
He ate the first piece and that seemed to satisfy her. As they finished the rest, she settled in the straw with the blanket over her. Gavin sat by the fire as the flames began to die, lost in thought.
Soon she was laid down with her eyes closed. He turned to look at her. She was truly beautiful, the light of the flames making her skin glow in a way that was utterly adorable. She looked like an angel. He wanted to lay beside her, hold her in his arms, forget the clan, forget the world, just be with her, the two of them alone together.
She opened her eyes and smiled sleepily at him. “Are you not tired?”
“A little,” he admitted. “I will sleep soon.”
He knew they could have made it to the castle in the dark. He knew the way well enough.
He wasn’t prepared to do it. The threat of an ambush in the dark was a possibility but it wasn’t the real reason why he’d stopped for the night where he did. He wanted to spend just a little longer alone with her.
Once he was back at the castle the rules of nobility would be enforced. She would be whispered about if she spent time alone with him. Heads would turn and tongues would wag if he was seen distracted from his lordly duties.
This might be the last chance they had in some time to be alone together and he was not ready to end it by sleeping so soon.
She was soon asleep. He remained by the fire, finding himself praying. If war is to come, he thought with his hands clasped together, let it not harm her. She is good and pure, let her be safe. Let her live well and long, Lord. Keep her safe, I beg you.
He slept leaning back against the door, his dreams filled with that moment in the mountain pass. Again and again the men ran toward them.
In his dream their swords did not fall short, they connected. She was felled, dying beside him as he held her in his arms. There was nothing he could do for her and that hurt him more than any sword blow ever could.
The next morning he was up before daylight. For a brief moment he wasn’t sure why he was awake so soon but then he heard it. Outside there were voices talking. Had they found the horse?
He got to his feet as slowly and quietly as he could, glad to see that Heather was still fast asleep. Moving toward the boarded up window, he peered through a knothole and the sight chilled him. Half a dozen armed outlaws, one of them holding his horse by the reins. He cursed silently.
They hadn’t seen the cottage. He was able to discern them through a gap in the undergrowth but they could not see him. Would they hunt for him? Could they see the tracks in the earth? He held his breath, watching as they talked loudly to each other.
“I say we’re wasting our time. If they were here, they’re gone.”
“So he just left his horse and walked off, did he?”
“I dunno. Maybe it’s a trap.”
The voices started to talk over each other. “He could have his men watching us right now.”
“They might be setting up an ambush.”
The horse neighed loudly. “Will you stand still? Stupid beast.”
“They say Old Manor Wood is haunted.”
Gavin sensed his opportunity. Moving to the door he eased it open, sneaking out and burrowing deep into the undergrowth. From there he could better see the men who were continuing to bicker.
He rustled the undergrowth. “Begone,” he whispered in a deep voice.
“What was that?”one of the men asked, whipping his head from left to right.
“Did you h
ear that?”
“I heard nothing.”
“This is a waste of time. We should be at the siege. They’ll get first dibs on the stores and we’ll be left with nothing. Again.”
“You want to be the one to tell him we couldn’t find them?”
Gavin moved further to the left, whispering again. “Begone.”
“The spirits,” one of the outlaws shrieked. “They’re coming for us. Lord, save me. I never wanted to kill that farmer. Jimmy made me do it. Praise the Lord and all his angels.”
“Begone,” Gavin said shifting again, calling louder this time. “Now!”
The men turned and ran, leaving the horse behind in their blind panic. Gavin shook his head. They might be forming an army but that did not make them soldiers. They were still too easily spooked.
He emerged from the bushes in time to stop the horse wandering off. Once it was retied, he returned to the cottage. They needed to move swiftly. It would not be long before a larger group might return, a group much harder to spook.
He stood over Heather for a moment, watching her sleep. She looked as angelic as the outlaws had looked demonic. He had to stop looking at her. Do it any longer and he might have no choice but to wake her with a kiss on those soft lips of hers. “Wake up,” he said, gently squeezing her shoulder. “We must move.”
“I’m still here,” she said, opening her eyes and yawning loudly. “It’s not a dream then.”
“Come on,” he said, holding out a hand to help her up. “We are hunted.”
“What?” She was awake so fast he was impressed. Some of his own men could not be ready to move that quickly. In the time it took for him to move to the door she was up and behind him, the blanket in her hands.
He knew they had to get to the castle swiftly but he feared running into the outlaws. He exited the wood far from where he intended them to go, making sure the route was clear before setting off at a trot, time now of the essence.
Had they spoken the truth about siege? He would know soon enough.
It was two hours before he found out how honest the outlaws had been. He heard it before he saw it. Riding swiftly around a corner he stopped dead. Tracks of many horses joined the road here, turning toward the castle. A moment later he heard the sound of many voices talking together. Slowing, he rode cautiously, stopping once more a minute later.
The castle towers came into view in the distance. In the foreground was an army of at least two hundred men, probably more as tents had been set up, shielding many from view.
“Oh my goodness,” Heather said. “What is this?”
“A siege,” he replied bitterly. “I was too late.”
The sight filled Gavin with anger. How dare they lay siege to his castle. At once his emotions faded away and a coldness washed over him. The time of doubt was over, the time of speculation was over. It was time for action. He knew what to do, he had run through this scenario enough times during his training for the lairdship.
“What are you looking for?” Heather asked as he scanned the army.
“Sentries. They have posted none.” He shook his head. “Afraid of voices in the woods, no guards on their flanks. A shambles of an army.”
“Where are we going?”
“See those trees over there?”
“What about them?”
“They block the line of sight to the sallyport.”
“What’s a sallyport?”
