Oh, but to be wearing trousers and not a skirt. She was ill prepared for what she knew was coming. Hand on dagger, she watched the trees closely. Within the shadows lay more shadows. Her horse grew more uneasy.
Suddenly, Alexander lifted his blade and roared, “Commit thy work to God!”
The Sinclair war cry.
The woodland exploded with raging activity.
Iosbail slid from her horse. Before she could reach the first lady, an arrow pierced the poor lass’s chest. Silent, determined, she ran and pulled the second lady down. When the girl made to scream she covered her mouth and pulled her into the nearby brush. “Silence,” she whispered.
Thank the gods, she listened. With a finger to the girl’s lips she leaned close and locked eyes with pure terror. “You must stay silent and motionless. Do you ken?”
With a jerk like motion the girl nodded.
“I will be right back.”
Though the girl shook her head, Iosbail crouched and made her way around the brush. Swords clashed and blood spilled. It was hard to tell friend from foe as horses fell and ran, as rain fell harder.
Shamus came into sight first. He fought like an Irishman, not by blade but by fist. Two men lay motionless; a third was taking a heavy pounding.
A stranger appeared. “Aye, what’s a wee bit like you doing out here?”
Iosbail didn’t hesitate but turned and plunged her blade into the man’s chest, right up to where she knew the tip would hit the horrid beat of his heart. Without hesitation, she ran to a fallen clansman and grabbed his sword. She might be petite but she was made of muscle.
When an arrow thumped the ground beside her she grinned. Eyes wild she ran in the direction from which it’d come. Too late, her target was already running in her direction. With a wild cry she swiped her blade. He evaded. She spun and ducked as his blade cut the air over her head. It was hard to remember the last time she’d battled like this. Alive, thrilled, she stabbed forward but missed. He cut low but missed.
Time slowed. Life became a living, breathing thing.
No magic would save her now.
Only her wits and blade.
Iosbail threw off her fur cloak. With a come hither motion of her head, she held the blade high and true. Then, as if she realized it too heavy for her frail body, her expression wavered and her arms shook. Thinking her weak, the enemy rushed forward. Then, with a mighty show of muscle, he swung. She dropped to her knees and thrust. Her blade sliced through the man’s midsection.
As his body crumbled over hers, Iosbail smiled, triumphant.
Lord, it felt good to have no magic!
With a grunt, she shoved aside his lifeless body and stood. Cries of pain rang out from every direction. She had but a split second to lock eyes with an approving Shamus before the next warrior rushed her way. He’d made it halfway before a blade sailed through the air and took him through the back. Fur cloak bloodied, Alexander ran her way.
“We flee. Now!”
“Why?” She asked breathless.
“Hundreds more coming.” He made a motion to Shamus and grabbed her hand.
“Wait, there’s a lass!”
Alexander followed her to the nearby brush. Though tears streaked down her face the lass still lived. Blessed be. Even as the Sinclair crossed blades with oncoming warriors, Iosbail crouched, took the girl’s face in her hands and leaned close. Eyes locked she said, “’Tis time for you to be the bravest you ever have. You will follow me straight out of this hell. You will follow me until the day I tell you that you are free. Do ye ken, lass?”
“Aye, mistress,” she whispered. Iosbail looked even closer. The girl had spirit in her. She was well worth saving for she had a life ahead of her still.
“Aye, then.” Iosbail tied the cloak tighter around the girl’s neck. “When I say run, you run.”
She nodded.
No time like the present. Iosbail swung and raised her blade. “Run!”
As if they’d timed it, she and Alexander ran and fought, ever the protective wall around the fleeing woman. They were within feet of a new path when Shamus joined them.
“Go!” he cried and fell in to protect the three of them.
Alexander shoved Iosbail after the lass. Defiant she turned to see over twenty fresh men erupt from the woodline. “Nay, I stay and fight.”
Shamus ran his dagger across one man’s throat and punched another before turning. “Nay, we all flee. This is a fight lost!”
