Highlander's Fallen Angel : A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel

by Lydia Kendall

  “You shan’t touch her!” Victoria shot back. “And you are mistaken. I have everything I need out here.”

  William frowned. “If that is so, then you will not move from this spot, unless it is into the house. If you go anywhere else, I will fire a fatal shot into your friend.”

  No… What am I to do? He means what he says. But… the carriage is so close, and she is bleeding so freely. If I do not act now, I will not be able to save her.

  Frantically, her eyes searched the crowd by the gates for any sign of Camdyn. Immediately, she wished she had not looked, for it seemed the mercenaries had gained the upper hand. They were shoving against the gates with all their might, and her fighters could not hold them back any longer. Within seconds, the enemy would break through.

  “Let me save her,” Victoria pleaded, her throat tight with panic. “Just… let me save her.”

  William canted his head. “Does this mean you consent to marry me?”

  “I… I… I cannot!” she muttered bitterly.

  He shrugged in reply. “Then I cannot permit you to fetch whatever it is you need. I told you, I am perseverant. I shall not relinquish an opportunity like this.” He checked his pistol and aimed the barrel at Genevieve’s forehead. “So, what will it be? Will you save this woman, or will you choose stubbornness?”

  “Why would you want a wife who does not wish to be married to you?” Tears trickled down her cheeks unbidden, her body shaking violently with the weight of his question. “If you do this, rest assured that I would never come to love you.”

  He chuckled grimly. “I do not need you to love me, I only need to possess you. In time, I will break you, as if you were a wild horse. Submission can be a kind of affection, and I am a patient man. I shall put in the effort required to gain your tolerance and, one day, you will come to be fond of me, as you were fond of your husband.” His eyes glinted with menace. “I might have killed him, but not before I learned a great deal about how to make you behave.”

  Just then, the sharp scrape of metal shuddered up Victoria’s spine. Her eyes shot back to the gates and found that her suspicions had come true. The mercenaries had overwhelmed her motley band of warriors, and soon they would turn their attention on the only decent fighter among them.

  Camdyn will die. They will kill him before my eyes, and then William will force me to be his bride.

  She did not know how all of this had turned so horribly awry, but she could sense no way of escaping her fate now. If she continued to refuse, Genevieve would be past the point of saving, and William would turn his pistol and the broadswords of his mercenaries on Camdyn. A solitary Jacobite could not defeat those odds, no matter how fearsome her beloved might have been with a sword in his own hand.

  Already, the clash between her defenders and the enemy attackers had taken a more violent turn. Steel clashed with steel. Wood splintered. Makeshift weapons were sent flying. And groans and grunts of pain filled the air.

  “Stop!” Victoria boomed. “Stop all of this, and I will—”

  Her words died on her lips as she heard a peculiar sound, rising in the near distance. Although she had never been upon a battlefield herself, it sounded an awful lot like a war cry. And it was getting louder by the second, accompanied by the percussion of feet pounding against the dusty road.

  “You will what?” William pressed, apparently oblivious to the rolling human thunder that she could hear.

  Victoria did not answer. Instead, she crouched down and pressed her palms to Genevieve’s wound, applying the full pressure of her bodyweight to try and coax the spilling blood into slowing its flow. All the while, she fixed her gaze on the gates and waited, as an unexpected storm flooded in.

  As they neared, she finally heard the words of the battle cry. “Defend our healer! Defend her with everythin’ ye’ve got! Defend our healer! Defend her with everythin’ ye’ve got! Desiglow! Desiglow! Desiglow!”

  “They came,” Victoria whispered to Genevieve, as fresh tears brimmed. “The people of Inverness… They came.”

  Chapter 28

  Camdyn’s broadsword spun and twirled through the fray, his body remembering the ways of the warrior. His senses were primed, his instincts kicking in, as he whirled and twisted this way and that, driving the edge of his blade against the swords that struck at him.

  “Desiglow! Desiglow! Desiglow! Protect the healer! Protect her with yer lives!" A rumbling dirge found his ears, above the clatter and clash of metal. Camdyn did not cease in defending himself and the staff, but all around him, the mercenaries came to a slow, confused halt.

  “What’s that?” one asked, narrowly avoiding a blow from an iron poker.

  Camdyn allowed his focus to flit toward the shadows of the road, just in time to see a swarm of people heading for the open gates. Clutching torches and weapons of various origin—pitchforks, shovels, broadswords, pistols, daggers, rolling pins, kitchen knives, the list went on—it appeared that a large portion of Inverness had come out in defense of Victoria. And, leading the charge, his old friend, Murdock.

  “Get ‘em!” Murdock roared, unleashing hell as the drunkards, brigands, farmers, peasants, fishermen, former Jacobites, and everything in between, barreled forward to surround the mercenaries.

  Och, lass… These are the folks what owe ye their lives. The patients that ye healed while askin’ for nothin’ in return.