“You’ll see.”
They rode behind the trees and then stopped by the wall of the castle. They were hidden by undergrowth and brambles that looked impenetrable.
Just as they reached it someone called from the battlements. Gavin looked up to see Will waving at him.
“They’re coming,” Will shouted. “Hurry!” Gavin looked around the side of the dead tree. A dozen men were sprinting toward them.
“Whatever you’re doing, do it faster,” Heather said, fear evident in her voice.
“In here,” he replied, climbing down from the horse.
“In here? It’s just a bramble.”
“Look closer. See the gap through the thorns?” He ducked inside, disappearing from the sight of the chasing men. Twisting his head to the left to avoid a particularly wicked set of thorns he guided them through the narrow natural tunnel. “The thorns are coated with poison,” he added. “Be careful they don’t cut you.”
“Now you tell me. Where does this tunnel go anyway?”
“I said. The sallyport.”
He reached the door a second later. It was locked. “Hurry up, Will,” he muttered as he glanced behind him. The outlaws were hacking their way through the undergrowth, cursing as the thorns sliced into their skin.
“They’re going to kill us!” Heather shrieked, shoving her shoulder against the door. “Why won’t it open?”
The outlaws were closer, about five yards was all that separated them from Gavin and Heather. Wicked grins spread across their faces as they saw there was nowhere left to run.
“You’re dead,” one of them said, pointing the tip of his sword.
“No,” Gavin replied as the door slid open behind him. “You are.” He slapped the horse on the rear, sending it bolting through the open sallyport. He shoved Heather through next, running after her as the men lunged at him.
“Get the door shut!” he shouted, tripping over Heather and falling heavily to the ground, landing on top of her.
The door slammed shut behind them, the bar sliding into place, shutting out the outlaws for good.
“Are we alive?” she asked, panting into his face, her eyes wild.
“We’re alive,” he replied.
“Thank God,” she said, throwing her arms around him. “I thought we were dead for sure.”
She pulled back slightly, enough for him to look deep into her eyes. Before he knew what was happening, he was kissing her. He managed to stop himself almost at once but in the brief moment when their lips touched, he felt something he’d never felt before.
The feel of his lips on hers had sent sparks shooting through his body, a sensation like no other. All at once he was hungry for her, wanting to kiss her again. He looked at her. Did she feel the same way?
She was staring back at him. No doubt she hadn’t wanted him to do that. Could he pretend it was an accident? Had he just taken advantage of her because she was vulnerable? That was not how a laird should behave.
She looked like she was about to cry. He got to his feet, helping her up, Will was nowhere to be seen.
Heather said nothing, just standing there. Was she in shock?
“Do not worry, they can’t get in. Come on.” He led her into the courtyard, finding several of his men standing around the horse, looking confused.
“Lairdkiller,” Lachlan was saying. “Where is Gavin?”
“Here,” Gavin replied.
They all turned to look at him and Heather. “You’re alive,” Bruce said. “How did you get past that lot out there?”
“Lairdkiller ran like the wind,” Will said, emerging from the shadows. “I saw it all.”
Gavin hoped he hadn’t seen it all. The kiss was a mistake and not one he wanted anyone else to know about.
The knowledge that the laird had kissed a strange woman would spread through the clan like wildfire, especially if all were told that she had not wanted the kiss. Her reputation would suffer more than his even though she had done nothing wrong. It was not fair but that was the way of the world.
He vowed she would not experience that shame because of his actions.
“What now?” Lachlan asked, pulling out his sword. “Do we fight them?”
“What are their numbers?”
“Two hundred at least,” John called out from the battlement facing the outlaw army. “And more still arrive each hour.”
“Any siege engines?”
“Nothing visible but from the valley I hear sawing.”
“Chopping down our wood,” Gavin said to Bruce. “Curse Jimmy the Snout. What wer
e they saying when you found their camp?”
“That they thought Jimmy had gone off to get orders from Mungo before the attack.”
“It is not Mungo Frazer who gave them their orders. It was-”
“My laird,” John interrupted from the battlements, sounding scared for the first time ever. “You must see this.”
Gavin ran up the stairs to join him, looking out at the distant view as his men climbed up behind him. “Careful,” he said, “Make sure you are not in the range of their bows.”
“It is her, isn’t it?” John said, pointing out at a distant figure giving orders to the men around her. “His mother.”
“Aye,” Gavin replied with a nod. “The barefoot man’s mother lives still and she controls this army, not Mungo Frazer.”
“Then God help us all,” Bruce said, genuflecting as the other men did the same. “If the stories are true, we are doomed. You cannot destroy a devil.”
“This clan beat the barefoot man already,” Gavin said, surprised to hear such a defeatist tone from his second in command. “We can beat his mother.”
He looked out at the view before him. Food was being prepared, armor piled up from one arriving cart after another. In the distance he could hear sawing.
“Will they attack?” John asked. “With her, they stand a better chance than any army before now.”
“They are not preparing for an immediate assault. Look at the tents, the fires, the beds. It is going to be a long siege. Keep watch for now. I must make preparations.”
He headed back down the stairs in time to find Heather pacing up and down in the middle of the courtyard. Once again he felt the urge to kiss her but this time he managed to dismiss it.
He needed to focus and not on the way her hair looked in the light, the way her eyes drew his attention, nor the way he wanted to sweep her into his arms and hold her close to him.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
I am falling for your charms, he thought to himself. That’s what.
Out loud he simply said, “A siege,” and then marched toward the keep without looking back.
9
The Key to His Castle: A Clean Time Travel Romance (Clan MacGregor Book 5) Page 9