A Highlander's Destiny (Digital Boxed Edition)

by Willa Blair

  Toran pounded his fist against the wall, whirled and strode back down the hall, Donal in tow.

  “This doesna feel right,” Donal muttered. “But perhaps she’s in the kitchen, or the herb garden?” he offered to Toran’s back.

  Toran kept walking, his stride lengthening as he quit the tower and keep to cross the bailey. He wrenched open the gate to Senga’s garden and looked inside. Misery and fury warred within him, and certain desperate knowledge. No one waited in the pale glow of starlight. The garden was empty.

  If Colbridge had Aileana back, he’d have the upper hand, not that Toran wanted to bargain with him. Nay, what he did want, what he needed, was Aileana. Not for the reasons Colbridge wanted her. Aye, her healing skills had worked wonders for the clan. But there was more than concern for his people, or for her safety, at work here. She belonged to him, with him. He wanted her back in his arms. He wanted her touch, her warmth, her kiss, the way she wanted and needed him. It was ironic that at the moment he realized he’d married the woman he could love for the rest of his life, more deeply than he thought possible, he’d lost her. She’d left him. He was certain of it. He’d lost her to another man who probably loved her, too, or to a man who feared and used her. Either way, she was gone.

  “She’s no’ here,” he told Donal, who waited behind him. “And she willna be in the kitchen or the herbal or anywhere else in the Aerie.”

  “How in hell did she get out, then?” Donal asked, clearly frustrated. “The main gate’s locked up tight, and she doesna ken the way down through the storage caves to the postern in the dark. That gate’s locked, too. Did she climb down the tor, then? Or is she really a witch, to fly away on a bee?” Donal shook his head. “Nah, she’s here, somewhere…and probably not aware of the commotion her absence has caused.”

  “Nay.” Toran sighed. “She’s gone to Ranald.”

  “What?”

  “She’s taken that bastard Colbridge’s bait,” he bit out, fists clenching. Toran’s shoulders slumped and he turned to Donal, pain etched on his features. “I only hope she’s healed Ranald and they’re away, not caught by Colbridge’s men. If they’re caught, Colbridge will kill them both.”

  “Nay, Toran. Colbridge willna harm the Healer. He needs her.”

  “Aye, he does, but he’s angry now,” Toran spat. “He’ll kill her if he catches her.”

  “But if she has gone back to save Ranald,” Donal argued, “he’d have no reason to.”

  Toran shook his head, fear and doubt foremost in his mind.

  Kyle ran up and reported, “No one can find her. I sent men down into the storage caves, but…”

  “Let them look, but they’ll find naught but a few mice, I’ll wager,” Toran said, sucking in a harsh breath. “Make sure the postern’s secure. Come daylight, we’ll see what we can see in Colbridge’s camp.”

  Kyle looked skyward. “Soon.”

  Toran looked up, surprised at the pale glow in the east. Was this miserable night over already? And a worse day just starting? “Come on, then,” he said to Donal and headed for the guard tower stairs.

  On the ramparts, the men were alert, on edge, aware that something was very wrong. Toran nodded to each as he passed, then stopped and peered out where he had the best view of Colbridge’s encampment along the forest. The brightening sky did little to illuminate the ground below the trees, but the glow of the watch fires reflecting off of patches of snow and ice helped. Nothing moved. Yet. Worse, he could barely make out Ranald, hanging just as he had been yesterday. If Aileana had tried to reach him, she had failed.

  Donal stood beside him, a solid, calming presence. He’d been Toran’s second-in-command and chief advisor since the old laird had died and Toran had taken over the clan, three years gone. In the relatively peaceful years that Toran had spent as laird of Clan Lathan, Aileana had gone from apprentice healer, to captive, refugee, and Healer to Colbridge’s traveling army. Their pasts could not be more dissimilar, yet Toran was drawn to her as to no other. He didn’t understand it. He just knew he had to get her back.

  Suddenly, Donal swore and pointed. Toran’s attention flew across the glen to the fireside Donal indicated. “There she is!”

  Toran’s heart plummeted while bile rose in his throat. Aileana marched between guards to Colbridge, who now stood in firelight, sideways to Toran’s viewpoint. The better to display his captive, Toran thought, and ensure that Toran saw everything that happened. Toran clenched his teeth together in a futile effort to hold back an oath. “Nay…” he whispered between them.

