by Katy Baker
The door opened and the kennel master stuck his head around it. The ruddy-faced man looked worried. "How goes it, my lady? Will he be all right?"
Darcy straightened and sighed. "As I've already told you, Rory, he’ll be fine if you let me get on and do what I need to. Now kindly shut the door and wait outside until I tell you."
"Aye. Sorry," Rory muttered. He darted back outside and closed the door behind him.
Darcy bent to her work. She soon had the wound nicely stitched and then gave the dog an injection to reverse the anesthetic. In only moments his tail was thumping against the table and he sat up, looking around groggily. Darcy scratched him behind the ears.
"No more chasing wild boar, you hear? Rory! You can come in now."
The kennel master’s eyes widened as he saw the dog sitting there, happily nuzzling Darcy's hand.
"Yer a marvel, my lady," he said. "How can I ever thank ye?”
Darcy had begun to replace some of her supplies with local alternatives - antiseptic, bandages, needles and thread. So far it was working out well. She hoped to be able to replicate some of the drugs she used eventually, albeit in a rudimentary fashion.
"No need for thanks, Rory," she replied. "I'm just doing my job. Keep him confined to the kennels the next few days and make sure he doesn't put too much pressure on that wound. If he tries to lick it or damages his stitches bring him back and I’ll make some sort of collar to stop him reaching the wound."
"Aye, I will." Rory picked up the hound and carried him out.
Darcy shut the door behind him and wiped her brow. She took off her apron, tossed it in the basket ready for laundry, did the same with her gloves, and then began scrubbing down the table. Thoughts of Quinn filled her mind. Where was he now? What was he doing? Was he safe?
Something boomed outside. A moment later it came again. And again. The warning drum? The door opened and Lily stuck her head in. She'd gone pale.
"What is it?" Darcy asked.
"Warning from the castle!" Lily cried. "We’re under attack!"
With heart hammering Darcy followed Lily outside. All was chaos. The villagers were loading their things into barrows, onto their backs, into their arms, and hurrying towards the causeway and the safety of the castle.
“What's going on?" Darcy asked a teenage lad who dashed past leading two goats.
"The Murrays!” The lad replied, his voice shrill with fear. "They're coming!"
Darcy craned her neck to see and felt her blood go cold. A huge group of men was spilling over the brow of the hill, all mounted on warhorses, all heavily armed.
“Come on!" Lily cried, tugging on Darcy's arm. "We have to get to the castle!"
Together they joined the flow of frightened people heading towards the causeway. Darcy didn't understand how this could have happened. How had they evaded Quinn and his warriors? The Murray army was supposed to be a day’s ride to the south. She had no time to ponder the question as she and Lily soon found themselves fleeing across the causeway towards the open gates of Dunbreggan and safety.
“Lady Darcy!" A voice called.
Darcy turned her head to see Owen, the blacksmith struggling towards her along the causeway. He was laden down with possessions and had his family around him, little Martha clinging to him with silent tears streaming down her face. Owen’s eyes were wide with worry.
"Have you seen William, Lady Darcy?" he asked anxiously. "He said he had to go collect something and then dashed off before I could grab him. Nobody’s seen him since."
Darcy laid a hand on the blacksmith's arm. Lily took the hands of the two youngest girls and made comforting noises as they clung to her skirts.
"His cat," Darcy said, clicking her fingers. "I’ll bet he’s gone back for his cat and her kittens."
"Curse the boy!" His father muttered. "Does he not ken that the wee cat has more chance of escaping these attackers than we do? That boy will be the death of me!”
Darcy sucked in a breath. Then she turned to face Lily and said in as calm a voice as she could manage. "Take Owen and the children to the castle. Rebecca will find a place for everyone. I'll go and find William."
Before she could change her mind, she spun and raced back along the causeway and into the village.
The attackers had almost reached the first of the buildings. She gritted her teeth, steeled her courage and ran. She skidded into the village square, deserted now, and turned left, pelting between the houses towards the blacksmith’s forge. She daren't call William’s name for fear of alerting the attackers so instead she looked around as she ran, scanning for any sign of the young boy.
