The Key to His Castle: A Clean Time Travel Romance (Clan MacGregor Book 5)

by Blanche Dabney

  Creeping forward she leaned around a wizened ash tree. There in a small clearing in front of her were two men. One she recognized at once, Keir. He had left the castle after all. The other had his back to her. “Is it ready?” the man was saying.

  “I’m not sure about this, Jimmy.”

  “Do you ken why they call me Jimmy the Snout?”

  Keir looked pale. “Because…because of your nose?”

  “Because of the way I can sniff out liars. Are you on our side or not Keir?”

  “You ken I am.”

  “Then go back to the castle and break it.”

  “What about her?”

  “Leave her to us. You clearly cannot be trusted to carry out a job properly. What’s the matter? Thought you could keep her for yourself?”

  “I could not tell in the dark, that’s all.”

  Jimmy raised a hand. “Enough. Time runs short. The attack will soon begin in earnest. Make sure the sallyport remains open when it does.”

  “It is open as we speak.”

  “Then dinnae waste anymore time talking to me.”

  Keir headed Heather’s way. She turned and ran, praying he wouldn’t spot her. She needed to get to the castle fast. She thought as she ran. She couldn’t lift the heavy bar to seal the sallyport on her own. She would need help. Would it come in time?

  She could hear the sound of yelling coming from the front of the castle. Was the battle beginning? Was it too late? Should she go home? Was this the perfect time to go steal the knife?

  She couldn’t do it. It wouldn’t be right. She had overheard the conversation between Keir and Jimmy the Snout for a reason. She wasn’t sure exactly what they were talking about but she could guess. It was lemons she could smell in the keep. It was Keir there that night. Had he come to kill her but stabbed Susanne by mistake? Was that the only reason why she wasn’t already dead?

  Getting the answers would have to wait. First, she needed to find Gavin, tell him what she’d just heard.

  She reached the bramble and darted through the tunnel of thorns as quickly as she could. Reaching the sallyport she dashed through it and into the courtyard.

  There was Gavin standing in front of the chapel, deep in conversation with a beautiful woman she had never seen before. At once she felt a flare of jealousy. “Gavin!” she shouted. “I must speak to you. It’s about Keir.”

  He looked her way but as he did so a horn sounded loudly from the top of the keep. “We are under attack,” a voice called out.

  “Get her inside!” Gavin yelled.

  At once, there was a roar of noise from the other side of the battlements. Heather found herself grabbed by two of Gavin’s men.

  “Gavin!” she shouted but he was already climbing the steps to the battlements, arrow notching in his bow. She glanced to her left as she was caught up in a mass of people running for the keep, spotting Bruce a moment later.

  “Bruce!” she called. “The sallyport is open. You must lock it!”

  He didn’t ask any questions. He turned and ran. At least the attacking army wouldn’t get in that way, she thought as she was swept into the keep, the noise of the battle vanishing behind the thick walls, replaced by the sound of dozens of people talking at once.

  The door to the keep slammed shut and was barred a moment later, leaving her and the rest of the clan trapped inside.

  12

  Things were going from bad to worse for Gavin. The day had started out with such high hopes. He’d spent long enough keeping his feelings to himself. It was time to tell Heather just how he felt.

  He had no choice. She was becoming a distraction from his ability to focus on the siege. He kept finding his mind wandering off to how she looked when she slept.

  It was the way her lips turned up at the corner, like she was smiling in her dreams. That and the peaceful way she lay. He wanted more than anything to join her in bed. Of course he didn’t. It would not be proper.

  It often felt strange to think what was and wasn’t allowed. He was not supposed to be alone with her lest her reputation be impugned. He was certainly not supposed to kiss a woman unless they became engaged.

  Peasants might court more freely, marrying only when a local priest was needed to solemnize an affair that might have been carrying on for years. That was more due to the lack of time to spare for a Christian marriage ceremony than for any pagan or sinful reason.

  He was a laird. He could not be seen to break the rules, not if he expected others to obey the rules and laws the clan had laid down over the centuries. He had been able to resist kissing her again. That was something.

  He pondered over it while he looked at her sleeping. He could kill any number of men and nobody would bat an eyelid or raise a harsh word against him but if he were to slip into that bed next to her and wrap his arms around her to keep her safe, that would send him straight to hell. It was not fair.

  A fortnight spent in her company had been long enough to tell him what he’d known from the very start, if he was honest with himself. He did not want to lose her. He had no idea where she’d come from, other than she was not telling him the truth about it.

  She just kept saying she was from far away. She didn’t look like she was lying when she said it but there was a shifting movement of her eyes whenever they talked about it. She was definitely hiding something from him and he was determined to find out what that was.

  He shared more of his past with her than he had with anyone else. Why was that? He had no idea, it just felt right to tell her things. She was the easiest person to talk to that he’d ever met.

  The one thing he didn’t talk to her about was Keir. He didn’t share his plan about that man with anyone. He had his suspicions that Keir had been responsible for Susanne’s death. After interviewing many of the castle inhabitants he was left with his suspicions heightened.

