The Love of Her Life (Highlander Heroes Book 6)

by Rebecca Ruger

  “Big changes ahead for ye, aye?”

  She recognized him only as one of the soldiers who’d begun to tackle the removal of her garden—until that hard-bitten Alec MacBriar had put a stop to that—and allowed, “It appears so.” Not that I was given much choice in the matter, she thought but kept to herself, mostly since it wasn’t entirely true. She was still petulant though, her nerves doing dastardly things to her innards.

  “We’ve got ol’ Morven up at Swordmair, of course,” the man continued, “but he’s seen all his best years, and those were a long time ago. Will be good to have a fresh faced healer, mayhap with fresh ideas. The old goat likes to hack things off and hope for the best.”

  Katie’s eyes widened at this worrisome bit. Dear Lord.

  “Aye now, dinna ye fuss, ma’am,” the man was quick to insist. “Morven’s tired, likely will cheer your coming.”

  She nodded uneasily and tried to smile for this awkward conversation. The man, about her own age, she would guess, was possibly one of the smaller of the MacBriar soldiers, with a softness about him that seemed ill-suited to his occupation. His brown eyes were heavy-lidded and wide-set, the brown almost as liquid as a pup’s; his hand, one upon the reins and the other rested on the hilt of his sword, were without scars and appeared clean and well-groomed, almost childlike; his shoulders were neither broad nor square, but slumped and curved; and even at his midsection, rolling over the belt at his waist, his belly was soft.

  “I’d be Aymer, ma’am, and hope you find Swordmair to your liking.”

  “Katie,” she introduced herself formally. “Thank you for your help with the garden earlier, or your attempt at any rate—"

  “Hush.”

  Katie startled and jerked toward Malcolm. He sat as he was, but now with his hand held up for quiet. Stiffening, Katie realized immediately that the posture of the entire party had shifted. They slowed and only tiptoed along, making almost no noise at all. Malcolm—all the soldiers—scanned the area, moving only their eyes. They were crossing a large stretch of flatland, a narrow glen set low between a steep hill on one side and a gentler rise of pines on the other.

  Anxiously, Katie sent her gaze around the area as well, wondering what had caught Malcolm’s attention.

  “Northwest,” he said, only loud enough to be heard by those closest.

  Katie heard or sensed nothing and was only confused by the reaction of Malcolm and all the others.

  She heard then Alec MacBriar’s voice. “Get those carts into the trees.”

  “What is it?” She begged of Malcolm as Fergus turned the cart left and encouraged the palfreys to a swifter pace. “Malcolm—”

  He leaned forward and collected his sword from where it had lain near his feet. “No’ to worry, lass,” he said. “Bandits or English or some other, intent on concealing their presence—which never means anything good, you ken?”

  “I dinna ken,” she cried, hanging on stiffly to the side rail as the wagon gained speed. “Are we being attacked?”

  “About to be,” Malcolm said, as calmly as if they were not.

  Katie whimpered just as Henry woke, roused by the change in momentum. He was groggy and confused and Malcolm addressed the sleepy question in his gaze before Katie might have.

  “Gonna have a wee little skirmish, lad. Look lively.”

  This woke Henry but quick. He sat up promptly, bouncing onto his knees to look back at the soldiers left behind. “Will Eleanor fight?” He wanted to know.

  “She’ll be the first to make contact, mark my words,” Malcolm advised, showing the large space between his top row of teeth with his grin. “She looks sweet, I ken, but she ain’t,” he said with a grin for what Katie had to assume was a jest, as Eleanor looked anything but sweet.

  They entered the hillside of trees but did not go very deep within. Fergus maneuvered the cart efficiently through the tall pines, turning it around so that it was poised to leave the woods quickly if need be.

  “But why would someone attack a moving army?” Katie wanted to know.

  Malcolm shrugged, standing inside the wagon when it stopped. “English, you ken, will make war with almost any Scots. If they be regular bandits, they’re looking for gold or goods.” He shrugged as he walked to the end of the wagon bed. “Sometimes people fight to eat, might hope we’ve livestock or food to pilfer.”

