by Fiona Faris
Benjie nodded. “I think that’s their plan sir. What shall we do?”
Alexander’s brilliant blue eyes shown with wintry light and he clenched his jaw. “We shall bargain with them. It will be the last thing they do.”
Benjie nodded with satisfaction. “We’re ready to fight to the death sir.”
Alexander looked down at his bride. “I am sorry Emily, but I must go.”
“No of course you must! I would come with you if I was not…” she gestured at her stomach instead of finishing the sentence.
He nodded his thanks. “We have no time to waste.”
“Shouldn’t you take reinforcements? Your men are tired. One more day and you can have at least twenty men behind you from the barracks. Let them rest while you plan,” Emily urged gently.
Alexander’s lips tightened as if he would get on a horse and ride off by himself if he had to. But he looked around, seeing the road dust coating his men from head to toe, their drooping bodies, and knew that he could not be reckless. He could not lead other men into danger unprepared.
“Fine. Gentlemen, ye may have a wash and some food and then ye will tell me everything ye ken aboot these men.”
There was an eruption of agreement and then a lot of confused movement. Alexander summoned the butler to show them to their rooms, exhorting Connell to find him in the library as soon as he was refreshed.
“Yes sir,” Connell said with a salute and then the room emptied. Alexander looked down at Emily with a sigh. She watched him with worried eyes, rubbing her hands up and down his spine.
“You know that Becca can run circles around anyone, Alexander. I would wager that the brigand is bitterly regretting marrying her by now.”
Alexander huffed a laugh. “Ye’re probably right. Still…”
Emily nodded. “I know.” She said quietly.
Chris woke up with the thought that Toby’s talents would be better served as advance guard when Alexander came for his sister. That way, he could work out his aggressions and slow the Scotsman down while he did it. He had no illusions that Toby was capable of killing Alexander if he got the opportunity, but he had fought the Scotsman before. He was a seasoned soldier who could take care of himself.
Still he made a note to tell his men to keep fatalities to a minimum. If they could get through this without losing a single man, that would be the best case.
In the worst case, everybody died.
He sighed, feeling the weight of leadership on his shoulders like a wet lead bar. He wanted to fall to his knee, drop his head and give up but he had worked too hard to get here to admit defeat now. He would get what he wanted, and he would do it with Rebecca at his side. He turned to look at her, curled in on herself, dressed in her night gown despite his best efforts, pulling away from him.
He was well aware that he had reverted to the assassin he’d been for many years as soon as he stepped in the courtyard of Dun Alba. He’d felt her withdraw from him and wanted to follow; to beg her not to. To realize that she had so much power over him had been a bitter pill to swallow and so he reacted by pushing her away.
He was well aware of the folly of that action. If he was to employ her help in dealing with his brother, he had to make her feel safe with him and not afraid. His head was clear about that, his heart wanted her to be by his side because she wanted to be there and not because of his clever manipulations.
He sighed, looking away from her, not making any effort to get up. If he moved from the bed, then his day would have started and he would be forced to carry out the tasks he’d set himself. He felt the need for a respite before he had to deal with Toby. The man had become increasingly cantankerous as the years had gone by and these days his anger was always a hair trigger away. Chris had no idea what was troubling the other man, and seeing as he was not the man’s mother, nor his wife, he did not see as it was his duty to find out. If Toby had something he needed Chris to know, he could damn well tell him.
He turned with a sigh, to stare at his wife’s back, enjoying just looking. He reached out, not quite touching, to trace the line of her spine and then the sharp curve of her body between torso and hips. She really was very lovely.
“Rebecca.” He murmured, ever so softly.
They rode into town at sunset, Alexander at the head. His eyes were sharp, his sword unsheathed, ready for any trouble that might care to find them. When he heard the outcry, he spurred his horse into a trot, sword raised, ready for attack.
The sound of a pistol shot took him by surprise and he felt the displacement of wind by his ear and whipped his head away. Connell gave a distressed shout and raced toward the trees. Alexander took no notice of the slight wetness on his face, simply took off after Connell. They did not have to ride far before five men came charging out of the woods.
Swords clanged together, wielded ruthlessly to cause the maximum amount of damage. The brigands were outnumbered and outclassed and were very quickly beaten back. They turned on their tail and ran into the woods, given chase by some of Alexander’s men, who soon came back to report that the brigands had taken off on horses and were likely halfway to London already.
Alexander snorted. “So much for the advance guard.”
Connell gave a grim half smile in answer.
“That’s why he took Madam Rebecca,” Benjie piped up, “He knew he was no match for you.”
Alexander wanted to find those words comforting but he could not. Not while they had his sister in their clutches. Heaven only knew what horrors she had suffered. He spurred his horse to go faster as they raced through the village, whose occupants emerged from their homes and businesses to stare in fascination and murmur in excitement.