She reached the blacksmith’s house but found it empty. Cursing under her breath she sped around to the corner of the forge where she'd come to inspect the kittens. Sure enough William was crouched in the corner, the kittens - who were more like small cats now - in a box pressed against his chest protectively.
He looked up, terrified, as Darcy burst into the hut.
"William!" Darcy cried. "What are you doing? Your da is going out of his mind with worry!"
William threw himself at Darcy and wrapped one arm around her legs, the other cradling the kittens against his chest. They wriggled and mewed in distress.
"I had to come back for Tabs!” he cried. "But I canna find her and there's only the kittens here!" He sounded on the verge of tears.
Darcy crouched and gently brushed the hair from his eyes. She smiled at him. "Your cat is a sensible one. She’ll have found a place to hide and will be back when it’s safe. Trust me, William, she'll be fine." She ruffled his hair. "Now, how about we get you and those kittens to your father?"
She straightened and held out her hand which William gladly took. "We need to move quickly and quietly. Can you do that for me? If I tell you to stop, stop. If I tell you to run, run. Okay?"
William nodded and together they crept out of the hut, pausing only long enough for Darcy to check the coast was clear before hurrying away.
The attackers had entered the village. She heard them ransacking houses and calling to each other in hard voices. She gritted her teeth and kept moving, darting from house to house and keeping to the shadows as much as possible. They reached the village square and paused against the wall of the baker’s shop, crouching behind some water barrels.
Carefully, Darcy looked out. Beyond the village square she could see the beginning of the causeway. The attackers hadn't got that far yet. If she and William could just reach that causeway before the attackers, they could reach Dunbreggan and safety. But the voices of the attackers were getting ever closer. If they were going to run for it they had to go now. But at that moment a voice spoke from the square.
"Come out, whoever ye are hiding behind those barrels. Don't make me come over there."
Darcy peered between a gap in the barrels to see a tall man standing in the middle of the square. The colors in his plaid marked him as a member of the Murray clan and he held a large sword in one hand. Darcy assessed her options. They didn’t look good.
She turned to William. “Listen, to me,” she whispered. “I’m going to stand up now and walk into that square. Don’t follow me. I’ll distract that man. When he turns his back, you run to the causeway. Run as fast as you can and don’t look back. Okay?”
William’s eyes were round with fear. “What about ye?”
“I’ll be right behind you. Ready?”
He nodded. Darcy ruffled his hair and then stood up from behind the barrels, holding out her hands to show she carried no weapons.
“I’m here. I’m alone,” she said to the man. She took a few paces into the square.
The man grinned. He looked to be in his middle years and sported a shaggy black beard and scarred arms as though he’d been in many fights. This didn’t fill Darcy with confidence.
“Look what we have here,” he said. “Dinna ye want to flee with the rest of yer kin, lass? Mayhap yer looking to find yerself a Murray warrior to keep ye warm, eh?”
She lifted her chin. “I was led to believe the Murray warriors were honorable. I gave myself up willingly and hope you will prove me right."
The man frowned but to Darcy's relief he sheathed his sword. Behind her, Darcy heard William shift and prayed silently that he wouldn't bolt too soon. Darcy stepped closer to the man and then took several steps to the left. As she'd hoped, he turned to follow her and now had his back to the water barrels. From the corner of her eye she saw William peek out from his hiding place. She had to keep the man distracted while William got away.
"Why are you here?" she asked. "Why have you brought armed men to a peaceful settlement?"
The man snorted. "Peaceful? Since when have the MacFarlanes been peaceful? Ye raid our lands at every opportunity. Ye sabotage our trade routes whenever ye get the chance. And now ye’ve gathered an army to invade our territory."
What on earth was he talking about? The MacFarlane clan had done no such thing. It was the Murrays who were the aggressors. However, she knew arguing with him would do no good.
"So what do you hope to achieve by coming here? This kind of attack on the MacFarlanes will only invite retaliation."