  “Ye ken what we must do,” Donal muttered, clearly aggrieved. “She’s been inside the Aerie. Colbridge’s spy,” he spat, “whether she meant to or nay.”

  Toran flinched at the description, hoping, praying it was not true. “Nay,” Toran insisted. “She willna betray us.”

  “Likely she’ll no’ have a choice. She’s seen inside our walls, and gotten out through them,” Donal said between gritted teeth. “If she tells him about the postern, Colbridge’s men will search for it around the base of the tor.” He turned to face Toran, and along with anger at the apparent betrayal, Toran thought he recognized sadness in Donal’s gruff features. “We must attack Colbridge’s camp today, now.”

  Toran considered the options. Aileana looked frightened. Even from this distance, Toran imagined he could see the fear she tried to hide behind a frozen expression as she faced Colbridge. But Toran knew Donal spoke the truth. If Aileana told Colbridge, was forced to tell Colbridge, of the existence of another way up into the Aerie, Colbridge would not stop until he found it. While it could be defended, it would split Toran’s forces between the walls and the caves. The Aerie had never been taken, but Toran knew he must risk opening the gates if he was going to stop Colbridge, and save his bride.

  “Get the men ready to ride.”

  ****

  Aileana dared not struggle as Colbridge pushed her ahead of him in the early morning sunlight. She’d had no chance to use her Voice on him. He hadn’t allowed her to come close enough to touch him. After he’d shoved her out of the tent, he pulled his sword and told her to stand, then forced her to watch Ranald’s agony as the guards hung him up like a side of meat.

  When the guards brought her back to him, Colbridge marched her out onto the glen with the sword at her back. She knew her eyes had widened with fear, for herself, for Ranald, and for Toran. She tried to be calm, tried to think. If Toran came out after her, Colbridge would not hesitate to kill him. She did not doubt it. And there was no way she could stop either of them.

  Colbridge stayed out of her reach, using his sword as a prod while making sure that it was visible at her back to the watchers on the Aerie’s walls. Just out of range of Toran’s archers, he ordered her to stop. Aileana could see Toran on the rampart, Donal at his side, both looking thunderous.

  “Laird Lathan,” Colbridge called, and Aileana winced at the volume of his voice near her ear.

  “Aye,” she heard Toran’s deceptively calm response. She knew he would be anything but calm, looking at the scene Colbridge had set. Her at swordpoint. Ranald hung up as he had been yesterday.

  “I want you to see what you’ve lost,” Colbridge crowed. “The Healer has abandoned you. You were a fool, a weak, powerless fool, to trust her,” Colbridge taunted. “She cared more for her lover here than she did for the comfort of your hospitality. Or so she tells me.”

  Aileana started, outraged at Colbridge’s fabrication, yet knowing it was designed to enrage Toran. Would he remember what she’d told him last night, that Ranald was kin? She shook her head and stared at Toran, wide-eyed, trying to convince him without words that Colbridge lied. At her movement, Colbridge pushed the point of his sword more firmly against her back. The impulse set her off balance and she staggered forward. Colbridge merely followed, keeping his sword in place.

  Toran’s response tore at Aileana’s heart. “I see that,” was all he said, but it was enough to dash her hopes of ever winning his trust, his
love again. If only she could get away from Colbridge. But she couldn’t, not with his sword at her back, not here in full view of both camps. Despair swept through Aileana. Perhaps it would be best if Colbridge did kill her. If she fell back onto his sword and Toran saw that in her death, she had not betrayed him. Then Toran spoke again.

  “But I also see ye holding a captive at sword point,” he said, “so if I’m such a fool, why do ye think that’s necessary?”

  Aileana’s breath caught in her throat as the march of her pulse increased. If Toran managed to taunt Colbridge sufficiently, he might kill her where she stood. But Toran’s words gave her hope. If he remembered that she was not here with Colbridge by choice, he might yet recall what had happened, and might be willing to take her back. If she could just get free of Colbridge.

  Instead, Colbridge yanked on her braid, forcing her to lift her head and expose her throat, then he moved the sword from her back to lay the blade against her neck. She could see part of it out of the corner of her eye. Blood smeared the cold metal. Ranald’s blood, she was sure.