Useless galoots! He thought with irritation as he flew past them towards the manor.
He was not surprised to find the gates locked against him. No doubt one of the cowards had run ahead to give warning. “Open the gate this minute before I tear the whole thing down,” he called and there was silence on the other side. He huffed in annoyance, turning to Connell. “How long until we can fashion a battering ram?”
Connell looked around, “Plenty of trees to cut down. Not long.”
Alexander nodded. “Get to it.”
While they were speaking, someone had opened the gate and was peering out at them. Alexander turned around when he heard his name and froze when he saw Rebecca, a knife held against her throat, holding the gate open.
“He says that ye should leave yer men outside. Ye come in alone.”
Alexander snorted. “Does he think me a fool?”
Rebecca shook her head slowly. “He says he already has a hostage. He just wants to talk.”
Alexander raised his voice. “I shall come in, but on condition that ye let Rebecca go. I can be yer hostage.”
“She is my wife!” the man had the temerity to say. “She stays with me.”
“Then what do ye want to talk aboot?”
“Am I not allowed to want to get to know my new brother in law?” the dead man called cheerfully.
Alexander narrowed his eyes. “There is no one out here who is kin to ye,” he said.
“Ouch!” the man called and then he laughed. Alexander’s hand tightened on his sword.
“It’s your decision,” the man said, his voice suddenly cold as ice, “You can come in, or you can leave Rebecca to her fate. If you try to ram the gate, I shall slit her throat. If you try and attack, I shall slit her throat. If you do anything other than what I tell you, I shall slit your throat.”
Alexander huffed in annoyance, alighting from his horse and walking to the gate. “Very well.” He said, “Here I am.”
Rebecca widened the gap in the gate so that Alexander could just slip through and then she closed it behind him, with shaking hands, as Chris kept a knife to her throat. When she stepped away from the locked gate, he relaxed slightly and Alexander saw his chance. He launched himself at both of them, his hands closing around Chris’ wrist and lifting it away from Rebecca. They
struggled, all three of them on the ground, with Alexander trying to get Rebecca to wiggle away while he tussled with Chris over the knife. Rebecca slid to the side and out from in between them, and got to her feet, breath heaving.
Alexander dealt Chris a blow to the head that had him bleeding, and momentarily dizzy. Alexander took the opportunity to snatch the knife out of his hand and fling it away before putting his hands around Chris throat and squeezing as Rebecca rubbed her hands anxiously, not knowing what to do for the best.
She was surprised to find that she was worried for Chris, having no doubt that Alexander would kill him given the chance. There was no reasoning with him when he lost his temper. She let him beat on Chris to his heart’s content, but when she saw that Chris was turning blue from being choked, she could not hold back any longer.
“Alex! Stop.”
Her brother ignored her.
“Sandy please! Stop. We need to talk!”
Alexander looked up at her with disbelief. “What did ye say?”
Chris took the chance to pull on Alexander’s hair, pulling him down and to the side and then kicking him in the groin. They were both rendered incapacitated, both panting and groaning with pain, Chris coughing to try and get as much air in his lungs as he could.
Rebecca looked from one to the other and shook her head. She reached down, and helped first Chris and then her brother to their feet. When they were standing again, she turned to Alexander and hugged him long and hard.
“It’s good to see ye brother.” She whispered.
He held her close and squeezed. “Are ye alright lassie?”
She let go so she could look him in the eye and shrugged. “He hasna hurt me if that is what ye mean. But I am still his wife and so…”
Alexander gave Chris a very blue look. The man was wise enough not to smirk.
“What do ye want?” he growled.
Chris shrugged. “Everything.”
Chapter Seventeen
Alexander sat back in his leather armchair, observing his sister and her so-called husband with trepidation. He did not like how close she was standing to Chris. She was usually the more bloodthirsty of the two. He did not understand why she wasn’t holding him down so he could cut the brigand’s throat. She had been in the man’s clutches long enough that she should be veritably murderous.
Alexander did not understand what was going on.
“I want to parley,” the brigand said and Alexander slid his eyes from Rebecca to the man, but only for a moment. He returned to watching his sister, asking questions with his eyes.
“Are you listening to me?” the brigand sounded upset. Alexander couldn’t have cared less.
“What is gang on here, lassie?” Alexander burst out, unable to hold it in any longer. Rebecca blanched, avoiding his eyes and he just did not know what to think. Was he holding something over her?
“Brother, can I speak to ye alone?” She met his eyes at last and he was relieved that hers were clear and unafraid. If anything, she looked a bit embarrassed. Her eyes cut to the brigand’s and he seemed to wordlessly object to her wanting to converse with her own brother on her own. His gander was immediately up especially when Rebecca whispered, “Please,” as if he had any right to her consideration.