"Is that so?" he growled. "Mayhap we see things a little differently. Mayhap we see this as a chance to end the feud once and for all. When we take Dunbreggan the MacFarlanes will have nae choice but to come to terms with us. Terms of the Murray clan’s choosing."
His attention was fixed wholly on her now. William took his chance. He shot out from behind the barrels, the box full of kittens still clutched his chest. The warrior turned in surprise but when he saw it was just a child he didn't bother to give chase. To Darcy’s immense relief, William reached the causeway, pelted along it and into the safety of Dunbreggan.
"What have you found, Angus?" a voice said.
A group of mounted men trotted into the village square. Their horses sported fine trappings and the quality of the men's clothing marked them out as nobility. The man who'd spoken rode a beautiful white mare and wore a black velvet outfit with some kind of insignia worked on the arm in gold thread. The man had short, iron gray hair and a hard face that was all planes and angles. Cold blue eyes fixed on Darcy.
"One of the MacFarlane women, my lord," Angus replied, sheathing his sword. "She and her boy were hiding behind them barrels. The boy got away but maybe her husband will pay a ransom to get the wench back."
"Oh, I think he'll do much more than that," the newcomer said. He didn’t sound like Quinn and the others. He had a refined English accent instead.
The man nudged his horse towards her and Darcy forced herself not to flinch as he approached. He reached down and lifted the chain around Darcy's neck, looking at the ring that hung there.
He pulled in a sharp breath. "Angus, you are to be commended. I think you’ve netted us a fine prize."
Angus frowned. "What do ye mean, my lord?"
"This isn't some woman of the MacFarlane clan. I recognize your description - and I’d recognize that ring anywhere. After all, I did kill its one-time owner."’
Darcy gasped in sudden realization. "You're John de Clare."
He nodded. "And you're Quinn MacFarlane's woman." It wasn't a question. "I've heard tell of you. Some foreign woman who's finally captured the notorious bachelor's heart. It was foolish of him to give you his brother’s ring but then Quinn MacFarlane has ever been foolish. Foolish to cross me. Foolish to think that he could escape my anger."
He let the ring drop and turned back to his men. "Angus, Roger, with me. The rest of you, scour the village for any other MacFarlanes that might be hiding."
Darcy swallowed. "What are you going to do with me?"
John de Clare flashed her a smile that had no mirth in it. "Oh, you're too precious a prize to risk in a siege. My army will take the castle. But you, my dear, are coming with me."
Chapter 17
QUINN REALIZED HE WAS holding the reins in a death grip and forced himself to relax. He rode by Robert's side at the head of the MacFarlane army, the double column of men streaming out behind them, so long that its end disappeared into the distance.
They’d traveled south-east all yesterday and this morning, sometimes at a trot, sometimes at a walk to let the horses rest, but always moving, desperate to reach the Point before the Murray army did. Now they were nearing their destination Quinn was filled with both apprehension and excitement.
Finally, it would be over. One way or another.
Robert held up a hand, giving the signal for the column to halt. Behind him the men pulled their horses up in a jingle of tack and the creaking of saddles. Together, Robert, Quinn, Fraser and Dougal dismounted and crept towards the edge of the ridge, being careful to keep low so they weren't outlined against the sky. Beyond lay the Point and slightly further east, Oldwyn’s Barrow.
Somewhere between the two, they would find the Murray army.
They edged forward in silence and looked out over the landscape.
It was empty.
Oldwyn’s Barrow rose out of the landscape, long and wide like some giant’s grave. Quinn had expected to see the top bristling with warriors but the only creatures that moved there were a family of squabbling ravens. His eyes scanned the area, searching for any sign of the Murray forces. From this vantage point he could see for miles in all directions. The only things that met his eye were the purple heather covered hills of the Highlands.
"What is this?" Quinn barked. "Where are they?"
"Maybe they aren't traveling as fast as we thought," Fraser said.
But Robert was shaking his head, his face grave. "No. They're not coming."
