by Mary Wine
“There… hurry up, ye fools!”
They began to ride her down, some of them coming up in front of her, while another pair remained behind her.
“I’ve got ye now, wench. No one evades the Douglas.”
The horses crunched the snow all around her, while the men angled the torches down to illuminate her features.
“Which one is it?”
“I dinna know, but she’s dressed as a boy.”
There were grumbles about her that bordered on curses.
“Who are ye?”
Brina continued to move, slowly stepping back between two large tress that had limbs thick enough to make the horses refuse to follow her.
“Come out of there. Ye’re caught now.”
Brina took another step.
“Keep going back into the shadows, and I’ll be happy to join ye, wench.”
There was a chuckle from the man who spoke, but one of his comrades took issue with him.
“Twelve is too young, and the earl will want her back as a maiden.”
The leader cursed at him. “That is no’ Lindsey’s sister. Look at her tits. They’re too plump. That’s Lindsey’s bride, and sinking my cock between her thighs will be a good payment for this day’s work that she’s put us all to.”
There were a few agreements. Brina suddenly gasped as the snow crunched directly behind her. It was the only warning she got that some of the men had dismounted and sneaked up on her. They laughed as she struggled, but twisted her arms behind her back brutally. Tears flooded her eyes as they forced her forward and into the light cast by the torches their comrades held.
“Well done, lads! Well done indeed.”
“But where is the other one?”
The leader spit on the ground. “Who cares? Let her cower in a ditch for the time being. We have a pretty little treat to enjoy, and she’ll stay where she is if she does nae want to get a taste of what a man takes from a woman who has led him on a chase.”
The men behind her pushed her forward, and she went, grateful to be released. They laughed and rubbed their hands together while their eyes shone with growing lust. She turned in a circle and counted five of them, but there was not a single friendly face among them. It was suddenly clear why women chose to die in a keep rather than be taken alive by the enemy when a castle was overrun.
“Do ye have no honor?”
Their leader scoffed at her. “The same amount that ye displayed when ye walked up to my kinsmen in a bride of Christ’s robe.”
His horse danced around, fighting against his hold on the reins, because he wasn’t paying attention to the angle of his torch. The fire terrified the animal, and it pranced in another circle, coming closer and closer to her. The men behind her jumped back away from the panicking animal.
Brina held her place, her eyes focused on the bow that hung off the back of the man’s saddle. She must be mad to take the chance, but her eyes fell on that bow like a message sent straight from heaven. She reached up as the horse danced by and pulled it free along with the quiver, for they had only been looped over a button so that they might be hefted in a moment.
She stumbled backward, even as she fitted the bow into her hands by feel. The kilt made it very easy to climb the tree nearest her and gain an advantage over the group threatening her.
“Ye stupid wench, what do ye think ye will accomplish with that? The bow takes skill to use.”
She had the skill, but lacked the experience of actually sending an arrow through a man’s flesh, but she swore that she would not hesitate.
“Go on with ye. I’m warning ye, I know what I’m doing.”
“The hell ye do, and the moment that I show ye how easy it is to rip that bow from yer grip, I am going to demonstrate the true purpose yer weak woman’s flesh was created for.”
He slid out of the saddle and sank his torch into the snow. Brina heard Bran’s voice rise from her memory, instructing her on how to hold the bow just firmly enough to keep it steady. She pulled the string back and felt the arrow notch into the string perfectly while she looked down the shaft and across the sharpened head toward her target, her fingertips feeling the goose feathers set into the end of the arrow to help it fly true and straight to where she aimed it.
“I’m coming for ye, wench.”
She let the arrow loose, and it cut through the air with a sharp sound.
“Ye bitch!” The Douglas retainer collapsed to the surface of the snow, his body crushing through the frozen layer on top while the arrow buried itself in the top of his thigh, exactly where she had aimed.
“Take him and go, or I swear my next arrow will bury itself in one of yer bellies.”
“You cannae hit us all!” her first victim snarled. His face was a twisted mask of rage as he cursed at her.
“But I will strike at least two. Which of you is willing to die for the rape yer comrades will enjoy once yer blood is spilled onto the snow?”
Brina held another arrow ready, and this time she kept it higher, her attention on the men who had dismounted and were clustered around their fallen leader. The torch burned steadily where it was stuck into the snow, providing light. She watched the men look at one another before they hauled the first man off the snow and helped him back onto his horse. The arrow still protruded from his thigh because it would have to be removed when there was someone there to stem the bleeding once it was pulled.
His men all regained their saddles, and there was a sinister snicker from her victim when they positioned themselves alongside him and drew their own bows.
“Now who will die, witch?”
She bit her lip to contain the small sound of regret. She would not die a coward. Connor’s face rose from her memory, and she focused on it and the love she was sure she felt for him. All the struggle suddenly seemed so foolish, for she had squandered precious time. Life truly was too short, and the last few moments of hers passed slower than any others.
But she smiled because love had made the lack of time worth it. She might have lived for decades at the abbey, but she would not trade those years for the time she had known with Connor Lindsey.
