The Knight's Broken Promise

by Nicole Locke

  ‘Your tree?’ he said. ‘Other than the lanky limbs and height, I hardly see the resemblance.’

  She laughed. ‘Nae!’ She dismounted and helped the children to dismount. ‘Look at its base!’

  He moved his horse closer. The base of the tree was large and knotted and extended past the rest of the trunk. It was some sort of abnormal growth.

  She sat on the contorted base. ‘See! It’s a perching place. For ages, it’s been welcoming Colquhouns with a place to sit.’

  He dismounted and braced his feet against the wind buffeting against him. His breath left him, not by the wind, but by Gaira.

  Her hair, still partially bound in a plait, whipped around her face. Her eyes were squinting from the sun, her cheeks red, her smile large and wide. She’d given her shawl to Flora and her tunic plastered against her body. Even under its thick cover, he could see her body was cold.

  To see her nipples peaked made his body burn and his mouth go dry. ‘Aye, very welcoming,’ he admitted. If her hair taunted him, her outlined breasts mocked his denied body.

  Without looking at him, she grabbed a handful of dirt and held it out to him. ‘So, do you want some now?’ She offered him Scottish soil again. But this time it was her family’s soil. This time, he knew what it felt to be close to her.

  But he didn’t move until she looked at him. Then he waited until her smile turned to confusion, then turned to comprehension.

  Only then did he dare to be close to her again.

  ‘Robert?’ she asked, her voice hesitant with the beginning of desire. Her eyes darted behind him, but he knew the children were too far away.

  Gaira felt Robert’s intent, his eyes on her, then on her legs, then back. A message she understood all too well. He wanted to touch her again and he was asking her permission.

  She looked behind him again. The children continued to chase each other.

  She had only meant to show him the Colquhoun tree and to share some land. Now, with him looking at her as he did, she didn’t know what she wanted to do.

  She kept her hand out to him, though, and the dirt slipped through her trembling fingers. Robert moved closer until his legs barely touched her knees.

  Such a small touch, knees against legs. In strangers, the touch would have meant nothing. But her body wasn’t a stranger to his and it was quickly responding to his touch.

  He grabbed the dirt, spilling more than he took. Trying to calm her too-fast heart, she placed her hand in her lap. Rejected by his too-brief touch. Again.

  ‘There now, was that so difficult?’ she said, trying to hide her painful awareness of him.

  ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘It was.’ The corners of Gaira’s mouth wobbled into a smile, but her whisky-coloured eyes had darkened as he stood before her, telling him of how she really felt. He wanted to step closer, between her legs, to see if her eyes would darken more. At the peak of her desire, her eyes had turned—

  Laughter. The children were returning.

  Her cheeks flushing, Gaira quickly stood. He didn’t stop her when she pushed him out of the way and ran towards the children. Laughter and squeals increased behind him.

  He stood staring at the tree, imagining her still there. Imagining that they were alone so he could take a step closer. Could have... Exhaling slowly, he focused only on the tree. She had been jubilant to see it again. The tree was gnarled and ugly, except, through her eyes, he was beginning to see its beauty, too.

  He turned to look at the rest of the land she loved. Then he saw them: two riders approaching from the north. They were setting up great swirls of dust as they rode fast. His heart thudding in his chest, Robert ran to his horse.

  ‘Gaira!’ he called. Cursing his wandering mind, he freed his long sword. His delay could cost them their lives. ‘Take the horses and the children, go south and wait for me on the other side of the stream!’

  She didn’t answer him.

  He turned to see she was gathering the children behind her, but she wasn’t heading south. She was walking towards him.

  He should have known she’d be stubborn. ‘This is no time for your bravery!’

  ‘I’m not going,’ she said.

  The riders were almost upon them and he could make out the grim looks on their faces. This was not a friendly visit. There needed to be distance between them.

  ‘Dammit, Gaira, move!’

  ‘I think I’ll see what my brothers have to say first.’

