My Highland Warrior (Warriors of the Highlands Book 1)

by Miriam Minger

  Young Iain had said King Robert was among the men who had coursed up the mountain path only two nights past, aye, he’d heard others addressing him as such. Could it have been a ruse?

  Gabriel had guessed they knew Iain was hiding behind the rocks, and he had thought they had simply spared his life. Yet what if such mercy had been for another purpose? An intentioned subterfuge for Robert the Bruce—who had already organized his forces deeper into Argyll than anyone had imagined?

  “Gabriel, look.”

  Magdalene’s voice barely a whisper, he followed her widened gaze to a line of six shackled prisoners appearing at the entrance to the great hall, surrounded by sword-wielding guards.

  Two of the men appeared wounded and barely able to walk, while the other four had their heads bowed, their clothing ragged and filthy as if they had been thrown into the dankest of cells.

  “Did I not say we’d enjoy some fine entertainment?” Seoras shouted above the crowd, shoving his plate away from him so abruptly that it clattered to the floor. “All of you seated in the center, stand up and pull back your tables! We need room!”

  A great scraping across the stone floor sounded as people rose from their chairs and benches to oblige him, forming a haphazard circle.

  Was Seoras going to have those men drawn and quartered right there in the hall? Gabriel suspected as much when some of Seoras’s men grabbed a shorter trestle table and planted it right at the heart of the room, while from a side door came two strapping executioners wearing black garb and hoods.

  At once several ladies began to scream in horror while Seoras lunged to his feet and left the dais to stride toward the prisoners, Tavish following on his heels.

  “Aye, scream! Better that than these bastards are free tae ravage Argyll and throw you in the dirt tae have their way with you! Kill your husbands, burn your homes! What more fitting diversion than tae witness their execution? MacLachlan, join me!”

  Sickened that Seoras might wish him to participate, Gabriel pushed back his chair as other barons were summoned to view more closely the impending spectacle. The din had grown deafening from courtiers who jumped upon tables to see better and shouted insults and curses at the doomed men.

  Yet he had no sooner begun to rise when Magdalene grabbed his arm, her face as white as death. He could barely make out her words, no more than a choked whisper.

  “Gabriel, no, you canna do this! King Robert is one of the prisoners—aye, I swear it!”

  Chapter 23

  Gabriel felt the breath jam in his chest as he glanced from Magdalene to the prisoners, who were being shoved and kicked toward the center of the room.

  “It’s him, I know it!” she continued with desperation against his ear. “He looked the same then as now, the dark-bearded man in the middle—och, Gabriel, he saved my life last year, but I’ve had no chance tae tell you! English soldiers attacked the convent and they would have slain us, too, if not for King Robert and his men. Sister Agnes gave them refuge not long after he killed John Comyn—ah, God, will you help him?”

  “MacLachlan!”

  Seoras’s impatient roar rang from the rafters. Gabriel could do no more than ease his arm from Magdalene’s grasp and hiss, “Shh, Maggie, say no more,” before standing up and leaving the dais…the tears swimming in her eyes cutting him to the quick.

  God in heaven, how had this come to be? Had no one else recognized Robert the Bruce? Yet from his unshaven appearance, his ordinary clothing no different than the men with whom he was shackled, it was clear that the unimaginable had happened—the crowned king of Scotland still alive and breathing in spite of his capture!

  “Which one shall die first?” Seoras demanded, pulling a jeweled knife from his belt and slashing the nearest bedraggled prisoner across the cheek.

  The man’s shriek of pain was echoed by fresh cries of horror from the ladies, some of them lifting their skirts and fleeing the hall. Their frenzied departure only made Seoras roar with laughter as he gestured for the guards to unshackle the last prisoner.

  “Aye, that one! God, he stinks after sitting four days in a cell. I’ve left them alone, given them food and water. Why torture the bastards too soon and spoil our amusement? They’ll answer any query now with the hook cutting into their bellies!”

  At that pronouncement, the chosen prisoner dropped to his knees and vomited at Seoras’s feet, which made him howl with fury and kick the man in the ribs. “Take him!”