The brigand nodded jerkily and walked out of the room; his every step riddled with reluctance. Alexander watched him go with a sneer before getting to his feet and veritably looming over Rebecca. “What was that, Rebecca? Have ye fallen in with the enemy?”
She sighed, her lashes sweeping downward. The fact that she did not immediately deny it with a slap to his face was disconcerting for Alexander. “What is wrong with ye?”
“Alex, I...” she stopped with a sigh, shaking her head.
“Ye...what?”
Rebecca slumped onto the chair opposite, her head in her hands. “I dinna ken, Alex. I’m so confused. I dinna ken if I’m coming or gang. Things have happened so fast.”
Alexander leaned forward, his heart thudding as he feared the worst. “What things?”
Rebecca shrugged. “He isna...” she sighed shaking her head as if it might loosen the words and allow them to be said, “I should start from the beginning.” she sat up, favoring him with a blue gaze.
Alexander nodded. “Aye, ye should.”
Rebecca sighed. “We came up from Eddingfield Hall as ye ken and we arrived in the general area close to midnight. We decided to spend the night at the abandoned cottage, dye remember it? The one from when we travelled back for the funeral?”
“Aye, I recall.”
“Weel, we were sleepin’ when there was a stramash. We’d left a guard o’course but he was ower’powered by Chris and his men.”
“Chris eh?” Alexander gave her a cynical glance.
“That’s his name.” Rebecca tried to look as composed as possible.
“Go on.”
“Weel, Chris and his men they found us and apprehended us. Kept us prisoner on the property. They separated me from my men. Then Chris put something in my drink. Made me sleep and then took me to Gretna Green. He tricked me into marrying him-”
“How does-” Alexander began to interrupt.
“If ye haud yer wheesht I shall tell ye. He told me that he had a man in yer employ at Caldwell. One who worked in the kitchens who would add cohosh to Emily’s meals.”
Alexander frowned, not comprehending what the problem was.
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Cohosh would make her lose the bairn.”
Alexander’s eyes narrowed dangerously making Rebecca hasten to add, “It wasna true. Just some blether he was saying to make me comply. Well it worked and we were marrit.”
Alexander sighed with annoyance.
“I ken,” Rebecca put a hand gently on his arm, “Tis fair scunnering. But…tis done now and no way to undo.”
Alexander opened his mouth to suggest various ways they could undo it but Rebecca shook her head at him even before he could get a word out. “We canna.” She declared, “And…I’m not sure I would want to if’n there was a way.”
Alexander’s eyes widened. “What are ye saying?”
Rebecca shrugged. “I dinna ken. But can ye just try to hear him out please? I dinna want to see either o’ ye dead.”
Toby, Frank, Ronald and John slunk back into town as soon as they knew it was safe.
“What happens if the MacTavish has already run them out of town?” John asked.
“He won’t. You forget, Chris married his sister. I thought that was a bit stupid at the time but I see now how genius it was. The MacTavish will be stuck. Now all we have to do is go in there and kill him.”
“Is that what Chris said?” Ronald asked.
Toby gave him a look. “Chris can’t kill him, so we have to.”
“Why can’t he kill him?” Ronald asked.
Toby sighed in exasperation, “Because…he’s married to the man’s sister. If he wants to retain the place, he can’t be the one who kills the MacTavish. Has to be somebody else.”
“You.”
“Exactly.”
“And then what?”
Ronald asked so many questions. It was getting on Toby’s nerves. “Why don’t you wait and see eh?”
Ronald shrugged, turning back to his riding.
The sun reflecting off the snow that had fallen overnight, even hidden among gathering storm clouds, made the dueling grounds shine a blinding white. Connell pulled his coat tighter around himself and shivered as he watched Alexander load his pistol. He knew that Alexander regretted the need for this fight because it hurt his sister but if she was being practical she would see that there really was no other way. Chris’ men had attacked the MacTavish, tried to kill him while he slept. His honor demanded satisfaction for that.
Across the field, Chris conferred with his second, Onesmus. The two men seemed at ease, though Chris frequently glanced over at Alexander. His captain was, as ever, resolute and unafraid.
“Connell!” called Onesmus as he
approached the middle of the field, waving him over. Connell looked back at Alexander, who didn’t look up from his weapon. One corner of his mouth twitched into a nearly imperceptible smile, probably meant to console Connell, but the sight of Alexander’s smile only made Connell more apprehensive as he thought of what was about to happen.
“Onesmus,” said Connell coolly, meeting Onesmus halfway between where Alexander and Chris stood.
“I gather The MacTavish still feels the need to continue with this endeavor?” Onesmus said.