  Her brothers. With grim faces. ‘Move so the children don’t have to witness this.’

  She folded her hands in front of her. ‘There’ll be nothing to witness if I stay. My brothers are reasonable.’

  ‘It may have taken you some time to know who I am, but I doubt it will take any time at all for your brothers to guess. When they do, reason will have no play in this.’

  ‘I’m staying.’ She jutted out her chin. ‘My motivations for staying are more powerful than reason.’

  He had no time for her riddles.

  The two men pulled up their mounts, kicking up small pebbles as they stopped.

  One had long dark hair, but the sun’s light gave it a hint of red. His grey-green eyes were cold, merciless.

  The other, younger, had short dark hair, not a hint of red, with dark-green eyes that were hot with anger. Neither drew their sword. But they had the advantage. There were two of them and both on horseback.

  They moved the horses close to him to intimidate him. He knew the procedure. He kept his gaze on the men, not the horses.

  These men were not lackwits like Busby. He could see their eyes assess and take measure. Though they were angry, they held their temper.

  ‘What do you do with our sister?’

  Not the question he was expecting, but certainly the most pertinent. It was the older one who talked first. He wondered if it was Bram, the laird, but quickly dismissed that thought. Gaira had described the laird as having red hair. This was probably the second son, Caird.

  ‘I am returning her and four children to your care.’ He did not try to talk in their tongue. They would guess he was English.

  Caird did not spare his sister or the children a glance. Robert knew he had already taken in the entire assemblage when they rode up.

  The younger one brought his horse closer. Robert guessed he was Malcolm, the youngest brother.

  ‘Her care does not belong to us, but to her husband,’ Malcolm stated. ‘You are not he, Englishman.’

  ‘No, I am not. He is dead.’

  Neither of her brothers looked surprised. They were testing him.

  ‘How?’ Caird asked.

  ‘By my own hand.’

  Malcolm pulled tight on the reins and his horse sidestepped roughly. It forced Robert to move to avoid a hoof crushing his foot.

  ‘Few men could fell Busby of Ayrshire,’ Malcolm reported, his voice harsher than his brother’s. His anger was not so neatly under control.

  ‘He did not give me the opportunity to know that,’ Robert answered, ‘as he attacked me from my back.’

  They did not seem surprised by that news either. Yet they came from the north and the town was south. The only way they could know what had happened there was either to have travelled to Doonhill or they had messengers.

  The two extra days when they travelled through Buchanan land had given her brothers the advantage. He wondered how well informed they were.

  ‘Perhaps you gave him reason for attacking your back,’ Malcolm said.

  ‘Nae, he did not, Malcolm, and doona you go accusing him of such!’ Gaira walked towards them.

  Robert was surprised she had waited this long to speak.

  ‘Gaira, stay put!’ Malcolm ordered.

  ‘I will not! My complaint is with Bram, not you, but I demand you stop circl
ing this man as if you intend to hurt him.’

  ‘You defend him overmuch,’ Caird said.

  ‘Aye,’ Malcolm sneered. ‘Interestingly, we doona know who it is you defend. Neither of you have mentioned his name.’

  There was no use denying it. Robert flexed his wrist on his sword.

  ‘Robert of Dent.’ He waited until they reacted. He did not have to wait long.

  With a roar, Caird pulled his horse roughly away, dismounted and drew his sword. Malcolm was right there by his side.

  Free of the horses circling, Robert widened his stance and placed his sword low and in front of him. Gaira was in his peripheral vision and much too close should her brothers attack. Robert shifted his feet. He didn’t want the swords anywhere near her.

  ‘So the infamous Black Robert is not dead after all,’ Malcolm growled.

  ‘Seems we have to remedy that,’ Caird joined.

  ‘You will not, Caird!’ Gaira said. ‘This man has done nothing but help me return here.’

  ‘That’s not what we heard,’ Malcolm stated. ‘You wouldn’t need help returning if not for this demon you stand too near. Move away so we can kill him.’