  “I think you care enough about this witch to come out here and fight me for her,” Colbridge growled and Aileana nearly fainted from fear—and hope.

  “And if I don’t?” Toran called back, seemingly unconcerned. But Aileana saw the narrowing of his eyes, and held her breath.

  “Then she dies,” Colbridge answered. He tugged on her braid. With the sword still in place at her throat, he began to back up and force Aileana with him, back toward his camp. She dared not try to touch him and use her Voice to force him to release her. There were too many watchers. She would have to wait for a better time. There was nothing she could do now but await Toran’s decision.

  “Come out, Laird Lathan,” Colbridge called. “Let’s settle this. Surrender. Or fight me—one on one. Save the girl, end the siege, or die trying and lose it all.” With that he laughed and turned Aileana back toward his camp.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Toran, nay, ye canna do that,” Donal said, grabbing his arm and stopping him before he could descend the stairs and gather his weapons. “It willna be a fair fight, and ye ken it.”

  “Nay, it willna. But it doesna matter,” Toran growled and gestured at the two crossing the glen toward the enemy camp. “Look at Colbridge dragging her around by her hair. Aileana is no’ there because she pined to return to Colbridge and take up her duties saving his army.” He shook off Donal’s hand and pointed at the man bound and slumped between two trees. “She thought she was the only one who could save Ranald. He’s her half brother,” he explained as the memory surfaced, clean and sharp. “She had to try. But she failed. I intend to get her back. If I can save him, too, I will, but I will get her back.”

  “In the middle of Colbridge’s entire army?” Donal scoffed. “Don’t be daft, mon. Ye canna fight them all by yerself.”

  “I don’t have to. Colbridge offered to fight me alone, Donal. Winner takes all. I’ll kill him. And when I do, his ‘army’ will fall apart.”

  “Ye believe that, do ye?”

  “Aye.”

  “Then ye are daft.”

  Toran slapped Donal on the arm and headed down the stairs. “Come with me, then,” he called back, as Donal stood watching him descend. “Pick an escort and come along. Ye can hold Colbridge’s forces at bay while I finish him off.”

  Donal cursed under his breath, then clambered down the steps after Toran. “Ye’re determined, I can see that.”

  “We have an invitation,” Toran repeated, “Colbridge offered trial by combat. No interference by any of his—or any of ours. If he even comes close to abiding by the rules, I’ll take him, easily. I’m younger, faster, and my reach is longer.”

  “And when he cheats?”

  “Then it’ll just take more time to kill him, that’s all. The outcome is certain. He canna best me.

  Toran pounded down the rest of the stairs, Donal still at his heels, and yelled for his weapons and a mount.

  Donal likewise yelled for his gear and for five of the men to mount up. Then he grabbed Toran’s arm again, and spun him around to face him. Donal’s concern for him was plain for Toran to see.

  “Lad, this is a bad idea. I feel it in my bones. He hasna gotten this far abiding by the rules of combat. He willna start now. There’s too much at stake—for him and for us.”

  “That may be, but it’s all we’ve got at the moment. He has Aileana. I must get her back. We can end this today, or sit here until spring comes again.”

  “And ye think seven of us can do that.”

  “Aye. I think one of us can do that. Me. I think Colbridge rules by fear, and once he is gone, his men will give up. Aileana opened this door for us, whether she meant to or no’. Let’s use the opportunity she’s risked her life to give us.”

  Donal snorted. “She didna risk a thing for us. She risked herself for that man Colbridge strung up. And what do you think that means, laddie?”

  “It means that she cares about her brother. And about us. We’re her family now, too.”

  “I hope ye’re right,” Donal said, pulling on a mail shirt and accepting his arms from one of his men, then swinging up onto the horse that had been led to him.

  Brodric MacAnalen ran up. “What are ye doin’?”

  “We’re going to end this. Colbridge offered to fight me—just me. Send someone to Angus and let him know what’s happening. He’ll want to help break up that camp once Colbridge’s dead.”

  “Aye,” Brodric agreed. “I’ll go.”

  Toran donned his fighting gear then leapt onto his Banner and spoke again to Donal as he leaned down to take his weapons from another man. “If ye doubt me, stay here.”