  Nobody had seen a thing and Keir’s protestations of innocence had seemed just a little too forced. He had noticed a scent of lemon when he attended to Susanne’s body and that scent only attached itself to one whom dealt in lemon balm.

  Keir had worked in the apothecary for years and though he often smelled of various herbs, it was the lemon balm that was the most pungent. When he brought it up, Keir had continued to protest his innocence.

  “Most likely someone took from the stores to try and make me look guilty, my laird.”

  Gavin didn’t push the matter. Instead, he decided to bide his time. A chance to test Keir would come soon enough. Until then, he would be vigilant, and that would be enough.

  The night before the attack that changed everything, he sat with his back to Heather’s bedchamber door, watching her chest slowly rise and fall. He would take her to mass in the morning and after that he would find some quiet spot where they could talk.

  He would tell her the truth, that he was falling for her, that she was all he could think about, that he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with her.

  She looked so beautiful in the glowing flames of the fire, the oranges and yellows perfectly complementing her soft skin. Her lips were pointed up toward the ceiling. He ached to kiss them again, to see if they were as soft and warm as he remembered.

  Tomorrow he would tell her how he felt and then he would get the truth out of her. As to what happened after that? He knew what he hoped for. Whether the reality matched it, he would have to wait and see.

  He awoke first the next morning, going first to check on Natalie. She had suffered quite the injury playing in the stores.

  That was just one of many problems. Susanne no longer being around to keep an eye on the little ones. Keir was supposed to be tending to the girl in the infirmary but he was not around when Gavin walked in just after sunrise that morning.

  Natalie was asleep, the wound packed with a lemon balm poultice, a fresh cloth tied around it to hold the balm in place. He sniffed the wound. No smell of rotting. Hopefully it would heal soon enough. “My laird,” Keir said, walking in from the c
ourtyard, carrying a pile of firewood. “You are up early.”

  “Rebind that,” Gavin replied, pointing at the wound. “Fresh lemon balm in there, understood?”

  Keir nodded. “Of course.”

  Gavin left, calling into the kitchen to fetch breakfast for Heather, looking forward to spending a little more time alone with her after mass. He carried a few apples and a jug of ale up to her bedchamber, his heart warmed by the sight of her sitting up and yawning in bed. Then they headed to the chapel.

  He did not expect his chance to test Keir to come during the mass. When he heard that they were out of lemon balm, he knew it was his chance. When Keir left the sallyport he intended to sneak after him and find out exactly where he went.

  Would he fetch lemon balm and return? Or would he try and join the outlaws in which case an arrow to his throat would be all the justice a man like that deserved.

  All of Gavin’s plans were thrown by the attack. He had barely made it to the courtyard when he was called up to the battlements. Just in time too as he was able to get the first decent check of their numbers.

  At least five hundred out there. Most of them were outlaws but they were being controlled by Frazer men. Discipline had improved.

  They stepped forward, then stopped just outside the range of his arrows. More lined up behind them. An attack was coming and when it did, it would be big.

  He left Bruce in charge, running down to the courtyard to speak to Heather. No one had seen her. He sent word that she was to be found but had no luck until Keith came running toward him.

  “My laird,” Keith said, panting for breath. “I saw her from the kitchen window. She headed out the sallyport.”

  Cursing his stupidity for letting her out of his sight he went to go after her when Tanya stopped him.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I have not seen you in…?”

  “Twenty years it has been,” Tanya replied. “You have become a man.”

  “How did you get in? We are in the middle of a siege.”

  “You would need stronger walls than that to keep me out when I wish to speak to a MacGregor.”

  “Can this wait? I must go search for someone.” He was already heading for the sallyport.

  Tanya took hold of his arm. Though she had no strength to her, he found himself unable to move. “Heather will make her own way to you,” Tanya said. “She has done so once already.”

  Not for the first time Gavin found himself looking at his half sister. “How do you ken about Heather?”

  “We will have time to talk about that later. For now, I want you to tell me everything you remember about the silver keys.”

  He was torn between chasing after Heather and returning to the battlements. He did not want to waste time talking to Tanya. He had no choice but to do so. It was one of the promises he had made his mother. When Tanya wanted to talk to him, he must speak to her.

  By the time he had finished telling her everything he could remember, Heather had reappeared. He heard her calling his name just as the attack began.

  “Go,” Tanya said. “Defend your castle. When you are done, bring Heather to me. It is time I spoke to her.”

  He ran up to the battlements, pausing only to check that Heather was being taken to safety. Then he got his men ready to repel the ladders if the outlaws tried to use them again.

  The first wave was weak but it was enough to keep him trapped where he was. The second wave was far more organized. As the men ran low on arrows from knocking the first wave back, more men ran on under the cover of hide shields.

  They made it to the castle, raising their ladders to the battlements. “Draw swords,” Gavin yelled over the roar of the attackers. “Send them to the pit where they belong.”

  He reached for the nearest ladder, pushing it away from the wall, an arrow brushing his shoulder as he did so. The ladder began to fall, taking climbing men crashing to earth with it. More fell into the moat, disappearing from view a second later, their armor too heavy for them to even attempt swimming.