  ‘I’ll do nae such thing, you daupit argle-barglous beetle!’

  ‘Gaira, do you know who this man is?’ Malcolm demanded. ‘Do you know what he has done?’

  ‘Aye, I do and I stand by my word I’ve been safe and so have these children. Children, I should tell you, who have seen too much violence. I’ll not let them see more.’

  ‘My sister’s too protective of you.’ Caird spat on the ground. ‘What have you done, English?’

  Robert did not want to fight Gaira’s brothers, but he’d defend himself if he had to. He wasn’t planning to die today. ‘I’m returning your sister. Nothing more.’

  ‘Stand away from him, Gaira.’ Malcolm pointed his sword for her to get out of the way.

  ‘Oh, hell, can’t you men just use your wanwordy heads for once!’

  They didn’t hear the lone horse and rider galloping hard, until he was upon them. The horse snorted loudly when he came to a complete stop.

  Robert was not going to be distracted. He kept his eyes on Caird and Malcolm, but glanced briefly at the rider. Gaira said she had three brothers. It appeared he was to be graced with the entire Clan Colquhoun before the end of the day.

  But it wasn’t a Colquhoun. Hugh dismounted and brought his sword up with a flourish. ‘Am I late?’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It took his mind far too many seconds to realise who he was seeing. ‘Hugh!’ Robert shouted. ‘What are—?’

  Malcolm took advantage of his distraction. Robert blocked the blow right when the tip of Malcolm’s sword was an inch from slicing his chest.

  The ringing of the two swords ended any peaceable truce and it didn’t take long for Hugh and Caird to join in.

  Gaira was forced to move away from the swords swinging. The children stood a few feet from her and they watched everything.

  It appeared she was the only voice of reason. If she didn’t stop this nonsense, the children would either be in danger from the swords or see something they shouldn’t.

  She winced as she heard Malcolm’s sword reverberate against Robert’s. He had made a powerful arc towards Robert’s head. It was similar to what she saw Busby do. But Robert didn’t react as he had with Busby.

  She watched more closely. Robert wasn’t fighting her brother. He defended. Malcolm seemed to realise it, too, and his movements became more aggressive.

  She looked at Hugh and Caird. Hugh’s intent was clear with each swipe of his sword. He was not trying to defend. He was trying to kill and so was Caird.

  She wouldn’t have any deaths on her hands. She looked around at her feet and found what she was looking for. Taking a handful of the largest rocks, she aimed at their heads.

  She might as well have been doing nothing. Other than a bit of flinching, they continued in their idiotic fighting.

  She looked at her feet again. There was no hope for it. She’d have to resort to stronger measures. What did she care for a lost or blackened eye? It was their fault.

  Despite the wind, her strategy worked. Pelting multiple small rocks at their eyes forced them to be distracted.

  ‘Halt!’ Caird shouted, wiping the sand and grit from his eyes.

  She was relieved to see Hugh stopped his fighting and give Caird the courtesy of sight. Apparently this was another Englishman with honour. She wondered if her brothers had noticed.

  Malcolm’s face was pock-marked with red welts. She had been throwing especially large rocks towards his nose and was quite satisfied it was bleeding profusely. It served him right for starting the attack.

  ‘What in the hell are you doing?’ Malcolm shouted.

  ‘Getting you to stop, you idiot!’ she shouted equally as loud.

  ‘Bram will not want this man alive.’ Malcolm finished wiping his face.

  ‘Aye, maybe so, but that is for Bram to decide as laird of Colquhoun and not the likes of you two!’

  Caird hesitated. Robert shifted. Hugh was glancing at Robert, taking measure of his actions.

  Good, they were listening, but they hadn’t put their swords away. She’d have to use guilt. She didn’t want to. Not like this, in front of Robert and Hugh and in the wake of anger. But they were giving her no choice. She knew her sister would understand.

  ‘You cannot fight these men.’ She softened her voice. ‘Robert helped me bury Irvette.’