“Frightened now, aren’t ye, wench?”
“No, I am content, and I shall no’ hesitate to loose this arrow. One of ye shall fall along with me. I promise ye that.”
“Stupid witch—”
Brina heard the swoosh of the arrows being let free, but she didn’t feel them puncture her skin. Her own remained in her grip, in spite of her threat to send it into one of their bellies. Something held her back; maybe it was the joy that she cherished so much.
There was an odd gasping sound before the riders in front of her slumped forward, their hands going to their midsections before, one by one, they fell from their saddles. Their bodies hit the snow with a crunching sound, and they withered in the final moments of life before they all stilled.
“Brina Chattan, kindly do nae loose that arrow into any of my men.”
The screech of an owl had her gasping and lowering the bow. She stared at the torch and watched as a form walked into the light. A huge man who came close enough for her to see his face.
She smothered a cry of joy with the back of her hand before putting the bow over her shoulder and jumping to the ground. Connor kicked the torch over, and it died in a sizzle against the snow, leaving them in darkness.
That did not keep her from finding him. He clasped her in his arms, pulling her tightly against his body as she smothered her cries against his chest.
“Ye told me she was a hellcat, but I’ll admit that I thought ye were just bragging.”
Brina lifted her face and snarled at the sound of Quinton Cameron’s voice. He was only a shadow standing a few feet away from Connor.
Quinton laughed at her snarl, shaking his large head. “And I never thought to see my good friend Connor he
re holding a lad against him, but I cannae argue with the evidence before me.”
“We dressed as boys to escape the palace.” She suddenly pushed away from Connor, but he resisted her efforts, keeping a firm arm around her waist.
“Vanora… I left her out in the darkness… over there, I think. Some of the others might find her. We’ve been hearing riders all day.”
“As have we, lass, but we’ll nae be defeated at this late stage of the game.”
Quinton sent out a cry that sounded like a raven. He winked at her when she stared at him.
“I told ye that Connor and I were friends, lass, and that didna happen once we were men.”
“Aye, that’s a fact.” Connor put out his hand, and Quinton clasped his wrist while he did the same. There was a wealth of meaning in the gesture, a unity between the two lairds that touched her heart because she had recently realized just how precious life was. She placed her own hand on top of their wrists before another raven’s cry drew Quinton’s attention.
Connor instantly took her toward the ground, his hand even coming up to push her face down so that no light might reflect off her eyes. The snow was bitterly cold, but she forced herself to remain still and not crack the icy surface.
The raven’s cry came again, this time much closer and in a different rhythm—three cries together, a pause, and three more.
Quinton pushed himself up, and Connor did the same while pulling her off the ground.
“I found a lad who claims he’s a Lindsey, even if he is wearing a Douglas plaid. But I don’t think he trusts me a bit.”
Quinton’s second in command pulled a slight figure forward.
“Vanora?”
“Brina?”
The girl’s voice trembled, but hearing it was too sweet to quibble over the details. Connor reached out and clasped her hand, his arm trembling just a tiny amount.
“Let’s quit this demon-invested thicket, lads. I’ve a hunger for the Highlands.”
***
They rode through the night, using the moonlight to guide their way. There was still the danger of being confronted by Douglas retainers, but Connor hoped that speed might prove the deciding factor. They stopped only to allow the horses to drink, and the beasts didn’t seem to mind being pushed so long. Once the sun rose, more Lindsey and Cameron riders joined them from where they had been sent farther up the road to disguise how many men Connor and Quinton were riding with.
“Archibald Douglas might be the lieutenant general, but while he’s sitting in his palace, the Highlanders are nae waiting on his word to keep our own land safe.” Connor’s voice was smug with his pride, but Brina still felt a prickle of worry go down her back.
“Do nae ye worry that he’ll retaliate?”
“I doubt he will, for once we reach Birch Stone, he’ll know that he’s been bested and will have to turn his attention on to no’ being beaten by his own kind.”
“A fate he so richly deserves.”
Connor shot her a grin. “Careful, Brina. Cameron might just become jealous of me if ye continue to display that spirit of yers.”
“What makes ye think I am not already, Lindsey?” Quinton pulled his stallion up, and it danced on its hind legs for a few steps. But the Cameron laird only smiled, enjoying the display of power from the animal. He reached down and gave it a pat on the side of its dark neck. Enjoyment sparkled in his eyes when he raised them to her.
“I wish ye luck… hellcat.”
He let out a raven’s cry, and his men followed him inland. Connor chuckled, and Brina turned her displeasure on to him.
“I am no’ a hellcat.”
One of his light-colored eyebrows rose.
“No, Brina Chattan, ye are my hellcat.”
She huffed and glared at his smug expression. “I do nae understand why I love ye.”
He leaned across the space between them and pressed a hard kiss against her pouting lips.
“I will be happy to remind ye just as soon as we reach Birch Stone.”
She planted her hand against his chest to push him away. “Trust a man to think that is all there is to love.”