He rose from the grass and began striding back towards the column. Quinn, Fraser and Dougal scrambled after him.
"What do ye mean, brother?" Quinn asked. "Our scouts-”
"Were tricked!" Robert cried, rounding on Quinn. "They were fed exactly the information John de Clare wanted us to know. He let our spies overhear just the right conversations, observe just the right movement of warriors. We've underestimated him. Again. My suspicions began when we came upon no tracks, no scouts, no signs of riders watching our approach. This only confirms them."
Quinn shook his head. "I dinna understand. Ye cannot fake the mobilization of an army. So the Murrays are out there somewhere. It they aren't marching to meet us then where are they?" But even as he asked the question a terrible realization crept up on him and his blood went cold. "Dunbreggan?”
Robert slowly nodded. "I fear this was a trap designed to pull our forces away from the castle so they can attack. It's a trap we walked right into."
Quinn was running before he knew it. He sprinted back to where they’d left the mounts, vaulted into the saddle and began bellowing orders. "We ride for Dunbreggan! We ride as though we have the devil on our tails and be prepared for a fight at the other end. De Clare is attacking our home! We’re going to finish the bastard once and for all!”
The men were well trained and despite this sudden change in plan, they raised their weapons in salute. Robert and the others swung into their saddles. Robert nodded once at Quinn and then dug his heels into the flanks of his horse.
"Yah!”
The horse sprang away and Quinn nudged Silver after. Together the two brothers galloped for home, jumping ditches, thundering up hills and down them, sending birds bursting out of cover and flocks of sheep scattering from the path. Behind them rode their men, the orderly column breaking down until they became a horde that swept across the Highlands, weapons glinting in the sunlight.
Quinn felt as though a fire had been lit in his soul. They had to get back to Dunbreggan. His life, his very soul depended on it. If anything should happen to Darcy...
The ride back passed in a blur. The horses were soon lathered but they didn't dare stop to rest them. Each moment wasted gave the Murrays more time to launch their assault on the castle. They galloped for hours, desperately retracing the ground they covered yesterday, driving the horses to the brink of exhaustion. Finally, they r
eached the hills above Dunbreggan and Robert gave the instruction for them to slow the horses into a trot.
As they topped the rise and looked down on the castle, Quinn’s heart jumped into his mouth. A black tide of men surrounded the castle. The causeway seethed with them and even more were flooded out around the causeway’s mouth. The gates of the castle stood closed but even as he watched a dull boom echoed over the water as a battering ram smashed into them.
They didn't have much time. Once the gates were breached, it was all over.
Robert stood in his stirrups and turned to face his men. "We've trained for this!" he bellowed. "Each of ye knows yer place! Yer duty! We go to raise the siege of Dunbreggan! Of our home! We will not rest until the invaders are driven off! Until our home, our loved ones are safe!" He drew his sword and held it high above him. It glinted bright silver in the afternoon sun. "For Dunbreggan and Clan MacFarlane!"
“Dunbreggan and MacFarlane!" The men bellowed in response.
Robert pulled hard on the reins, causing his mount to rear, hooves pawing the air, and then he went thundering down the hill towards the waiting horde. Feeling the thrill of battle beginning to bubble inside him, Quinn set his heels to his horse’s flanks and went speeding after his brother. His lips pulled back to bare his teeth in a snarl. The muscles in his arms and legs tensed, ready for action.
The Murrays saw them coming, of course. They were well versed in the arts of battle and had posted scouts to keep watch for any sign of the returning MacFarlanes. The only consolation in all of this was that the Murrays couldn't have known that they’d traveled to Oldwyn’s Barrow so quickly and therefore discovered the ruse much sooner than the Murrays would have hoped.
Even so, the Murray forces turned with practiced ease, splitting so that one half still laid siege to the castle while the other turned to face the threat streaming down at them from the hillside. Most of the Murray forces were infantry and under usual circumstances cavalry would sweep them away easily. But amongst the winding streets of the village, the MacFarlane heavy horse would bring no advantage.
