Highland Guard

by Hannah Howell

  “Do your best. It could be what saves my life in the coming battle.” He gave her a pat on the backside and pulled up the dark hood Biddy had worn to hide herself from any possibly prying eyes.

  “Oh, Clyde, I wish we could be together now. Tonight.”

  “Soon, my love. Soon. Just a little more patience is all I ask. Now, back ye go.” He gave Biddy a little nudge in the direction of the bolt-hole she had used.

  Annys realized she was now between Biddy and her way back into the keep. It was tempting to just get up and run but she hoped to get away unseen, small though her chances were. She scrambled back to the bolt-hole but even as she reached out to open it, Clyde looked her way.

  Chapter Eleven

  Fear cut through Annys like shards of ice. The man who had seen her was drawing his sword and three others were stepping out of the shadows, also arming themselves. Biddy squealed in fright and ran toward the keep. It was a long run back to Glencullaich, she thought even as she hiked up her skirts and began to run, heartily cursing Biddy and the men now chasing her for robbing her of the chance to take the shorter path back home.

  “Dinnae kill her,” yelled out one of the men. “Sir Adam will be wanting to get his hands on her.”

  Sir Adam could just keep on wanting, Annys thought. She had no intention of falling into that man’s hands. Her heart pounded as she ran, fighting to keep herself moving fast enough not to lose the small lead she had on Adam’s men. They might not be planning to kill her but Sir Adam wanted her dead. She had no doubt about that.

  If she had breath to spare, Annys knew she would have cheered when the walls of Glencullaich came into view. She could see the men upon the walls. The outcry from them was sweet music to her ears. Thinking herself safe, she allowed her fears to ease a little.

  A small divot in the ground took her down a heartbeat later. Annys cried out as pain shot up her leg when it was twisted badly as her foot sank into the small hollow in the ground. That ground proved to be very hard when she hit it. The speed she had been moving at when she tripped caused her to slide and roll over the ground for several feet, adding even more aches and pains. Hearing the men chasing her drawing close, she tried to get to her feet, ignoring the ominous dampness at her waist, but unable to ignore the pain in her leg when she tried to stand on it.

  Men raced out of Glencullaich, stopping the terror rapidly rising within her. She looked behind her when she heard a guttural curse and her fear receded even more. Sir Adam’s men had turned and were running away. Annys sighed and slowly sat down. When Nicolas halted by her side while the other men continued after her pursuers, she forced a smile for him to try to ease the concern she could see on his face.

  “If that look is meant to fool me into thinking ye are fine, it failed.” He crouched down next to her. “Did they hurt ye at all or is this just from the fall?”

  “Just the fall,” she replied. “I suspicion I am covered in bruises, have at least one cut, and I have hurt my leg.”

  “Broken?”

  “Nay, I think not. There wasnae that horrible crack such as I heard once when I broke my arm as a child. Didnae feel the same, either. I am fair sure I just twisted it in a direction it was ne’er meant to go.”

  “Ah, I ken what ye mean.” He carefully lifted her up into his arms. “Hurting?” he asked when she winced.

  “Everything hurts right now,” she replied, curling her arm around his neck to steady herself. “It has naught to do with ye carrying me. And, I suspicion ’tis far, far less painful to be carried than to try to walk back myself just now.”

  “Why were ye outside the walls?”

  “Ah, weel, I was following Biddy, the cook’s assistant. She was meeting with one of those men.”

  Nicolas muttered a curse. “Weel, she is long gone now. Most like fled with the men.”

  “That would have been the clever, sensible thing to do, aye. I believe our Biddy isnae verra clever or sensible. She ran back to the keep the moment she saw me.” Annys almost smiled when there was the slightest falter to his step, revealing his surprise.

  “Mayhap she believed ye wouldnae be returning to the keep.”

  “That may be so, but I believe there was no true thought behind her actions. She just ran. Mayhap she thought that cowl she wore was enough to hide who she was so that e’en if I did return, I wouldnae ken it had been her I saw. ’Tis clear she forgot I saw her earlier and kenned what she was wearing today.”

