Her Highlander's Lion Heart (Scottish Highlander Romance)

by Barbara Bard

  “Ye ask a lot.”

  “I ask fer the help of a fellow Scotsmen. I dinnae need tae plead with ye how dire the circumstances are.”

  Riley stood, shaking his head and feeling overwhelmed by the peace he had recently discovered now once more being threatened. He turned to a window that looked out to the single dirt road that curved through the town. “We have found peace here, Finlay Baird. It took long tae discourage the Sassenach fae coming back.”

  “And that,” Finlay said, “is in jeopardy of being lost. The clan I represent will be wiped out, yers as well, if we dinnae do something about it.”

  Riley thought for a long moment, his wife visible from the window and staring up at him with a curious expression. “I fear,” he said, “that ye brought this on us. I fear that we may hae been safe before yer arrival.”

  Finlay shook his head. “It is nae the case, my friend. Lord Henry was already well on his way here before I arrived. Consider this a preemptive counterattack tae the one he is surely intent on bringing. He is a murderer with no bounds. He will take and destroy everything withoot a second’s hesitation.” He stood, walking over to Riley, just shy of pleading. “I require yer help, me brother. Please. Please, let us end this tyrant’s rule and attempt to bring peace back to the Highlands. I will forever be in yer debt if ye do.”

  Riley turned around and stared at Finlay for a long moment before nodding his head, extending his hand, and shaking it. “Ye can count on me as an ally, Finlay Baird,” he said. “Ye hae everything at yer disposal. If ye require weapons fer yer men, I suggest ye speak with Lachlan aboot crafting more. He is quick and efficient. He will provide ye with what ye need.”

  Finlay and Donovan rode into the town and were escorted by the six men along the way. They learned of a tavern that had been recently set up by one of the men’s brothers, and the tavern had seen a recent batch of whiskey turned out that Donovan was eager to partake in. “Gae,” Finlay said. “I will speak tae the blacksmith and return once I am finished.”

  Donovan rode off as Finlay came to the end of the muddy road cutting in an S-shape through the village made of brownstone and mud, his breath showing in the air as a chill came about and licked at the back of his neck. He arrived at the end of the row, where the clanking of metal on metal reverberated through the air and sparks and curses to follow—the telltale signs of a blacksmith hard at work.

  Finlay dismounted his horse and entered an area that looked like it had been used for stables back when it was under the rule of the Sassenach. Lachlan, a gray-haired man in a brown tunic with the sleeves rolled up, his arms peppered with grit and dirt, didn’t need to turn his head as he set about crafting something made of metal to know that someone was approaching. “I will be with ye in a moment,” Lachlan said, his voice hoarse from years of screaming and fighting.

  Finlay smiled. “I pray nae tae long, my dear man. My business is quite urgent.”

  Lachlan ceased his hammering and slowly turned his head, a smile poking out of his gray beard as he laid his eyes on Finlay. “Me God,” he said, placing down his hammer. “I thought ye Bairds had all been dispatched!”

  “I am afraid not. The Sassenach will hae tae try harder, I suppose.”

  The two of them embraced, Lachlan laughing with joy as he felt Finlay’s arms and took note of his appearance. “Ye look like yer father,” he said. “And which Baird are ye?”

  “Finlay. We met when I was merely a boy.”

  “I recall! And what can I do for ye.”

  Finlay drew a breath. “I require weapons…lots of weapons.”

  Chapter 21

  Lachlan whistled once he heard of Finlay’s request for weapons, the sheer number of them more than anything else.

  “Heavens, good boy,” he said. “I dinnae ken if I hae enough steel tae accommodate ye.”

  Finlay nodded, understanding the old man’s predicament. “It is possible though. Is it nae?”

  Lachlan ran his fingers through his hair and then began rubbing his chin as he thought through what the process would entail.

  “There is an area nae far from here. A day’s ride, at the maist. If I sent a few riders immediately, we would be able tae gather the supplies necessary to mend ye yer weapons.” He crossed her arms. “The question is yer plan.”

  “Me plan?”

  “How dae ye attempt tae gae about taking down the Sassenach? How many men are ye fighting with?”

  Finlay sighed. “I cannae say fer certain…”

  “Eighty-six,” the voice of Riley called out from behind him.

  “Riley,” Lachlan greeted with a nod.

  Riley stepped inside the quarters.

  “I hae taken a tally of my men and what ye said ye have on hand, Finlay Baird. It amounts to eight-six. Unfortunately, some of the men are older, and some of them younger than perhaps desirable in regard to a fight. But it is what we hae tae work with, and work with it we shall.”

  Finlay shook his head. “Lord Henry of Sanford possesses mair.”

  “Aye. Close tae two hundred.”

  “How did ye come tae that amount?”