Connor remained in place, her efforts gaining her no more than they had the first time he had ridden with her toward his home. But today his eyes were full of something else—a tenderness that stole her breath.
“I ken that there is more, lass, and I plan to spend a great number of years showing ye how much I ken that…”
***
Quinton Cameron pulled his men up near dawn. Robert Chattan and his men met him in the middle of the land that led to Lindsey territory.
“It seems that ye have been busy, Cameron.”
Quinton smirked, uncaring of the fact that Robert frowned. The Chattan laird pointed a thick finger at him.
“Ye did nae need to tell Roan McLeod about Kaie’s change of heart. Women often have conflicting emotions before they wed. I had faith in Roan winning her affections.”
“He had the right to know, Robert.”
“Maybe so, but that ends my chance to form an alliance with him, for I’ll have to send Deirdre to the church now.”
Quinton shook his head. “Robert, ye are too smart a man to ignore the obvious. Get yerself off and catch that woman who ran away with yer fourth daughter.”
Robert Chattan’s face turned red. “Ruth swore she’d carve off me cock if she ever laid eyes on it again.”
Quinton leaned down over the neck of his stallion. “I think the idea of seeing her daughter wed to Roan McLeod will temper her rage.”
“Think again. Ruth refused the match her father made for her and refused me when I tried to wed her so that Erlina would nae be a bastard.”
Quinton grinned, which caused Robert to raise one eyebrow. “What do ye know, man?”
Quinton nudged his horse forward, and stopped when he was alongside Robert.
“I know that Roan McLeod is nae content to have his father displeased with him. If I know Roan, and I assure ye that I do, he’s most likely already off to deal with securing yer fourth daughter.”
Quinton began to ride past.
“But she’s a bastard.”
“Something I suggest ye rectify before the McLeod take offense.”
Robert Chattan cursed. He watched the Cameron ride across his land toward their own and spit out another few words of profanity.
But he suddenly grinned, because he felt more alive than he had in a long time.
“Well, lads, maybe it’s time for me to take a wife again.” He looked at the snow and nodded. Spring was going to be very interesting.
***
Brina and Connor reached Birch Stone at sunset, and the bells rang along the walls while the retainers left behind to guard the castle leaned over the wall to wave to them. Connor rode through the front gate and on to the second one before stopping. Brina slid from the saddle, grateful to be on her own two feet once again. Her knees wobbled, but she was distracted from her own discomforts when Connor walked toward Vanora and lifted her off the horse that she looked frozen atop.
“This is my sister, Vanora, back on Lindsey land where she belongs. Well done, lads! Well done, indeed.”
A cheer echoed throughout the yard, the bells ringing again, this time in celebration. Maura was sobbing, her face red but split with a smile. She snapped her fingers at her maids, but it wasn’t necessary, for they all surged forward to cluster around Vanora and Brina while pulling them up the stairs and into the keep.
Brina smiled, because without a doubt, she was home.
Maura had begun the process of making baths ready for both girls, when she suddenly stopped and fixed Brina with a questioning look.
“Are ye married yet, mistress?”
“No, I am nae.”
The head of house sighed. “Well, it seems as things are
no’ quite ready for celebrating, then.”
Brina sighed, for she was going back to confession, and she looked down at herself, still wearing the male clothing that she’d used to escape in, and knew without a doubt that she was going to be barefoot for a much longer time.
Bugger it!
***
Bathing had a way of soothing away tension. Brina stifled a yawn as she pulled a brush through her drying hair. It was floating in a soft cloud around her now, and the underrobe that she wore was soft enough to sleep in. The candles lighting the bathroom helped her slip further into sleepiness, and she stood up while Maura and her staff were still clustered around Vanora.
“Good night.”
Vanora sent her a wide-eyed look, but the girl’s cheeks were flushed with enjoyment too. Brina left her to the coddling she figured the girl was owed. She climbed the stairs toward the promise of the chamber that Connor had created to lavish attention upon her, but when she opened the inner door, she discovered that the ornate bed and plush accessories were missing. All that sat in the room now were chests and one table with several small boxes on its top. She walked into the room, feeling chilled when she had no true reason to be cold because of the heavy dressing gown that Maura had taken delight in draping over her shoulders. But at the same time her heart was filled with a sense of familiarity.
There was no light in the room, forcing her to take the candle lantern that hung in the back stairwell with her. Once she held it up to cast its speckles of light around the room, she noticed something else on the tabletop. It was light colored, and when she moved closer, she identified the sleeve that she had sewn.
“I couldn’t leave it behind. Just do nae go telling Cameron that. The man doesn’t believe in love.”
Brina didn’t jump. Maybe it was the fact that she felt his presence in the chamber, in spite of change in furnishings. She suddenly understood how ghosts might cling to a castle so long after their deaths. She felt the joy that she had experienced in the room so strongly that it didn’t matter what filled it.
“Come, Brina. Quinton interrupted me giving ye a gift when he stole ye.”
