Return of the Rogue

by Donna Fletcher

  His brothers flanked him as they hunched down as well.

  “Surprise will be your best approach,” Cavan explained. “The barbarians will hit hard and quick and in great force. Post the neighboring clans where they cannot be seen and use them for a surprise attack. While the barbarians believe the sheer number of them will decide the battle, it is the warrior who fights wisely who will know victory.”

  “What of you?” Lachlan asked.

  Cavan stood and his brothers followed. “You, Lachlan, will come with me. Artair will lead the battle here. Once Mordrac’s capture is known, his tribe will surrender.”

  “You are sure you can capture him?” Artair asked. “We have never been able to penetrate his territory. It is as if his surroundings protect him. And—”

  Cavan placed his hand on Artair’s shoulder, knowing why he hadn’t finished. “And he has Honora, who he will use against me.”

  “How then will you conquer him?” Artair asked.

  “With whatever it takes,” Cavan said, and walked away.

  The morning brought a clear sky and gave Honora a chance to explore. She slipped out of the stronghold that served as their keep. It was well guarded and no one could leave or enter without being seen. She hadn’t been stopped, so she assumed orders had been given that she was not to be held a prisoner.

  The village consisted of small cottages that were better maintained than she had expected, though the people were not friendly, nor did she wish to make friends with anyone. How could she when she could trust no one and no one would trust her?

  She almost recoiled when she saw how captives were treated. They were forced to live in well-guarded pens like animals. A trough held their food, though it looked more like slop, and they had to scoop it out with their hands. Their only shelter from the weather was a small lean-to that clearly could not hold them all at one time.

  If Cavan had been held here, this had been his lot. While that hurt her heart, it also made her angry. She grew angrier as she walked around and realized that it had been her father who had brought such suffering to Cavan’s family.

  The only sensible reason was wealth and power. While he would have been held in some regard in the Sinclare clan because of her marriage to the clan chieftain, his life would not change all that much.

  “Don’t think you can escape.”

  She recognized Calum’s sneering laugh and she turned, taking a few chosen steps to put a safe distance between her and her stepfather.

  “Why?” she found herself shouting, unable to contain the anger that had built inside her.

  He raised his hand, ready to strike her, but her fierce glare stopped him dead in his tracks.

  “Don’t dare touch me,” she warned through gritted teeth.

  He lowered his hand and his sneer spread confidently. “You’re right. Why waste my time? You’re Mordrac’s problem now. You served my purpose. I have what I want.”

  “Wealth and power,” she confirmed for herself.

  “See, you even know I deserve it,” he boasted.

  “I know you will most certainly get what you deserve.”

  He laughed. “You foolishly think that your husband will save you. Cavan will do his duty and save his wife, and at what cost?” Calum’s sneer faded to one of disgust. “He will trade his life for his wife’s, foolishly believing that his clan will be saved. Then Mordrac will attack and conquer all the Sinclare lands and continue into Scotland, conquering clan after clan.”

  Her stepfather was a madman to believe such foolishness. The Scots were a proud people who would defend their land fearlessly and never surrender to the likes of Mordrac. And while she didn’t believe Cavan unwise enough to trade his life for hers, her being here, a captive of his enemy, placed his life in jeopardy. And it limited his options to attack. She had only one choice, and that was to escape and reach him before he reached the stronghold.

  “And you needed me for this?” she asked, wanting to clarify her part in his plan.

  “You were nothing more than a pawn so the pieces could be put in the right places at the right time. You were never meant to wed Cavan. He was meant to die once he was captured, but Mordrac got it into his head to torment the mighty warrior and make him suffer before he took his life. No one expected him to escape from here, since no one ever had. I had little time to make certain the wedding documents stipulated that you wed the next heir of Clan Sinclare, for I knew Cavan would return home. And lucky I was that he made it home just in time to claim his bride.”

  “What difference did I make in the plan?”