  “I hae several men working in shifts tae keep a close eye on the surrounding areas. They report back tae me what they find on a daily basis. One of our scouts saw Lord Henry’s encampment two days prior, and he said that another nobleman arrived with reinforcements. He counted their numbers at just over two hundred.”

  Finlay squinted. “Another nobleman?”

  “Aye.”

  “Who?”

  Riley shook his head with disdain. “Lord Henry’s father,” he said. “Earl Simon of Sanford. Ye ken of him, aye?”

  “Aye.”

  “It is nae mystery that Lord Henry has a deplorable reputation. It was only a matter of time before his Sassenach overlords came tae rear him. I believe that time has come.”

  “I thought the same myself. I was just hoping that Earl Simon would dispatch of his troubled son and buy us enough time to bring Lady Isla’s clan to their final destination.”

  “It is wishful thinking, Finlay Baird. Ye ken as well as I that the Sassenach seek to destroy us all, wether it be Lord Henry or his bastard father.”

  Finlay huffed and turned away. He was tired, tired of all the fighting, planning, and strategizing. It seemed that no matter how much they prepared, how hard they fought, they were never able to keep more than one step ahead of their enemy.

  “How,” he said, “dae we stave off this attack?”

  Riley gestured outside. “Come,” he said. “I will show ye.”

  The two of them walked to the gate at the front of the village, high and able to withstand an oncoming force.

  “They will attempt tae come in this way,” Riley said. “It is the only route according tae their current movements that they can enter through.”

  “If they see this,” Finlay said, pointing to the gate, “they will attempt tae gae around it and approach fae the rear of the village. This gate is visible fae a distance.”

  “Aye,” Riley said. “But as much as we dinnae hold a liking for the Sassenach, their intelligence cannae be underestimated.”

  Finlay was already following Riley’s train of thought.

  “So,” he said, “we try and fight them in a way that they are nae expecting.”

  “Ye are a smart man, Finlay Baird. I agree with what ye propose, the only question is what that tactic looks like.”

  Finlay looked around the small but well-kept village, recalling all of his encounters and fights with the Sassenach over the course of the years and trying to deduce exactly what they would and would not be expecting. A thought then occurred to him.

  “Riley,” he said, “in yer time fighting the Sassenach—what is their most common approach?”

  A shrug. “A full assault from right in front. They storm wherever it is they plan on attacking with overwhelming force.”

  “Aye…” he took a step closer. “So, what would they do if they arrived in this village and saw t
hat it was already decimated?”

  Riley furrowed his brow. “Go on…”

  Finlay held up his hands in a way like he was painting a picture.

  “What if we made it appear that yer village had been destroyed, that most of its inhabitants were already dead?”

  “It would lower their guard. They would explore tae find out mair.”

  “Aye. They would approach slow, spreading out and seeing how much damage was done.”

  “You are proposing that we divide them, split apart their men.”

  “Aye.” Finlay walked into the center of the town, in between Riley’s quarters and the makeshift tavern that had been established.

  “This area,” he said, gesturing around, “would enclose them. We lure them inside and wait for them tae congregate. We make it a point to draw them tae certain areas, get them in small groupings.”

  He pointed to the windows in the higher stories of the surrounding buildings.

  “We attack fae above. They will nae suspect it coming. From there we can wipe out a strong percentage of their men. We dwindle down their numbers and then prepare for a final assault.”

  Riley took a moment to observe the surroundings and absorb Finlay’s words before showcasing the subtlest of smiles.

  “Nae bad,” he said. “We leave the gate wide open for them tae come through.”

  Finlay pointed in the direction of the end of the village.

  “And we set up another one there. Once they are inside, we close the gates and attack. We will have tae plan this carefully. It will hae tae be a well-coordinated attack.”

  “Another gate will take time. We need tae ken exactly when the Sassenach will be arriving.”

  “Can ye dispatch another rider tae find out?”

  “Aye,” Riley said before hollering to one of his men and ordering him to do the deed.

  “I will also send for these supplies that Lachlan requests. My men have weapons, but some of them are untrained. We will have tae see tae it to prepare them while we still have the time.”

  “And it is time we cannae waste…”

  The two set about coordinating with Riley’s men, putting forth a plan to gather them all in the center of the village to announce their plan and execute it accordingly. As Riley and a few of his men went about assembling all the able-bodied fighters at their disposal, Finlay set about dispatching his man Donovan to ride to the area Lachlan had stated would provide them with the materials necessary to craft more weapons.

  “We shall hae tae work fast,” Lachlan said. “I already hae my apprentice in back preparing.”

  Finlay put a hand on the man’s withered and bony shoulder.

  “Ye are a godsend, dear Lachlan. I cannae thank ye enough.”

  Lachlan then held up a finger, Finlay waited as Lachlan fetched a leather flask from a drawer near one of his worktables.