  “But to kill for—” Katie began.

  “Kill or be killed, lass.” And with that he leaped over the rails and onto the ground, his sword held loosely, comfortably in one hand as he walked back to the edge of the trees to watch the spectacle, if there truly was to be one.

  Katie rolled her eyes for Malcolm’s gadding about, hopping out of wagons as if he hadn’t even one stitch in his body. But she followed, leaving the wagon as well, admonishing Henry to stay within.

  Fergus gainsaid this as he, too, disembarked. “Nay, ma’am. We’ve all to be afoot, should the need to run arise.”

  “Dear Lord,” she murmured, and then grumbled with no small amount of nervous frustration, “Didn’t have these problems in Dalserf.”

  Possibly Malcolm heard this but chose to ignore it. “C’mon then, sidle up near behind a tree. Keep out of sight. Nay, lad, go there with your mam. I need my hands free.”

  Katie gathered Henry to her, and they did as Malcolm suggested, concealed themselves behind a thick trunked pine, with Malcolm and Fergus on either side of them, hidden as well behind other trees. John, who’d parked the second wagon, appeared as well, tucking himself behind the same tree as Fergus, on his haunches, his sword also at the ready.

  “But where’s the battle?” Henry wanted to know.

  Katie wondered the same thing. The MacBriars, minus the two carts that had been moved into the woods, only continued to move forward along the open meadow, their pace unhurried.

  “Wait for it,” Malcolm instructed.

  He’d barely given these words when arrows began to fly, coming from the same woods much further ahead. They sliced through the air with great menace toward the MacBriars. Katie covered her mouth and her cry with her hand when she saw immediately two MacBriars fall. Absently, she tried to turn Henry’s head toward her, away from the sight. He would have none of it, removing her hand from his head to watch, his fascinated reaction so different from Katie’s horrified one. She shrieked against her hand when Alec MacBriar himself was struck by a flying and deadly missile, nicking his side just as he’d lifted his sword to engage his men to charge the hidden villains.

  He seemed to pay no heed to the wound but gave a savage cry and led his army toward the woods just as the enemy finally showed themselves, spilling out of the trees to clash with their prey.

  Katie didn’t know where to look, tried only to keep her eye on the black and blue and tan tartan worn by almost every MacBriar soldier. Eleanor was easy to find, mighty upon her steed, her hair flying out in clumps behind her as she hacked and cleaved her way through the bandits.

  The foot soldiers of the attackers were joined quickly by mounted men, their numbers not terribly greater than those of the MacBriars.

  “Are they English?” Henry wondered.

  Katie shrugged, having no idea.

  “Aye,” said Malcolm, seething, likely itching to be anywhere but here, so far away from it. “Scouting party, mayhap, no banners.”

  “But how can you tell?”

  “Their weapons,” Malcolm answered. “The English are too tiny to lift any heavy halberds or war hammers. See how thin the blades of their swords are?”

  Katie could not discern the difference between the swords of either side, as both looked equally frightening when drenched in blood. Anxiously, she watched the melee, which after the initial flight of arrows, seemed woefully one-sided, the walking Englishmen falling like raindrops under the defense of the MacBriars.

  Her gaze found Alec MacBriar once again and her eyes widened as she watched him fight. He had no fear, only continued to push forward, employing a weapon in each hand. She
wasn’t sure how his big brown destrier understood when or where to move, but the animal only paused when his master was engaged. The attackers were swiftly incapacitated by either his sword or the long-handled axe in his left hand, his proficiency with his left hand as great as his right.

  Dismayed by both the easy violence of this battle, risen from nowhere it seemed, and by the recklessness of the MacBriar, who was both daring and tireless, Katie stared gape-jawed. And then her gaze caught movement straight ahead, not north toward the skirmish.

  “Malcolm!” She cried out, her finger lifted to point where her wide eyes watched.

  Shifting against the tree, Malcolm cursed roundly as he spied what Katie had, a dozen riders coming out of the trees from the steep hill across the glen, headed directly toward them.

  “You have the dagger, lass?”

  “Aye.” Her voice quavered.