  “As the wife of the chieftain of the clan, your husband would be honor bound to rescue you. While he brought his warriors here, Mordrac would send his hordes to devastate the Sinclare clan, using you as a ruse to delay your husband from returning home too soon, guaranteeing him victory.”

  “You think Cavan that foolish to leave his clan and land unprotected?”

  “What choice does he have? His own memories remind him what Mordrac will do to prisoners, and so he will ride as soon as possible to rescue you while leaving a minimum of warriors behind. Of course, he will leave an order for other clans to be called to duty, but it will be too late, for Mordrac already has his hordes there. As soon as Cavan leaves Sinclare land, they will attack and kill everyone in sight.”

  Honora’s blood ran cold and she shivered. She would be the cause of all their deaths. She could not have that. She had to escape. If her husband could, then so could she.

  Calum laughed. “You served me well, daughter. And you will serve Mordrac well until he tires of you, though if you wish to survive, I’d advise that you give him many sons. He has none, and he will spare the woman who gives him what he so desperately wants.”

  “What of Tavish Sinclare?” she asked, knowing he would enjoy the boasting.

  “Tavish had to go. His son had to rule. I distracted him. The barbarians were quick. It was over and done before he or I even realized it. After all, we wanted it to look like one man was responsible.”

  “Cavan.”

  “Nothing like turning the clan against their laird, for then warriors are less likely to enter battle with him. I’ve done a good job. The pieces are all in place. Soon the game will be over and I will be victorious.”

  Honora stared at Calum’s back as he walked away, a bitter taste filling her mouth. She hated him. He had been the cause of so much misery and loss in her life. He was a man who cared for no one but himself. It didn’t matter who he hurt, who suffered, as long as he got his way.

  She glanced around the village and knew there had to be a way out. Cavan had found it, and so would she. She refused to be a pawn in an evil game, and refused to allow evil to win.

  Chapter 35

  It had been three days since she entered Mordrac’s stronghold, and she knew she had little time left. There was word that Cavan’s warriors were not far off, and all was set for battle. But she’d had no luck in finding an escape route.

  While Mordrac paid her little heed, whenever he saw her he boasted about how much he would enjoy killing her husband. Intent on power and domination, he would let nothing stand in his way.

  A woman was of little consequence to Mordrac, which was obvious from the way he treated his daughter. She, like a dutiful child, did his bidding without challenge. Honora supposed it had been no different for her with Calum, but at least she’d learned to be courageous, and in a sense had gained her freedom. She didn’t fear Calum anymore, and that meant he couldn’t hurt her ever again, even if he struck.

  With her chance of finding an escape route diminishing by the hour, Honora sat in the small bedchamber provided for her and lightly touched the bruises on her face. Her father had taken his hand to her more than once, and each time in front of Mordrac, so she’d little chance to defend herself without suffering severe consequences. Besides, she didn’t want to take the chance of offending anyone and lose the privilege of roaming the village at will.

  A young slave g
irl entered her room with food and a hot brew. A sprig of winter pine graced the tray, as always, and Honora picked it up, sniffed its potent scent, and thought of the small woods on the moors at home where it grew.

  She gasped. Winter pines lived in the thick of the woods. How had this sprig gotten here? Someone had to have gathered it, which meant going into the thick of the woods, beyond the stronghold.

  “Where did you get this?” Honora demanded.

  The girl bowed her head and crunched her body in fright, as if waiting for a hand to strike her.

  Familiar with the reaction, Honora went to her, placed a comforting arm around the girl and spoke in a soothing tone. “I mean you no harm. Please, I just need to know.”

  “My master’s daughter gathers it from the woods,” the young girl answered. “She likes the forest and goes there often.”

  Honora hugged the girl, grateful to her and feeling terribly sorry for her lot as a slave. “Thank you, and please tell no one I asked of this.”

  The girl nodded and smiled briefly before leaving.