  He recognized a few of them, but there must have been almost one hundred people marching up the road, following Murdock’s lead. All of them with a shared cause, and a shared admiration for the woman he loved. After all, there was nothing like a noble cause to rally people together. What could be nobler than running to the defense of the woman who had done so much for them?

  Looks like ye’re outnumbered, lads.

  Caleb kept his sword readied, but the mercenaries already seemed to be having second thoughts about fighting on William’s side. Slowly, they began to group together in the center of the throng that surrounded them, and one or two had even put their hands up in surrender.

  “It’s over, Spencer.” Camdyn turned from the mercenaries, only to jolt in horror as he saw Genevieve lying on the ground, with Victoria crouched over her, pressing bloodied hands against the older woman's chest.

  William stared, wild-eyed, at the townsfolk. “You are mistaken. It is not over until I have my bride, and she was just about to accept my proposal!” His voice emerged in a wavering, thin wail, like a child who had been told he could not have his favorite plaything.

  “I would never consent to wed you. How many times must I say it?” Victoria snarled in reply, her tears dropping down onto the pale-faced figure of Genevieve. “You have come here uninvited, seeking what is not yours. You were sent away, and you ought to have stayed away. Instead, you saw fit to threaten me, and to wound my friend, and to set your mercenaries upon us!”

  The townsfolk lowed like cattle, clattering their weapons on makeshift shields to show their disapproval.

  “He’s shot Genevieve!” a fisherman that Camdyn recognized shouted, jabbing a gutting knife at the patient in question. “He’s bloody shot her! Look, there’s a pistol in his hand!”

  The banging of weapons intensified, and so did the cornered, panicked look in William’s eyes.

  Murdock stepped out of the defensive army, pointing the tip of his broadsword at the bastard. “If ye want to hurt Victoria, or any people that’re dear to ‘er, ye’ll have to go through us! The lass said she dinnae want to marry ye, an’ that ye was nae welcome, so I suggest ye scarper right fast, before ye really rile us up!”

  An almighty “aye” boomed across the courtyard of Desiglow Manor. In truth, Camdyn would not have been surprised if the cry had been heard in Inverness itself.

  “I am an Earl!” William retorted, the hand clutching the pistol shaking violently. “You will not lay a finger upon me, or you shall all find yourselves upon the gallows, by order of the King!”

  Murdock smirked. “This is Scotland, lad. Yer titles
and yer King dinnae mean a thing up ‘ere. We are the law, and I dinnae reckon yer pals in uniform will want to trouble themselves with all of us, for the sake of little auld ye.”

  “What are you waiting for?” William waved frenetically at his hemmed-in mercenaries. “Fight this vermin! Rid my property of them or you shall not see a single glint of coin!”

  The mercenaries simply shrugged and set down their weapons. They were not fools; they knew when a battle was won, and there was no use losing their lives for a hopeless fight.

  “Take up your weapons, this instant!” William shrieked, the cords in his neck straining. “Fight them! Kill them all! I do not care what you do, as long as you defeat them!”

  I dinnae ken if they’ll do that, Spencer.

  Camdyn knew mercenaries, and they could turn tail in the blink of an eye when circumstances turned dire.

  Their leader—a grizzled giant with a shock of red hair—shook his head. “We is nae about to be massacred for the sum ye offered. Ye ought to ken when ye’re finished, just as that lad said.”

  “Then I shall give you more!” William practically screamed.

  The mercenary leader just laughed. “Ye cannae put a price on the life of me and me lads, not when they’ve got the numbers and we dinnae.”

  “Cowards! Cowards! You are all cowards!” William twisted around and leveled the barrel of his pistol at Victoria’s face. “If they will not fight, and you will not relent, then you give me no choice, my darling. As I said before, if I cannot have you, then no one can.”

  Dinnae dare, ye bastard! I’ll nay lose her!

  A pulse of energy ricocheted through Camdyn’s body as he realized what was about to happen. The world around him seemed to slow like it was doused in honey, as he tore into a sprint, his focus solely fixated upon Victoria.

  He was aware of the shot’s explosion as he threw himself toward his beloved, arms outstretched to wrap her in his protective embrace, but it seemed to belong to a different time and place. Through every battle he had endured, he had thought only of survival. Now, he thought only of hers. His life did not matter, in that moment.

  For the briefest second, he felt a surge of relief as his body enveloped Victoria, his shoulders hunching over to cover every visible part of her. And then, the pistol shot hit. It seared through the right side of his chest as though William had driven a white-hot poker through his flesh. But even through the pain, he made himself twist his shoulder back, so the shot would not injure Victoria if it ripped right through to the other side.

  “Dinnae fret, lass,” he gasped. “I’ve got ye.”

  Victoria shivered in his arms. “Did he… miss?”

  “Just stay down and dinnae worry yerself. See to Genevieve, and make sure the stubborn mule dinnae give up on us now, eh?” he replied through gritted teeth.

  I will nae have long afore he fires again.

  He did not tell her that last part, knowing it would only make her panic. But William had shown that he was a formidable marksman, and that meant he knew how to reload a pistol with swift efficiency.

