"If what Haldane said is true, I no longer have a little brother. If I can help save the life of yours, I'll be glad."
Tears stung her eyes. "You're very generous."
He shook his head. "Just doing what is right." After glancing behind himself, Torrin stepped closer, slipped his fingers around her nape, beneath her hair, and kissed her lips. 'Twas a fierce, passionate kiss, but over too quickly.
He stepped back. "We'll return soon."
A bit unsteady on her feet, she braced against the wall and noticed a man's loud voice yelling MacLeod from the great hall.
"Have a care," she said.
"I intend to." He gave a lighthearted smile, stroked his fingers along her cheek and kissed her forehead. Then he disappeared down the steps.
She ran further along the corridor and watched out the window as Torrin joined the other men in the courtyard and mounted his horse.
"May God protect him," she whispered, tears in her eyes. And please let him find Aiden alive and well.
Though she could scarcely believe it, those were the two men she cared most about in this world… them and Dirk. 'Twas obvious she would care about her brothers… but Torrin? She had never imagined. Sometimes when she relived what they'd indulged in yesterday and last night, she was shocked at herself.
Aye, shocked, but she didn't regret it. Like her father, she had always believed in living life to the fullest when the opportunity arose. But that had left her emotionally bruised and battered. If she didn't fall in love with Torrin, she wouldn't be hurt when he deserted her. But simply imagining that made her chest ache and her throat close.
"Nay," she whispered. I have not fallen in love with him.
Have I? Tears filled her eyes.
***
Torrin rode beside Erskine, Dirk's sword-bearer. His position was that of a war-leader, and from what Torrin could tell, the man was highly skilled. Torrin's two bodyguards followed, the only two of his men he hadn't sent on errands. He hoped the others returned soon. Iain rode farther back with the four Stewart men. Twelve MacKay guards and clansmen also accompanied them, including Conall and two of his brawny sons, Dougal and Little Conall. But, truth be told, Little Conall was larger than Big Conall.
First, they visited the old byre where Torrin and Jessie had been held. 'Twas empty. Next, they searched Smoo Cave. Also abandoned, but they found an eight-oar bìrlinn on the beach there. Obviously, this had been Haldane's landing point. Two of the MacKays used their axes to chop holes in the boat so the brigands couldn't escape so easily.
"McMurdo is known to have some well-concealed hiding places," Erskine said. "'Tis why he has escaped capture all these years. My father and the former chief often searched for the highwayman. He's as wily as a fox."
Torrin nodded. He'd heard tales of the elusive and murderous McMurdo all his life and knew better than to underestimate him.
The clan tracker, Silas MacKay, a tall, lanky fellow with a receding hairline, rode in front as they left the coast and headed inland. Beyond the byre, Silas veered off the trail onto the moor, got off his horse and examined the grass and other plants. "Looks like they might have gone this way," he called back to Erskine and Torrin.
They all followed him as he walked, leading his horse so as to see the ground and plants better, looking for signs of disturbance. An hour later, they neared larger rocks and crags leading into the mountains, the large expanse of gray broken only by patches of green heather.
"We must be ready. They could be hiding behind any of these boulders," Erskine warned.
"Indeed." Torrin crept forward with them, all the men armed with swords, targes and dirks, though Torrin did not have his own sword; the outlaws had stolen it the day before. Three MacKay archers also accompanied them. Those on horseback dismounted.
The further they advanced into the mountains, the more the path turned to gravel and scree which had eroded off the mountains for millennia. 'Twas impossible to see tracks now, but only one trail existed through this area with the steep mountains on both sides.
Fully aware their horses could be injured, killed, or stolen by the outlaws, they left the beasts with five men and continued on foot. 'Twould be too simple for a horse to break a leg amongst these unstable rocks.
Going by foot also allowed them to creep more quietly along the rough stony path. Torrin hoped they could slip up on the outlaws and catch them unawares. Most of all, he prayed Aiden was unharmed. He didn't know the lad well, but he was Jessie's beloved brother. Daft though he may be for leaving the keep to talk to Haldane. He should've known better, but Torrin could also understand the need to try to talk some sense into his law-breaking younger brother. Torrin wished he could've convinced his own younger brother to change his depraved ways before it was too late.
No use wishing for things he could never have now. A heavy sense of loss kicked him in the stomach and memories of their younger years haunted him.
Damnation! Don't think of it.
The one thing he was determined to have now was Jessie. He simply had to convince her of his worth and devotion.
A scent caught his attention—smoke and roasted meat. He halted, holding up his arm so those behind him would stop. "Smell that?" he asked, his voice hushed. "Their camp is close."
"Aye," Erskine whispered.
Sudden loud clanging and war cries resounded through the rocky crags. A rag-tag group of warriors wielding swords and targes stormed from behind boulders. But Torrin was ready, and the men who stood with him appeared ready as well. Blade clashed against blade.
Arrows flew down from the cliffs above. Torrin lifted his targe to deflect them. A skinny, blond-bearded man wearing ragged trews charged Torrin. He easily warded off the younger man's blows. The miscreant bared his teeth and launched a more determined attack. After landing a few blows against Torrin's blade, the man had worn himself out.
Torrin went on the offense. With two strikes, he drew blood, and with the third, dealt a killing slash. The daft lad had chosen the wrong opponent.
The next man to meet his gaze was McMurdo. A quick glance at the warrior lying unmoving and bloody at his feet stopped Torrin's breath. Erskine? Torrin charged forward, intending to run McMurdo through, but the gray-haired bastard fled with uncanny agility up the rock-covered ravine along with the rest of the surviving outlaws after Haldane had shouted the order to retreat.