  “Ye are right. Nay verra clever our Biddy. As soon as we get ye settled with Joan to tend to your wounds, I will have a wee word with her.”

  Annys sighed. “Aye, ye must. I ken it. Just . . .” She frowned, uncertain of what she wanted to say.

  “Just what? Dinnae hurt her? Dinnae put her in a cell? She killed David.”

  She could hear the anger in his voice and shared it. Biddy had lived well at Glencullaich. She could claim no mistreatment. Although there was no proof or confession, Annys also believed that Biddy was the one who had doled out the poison that killed David. There could be no mercy for that. Yet she had seen how Biddy had fawned over Adam’s man, how he had flattered her and touched her. His attentions had undoubtedly been false but Biddy had believed in them, Annys was sure of it. As a woman who was fighting to have her head rule over her heart, she could not completely suppress a twinge of understanding.

  Then she thought on all Biddy had cost her. David had done nothing to deserve the miserable, painful death he had suffered at the woman’s hands. Benet had certainly not deserved being kidnapped and nearly killed. Harcourt had done nothing to deserve his wounds. She had not done anything to deserve two attempts to kidnap her. The village could have been destroyed and was still doing some repairs. They had lost sheep, cattle, and crops. Sir Adam wanted her and Benet dead. Biddy had not given any thought to those crimes and for that she certainly did deserve her punishment.

  “Aye, she deserves whate’er punishment is due her,” she said finally as they entered the keep.

  Annys found herself hurried off to her bedchamber, Joan barking out orders for all that was needed to tend to her injuries. Nicolas set her down on the bed and left. In the brief moment the door was open before it shut behind him she could hear Harcourt bellowing. A little smile curved her mouth as Joan and two maids arrived to help her. Harcourt had sounded both furious and afraid. It raised her hope that it was more than the way the passion flared between them that stirred his interest in her.

  “What happened?” Harcourt demanded the moment Nicolas entered the room. “And what took ye so long to get here?”

  “I had to put Biddy in a cell,” replied Nicolas, watching as Harcourt carefully sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Lady Annys is naught but a bit bruised so ye dinnae need to leap up and rip out your stitches in some mad rush to get to her side.”

  “The stitching is to be taken out tomorrow anyway.”

  “Taken out, nay ripped out.”

  “Verra weel then. Help me get my clothes back on. This is what happens when a mon lets a woman fuss o’er him. Come up here like a weel-behaved child to have my stitching peered and poked at and the moment I do, that fool lass goes wandering about outside the safety of these walls.” He ignored the way Nicolas just grinned as he helped him get dressed. “What happened to Annys then? All I could hear in here is that she was hurt and almost grabbed by Sir Adam’s men.”

  “Annys was watching Biddy, saw the maid steal some bread, and followed her as she slipped out of the kitchens. Kept following her and saw her meet with Sir Adam’s men. Then she was seen by the ones she was watching and they gave chase. That could have ended verra badly as she had gone beyond the sight of the men on the walls. She proved to be a verra fast runner though, and would have made it back to the keep unharmed save that she tripped on some uneven ground.”

  “She didnae break anything, did she?”

  “Nay. Twisted her leg, got a wee bit bruised in the tumble she took, but by then the men on the walls
had seen her and were calling out the alarm. Sir Adam’s men ran off. Think one of them was Clyde. A shame we didnae get our hands on him.”

  “How did ye catch Biddy? Alive, I pray.”

  “Ah, aye, she is alive. It appears Benet’s Roberta probably has more wit than Biddy. She ran back to the kitchens but, as Lady Annys said, the hooded cloak the woman wore wasnae enough to hide who she was. Also m’lady had seen the woman earlier so kenned just what she was wearing.”

  “Jesu, are ye telling me that all this trouble was caused by some lack-witted cook’s assistant?” Dressed now, Harcourt stood up and grabbed the walking stick he had reluctantly agreed to use.

  Nicolas laughed. “Weel, ye could choose to look at it that way. Nay, she was but the tool and ’tis the one who wields the tool that has the skill.”

  “True enough. ’Tis good news to have that weakness ended.” He paused at the door. “It will be hard on the people here when she is judged and punished for the murder of their laird.”