  “Lady Desiglow!” a horrified cry erupted from the townsfolk, who were holding their position around the mercenaries. “Is she shot? Did the bastard get her?”

  Camdyn forced himself to his feet. “The lass is fine. He missed.”

  Dragging in a breath, he gripped the hilt of his broadsword to test the damage that had been inflicted. His fingers felt loose and unsteady, suggesting a muscle had been ripped somewhere in his shoulder. Nevertheless, he would fight until it tumbled from his grasp. Even then, he would not stop until he had defeated William Spencer. It was just a matter of how and when.

  “I did not miss,” William spat, fumbling to reload his weapon. Evidently, Camdyn had not taken nerves into account when it came to the cretin’s expertise.

  Camdyn grimaced against the painful barbs that shot down his arm. “Aye, well now ye’re goin’ to fight man to man, but I am nae goin’ to give ye the advantage of a sword.”

  Camdyn swung his sword somewhat clumsily, the agony in his arm prohibiting his full breadth of movement. It skimmed just shy of William’s neck, though the sharpened blade nicked the skin, and a bead of crimson trickled down.

  William staggered back in fright, still helplessly trying to load his pistol. “If you harm me, the crown shall take your head!”

  “I ken they’ll knight me for doin’ away with someone like ye, that killed an Earl and tried to take his place,” Camdyn shot back, swinging again. This time the blade cut through the fabric of William’s cloak and bit down to the flesh beneath, making the wretch cry out in pain.

  “You will not be alive to tell a soul about what I have done.” William managed to get the powder and ball down the barrel. All he had to do now was pull back the hammer and squeeze the trigger. Once the flint sparked, it would ignite the powder and send that pistol shot right into Camdyn.

  “Ye’d have been better off with a blade, lad.” Camdyn lurched forward and ducked underneath the path of the pistol’s load. Turning a full, swift circle to put more force behind his strike, he whirled back around like a dervish and swept the blade in a diagonal motion, slashing William from hip to chest.

  The would-be usurper stood there for a moment, surprise rippling across his face. His eyes glanced down, as if he did not quite believe what had just befallen him. Meanwhile, the pistol dangled uselessly from his finger.

  He shook his head slowly. “No… you cannot have hit me. This is not… possible.”

  “I am nae done yet.” Camdyn drew his sword back and, with one last thrust, he drove the blade through William’s stomach.

  It was an oddly intimate moment, for Camdyn grabbed the back of William’s neck as he pushed the sword in to the hilt. In return, William’s hands went to Camdyn’s shoulders, the two men locked in a peculiar sort of embrace.

  William’s stunned gaze met Camdyn’s determined one. “You… have killed… me. Can it… be true?”

  “Aye, now go on to the hereafter with a dignity ye’ve nae had in life, lad,” Camdyn replied, pressing his forehead to William’s.

  The dying man blinked in bemusement. “But… I am not ready… to die. I have not… gained my… prize. My bride… my beautiful… Victoria. She is not yet… mine.”

  “She is nae goin’ to be, neither. I’m the one that’s goin’ to wed her, and I’m the one that’s goin’ to make her happy.” Camdyn felt William begin to sag as the rogue’s life started the process of sputtering out.

  The legs went first, and William hit the ground with a crunch of his knees. Camdyn let go of his neck and took a moment to draw the sword out of the man, before stepping back to let William fade away.

  Defiant to the end, William swayed erratically, and managed to lift his head in Camdyn’s direction. A smirk played upon his lips. “You will… not get what you… want, either,” he rasped, with his last handful of labored breaths. “I told… a soldier to… inform the generals, if I… did not return. They know… what you are. They… will come for you. And my Victoria… will have to watch… you hang.”

  A cough wracked his chest, and blood splattered onto the flagstones. “You have… not won. We… will both be… dead. No one… will have her, and… that is my… consolation.”

  As though pure spite had kept him alive for those final few moments, just to say those words, William toppled backward with his legs bent beneath him. Vacant-eyed, he stared up at the night sky, his body limp and lifeless, while blood pooled around him in an eerie silhouette.

  Nay, that cannae be true. After all this, it still is nae over?

  He turned to look at the concealed carriage, and wondered if there was time for him to gather Victoria and Genevieve, and flee this place before the English soldiers could arrive.

  But one glance at Genevieve, and he knew it was not possible. Victoria would not just leave her friend on the brink of death, not if she could save her. That was not the sort of person his beloved was.

  So, w
e cannae run, and I cannae stay. Lass, ye’d have been better off if Spencer and I had killed each other.

  “What are we going to do, Camdyn?” Victoria whispered, fear shivering in her voice.

  He dipped his chin to his chest. “I dinnae ken, lass, but I’ll nae let ‘em hang me after all we’ve been through.” He paused. “For now, get Genevieve the help she needs. Yer tonics and that are in the crate by the carriage door. Let me worry about the rest.”

  Though it burned him up inside, he knew he had one last choice available to spare Victoria and escape the gallows. For her sake, he was going to have to make it.