  Honora waited, her cloak secure around her, until she was certain the girl was gone and would not see her leave. She then slipped out and cautiously made her way through the village. She feared that with the news of Cavan being so close, someone might stop her and order her confined to the stronghold. But no one paid her heed and she walked and watched until she saw the person she sought.

  Carissa rode a beautiful black mare, and while Honora hoped she would not notice her watching, their eyes met. Carissa, however, looked away, uninterested, her horse taking a slow trot.

  Honora followed without appearing to do so. She was grateful that she had learned how to be invisible to people, blending, not drawing attention to herself, and continued to follow Carissa without notice. Mordrac’s daughter rode a short way before directing her horse behind a tree. Honora waited patiently for her to round the large trunk, but Carissa didn’t. It was as if she’d magically disappeared from sight.

  No one seemed to notice, not the villagers nor the guards. This had to be the way into the woods and away from the stronghold. A secret spot that no one knew of, or at least only a chosen few knew about.

  The alarm sounded then, blaring through the village, and Honora cringed as people rushed around her. There was no time left; she had to leave and now or it would be too late.

  Among the shouts and chaos of everyone preparing for battle, she slipped behind the tree and found the entrance to the woods bared by thickets that could tear the clothes and sting the skin. But once past the prickly branches, there lay an open path, and she broke into a run.

  Cavan sat mounted on his stallion, a line of his warriors stretched out along the ridge, looking down at the barbarian stronghold. Attack would not be easy. The barbarians had the protection of a stone wall that extended from one end of the woods to the other and a clear line of fire from the top of that wall. The dense woods at the rear of the stronghold also served to protect. The place appeared impenetrable.

  That, however, was the least of his worries, for Cavan knew that Mordrac would use Honora to force his surrender. And he knew that he couldn’t only think of her; he had to consider his clan. He thanked God for the wisdom his father had taught him, for without it, he doubted that he could face this situation with confidence.

  Lachlan approached at a gallop. “We are ready and await your word.”

  “Mordrac will make the first move,” Cavan said, and as he spoke, the wooden doors centered in the stone wall opened.

  Mordrac emerged, dressed in fur and leather, another rider alongside him. From the shape and size of the man, it was easy to recognize Calum.

  Cavan and Lachlan rode down the ridge to meet with the enemy. Meanwhile, Cavan prayed that his wife was safe and unharmed, for if she wasn’t, he intended to make Mordrac suffer before he killed him.

  He had tried to keep thoughts of Honora’s possible suffering from his mind, to keep it clear so he could devise a plan that would succeed. He couldn’t allow her to be the only goal in this battle, had to think of more than just his wife, no matter how difficult. It was the only way he could save her and his people.

  Cavan sat tall in his saddle and wore his clan colors with pride. He kept his face stern, and a firm grasp on his reins as well as his anger. If not, he feared he would lunge at Mordrac and kill him with his bare hands.

  He wasn’t surprised that Calum rode with Mordrac. Calum would want to flaunt his supposed victory, and Cavan could hardly wait for the chance to punch the smug smile from the man’s face.

  “Welcome back,” Mordrac said with a boastful grin. “Your pen awaits you.”

  “I won’t need it,” Cavan said with a bold conviction that startled the two men.

  “You forget I have your wife,” Mordrac reminded him.

  “You better pray you haven’t harmed her,” Cavan warned with the same boldness.

  Mordrac gripped the horn of his saddle. “I’m going to take great pleasure in taking your wife in front of you before I kill you, and then I’ll raise your child a barbarian.”

  Cavan sprang up in his saddle but quickly regained control of himself. Honora was with child? His child.

  Good Lord, he wished he had her in his arms right now. He’d never let her go, never ever let her go.

  Now more than ever, he needed to keep Honora and his child safe, no matter the cost.

  “You will surrender and I will let your wife and your clan live under my leadership,” Mordrac ordered sharply. “If not, I will see that every Sinclare dies, and not an easy death, starting with your wife, and of course your unborn child along with her.” He looked up at the clear sky. “It is a good day for torture and execution.”