  Caird visibly shook. Malcolm’s sword dropped.

  She knew she had finally got through to her brothers. She just hoped Robert would keep his sword still.

  ‘Robert?’ Hugh asked. It was clear he wanted to know what to do.

  ‘Stand down, Hugh,’ Robert answered. ‘This is not your fight.’

  ‘So it is true,’ Caird said, his voice hoarse.

  Gaira felt for him and Malcolm. She did not want them to know this way. She just wanted them to stop fighting. ‘Aye.’

  Caird regained his colour. ‘Did he have a play in it?’

  ‘Nae. He did not,’ she said.

  Caird lowered his sword and looked at Robert and Hugh. ‘My sister is right. We will wait for Bram’s judgement.’

  Robert did not say anything.

  Caird continued. ‘You will each give me your swords.’

  ‘No,’ Robert said. ‘But you have my honour they will not be raised.’ He paused. ‘Until we hear judgement from your brother.’

  Malcolm whispered into Caird’s ear and looked levelly at her, a question in his eyes. She nodded to him. Robert could be trusted.

  Malcolm placed his hand on Caird’s shoulder. ‘Come, we’ll let the laird do business with the man and his weapons.’

  ‘And your man?’ Caird asked, his eyes on Robert.

  ‘Do not question his honour if you expect there to be no fight.’ Robert sheathed his sword.

  Caird hesitated, but it was Robert’s actions, more than his words, that seemed to sway him. He sheathed his own sword.

  * * *

  It took them only a half a day’s ride to reach Colquhoun Keep. The keep was not hidden behind trees or rocks and its thick vertical towers stood tall even against the cliffs that surrounded it.

  Robert slowed his horse, so that he could get a better view of the land and its inhabitants. He knew his curiosity was an odd emotion to feel at a time like this. Within an hour or so, he most likely would be dead.

  The people stopped their work and were openly staring. He knew now what Gaira meant, that a Buchanan would know if he’d caught a Colquhoun. Most everyone around him had varying shades of red hair. None had the brilliant vibrancy of Gaira’s hair, but the bright frequent shade coloured the landscape better th
an any purple heather or yellow broom.

  He slowed his horse just a bit more and he heard the rough snort of Malcolm’s horse behind him.

  Gaira was riding just to his right and staring at the gate opening upon their approach. Her freckles stood out against the paleness of her cheeks and her lips, pinched by her teeth, had lost their normal colour. She was more than worried now. Maisie, slumped and asleep, was clasped tight against her, not out of affection, but because Gaira was terrified she’d be snatched away. Alec seemed to understand Gaira’s fear and kept his arms around her back.

  Inside the gates, a large man with red hair walked down the keep’s steps. Four men flanked him from behind. The laird of Colquhoun had come to greet them.

  Malcolm moved his horse slightly to Robert’s left to block him from the closing gate. When the gate closed, Scottish soldiers, enough to fell an English army, surrounded them. He had nowhere to go.

  He could have told them to save their tactics. He had no intention of leaving until Gaira and the children were safe. He didn’t know how he would accomplish that fact, but staying around as long as possible was part of the plan.

  Caird dismounted before Bram reached them.

  ‘I see your trip was successful.’ Bram’s voice boomed in the quiet courtyard. ‘But I see also you have brought some...guests.’

  Caird indicated with his arm. ‘This is Robert of Dent and one of his men, my laird.’

  Bram fixed his eyes on Robert. ‘So, Black Robert lives,’ he said curiously.

  Robert threw his sword to the ground and twenty soldiers unsheathed their swords.

  Bram did not flinch when Robert slowly dismounted and walked towards him.

  The four men around Bram moved, but Bram held up his fist and they stopped. Robert spoke first.

  ‘I have brought your sister and four surviving children from a village my men massacred. A village near Dumfries.’

  Oh, God, what did Robert do? Gaira’s worry escalated. Bram knew who Robert was. That alone was enough to order him killed. Now Robert had told her brother he was responsible for Doonhill?