  He had screamed the order at Gabriel, who strode now to Seoras’s side, his gaze riveted upon the prisoner in the middle.

  Their eyes locking, Gabriel sensing Robert knew he’d been recognized but he didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

  Instead the King’s gaze shifted to the dais where Magdalene sat, her face even whiter than before as Cora slowly rose to her feet.

  It seemed to Gabriel that everything had slowed around him…the pleading in Magdalene’s eyes reaching into his very soul as rage over Malcolm’s death made him reach for his sword.

  “Captains!”

  His roar echoed as Gabriel, with one blow, severed Seoras’s head from his body to drop with a thud to the floor, the earl’s sightless green eyes round with surprise.

  An instant more and Tavish lay dead, Gabriel next slicing through the chains binding Robert to the other prisoners, Cameron and Conall suddenly there at Gabriel’s side.

  “Save the King!”

  Their swords gleaming in the torchlight, the two at once flanked Robert the Bruce as Cora’s voice soared above the clamor of women screaming, courtiers scattering, and men shouting.

  “Clan Campbell tae arms!”

  With a mighty roar that drowned out all else, her clansmen joined what had become a pitched battle in the middle of the great hall, Gabriel at its heart, Alun now beside him.

  Both of them slashing, cutting, the other prisoners’ chains falling to the floor as it seemed a phalanx of men had surrounded them—barons and their captains joining in the fight four to one not against Gabriel but against Seoras’s men.

  Breathing hard, sweat stinging his eyes, Gabriel glanced at the dais to see that Magdalene stood there with Cora’s arm protectively around her—thank God!

  Another fearsome roar went up and he realized that the rest of his warriors had surged into the hall and jumped with fury into the fray that had quickly become a rout.

  Those of Seoras’s men that still stood, throwing down their weapons while courtiers’ wives wept in shock at the sight of their slain men lying with limbs askew upon the floor.

  Only then did Gabriel lower his sword to wipe his blood-splattered face with his forearm and glance around him for Conall and Cameron. The two had backed up against a wall to shield Robert the Bruce with their bodies, their bloodstained swords still held at the ready.

  “Campbells, MacLachlans, and all others who’ve fought beside me this day!” Gabriel shouted, circling in place to look at everyone in the room. “I swear my allegiance tae King Robert as the rightful sovereign of Scotland!”

  “As do I!” echoed Alun, holding high his sword.

  “Aye, so do we!” roared Cameron and Conall in unison, lowering their swords so Robert could walk out between them while the hall erupted in full-throated affirmation from all sides.

  The King didn’t stop until he had reached Gabriel, his gaze filled with fierce gratitude as another voice pierced the din.

  “My love!”

  Gabriel had barely sheathed his sword before Magdalene flew into his arms, and he lifted her to crush her against him.

  “My love…” he murmured against her tear-stained cheek. “My Magdalene.”

  “So she’s not a lunatic after all,” King Robert said with a curious smile as Gabriel shook his head. “I thought as much when I saw her last year with a stout stick in her hand—ready tae beat off any that might threaten the nuns. You’ve wed a brave and clever woman, MacLachlan—aye, I heard of your marriage. There’s not much of import that escapes me in Scotland…and clearly, not m
uch escapes her, thank heaven.”

  Robert the Bruce nodded his appreciation to Magdalene, who still hugged Gabriel as if she would never let him go. Yet shouts of alarm from the bailey that attackers with a battering ram were approaching the fortress, made him stiffen.

  “My army come to rescue me,” was King Robert’s simple explanation, his wry laugh at once easing Gabriel’s tension. “A wee bit late if Earl Seoras had gotten his way—and you hadna proved as honorable and courageous as I’d heard you tae be, MacLachlan. Come. Join me tae greet my men—aye, all of you who fought with me and not against me! My forces have grown threefold this day and I’ll need every last man tae help free Scotland from England’s tyranny—God protect us!”

  “Aye, God protect us!” echoed hundreds of voices while Gabriel eased Magdalene away from him just as Cora reached her side.