  “Nay, I’ll niver do that,” Donal spat, insulted. “Where ye fight, I fight. Recall what happened to ye the last time ye tried it without me.” With that barb thrown, he kicked his mount toward the gate.

  Toran smiled grimly, saluted Brodric, and gathered the other riders with a look. As the wide doors of the inner gate swung open, a shiver ran down his back. Was he right to risk his life in this way? Risk his clan? Risk Aileana? Nay, he couldna let doubts unman him now. He’d fought harder battles than this and prevailed.

  The outer gates swung apart, leaving the Aerie open and vulnerable. He reminded himself that it had never been taken in battle or in siege. Nor would it fall this day. His responsibility was to his clan, to eliminate the threat. He’d kill Colbridge, then scour the ragtag army from the glen and chase them back to the Lowlands, if that’s what it took. He could not let thoughts of Aileana distract him from his duty. The price of failure was too dear. As he passed through the gates, he heard the watch captain shout for them to be closed and secured. He followed Donal down the long trail off the tor and onto the glen, then spurred his mount and passed him.

  ****

  Toran heard the other riders pounding after him as he raced toward the invaders’ camp. He counted heartbeats as he rode headlong across the glen. Too many. Too much time for Colbridge to ready an ambush. As Toran approached, he never took his eye off of his enemy. Colbridge stood in front, bloodied sword in hand, watching Toran’s group arrive.

  Toran reined Banner in well out of his enemy’s reach and leapt to the ground, his sword swinging in a great arc in front of him, wrist supple, arm strong.

  “Release them, Colbridge,” he ordered as he strode forward.

  Aileana stood off to the side near a crackling fire, struggling between her two captors. She managed to give one a hard kick in the knee, forcing him to dance away from her. Good lass. The man held on to her arm, but just barely, as Aileana nearly twisted out of his grasp. The other eyed her warily and kept as far from her as his grip would allow.

  “Them?” Colbridge taunted. “You demand not just the girl but the cripple, too?”

  Ranald still hung by his arms, conscious, Toran saw, and glaring at Colbridge. Rivulets of blood from fresh cuts mixed with sweat and streaked over the large bruises that covered
his torso and face. Toran wondered that he was still alive. Aileana must have stolen a few minutes with him before they were caught. But at the rate he was bleeding, he wouldn’t last long.

  Colbridge laughed and swung his blade at Toran’s neck. Toran ducked and thrust his own blade up to parry. As the two squared off, a large circle formed around them, some of Colbridge’s men, including those holding Aileana, on one side, Toran’s men on the other. The bonfire separated the two groups on one side, a gap on the other.

  Toran circled to the left, his blade flashing in the early morning light. Colbridge kept his sword in front of him, watching Toran closely. Then he lunged. Toran raised his blade to parry, and pushed Colbridge backward as their blades slid along each other until the hilts locked together. They were face to face, breath to breath. Toran swung his empty fist and knocked Colbridge sideways, breaking their swords apart. He swung, but his target rolled out of danger.

  “Aye, the lass and her assistant, both,” Toran kept moving, giving Colbridge little time to regain his feet, forcing him to twist and turn to defend against him. Toran’s blade never wavered. Neither did Colbridge’s.

  “Nay, I won’t release them,” Colbridge answered. “They’re mine, to do with as I wish. Spoils of war, aye?”

  Toran grimaced, hearing his own words thrown back at him. “Not after ye’re dead,” he challenged.

  “I’m not the one who’ll die here today,” Colbridge snarled confidently as he pulled a dirk from his belt with his left hand. It was a move calculated to intimidate his opponent, but thanks to Donal’s training, Toran remained unimpressed.

  So, Toran thought, we’ll do this the hard way. But easy or hard, Colbridge would not see the sun set.

  Now facing Toran with two blades, Colbridge leapt forward and slashed, forcing Toran to duck sideways and step back or risk being sliced in his sword arm.

  Toran parried and thrust between Colbridge’s blades while reaching for the dirk at his own belt. Two could indeed play this game. They would see whose strength failed first. Toran was gratified by a fleeting look of consternation on his opponent’s face, quickly controlled. Colbridge clearly did not expect to face an adversary who could fight one-handed with a longsword. He had to be concerned that his younger, stronger opponent would outlast him.