  “How can I trust you?” Cavan asked, though he would have preferred to be choking the life out of the man.

  “I give you my word,” Mordrac said.

  “How do I accept the word of a liar?”

  Mordrac grinned. “What other choice do you have? You’re beaten, Sinclare, accept it and save those you can.”

  Cavan knew Mordrac’s word meant nothing. As soon as he surrendered, the barbarian he would kill the entire Sinclare clan. He was known for making certain that any enemy who challenged him would die, and those he took prisoners were always enslaved.

  Lachlan rose in his saddle then and looked past Cavan. The other men did the same, surprised by the lone rider who appeared on the rise just past the end of the stone wall at the edge of the forest.

  The rider’s identity was obscured by the dark hooded cloak wrapped around him, which blended him with the black horse. The image was more that of a demon emerging from the depths of hell and bearing down on them.

  “What is this?” Mordrac demanded.

  “He is not one of mine,” Cavan retorted sharply.

  “You lie,” Mordrac yelled.

  The rider rode with skill and approached at a rapid pace. He looked as if he would collide with the four men if it not for the swift and skillful handling of the animal. The horse pranced the last few feet to the men, and with a quick yank of the hood, the rider was revealed.

  “Honora!” Cavan cried out. Directing his horse to her side, he reached over, grabbed her around the waist, and swooped her up, to plop her in front of him in his saddle. He wanted her safe in his arms, where he intended to keep her. He would not take the chance of losing her again. He did not want to ever again feel that abject fear and intense emptiness that her absence had caused him.

  “I escaped,” she said with glee, and kissed him quick.

  There was so much to say to her, but all he could do was stare. He was so very happy to gaze into her lovely violet eyes again, to feel her body snuggled against his, to hear her voice, see her smile, and feel her warmth, her love.

  His dark eyes turned murderous when he saw her bruised cheek and jaw. He wanted to roar with fury and reach out and kill the man responsible for harming his wife, but Honora’s soft smile tamed his warring heart.
/>   “I’m all right now. I’m in your arms.”

  Cavan gathered his senses and did what he had to do, though he promised himself that later he would say the words he felt in his heart deep down to his soul. Words he should have told her long before this.

  He turned to Mordrac. “You’ve lost what little bargaining power you had.”

  “It doesn’t matter. As we speak my hordes are attacking your clan and claiming your land.”

  Cavan laughed. “Do you really think me that much of a fool?”

  Mordrac eyed him guardedly.

  “My clan and several neighboring ones have been prepared for your attack. By now my brother and the other clan leaders are in the process of capturing your men, and easily I might add, since you are a predictable lot.”

  Mordrac grew furious. “You lie.”

  “Unlike you, I speak the truth, but then the choice is yours.”

  “You think me a coward that I would surrender?” Mordrac spat.

  “You forget that I escaped from here without detection. Didn’t it ever occur to you that I could enter without detection?”

  Mordrac’s face suddenly glowed with anger. He quickly turned in the saddle to see his men being overrun by Cavan’s warriors along the stone wall.

  Cavan gave the signal for his men on the ridge to advance, and the sight of them charging down greeted Mordrac when he turned around.

  “I used this meeting time for my men to penetrate your stronghold and find my wife,” Cavan explained, and gave his wife’s waist a hug. “However, she saved me valuable time. But then, she is a courageous woman. I should have known she would escape.”

  Cavan’s men soon circled them and more of his warriors spilled out of the stronghold and the woods.

  Cavan’s expression turned stern and his voice forceful. “You’re surrounded. Surrender. This is now Sinclare land.”

  A cheer rang out from his men, and with little effort the stronghold was secured, prisoners released, and new prisoners confined. A tent was erected for Honora and him since neither wished to spend any time within the walls of the stronghold. Cavan had already spent enough time there, and Honora wanted no more of the place.