  “Take her and keep her safe,” was all he had time to say before he and King Robert were swept away in a great surge heading outside.

  A last glance over his shoulder flooding him with relief that Cameron, Conall, and Alun had joined together to guide Magdalene and Cora in the opposite direction, toward the tower.

  “What will happen now?” Magdalene queried almost under her breath as she stood next to Cora, both of them staring out the window at the clamor and commotion.

  The torch lit bailey had become a crush of men and horses, the gates of the fortress thrown open to admit King Robert’s forces.

  No doubt his men as astonished by those that had been enemies now joined in solidarity with them, as relieved that Seoras’s most important prisoner still lived.

  Cora had accompanied Magdalene to her room and they had at once gone to the window and thrown open the shutters, while Gabriel’s captains had left to go rejoin him.

  Now Cora only shook her head as if she didn’t know how to answer Magdalene, though her brother’s widow reached out to give her hand a reassuring squeeze.

  Her brother’s widow.

  Aye, for Seoras was dead…slain in a blink of an eye by Gabriel while Magdalene had watched in awe and horror from the dais as the battle raged in front of her.

  He had stood so tall and fearsome above the rest, his bloodstained sword a vengeful thing as he had slashed and pivoted to face fresh attackers—though he and Alun had quickly been joined by those determined to fight alongside them.

  Magdalene had kept her gaze so riveted upon Gabriel that she hadn’t realized Cora had come to stand beside her until she’d felt a slim arm slide protectively around her.

  Much as Debora had always done, making Magdalene’s eyes well with tears as the battle had ended almost as abruptly as it had begun.

  Gabriel safe and alive, and King Robert victorious—aye, Magdalene could see them now at the center of the teeming throng in the bailey…Alun, Cameron, and Conall pushing their way through the crowd to join them.

  “Finally the Campbells have triumphed,” Cora murmured, Magdalene meeting her tear-filled gaze. She realized then that Cora must have been too overcome with emotion to answer her, and this time it was Magdalene to give her hand a squeeze.

  Cora looked different in the torchlight illuminating her face…as if the misery and unhappiness torturing her earlier that day had been washed away. She looked younger and so beautiful, her hair black as a raven’s wing and her deep blue eyes glistening bright.

  Magdalene prayed then and there that her brother’s widow might meet a man one day who would love and adore her—och, she longed so desperately for Gabriel’s arms around her again that her heart ached!

  “The MacDougalls will no longer grind us beneath their boots. My people will be as great a clan as ever known in Scotland.”

  “So they will,” Magdalene agreed, rubbing Cora’s fingers. “Mayhap King Robert will reward Cameron and Conall for saving his life. At least a dozen men rushed to slay him, but your cousins fought them off, every one!”

  “Aye, they’re as brave and fine as your Gabriel—and it’s time they take their own place in Argyll. Both of them making their way with their swords but so deserving of more…especially now.”

  “Aye, especially now,” Magdalene echoed, her heart going out to Cora at the tears spilling down her cheeks.

  “I will never agree tae marry again for clan and honor.”

  “No, Cora…never again.”

  “I’ll live out my days in a convent if I must—”

  “Ah, but you willna, I’ve prayed that love will find you!” Magdalene broke in gently, trying to cheer her. “You must pray, too, and heaven will hear you. How could it not after all you’ve suffered?”

  “Aye, we’ve both suffered at your brother’s hands…though what I believed a curse tae you in your marriage became a blessing—ah, Magdalene!”

  Cora stared at her as if suddenly remembering something while Magdalene sensed at once what she would say.

  “Gabriel spoke to Seoras of a family curse, three generations of MacLachlan wives dying tragic deaths beginning with his grandmother! Do you know aught of this?”

  Magdalene gave a small nod as a chill rippled through her—but she refused to be anxious this night after so bold and miraculous a victory!