When an Irishman declared the battle lost, Iosbail listened. She ran for dear life. As she did she paid attention to details. The path was a steep decline. Where there was a steep decline there was likely to be running water.
“Lass!”
The girl stopped running. When she did, Iosbail grabbed her hand and pulled her off the path down an even steeper hill. Half the time they slid on the muddy ground, using the trees to guide. The other part of the time they near fell. When the trees began to thin, she slowed them.
The girl said nothing but kept sturdy pace and followed as Iosbail banked left and stopped. While they’d been busy battling the enemy a Scottish storm had whipped up. Howling and ambitious, its wind bent the trees, its thunder a loud roar across an angry, tempestuous sky.
“Oh no, mistress, ye dinnae mean to…”
Iosbail looked over the cliff to the raging river beneath. Aye, she meant to. Without further thought, she squeezed the girl’s hand. “You made me a promise, lass. Have trust in this.”
“But ‘twill be our death!”
Iosbail pointed back the way they came. “Nay, lass, that will be our death. ‘Tis time for you to release the last of your fear and jump with me.”
Fully aware of the gravity of their situation, the girl shook her head then nodded.
“Alright then. ‘Tis time!”
More courageous than Iosbail anticipated, the girl didn’t let go of her hand but ran and jumped alongside. Thunder roared and lightening streaked across the sky as they fell hundreds of feet. When they hit the water their hands ripped apart.
The rushing river pushed Iosbail beneath the water. Instead of fighting it, she relaxed and moved with the water. Only when an arrow sliced the frigid water beside her did she stick up her head in alarm. The next thing she knew she was being dragged into what seemed more of a tunnel than a cave.
“Come on then, lass.”
Iosbail sputtered water and stumbled after Alexander.
“Stay right then bank a sharp left, there will be a smaller tunnel,” Shamus said from behind.
When she glanced back it was with relief. The Irishman pulled the girl after him. Within minutes they found the other tunnel, one in which they had to crawl through. Though her knees were skinned on the rigid stone and her elbows scraped against the walls, Iosbail thrilled in the adventure.
Her life was in mortal peril. To make matters worse, she was with a Sinclair.
But Iosbail had never been happier.
They crawled for an awful long time before Alexander vanished through a hole. When she crawled out behind him, she realized that they’d arrived in an enormous cave. Hundreds of feet long, stalactites dripped from the ceiling, equally as tall from the ground up, stalagmites reached nearly to the ceiling. The effect was much like what she’d seen when visiting the glorious cathedrals of Italy and Spain.
Magestic. Humbling. Awe-inspiring.
The lass came after her then Shamus. With a finger to his lips he urged that they all crouch and remain silent. For several long minutes the men listened, as did Iosbail. But it was not easy. To listen well was to hear through the drips and echoes natural to a cave.
“All is well,” Alexander finally said. He glanced around the cave. “How did you know this was here?”
Shamus grinned. “’Tis always been my way to discover new things.”
“We need to find shelter,” Iosbail said and looked at Shamus. “Then I need to tend to your wound.”
“Nay.” Shamus leaned against the wall.
He’d been hit in the shoulder with an arrow. One in which he’d already torn half away. “’Tis but a scratch, lassie.”
Alexander moved closer and inspected the wound. “The Broun is right. We’ll find a spot, dry off then see to you, lad.”
“Her name is Iosbail, my laird.”
Surprised, Alexander met Shamus’s eyes. Whatever he saw there made him nod. “Fine then, Iosbail.”
“About five hundred yards further in we’ll find a dry spot but ‘twill be cold as a witches teet,” Shamus said.
“I’ll find a way to light a fire.” Iosbail stood and looked at Alexander. “You get them to the spot and I’ll find you.”
Alexander stood as well. “Now how do you think you’ll find sticks and the means to light a fire from here?”
“With my wits,” she replied and pulled the girl to her feet. “I’d say it’s time we get your name, lass.”