  “What is this?” Finlay inquired.

  “Something tae help ye confess what is on yer mind, Finlay Baird.”

  “There is plenty on me mind. It is nae mystery what afflicts me.”

  Lachlan laughed, amused at the words of a young man who still had much life to live.

  “Me boy,” he said, “I hae nae been on this earth withoot learning a thing or two about life, about love.”

  Finlay felt the tug at his heart. “What dae ye mean?”

  “Oh, stop, lad. I can see it in yer eyes. Ye are troubled by a woman! I hae been in that position. I sported the same look myself on mair than one occasion.”

  Finlay sighed and moved over to the workbench, sitting on the edge as he took the leather flask from Lachlan. “It is that apparent, aye?”

  “Aye, lad. It practically flows out of yer eyes.”

  Finlay took a swig and a moment to muster the courage.

  “It is Lady Isla,” he said in a soft tone. “Something was occurring between us. But whatever it was, it is nae longer.”

  “Mmm,” Lachlan said. “A woman tends tae do that, ending the relationship first I mean.”

  “It seems tae be the case…”

  “It is nae out of foolishness, quite the opposite, in fact. A woman possesses and intuition that seems tae evade men.”

  “Ye are saying that women are prophets?”

  Lachlan laughed. “In a way. My wife was much the same. Probably the most clever and brilliant woman or person I ever ken.”

  Finlay took another drink, the whiskey coating his throat and giving him courage. “How did she pass?”

  Lachlan smiled. “In her sleep of old age, a luxury given the trouble that plagues these lands as of late.”

  “Aye. Nae many can afford such comforts.”

  Lachlan took the flask, drank, and held up a finger.

  “But as I said, she was intuitive. She seemed tae ken how things would transpire before they ever came tae pass. It saved me more times than I can count on both hands.”

  “I dinnae mean to discredit ye, Lachlan, but how does this pertain tae me?”

  Lachlan sat next to Finlay and drew a deep breath.

  “There is a reason that Lady Isla is the leader of her clan. She takes after her father. She is smart, perhaps smarter than most men in this land. If she made the choice tae end yer relationship, she kens that it is fer good reason.”

  He leaned in to Finlay; the two of them connected gazes. “I am saying that yer Lady Isla needs tae be trusted. I am saying that ye need tae give it time, lad. Time determines all, especially when it comes tae matters of love and the heart. That is nae something that can be cured or determined overnight.”

  He drank. “Leave yer lady be and take comfort in knowing that fate brought ye together, and fate will bring ye together again.”

  Lachlan passed the flask, Finlay holding it and withholding taking another drink as he said: “I dinnae say I was in love, Lachlan.”

  Lachlan brushed the air like he was moving the comment aside.

  “There is nae need, lad. One can spot love in another’s eyes from a thousand miles away—ye are in love, even if ye are nae ready tae admit it.”

  Finlay took another pull from the flask before handing it back over for good, coughing briefly from the harsh kick of the liquor before a curious thought crept into his mind.

  “Lachlan,” he said. “Could ye do me a favor?”

  Lachlan laughed and gestured to his young apprentice working tirelessly to craft a broadsword behind him.

  “As if I am nae doing enough.”

  Finlay sighed and felt that he was asking too much—but he couldn’t help from still asking the question lingering on the tip of his tongue.

  “I just want ye tae keep an open eye on something fer me.”

  “Which is?”

  “Lady Isla,” Finlay said. “She will be arriving shortly. I want tae ken if ye see the same look in her eye as ye dae with me.”

  Lachlan huffed and put a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I dinnae need tae dae that, lad.”

  Finlay squinted. “And why is that?”

  Lachlan took one last sip and pocketed his flask before moving to scold his apprentice.

  “Because ye ken already—ye have already seen the look in her eye withoot needing me tae tell ye it is there.”

  Finlay chewed on Lachlan’s wisdom as Lachlan corrected his apprentice with his technique. He didn’t need to think long on the memories to know that he had seen that proverbial look that Lachlan spoke of in Isla’s eyes on more than one occasion.

  Finlay knew that Lachlan was right—he just needed to give it time.

  Chapter 22

  Isla and the caravan arrived ten minutes after Finlay’s moment of commiseration with Lachlan. Finlay had rushed from Lachlan’s quarters to the front gate upon hearing from one of Riley’s men about the clan’s; just as eager to see Isla as he was to update her on their plan to defeat Lord Henry and his denizens.

  “Finlay!” the voice of Denholm called from the right side of the caravan.

  Finlay greeted Denholm as he
dismounted his horse, the two men exchanging a quick embrace before Gavina rushed in and threw her arms around Finlay’s legs.

  “Finlay Baird!” she said, nearly taking him off his feet. “I hae so much tae tell ye about the journey!”