His Highland Pledge (The Clan Sinclair Book 4)

by Celeste Barclay

  Magnus finished preparing his horse. He led Deirdre and his steed to the stables’ entrance. Before emerging, he lifted her into the saddle. He led them to the gate, and marveled not for the first time, at how sure and light-footed his enormous horse was. Once they were through the gate, he swung up behind Deirdre, and they cantered to the treeline that was not far from the abbey. Magnus dismounted and quickly reattached his pine bough to the saddle. He pointed Sealgair northwest and spurred him to a gallop.

  Once again, they rode in silence for nearly an hour before Magnus felt comfortable speaking.

  “The abbot and Brother Adam conspired to get more of yer jewels and to turn us over to the scouts. It was Brother Adam we saw leaving. He was off to find any of the search party. They assumed, probably accurately, there would be a ransom for us. If we can reach Kilchurn before nightfall, we can cross Loch Awe there. We would have to turn south to find a place to ford. I dinna want to do that. We may be able to reach Dunstaffnage by tomorrow eve. If we can make it that far, then I’m confident we can catch a birlinn that will take us through the Sound of Mull and hopefully out to sea. We sail towards Glen Gary and try to avoid the MacDonnells. I may have made peace with their laird, but I doubt they will ken that yet. The MacLeods arenae that much farther past.”

  Deirdre nodded as she took in the information about the two priests. She was disappointed but not surprised that they would be deceived. She sincerely hoped that the bishop was not part of the conspiracy against them.

  “Did ye hear me?”

  “Huh? Nay. I was thinking aboot the priests.”

  “I said we will have to travel closer to the main roads to make better time. I will keep us out of sight, but there is a greater chance we will be seen. I may have to cut the brush loose since it’s vera conspicuous.”

  Deirdre just nodded, and they settled back into companionable silence.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The sky was changing as the sun set. The pinks and purples were mixing with the grey of thunderclouds. Deirdre and Magnus felt the odd drop now and again, but the heavens appeared ready to open. They were in a glen with little options for cover when the rain fell. Magnus spurred his horse to a gallop as he tried to reach the next set of woods before they were soaked. Eager to run, Magnus gave Sealgair his head, and the animal shot forward. Even with the charging horse moving them closer to the trees by the minutes, there were drenched by the time they reached cover. Magnus’s well crafted sweeper was torn to shreds, too.

  Deirdre began to shiver the moment they dismounted and lost Magnus’s heat.

  “Ye canna stay like that. Even stripping down and wrapping a plaid around ye willna be enough. I must get ye warmer. Stay near Sealgair, and I will fetch firewood.”

  “Ye canna build a fire. Too visible,” her teeth chattered between each word.

  “And I canna afford ye catching the ague.” Magnus’s voice was resolute, so Deirdre chose to save her flagging energy for foraging some berries and acorns. The animals were well under cover by now, so hunting would be futile. Supper was going to be sparse that night. They were nearly out of Magnus’s dried beef even though they were rationing it.

  It did not take Magnus long to return with an armful of logs and branches, nor did it take him long to build a fire. He helped Deirdre out of her gown and pulled his spare leine from his bag.

  “I didna even realize ye had this. Ye could have changed ages ago.”

  “And make anyone who crossed us wonder why I was clean and ye were scruffy? Nay. What type of husband would I be?” he chuckled. “The quality of ma horse makes it obvious we arenae tenant farmers from somewhere, nor do we look quite rough enough to be horse thieves. People may believe we simply fell upon hard times, which means a sad tale that nay one wants to hear. It should keep people away.

  Deirdre slipped into the clean shirt and felt better than she had in days. She wished she was not so dirty underneath, but beggars could not be choosers. Magnus took off his own leine and laid it on the ground near the fire and next to Deirdre’s. It was not long before they were both feeling warm and once again comfortable. The sky remained covered in angry clouds, and it looked much later than it was. They shared their meager supper, and Magnus promised to hunt once the weather cleared.

  “I need to gather more wood. Will ye be all right for a wee bit?”

  “Of course. Do ye want ma help?”

  “Nay. Stay bundled up.”