  Opening the door for him, Nicolas said, “For her close kin, aye, it will be verra hard indeed. For the rest? I dinnae think so. I was lucky to get her out of that kitchen alive once the women kenned why I was taking her.”

  “Poor Nicolas stuck in a kitchen with angry women and a lot of knives. Aye, ye are lucky.”

  Harcourt moved as fast as he dared and reached the door to Annys’s bedchamber just as it opened and Joan stepped out. Two young maids slipped around the woman, gave him a brief curtsey, and hurried away. He almost stepped back a little when he saw the anger on the woman’s face.

  “Nicolas should have let the women in the kitchens have Biddy,” Joan said before striding off down the hall.

  Shaking his head, Harcourt decided Nicolas was right. There would be few tears shed for Biddy when she met her fate. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Annys lay on her bed in her linen night dress, salve smeared on several scrapes and bruises on her arms and legs, and a tightly bandaged ankle and foot resting on top of several cushions.

  Relief swept over him. He had been told she was not badly hurt, but now knew he had had to see that for himself before his concern eased. It all looked a bit painful but he knew her injuries were all small ones that would heal quickly. Soon only the bruises would linger as they would take a longer time to fade. He gently lowered himself to sit down on the side of her bed, smiling when she looked at him.

  “We are a fine pair,” he said.

  “At least I didnae have to be sewn back together.”

  Harcourt laughed. “True.” He glanced at her ankle. “I think your bandage is bigger than mine was though.”

  Annys looked down at her ankle, her toes the only part of her ankle and foot that were still showing. “I havenae any idea why Joan did all that. Her husband fell a lot, ye ken. It was all part of the illness that finally killed him, and he was always twisting his ankles when he went down. Joan kept trying new ways to help the wrench heal and swears this way is the one that worked the best. She near to froze my foot off with cold water right from the burn, smeared handfuls of salve on it, wrapped it up so tight I cannae e’en wiggle my toes and it throbs, and stuck it up on these cushions.” She shrugged and then said, “It had best work or I shall ne’er let her hear the end of it.”

  “I think I would trust her to ken best in this matter.” He frowned when her expression abruptly changed until she looked as if she was about to cry. “What is wrong, sweet?” he asked, taking her hand in his.

  “I am certain Nicolas told ye all about Biddy.”

  “Ah, aye, he did.”

  “I just cannae understand why she would do such horrible things.”

  “Mayhap she loved the mon she was trysting with.”

  “She was trysting with Clyde.” She nodded when his eyes widened in surprise.

  “He has been coming that close to us all this time?”

  “It would seem so. But, I thought on how she did it all out of love, e’en though I couldnae see how she could love such a mon. E’en if she did, that still doesnae excuse her. Something inside of her should have been appalled by the things he was asking her to do. Mayhap nay when her victim was an adult, though poisoning your laird, a mon who ne’er mistreated you, was vile. But then she helped them steal a child. They even talked about her trying again.”

  “What did she say?”

  “There was no refusal to hurt a bairn, but a lot of talk about how she wasnae sure she could get to him again. No more than that. And she did it all for greedy reasons. She believed Clyde would wed her, they would set Sir Adam in the laird’s chair, and, since he was Sir Adam’s second, Biddy would then be second only to the lady of the keep once Sir Adam married. Greed. Nay more than that.”

  “Some people are incapable of seeing that what they have is good and always seek to get more.”

  “Weel, all she will get is a hanging. At first I didnae think I could stomach doing it to one of our own, but then realized she has ne’er been one of us. Nay if she could do what she has done. Her next gift to her lover was to be the opening of any bolt-hole in the keep, any way he and some of his men could slip in and attack us from behind.”

  “We could have been slaughtered.”

  “I ken it and she ne’er e’en gave that a thought. I am sad only because I now ken that e’en in the best of places, e’en if ye treat a person kindly and fairly, they can still betray you.”

  By the time she was finished speaking her eyes were closing and Harcourt knew she needed to rest. He kissed her gently and left her. It was time to talk to Biddy. It might be a good thing to leave her sitting in a cell for a while so that her fear of what was going to happen to her built. Then he shook his head. That could still be done, but he would ask at least a few questions now. He went to find Nicolas.