  “I’ve heard mention of it from the servants, but I’ve had no chance tae ask Gabriel what happened tae them—”

  “I’ll tell you what happened! I couldna believe my ears! Gabriel told Seoras that his poor grandmother fell down the stairs and broke her neck, his mother went for a swim and drowned in the lough, and Malcolm’s wife died from burns after her gown caught fire in the kitchen. Seoras only laughed, the heartless brute, and told Gabriel he didna believe in such curses any more than the moon was made of goat’s cheese! Gabriel tried again tae argue against marrying you, not wanting that tae be the cause of any woman’s death, but the bargain was struck.”

  The bargain was struck.

  The words clamoring in Magdalene’s head, she swallowed hard but refused herself to believe in such superstition.

  “They could have been accidents, each one,” she murmured, wincing that Cora held her hand now so tightly. “A terrible coincidence—”

  “Mayhap, but you must take care when you return home, Magdalene. Please take care.”

  “And you, Cora,” she insisted quietly, trying to steer her away from talk of curses. “Will you stay here?”

  Cora shook her head and looked down into the bailey as a great shout went up at whatever King Robert must have said. “I’ll return tae my family. I canna wait tae leave this place, and the king will surely choose one of his own as heir to the fortress. Thankfully I carry no bairn and no MacDougall will ever rule here again, I’m certain of it—och, Magdalene, look!”

  She followed Cora’s widened gaze to Cameron being thrust forward by Gabriel to stand beside Robert the Bruce—who clapped the strapping warrior on the back as another rousing shout went up from Campbells and other clans alike.

  “He’s chosen Cameron as baron of the fortress—my own cousin!”

  Aye, so it seemed, King Robert rewarding Gabriel’s captain—och, a captain no more!—right then and there for saving his life. He leaned over and spoke to Conall, too, his hand upon the younger Campbell’s shoulder, but Cora didn’t wait to see anything more. She turned from the window and drew Magdalene with her.

  “Their clamoring and talking will go on until morning…and there are bodies tae bury and a feast tae be finished in the great hall. I’d feel so much better if you’d accept my offer and sleep in a more comfortable room down the hall from my own—”

  “I’ll stay here, Cora, where Gabriel knows tae find me.”

  “Very well. Sleep peacefully, Magdalene. I will for the first time since I came here, God be praised.”

  Cora gave her a warm hug and then left the room, her faithful maidservants waiting for her just outside the door. More shouting went up outside, just as she’d said, which made Magdalene return to the window and close the shutters.

  A last glance into the teeming bailey gave her
no glimpse of Gabriel, which made her heart hurt.

  She loved him so. When would she ever have the chance to tell him? Would they leave soon to return to MacLachlan Castle? Would he ride out instead with King Robert, and she wouldn’t see Gabriel for months as the battle for Scotland’s freedom surged on?

  That thought almost made her begin to weep, but such was the life of warriors’ wives. She would accept it gladly for even a few precious days together first—och, enough!

  Gabriel was alive and well when he might have been grievously injured or killed, Magdalene sinking to her knees beside the bed and bowing her head in fervent thanks.

  Chapter 24

  “Magdalene…”

  Gabriel’s weary whisper stirring her from sleep, she rolled over in bed to find he had already stripped out of his clothing and pulled back the covers to climb in beside her.

  She scarcely waited for him to lie down, and threw her arms around him—only to hear him grunt in pain.

  “Oh, Gabriel, no! Are you hurt?”

  “Bruised is all, wife. Better than wounds that draw blood or maim, but sore, all the same. I could use some of Clovis’s poultices—”

  “Ah, God, tell me what I need tae do! I’ll stoke the fire and heat up some water for warm cloths—”

  “Lie down beside me, Maggie, and let me hold you. That’s all I need right now.”

  She did so gladly, so overcome by Gabriel finally returning to their room that she trembled.

  She couldn’t say what hour it might be, but she sensed it was deep in the night, dawn mayhap only a few hours away. He smelled of sweat and wood smoke, his body so warm as he drew her close and rested his chin upon her shoulder, her back pressed to his chest and his arm beneath her breasts.

  A few moments more and she wondered if he had fallen asleep, overcome by weariness, his breathing slow and steady. Only when she shifted a little and he kissed the curve of her neck did she realize he was still awake, if only barely, Magdalene shivering at the warmth of his lips.