  He lifted a fist next to his face and rammed it downward with a striking motion. “Anyone comes near you, you put that dagger right in his eye.”

  Katie nodded, even as she knew she could do no such thing.

  Malcolm met Katie’s terrified gaze and instructed tersely, “Run. You and the boy.” He pointed further into the trees, past the wagons. “Run that way. Straight. Dinna look back. We’ll find you. If we dinna, keep running.”

  Her stomach dropping, Katie nodded jerkily and grabbed Henry’s hand, wasting no time darting away from the trees. They raced over the soft needle-strewn ground, deeper into the woods, quite a chore even though the incline was slight. She pulled Henry along with her, never having moved so fast in her life, she was sure. She glanced back only once, when she heard Boswell’s bark. A cry escaped, fearful for her hound but knowing he would give them away if he followed them.

  Daylight grew dimmer and dimmer the deeper into the woods they went. She heard a clash of swords far behind her, knew that Malcolm and Fergus and John had met the enemy. And then, horrifically, she picked up what sounded like horses charging through the woods after her and Henry.

  She paused behind a tree, pulling Henry close, catching her breath. Straight ahead sat a broken birch tree, cracked and bent near the base. The trunk had tipped over but was still attached so that a small triangular void was created before the upper portion of the tree touched the ground. The fat limb was draped with moss and vines and leaves.

  Moving quickly, Katie dragged Henry to that tree, pushing him onto the ground and into the gap.

  “Hide under there,” she said quickly. “Dinna come out until me or a MacBriar call for you.”

  “Mam—” he started to protest, his voice quaking.

  “Henry, please. I will lead them away from you. You will be safe here.” She pressed him further under the dropped tree and arranged the moss around him. She couldn’t right now address his fear or the pitiful look he’d given her. She needed to draw them away. “Not a sound,” she commanded and straightened and began running again, far away from where Henry was hidden.

  “There!” she heard called out as her pursuers rediscovered her. Katie tripped and fell but leapt up quickly, determined that she get as far away from Henry as possible, racing further into the darkness. If she were bound to die, she did not want her son to witness it. Tears fell unchecked down her cheeks as they came even closer. And then more swords clashed, the clanging sound close, that she thought perhaps a MacBriar had followed as well and now engaged her pursuers. Ducking behind another tree, Katie dared to glance behind her.

  She could see little, the gloom heavy under a thick canopy of pines. A glint of steel flashed, a man groaned, and horses moved again. Katie whimpered and turned, needing to be further away but suddenly unable to move, her fear immobilizing her. She lowered her head and let more tears fall.

  A man appeared, coming around the tree, cloaked in the shadows of the woods. She drew in breath to scream just as her mouth was covered by a huge hand.

  “Dinna move.”

  Alec MacBriar.

  Katie cried into his hand and sagged against the tree with relief, closing her eyes.

  Lowering his hand, he stood very close to her so that both of them were invisible behind the tree.

  “Where is Henry?” His voice was close to her bent head, his breath at her ear.

  Her lips trembled. “I hid him, under some brush.” She lifted her gaze to him, terrified anew, thinking she’d made the wrong decision to separate from her son.

  Alec nodded, possibly sensing her returning panic that he assured her in a low voice, “He’ll be fine. He’s a clever lad, kens no’ to move.”

  “Yes.” More tears fell even as she squeezed her eyes so tight against fear.

  She gave some thought that Alec had used both hands on her, one to haul her against the tree and one to cover her mouth. Empty hands.

  Katie opened her eyes. “Where is your sword?” She whispered in a panic, her question spoken nearly into his neck as he leaned close again, peering around the tree.

  He didn’t move away or give up his watchfulness as he answered. “Embedded in a man. In a tree.”

  “Malcolm’s dagger is on my waist,” she whispered back at him.

  She felt his hands move, reach down, skim her waist, as he claimed it for himself from the leather sheath Malcolm had procured for her as well.

  Still, she couldn’t stop every limb and bone and nerve from quivering.

  Shifting his head back, Alec lowered his face again, his dark eyes glittering in the eerie daytime darkness of the wood.