  “Ye have made a terrible mistake,” cried Biddy.

  “Nay, I think not,” said Harcourt, nodding his thanks to Nicolas who brought him a stool to sit down on. “Ye didnae have a verra good disguise, Biddy. Lady Annys had already seen ye once and kenned the gown ye were wearing. Ye also bared your head and face when ye met your lover.”

  “Is she going to be in here for verra long?” asked their other prisoner.

  Harcourt looked over at Geordie. They had gotten that name out of him after he had woken up and Joan had seen to his injury. The man still refused to give them a clan name and he was beginning to think it was because Geordie was banished from his clan, a broken man. They were still not quite sure what to do with him.

  “Nay, Geordie, as I believe she will be hanged before ye are.” He ignored Biddy’s wailing protest.

  “What did she do?”

  “Poisoned the laird.”

  “Nay, nay, nay! It was only supposed to make him sick and too weak to fight.”

  Harcourt looked at Biddy who looked as startled by her words as he felt. That was a confession. He glanced at Geordie who was looking disgusted and shaking his head. There might be hope for Geordie. He was now witness to the woman’s confession. Harcourt suspected that Geordie would point the finger of guilt at anyone just to save his own neck, but at least this time it would be the truth.

  “So ye are the bitch that killed him,” Geordie said. “I told Jaikie it was a lass but he wouldn’t hear it. He didnae listen much and look where that got him. Shame he isnae here any longer to find out I was right.”

  “Hush, Geordie,” Harcourt commanded in his coldest voice.

  “Hushing,” he mumbled and sat in the far corner of his bed.

  “So, Biddy, ye would have us believe ye kept feeding your laird a poison but just thought he would get ill, nay die,” Harcourt said.

  “That was it. That was all. ’Tis nay my fault he was a weakling.”

  It made him furious to hear her call David weak and Harcourt made no secret of his anger, allowing it to coat his words. “Ye put the poison in his food. It doesnae matter whether ye were mistaken about what would happen. Ye gave it to him. He died. So, ye a
re the murderer.”

  “I was just doing as I was told.”

  “Certainly nay by your laird.” He noticed that Geordie was listening closely. “Ah, then it was your lover.”

  “Nay, he was just doing what he was told as a loyal second should.”

  “So ye were both obeying Sir Adam MacQueen then.”

  “I didnae say that!”

  “Your lover used you, made ye the knife he was too cowardly to use himself.”

  “Clyde is no coward,” Biddy snapped.

  “Clyde?” Geordie said. “Ye were Clyde’s wee whore? Wheesht, ye are a witless lass, arenae ye?”

  “He was going to marry me!”

  “Och, aye? Ye believed that?”

  Even Harcourt felt like wincing at the sharp scorn in Geordie’s voice. “Ye ken Clyde weel, do ye?” he asked the man.

  “Nay, just another of his hirelings. Although I suspicion he didnae pay ye much,” Geordie said to Biddy. “He ne’er pays the lassies he uses. Weel, nay in coin. ’Tis rumored he has paid a few with cold steel though when they thought he had made promises he wasnae keeping and made too much noise about it.” He looked around the cells. “Ye best be careful. He might consider this making too much noise.”

  “Clyde is going to marry me and when Sir Adam gains this place, Clyde will be his second. Then I will be a lady.”

  Geordie hooted with laughter and Harcourt watched Biddy blush. Not from shame or embarrassment, however, but with a growing fury. Geordie was, in his strange way, doing better at getting information out of Biddy than he had been. He had also stopped her crying, replacing fear with anger.

  “I shall tell Clyde about you,” she hissed.

  “Oh, I be so scared. What is he going to do? Toss me in a cell? Hang me? Missed his chance there.”

  Biddy looked at Harcourt and he realized Geordie had become the new target for her anger. Anger was good. Anger made people say things they would not under other circumstances. It made them lose their guard over their tongue. It was almost as good as pouring ale down a prisoner’s throat until he was too sotted to care what he told the one asking questions.