Mousey and withdrawn, the lass made to lower her head.
“Nay, there’ll be none of that. We’re all equals now,” Iosbail said. “Raise your head and know your new place.”
Though her eyes skirted nervously between Alexander and Iosbail, she held her head a bit taller. “Aye, mistress… I mean, Iosbail. My name is Caitriona.”
“Norman?” Iosbail asked.
The lass nodded, unsure. “Aye, one generation removed. I am now of the Scots.”
Iosbail raised a brow and took the time to look closer at the bedraggled creature. How had she missed the girl’s beauty? When cleaned up properly her appearance would claim any man’s heart.
No matter, now was not the time to further analyze the lass’s future but to ensure they all survived. She turned her attention to Alexander. “Do as I say, please. I’ve a way of finding things when set to a challenge.”
“Aye, I’ve little doubt you do.”
Alexander helped Shamus to his feet. “Can you and Caitriona find your way?”
His friend chuckled. “I could find me way out of ifreann blindfolded if need be, laddie.”
“All well and good but no hell will find you while I walk this Earth, friend. I’ll help Iosbail. We’ll be back in no time.”
Shamus nodded. “Best be off then.”
Iosbail was already on her way. Shamus was a capable man and would see to Caitriona. Alexander was not needed. She didn’t want his company. With that in mind, she said nothing as she made her way along the small river running through the cave. The key was finding a spot close enough to sunlight but far enough from the wind, a nook of dirt that supported life despite the odds.
Alexander said nothing for several long minutes. Though she wondered at his thoughts she didn’t volunteer comradeship. That sort of sentiment was better left for battles. And battle she would still with a Sinclair.
When at last he spoke he said, “You think highly of Shamus.”
“Aye, I do.”
“Why?”
Iosbail stayed close to the shore, better to keep him at her back. “Because he fights with heart… because he is a true friend to those he calls his friends.”
“You’ve known him but a day, lass.”
She didn’t have to go far to find what she was looking for and stepped up onto a ledge. “I prefer not to spend a lifetime trying to discover if a person is worth my friendship. One day will do.”
Alexander leapt up beside her. “Then either you’re a fool or someone worth knowing.”
Though she didn’t mean to say such, Iosbail raised a brow at Alexander in invitation. “Then I suppose ‘tis your decision to determine whether or not I’m a fool.”
“Sounds like a challenge.”
Iosbail set to picking up sticks. “There could be nothing else between a Broun and a Sinclair.”
“So you say.”
“So I know.”
“I wonder,” He said softly, “if we’ll be able to set aside our differences long enough to survive what lays ahead.”
“And here I thought you’d decided to woo me to your advantage.”
Alexander chuckled. “Perhaps when I envisioned us traveling with slightly more leisure than what looms before us.”
Iosbail thought his change of tactic intriguing. “It seems to me that such a perilous new adventure would be the best time to convince a lass of your affections.”
“Nay.” He chuckled. “You’re bound to run moody when your belly runs empty and without a change of clothes over several days I cannae imagine being near you all that pleasant.”
Iosbail was downright disappointed in herself when a chuckle escaped her lips. May the gods above not have heard her! With no desire to further risk enjoying the Sinclair’s words she said, “I’ll go down a bit further. There are things I need to find. You continue collecting wood.”
Before he had a chance to respond, she turned to task.
Later that evening she’d continue the conversation and he wouldn’t like what she had to say.
In fact, he’d be downright appalled.
Chapter Four
Alexander sat back against the cave wall and watched the fire flicker over Iosbail’s face. They’d already walked back and forth several times to collect more brush to keep the flame alive. Because their cloaks were damp from the rain they were unable to create a satchel. All was hand carried. But she had a good eye for timber and had found choice pieces that would no doubt see them warm until morn.
Iosbail had since managed to remove Shamus’ arrow and put a poultice over the wound. Whatever she’d used had soothed him greatly. The Norman lass, Caitriona, was fast asleep curled up on a bed of weeds that Iosbail had put together. According to the Broun, those particular weeds hadn’t been fit for a fire. They would cause an unhealthy smoke.