  “Shh.”

  Katie nodded instantly, her head bobbing wildly.

  “Shh,” he said again, to soothe her. He set the fingers of one hand around her hip and moved his body closer so that she felt the massive and solid wall of his protection. “You’re safe, Katie.”

  She settled immediately and closed her eyes again. The warmth of his body, the enormous confidence in his tone, the weapon in his hand put her at ease. She concentrated on breathing evenly and hopefully not giving up their position because she was hysterical.

  Sounds penetrated still. Riders moved closer, slowly, searching for them. Skirmishes carried on, but not very near, shouts and cries and the clink of steel muted and further away. They stayed completely still, Katie squeezing her eyes shut, as one rider moved past them, only yards away but unaware of their presence. He continued on, soon invisible when he’d put some distance and some trees between them.

  Hearing nothing in their immediate proximity for several long seconds, Katie opened her eyes and lifted her face.

  Alec MacBriar was staring down at her. Shadows concealed his features, but she was aware of his gleaming eyes trained on her and his breath hot against her cheek. He said nothing and gave no indication what he was thinking so that she was left to read his close and intense scrutiny for herself.

  She didn’t know what to make of it, why he was staring at her and not watching their surroundings. His breathing sharpened, she thought, and his gaze moved from her eyes to her lips, but otherwise his countenance was mysterious.

  And yet....

  Despite the fact that she had been wed, and had borne a child, she lacked so much experience with interactions between men and women, but God help her if she didn’t believe just now that Alec MacBriar wanted to kiss her. Why else would he stare so boldly and heatedly at her?

  “Jasper!” Came a shriek, garbled and pitiful, and the rider who’d moments ago walked past them, charged back in their direction at the cry for help from his mate.

  Alec pushed away from Katie just as the man came into view. He leapt directly at the side of the horse, halting its forward progress as he managed to grab hold of the raider’s sword arm, bending back his wrist until the sword was dropped. Katie grimaced and skittered around the tree as Alec ripped the man from the saddle and slapped him onto the ground with such force that the man let out a long moan. Alec knelt over him and sliced the sharp dagger across the man’s throat.

  Katie clapped her hand over her mouth at the sight.
<
br />   But then Alec’s name was called, in what Katie thought might be Malcolm’s voice. Whoever it was, the tone of it suggested only a search and not anything more dire.

  Alec jumped to his feet and grabbed Katie’s hand, pulling her along behind him as he dashed toward the greater light at the edge of the wood.

  “Henry!” She cried when she spied the fallen tree directly ahead.

  The moss and leaves moved at the sound of her voice, and a bit of blond hair began to show. Alec, reaching him first, scooped Henry off the forest floor as he crawled out of hiding, and took him into his strong arms.

  “Well done, lad,” he commended, allowing Katie only a moment to smile at her son and run her hand over his cheek. “C’mon,” Alec said, holding Henry with one arm and taking Katie’s hand again to direct them back to the wagons. Henry wound his arms around the MacBriar’s neck, finding comfort in this man’s strength just as Katie had. Over Alec’s shoulder, Henry’s watery gaze was trained on Katie.

  She tried to appear at ease for her son, but Alec’s swift pace meant that she had to hike up her skirts and keep careful watch on the uneven ground, even as she was trying to look ahead, to see what the situation was. Running only a pace behind and almost to the side of Alec MacBriar, Katie finally noticed Malcolm, coming into view, unharmed and standing, waiting them. Eleanor and Aymer stood close and others moved about around them.

  The fighting was done.

  Katie breathed easier at their near-casual stances, if one could say that Eleanor, with the hilt of her long sword held at her hip and tilted upward so that the bloodied blade lay over her shoulder was indeed a casual pose.

  They had almost reached them when a shout rang out. “Incoming!”

  All those before them stiffened and struck battle poses, swords swung high and forward, turning their backs to the trio coming from the woods to face this new threat.

  “Son of a—” Alec began, only to be stopped as Katie felt a stinging bite at the same time her hand was snatched from his.

  She was heaved backward by the force of the blow and thrown onto her back with a thump.