  Magnus walked into the trees, and it was only seconds before he was completely out of view. Deirdre let her mind wander as she daydreamed about life for her and Magnus once they reached Dunbeath. She thought Laird Sinclair would welcome her, but she was not sure what her brothers by marriage would think or their wives. She was nervous to join such a close-knit family. She knew Magnus’s brothers were aware of his history with her, but she was mostly sure that only Mairghread knew the full extent of their relationship or the hardship of being separated.

  The leaves rustled over Deirdre’s right shoulder. That was not the direction Magnus walked unless he circled around. The forest quieted, and Deirdre relaxed. A moment later she was fully alert. The forest was too quiet. She no longer heard any of the birds cawing about the rain or squirrels jabbering as they got wet. Slowly, Deirdre reached below her skirts to pull the sgian dubh from its sheath and flicked a wrist making another dirk appear. All the hair on her arms stood on end.

  Without warning, three large, filthy men sprang from the trees.

  “Magnus! Magnus!” Deirdre screamed as loudly as she could before one man lunged at her.

  She swiped her small blade across the palm of his hand and recoiled in pain.

  “The bluidy bitch cut me.” The man said as if mesmerized that such a thing might happen, that a woman might defend herself.

  Deirdre tried to keep all three in her line of sight while edging to place the fire between them.

  “Dinna come closer. Ma husband is nearby. He willna forgive ye if ye touch me.”

  Deirdre felt an arm encircle her waist, and a hand clasp over her mouth. She tried to kick her feet back but she had no room. She bit at the man’s palm, but she could not gain any purchase. It came out more like a lick, and the man chuckled in her ear as he pressed his hard groin against her backside. Deirdre’s eyes flared as she felt his arousal rubbing against her. She flicked her wrist backward and stabbed as hard as she could with her upper arms pinned to her sides. The arm around her waist slackened until a fist jammed into her belly. The air rushed from her lungs but with her mouth closed and the man’s thumb now covering her nose, she could not gasp even one breath.

  “I planned have some fun with ye before I killed ye. Now I think I will just kill ye.” The man sneered.

  “That isnae what we agreed on! Ye promised us each a tup with her after we killed her mon and before we killed her.”

  “Colin is right. Ye promised—”

  The man did not finish as a dirk lodged in his throat. Deirdre tried to turn her head away from the sight of blood squirting from the severed jugular.

  “Get yer filthy hands off ma wife, or yer life is forfeit just as yer friend’s was.”

  “Ye won’t do aught as long as the bitch is in front of me.”

  The man holding Deirdre backed away from the fire and edged towards the darkness. As he maneuvered, the other three looked at each other and charged Magnus. Magnus whipped another dirk from his hand, and this one found its home in one of the highwaymen’s eyes. He howled before dropping to his knees, and Deirdre thought she would retch as she saw the man pull the dirk free. Magnus drew his sword as the last man inched forward. He already had his drawn, and in the light from the fire, his short and thinner swords looked more like a toy compared to the two-handed broadsword that Magnus easily brandished in one.

  “This is yer last warning, and it is a fair one. Let go of ma wife and leave, or I will kill every one of ye and sleep like a bairn.”

  With a roar, the man leaped at Magnus. Magnus sidesteppe
d and brought his blade down on the man’s hand. It severed it from his wrist, and as he staggered backward, he stumbled through the fire. His clothes ignited as he tried to run away. The air filled with the stench of burning flesh. Deirdre’s stomach heaved, and the man must have felt it because he yanked his hand from her mouth in fear of being vomited on.

  With her mouth free, she could move her head. She slammed it backward and heard the crunch of her skull hitting his nose. The man holding her spun her around and drove his fist into her stomach before reaching back to swing towards her face. She thrust her sgian dubh into his gut and twisted. She knew the short blade would not be lethal at that angle, but she prayed it slowed him enough for Magnus to finish him. The fist that had been raised, yanked the blade free. He looked stunned at Deirdre as she kicked out at his leg. She managed to break free and ran towards Magnus.