As it turned out Iosbail had a weakness he never saw coming… a soft heart.
While his initial intention had gone from shunning her to wooing her, now Alexander had no real desire to do either. In his estimation, she was a rare sort of person and one worth getting to know better, even if she was a Broun. If he’d learned anything from Shamus it was that the most unexpected things can come from ones greatest enemy.
How was it that such a beautiful woman could be his enemy to begin with?
And Lord was she incredibly lovely.
Knees to her chest, Iosbail sat with her chin propped on bent arms and eyes adrift. First wet then dried by the fire, her long, black hair had turned wild. Now the untamed locks were a becoming spiraled halo of curls over her shoulders. Her once prim and royal features had turned soft and gentle, more becoming than a mythological creature.
Yet it was her eyes that kept him looking again and again.
Alexander wondered over and over where he’d seen such a color and then at last figured it out. It had been a late summer’s day when he’d been but a wee bairn swimming in the loch. The sun was low in the sky… that last hour before sunset. When the light hit the water and made it shine a rare hue of blue that seemed to shoot from both beneath and above the water.
While he’d thought upon meeting her that she had sky blue eyes he’d been incredibly wrong. Iosbail had the eyes of Scotland when she knew day’s end was near.
She had eyes that both cherished day and welcomed night.
When those eyes rose to his and her lips moved it took Alexander a long second to realize she spoke to him. “We’ve but the cloaks drying on the rock and nothing else. The journey ahead will be difficult for everyone, especially a man wounded. I will go on alone and get help.”
He almost laughed but stopped. To see her fight earlier and all she’d done since told him she was a survivor. But he was a royal chieftain and Iosbail was his wife. “You’ll do no such thing. We’re far safer traveling in numbers than we are apart.”
“Spoken like a man used to having brethren at his back.”
“Spoken like a man who has been to war many times.”
Alexander looked once more at Shamus, and then Caitriona before his gaze settled on Iosbail. “They both like you. Already
there is camaraderie. Even you ken the strength in that.”
Why he pushed her to stay and not send her off to what would surely be her death, Alexander did not know. Or did he?
“Shamus can care for her. You can be their strength. You dinnae need me.”
I do though and I dinnae know why. But he would not say such.
“We will travel not to the Broun clan but to the MacLomains. With your brother’s clan we will find soldier and strength enough to make it to the Brouns.”
Iosbail came fully to attention and shook her head. “Nay, my brother is not part of this. I willnae have it.”
Alexander knew well the power her brother, Adlin, had in Scotland. The Broun’s would not be nearly what they were without the tie they shared with the MacLomain’s, despite what Iosbail might say.
“Your brother has a clan so large that most will buckle beneath its power as we make our way from Argyll to Lothian. ‘Tis a wise, sound course of action for us now.”
“Nay!” Iosbail threw a batch of weed into the fire and it flared.
“Aye. ‘Tis our best chance of survival. Surely you can see that.”
A heavy frown in place she said, “What of turning back to the Sinclairs?”
Fury bubbled in his blood but he kept his voice tempered. “You know as well as I who attacked us.”
Iosbail’s eyes flickered to his but remained unwavering. “What makes you so sure Adlin will want to aide a chieftain so despised by the King of Scotland?”
Why had he hoped for a brief moment she would show compassion? The lass was incapable... at least when it came to a Sinclair. “Your brother has no fear of Edgar. The MacLomain’s keep their distance from the Scottish royals. The last I was aware, Adlin had not declared fealty to any king, even Malcolm when he lived.”
“So you see,” she murmured. “’Tis a fool’s errand to seek aide from a clan with no love for your lot.”
“Mayhap not,” Alexander concurred. “But the clan does have a love for you.” He nodded at Shamus. “And him.”
“What say you?”
Highland Persuasion (The MacLomain Series- Early Years) Page 4