  More ladders, more men. Soon Gavin was unable to hear anything but the sound of swords hitting armor. Some of the attackers made it onto the battlements. One huge brute clambered on and pointed at him, mace swinging in his fist. Gavin pointed at his own chest. “You want me?”

  The brute grunted, raising the mace above his head.

  Gavin shrugged, beckoning him on. The man was so large, his stamping feet made the very battlement shake. Gavin took a step back, drawing his assailant forward. The brute grew impatient, letting out a roar and then running at Gavin.

  The laird grabbed an arrow from the nearest archer, notching and firing his bow so fast the first the brute knew of it was when the steel tip entered his throat.

  He looked down at the arrow sticking out of him, a frown appearing on his face. He yanked it out, bringing a spurt of blood with it. Then he toppled sideways, falling into the courtyard and crashing through the roof of the stable.

  Gavin didn’t pause to gloat, he ran to the nearest ladder, swinging his sword at the next person climbing. They lunged up at him but he was faster, tipping the attacker off balance, sending them screaming down into the moat.

  Glancing around him, he could see it was touch and go. Then he looked down at the outside of the castle. The Frazers had not joined the attack. What were they waiting for?

  For the next few minutes he put the question aside, concentrating on beating back those outlaws continuing to clamber up the ladders. His limbs ached from swinging his sword and just as his energy was beginning to run out, the last of them fell back, sprinting away across open land, arrows helping to speed them on their way.

  A cheer went up among the MacGregors but it was a weak one. Gavin could count at least five dead on his side. “Another victory like that and we will have none left to celebrate,” Bruce said, coming to stand beside him.

  “You’ve got blood on you,” Gavin said, pointing at Bruce’s face.

  “It’s all right,” Bruce replied, wiping with the back of his hand. “It’s not mine.”

  “Get the injured to the infirmary,” Gavin called across to the celebrating men. “With haste.”

  “You must make peace,” John said, tugging at Gavin’s arm, sweat pouring down his face that he tried to blink away. “We cannot take much more of this.”

  “We cannot make peace from a position of weakness,” Gavin replied, looking out at the still retreating attackers. The Frazers stood making obscene hand gestures in the distance, as if to goad him into coming out from the castle. “Come, let us help with the wounded.”

  The dead were left where they were. Time would come to deal with them once the living were attended to. Gavin hefted one man over his shoulder. He was an outlaw and blood was gushing from his shoulder. He swore constantly as the laird carried him down the steps and into the infirmary.

  “You should leave him to die,” Will said as Gavin lay the man down in the nearest free bed. “He does not deserve our aid.”

  “Would you feel the same way if you were wounded in Frazer Castle?”

  “Mungo would leave us to die if the situation were reversed.”

  “And he would go to hell for treating people that way. We are not savages. The battle is over.”

  “Still-“

  Gavin pulled out his sword, holding it handle first toward Will. “If you wish to kill him, do so in front of us all and in front of God.”

  Will looked at the sword and then at the groaning man in the bed who was writhing in agony. Slowly, the man fell still, his face turning white. “God has judged him,” Will said, turning away.

  “As He will judge us all,” Gavin replied. He looked across at the other beds, all of them filled with moaning figures.

  A hand fell on his shoulder. He turned to find Daniel the apothecary smiling at him. “There is nothing else you can do here.”

  He nodded. “You have enough men?”

  “Aye. Go open the keep and bring me any women who
can sew.”

  Gavin left the screaming behind, stepping out into the cooler air of the courtyard. He paused for a moment, a cold bolt of fear hitting him as he thought how close they’d come to being overrun. Had he done enough? Should he have done more?

  The dead were being piled up in the middle of the courtyard ready for burning. They could not be buried during a siege and leaving them for any length of time risked an outbreak of disease. He looked at the vacant faces of those who had fallen. Had he failed them? He could not help but think so.

  Was John right? Should he try and make peace at once? He looked up to the heavens for help but there was no answer there. Taking a deep breath he turned away from the pile of bodies and made his way across to the keep. Knocking twice, then three times, then once, he waited.

  The door was unbarred a moment later. “It is over,” he said to the guard on the other side. “They can come out now.”

  A sea of people headed out of the doors and into the open, all talking at once. He looked for Heather but she did not emerge. “Have you seen Heather?” he asked people as they went by him. No one had.

  He pushed past them into the keep. “Heather!” If something had happened to her he would never forgive himself. He thought about what Tanya had told him. Could it possibly be true?

  Could Heather be one of the six? What if he was too late? What if Keir was the killer and had got to her before he had time to ask her about the silver key?

  “Heather!”

  “Yes?” From the back of the great hall she stood up. Surrounding her were the children, all of them smiling up at her.

  “Teach us another song,” one of them said.

  “Hold on,” she replied. “What is it, Gavin?”

  “I…I just wanted to check you were all right.”

  “I’m fine. Are you all right? You look hurt.”

  “It’s not my blood. I hacked more than a few to pieces as they-”

  She put a finger to her lips. “Not in front of the children.” Stepping past them she waved him over to the corner of the room. “They’re frightened enough as it is.”

  “It’s over,” he said. “We won, for now at least.”