  Magnus watched in horror as the lawless man’s fist contacted with Deirdre’s belly. Everything around him, even Deirdre, faded from his vision as it tunneled upon the man who dared touch his wife. Magnus stalked forward as the other man backed away, drawing his own sword from his hip. Magnus kept walking straight towards the man, and with a bellow that shook the leaves, Magnus thrust his sword forward, catching the man’s ribs. He would kill the bastard slowly and make him suffer for putting his hands anywhere near Deirdre. With another roar, Magnus swung his sword through the air. Deirdre heard the swish before it struck the man’s arm, cutting a deep tear into his bicep. The attacker thrust and parry against Magnus.

  Deirdre heard several horses whinny as they drew closer. She searched, but it was far too dark now for her to determine who approached. She knew it was no friend, she wanted to know which foe. Behind Magnus emerged a man who held the reins to five horses. When this new man saw his comrade battling the mountain that was Magnus, he drew his sword and entered the fray. Magnus was now battling two men. The new arrival was the better swordsman of the two outlaws. He slashed and swung with speed and agility unexpected for a man who made his life robbing others. These were the maneuvers of a trained warrior. Magnus fended off the two men as he reached to his waist for another dirk. He pulled it loose in time to stab the neck of the man who held Deirdre, but this opened him to a deep incision into his thigh from the warrior.

  Magnus was fed up of finding men trying to do him and his wife harm. He felt a twinge of annoyance that he killed the man who held Deirdre captive too quickly, but the new man, clearly a former warrior, was requiring too much of his attention for him to continue to toy with the other. As he pulled his dirk from the man’s neck, he felt a searing pain cut through his thigh. He roared as he twisted and swung his sword as hard as he could. The last man standing might have been well trained, but he was no match for Magnus’s savagery. Magnus’s blow landed exactly as he intended and cleaved the man’s head from his neck and almost sliced his shoulder off.

  The moment that the last man fell, Magnus dropped his weapons and ran to Deirdre. He pulled her into his arms and pressed her head to his chest. He felt her shuddering breath against him, but he could feel his own tremors just as strongly. His entire body shook as fear and bloodlust drained from him. He staggered as he drew Deirdre back with him and sunk down against a trunk. He brought her down to his lap, and his hands skimmed her face, head, shoulders, and all that he could reach before rising to do it again. Deirdre captured his hands and kissed his palms.

  “I am well. They didna harm me. Ye were there in time.”

  Magnus did not realize that tears flowed from his eyes until Deirdre’s fingers feathered across his cheeks and wiped them away. He pulled her back against him and tucked her head under his chin. They sat that way with Deirdre quietly humming and stroking his arm for a long time. He could not flush from his eyes the image of Deirdre being held captive or receiving such a punch to her belly. He squeezed them shut as more tears broke free. He had not cried since his mother passed away. He had controlled his emotions when he and his brothers found their sister being assaulted after being abducted. He controlled his emotions when Siùsan was held captive and attacked. He controlled his emotions when Alex fell ill after his battle for Brighde. He always controlled his emotions. The heartbreak of losing Deirdre when he was still young taught him to keep his thoughts private and his emotions secret. Now though, he could not seem to regain it.

  “Magnus,” Deirdre shook his shoulder. “I’m well, I promise. Magnus, please look at me. Ye saved me, and we are together now.”

  “I failed ye. I never should have left ye alone. What if I hadnae heard yer screams? What if I’d wandered too far?”

  “Ye didna and wouldnae fail me. Magnus, ye have never failed me. Nae from the beginning till now. Do ye remember how ye punched the lad in the face and the other in the stomach the night we met? Ye didna like their comments aboot me, so ye made them shut up with yer fists. And then ye chased me down to be sure I was all right.” She kissed his chin. “Ye’re been protecting me since day one. I love ye today just as I loved ye back then. When ye climbed the tree because I wouldnae come down, ye made me fall head over heels for ye.”

  Deirdre shifted her position and reached behind her to brace herself. Magnus groaned as she pulled her hand back. She felt something wet and sticky with a metallic scent. She saw the blade hit his leg but did not realize how bad the injury was. She scrambled from his lap and threw back his plaid.

  “Oh ma God, Magnus. Oh ma God.” The wound was gushing blood and so deep that she could see through to the muscle. “I have to tend to this but I dinna have anything to sew it up with. I must clean it.”

  “Later,” he breathed heavily as he pushed himself up and tried not to flinch in front of her. “We canna stay here. We need to move on. At our next stop, ye can tend it.”

  “Nay. We arenae going anywhere until ye let me rinse it clean and bandage it.”

  Magnus wanted to argue, but his head was fuzzy, and his stomach roiled making him queasy. He nodded his head.

  Deirdre ran to his saddlebag and pulled the wineskin she knew held whisky. When she returned, she pulled Magnus towards the fire and pressed him down to sit. She examined his leine she was wearing. Finding a clean patch, she yanked it over her head and used the dirk still in her boot to cut a swatch from it and then several strips.

  “That was ma good leine.”

  “And we’ll be saying that was yer good leg.”

  She looked around and found a twig for him to bite down on, but he shook his head. He took a deep breath and nodded when she asked if he was ready. She poured the whisky directly into and over the wound. The air hissed through Magnus’s teeth, but he made no other sound. Deirdre watched as Magnus’s face strained and the blood vessel in his temple and the one in his forehead pulsated. She hated causing him such pain, but she knew his wound would surely fester without being cleaned. She placed the clean swatch over the wound and then bound it tightly with the strips of his destroyed leine. She dressed and then quickly helped him. She kicked dirt over the fire to put it out before saddling Sealgair. She led the enormous horse over to a rock where she whispered to it as she prepared to help Magnus mount.

  “Such a braw laddie, ye are. Mo fhuamhaire, ye’ll behave now. I ken it.”

  “I thought only I was yer giant.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Aye.”

  Deirdre looked back and saw Magnus try to smile, but it was much more of a grimace.

  “If I hold his bridle, and ye use the rock, can ye mount?”

  “I dinna have much choice.”

  “I’ll ride pillion if it would be more comfortable.”

  Magus shook his head but then looked like he would cast up his accounts.

  “Nay. I need ye in front. If I canna hold the reins ye must be able to control him. I hate admitting this, but I may need to lean against ye from time to time.”

  Deirdre walked over to him and took both hands.

  “Ye can always lean on me.” Magnus understood her meaning.

  She he
lped him mount and then slid with care onto the saddle before him. He tried to grip the horse with both legs, but his thigh screamed in protest.

  “Just let me,” Deirdre said as she took the reins in one hand and pulled each of his snuggly around her middle.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When they stopped to water the horse, Deirdre checked Magnus’s injury again. It was still raw and angry, but she saw no signs of pus or red lines streaking from it. She held her breath and prayed that it would remain like that until she could stitch it closed. They had ridden throughout the night and only stopped when Deirdre could not wait any longer to relieve herself. She helped Magnus off the horse and assisted him even though he demanded privacy.

  “If ye want to be stubborn and believe ye can do this all on yer own, then I shall leave ye to it.” Magnus had sighed thinking he could relieve himself in private, but when he heard the creak of leather and saw Deirdre nudging his steed forward, he conceded and begged her for help.

  That had been hours ago, and Deirdre knew Magnus was tiring faster than he wanted to admit. She kept the horse at a walk because she did not trust that she or Magnus could keep him in the saddle if they rode any faster. Magnus was leaning against her more as the time ticked by. The sun made an appearance early in the day and stayed fairly strong through midday, but as afternoon approached, a chill picked up. Deirdre was warm, but she first assumed it was from the sun and then from Magnus pressing against her. When sweat rolled between her shoulder blades, she wondered if she was becoming ill. She shifted slightly to wipe her brow, and Magnus sagged to the right. Deirdre reached for him and felt the skin of his neck. It was on fire. She pulled the horse to a stop and twisted in the saddle. Magnus’s face was pale and clammy, his lips were chapped, and his eyes were closed. She placed the back of her hand against his forehead. She knew before she made contact that she would feel a fever. She brushed her fingers next to his temples, feeling the heat radiate from him.