"Get him! He's killed Erskine," Torrin yelled at the MacKays and chased McMurdo up the mountainside. The smoking campfire came into view, along with Aiden, sitting at the entrance to a cave, a brawny man with a sword guarding him.
"Bring him!" Haldane pointed at Aiden.
The guard picked up the lad, tossed him across his shoulder and ran.
"Bastard," Torrin growled.
Aiden wriggled and fought his captor, but it did no good. The man weighed twice as much as the lad.
Arrows rained down on Torrin and the MacKays, forcing them to use their targes for protection overhead and dive for cover behind boulders; their targes could not shield the whole of their bodies. Once the outlaw archer had stopped shooting, Torrin charged forward again.
"They're getting away!" Torrin sped up but the outlaws were twenty yards ahead. "Give me your bow and an arrow," Torrin ordered the young MacKay archer.
The bow was about the length of his own. Torrin threw down his other weapons, took the bow in hand and nocked the arrow. He aimed, praying he wouldn't shoot Aiden, but if he didn't get that whoreson to release him, he'd likely be dead soon anyway. When the outlaw turned a bit, his side facing Torrin, he released the arrow. The broad-head stabbed into the outlaw's ribs and he fell to his knees. Aiden slammed to the ground as well, but tried to scramble from beneath the injured brigand who was yanking at the arrow and growling like an enraged wolf.
The rest of the outlaws dashed out of sight, but the one he'd downed grabbed for the sword he'd dropped.
Aiden stumbled and fell amongst the rocks.
"Aiden! Come on!" Torrin tossed
the bow back to its owner, grabbed his sword, and sprinted forward to help the lad.
Aiden shoved to his feet and loped toward him, while the injured outlaw lumbered forward, growling, his teeth bared.
Another arrow stabbed into the knave's chest. He dropped like a rock and writhed upon the ground, howling in pain.
Torrin quickly glanced back to see that the MacKay archer had fired the shot.
Reaching Aiden, Torrin grabbed his arm. "Hurry. We have to get you out of here."
Aiden was gasping for breath as he stumbled forward. Torrin glanced around, checking for lingering outlaws, but thankfully saw none.
"Help him down the mountain," he told the MacKays.
"Come on, cousin. I've got you." Conall's burly son, Dougal, picked Aiden up on his back and carried him. "Are you hurt?"
"Nay." Aiden huffed and puffed. "I thank you. All of you."
Torrin retrieved his targe and dirk from the ground, where he'd tossed them earlier, and followed.
Minutes later, Aiden insisted on walking, and they rejoined the rest of the search party.
"Aiden!" Conall yelled, his face red. "Are you daft? Leaving the keep that way? You could've been killed. Erskine's badly injured."
"He lives?" Torrin asked, his gaze scanning over Erskine's bloody, unmoving body and closed eyes.
Iain, crouched next to Erskine, glanced up. "Aye, indeed."
"Thank the saints! How bad is it?"
"'Tis a deep sword gash. He's lost a lot of blood."
"Bastards," Torrin growled. "We have to get him back to Dunnakeil." He wanted to tell Aiden he should be whipped for putting himself and the clan in so much danger. But he was the chief's brother. 'Twas Dirk's place to reprimand him. Or Jessie's. He was certain she would rake Aiden over the coals.
Upon seeing Erskine's bloody wound, Aiden squeezed his eyes closed. "I'm sorry. I ken 'twas my fault."
"Aye," Torrin agreed with a glare at the lad.
If Aiden was his brother, he might cold cock him, but they weren't family yet. Instead, he turned his attention to Erskine and knelt beside him. His face was ashen, and he was out cold.
Iain removed his shirt and used it, along with one he'd gotten from one of his men, as a makeshift bandage around Erskine's abdomen, trying to staunch the flow of blood. "We have to get him out of here."
"Indeed." Torrin stood, his gaze searching the craggy granite mountainsides to make sure no outlaws had returned, then the ground closer to him. Two outlaws, besides the one Torrin had killed, lay dead. Their weapons caught his attention. "'Tis my sword and Jessie's dirk," he muttered, snatching up the weapons and shoving them into his scabbards.
One of the MacKays approached with a wood and linen litter. He must have retrieved it from one of the horses, further back, to transport Erskine on.
Torrin prayed they made it back to Dunnakeil in time for the healer to help him.
***
Jessie paced back and forth in the cobblestone bailey, praying Torrin, Aiden and the rest of the men would return soon. They'd been gone all day, and gloaming was imminent. Sunset streaked the sky overhead with pink and gold.
"They're coming, Lady Jessie!" one of the guards called out from the battlements and pointed toward the east.
"Oh, thank the saints." She rushed to the portcullis. Minutes later, upon hearing the clomp of horses' hooves and men talking, she stepped back several paces. The guards raised the portcullis.
Torrin and Aiden entered the bailey first, leading horses. Joy that they were both alive and well near overcame her. Tears burning her eyes, she grinned and rushed forward to greet them. But neither of them was smiling. Instead, they appeared morose and worried.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Erskine was badly wounded," Torrin said.
"Nay," she gasped, her gaze searching among the men and horses pouring into the bailey. Then, she saw Erskine, passed out, on a litter carried by two men. The large makeshift bandage around his abdomen was soaked with blood.
"Oh, saints." She rushed toward them. "Take him into the great hall." Turning, she found a stable lad nearby. "Go get Nannag and take her to the great hall quickly."
"Aye, m'lady." He ran off.
"Was anyone else injured or killed?" she asked Torrin.
"A few cuts and bruises, but naught serious."
That was a relief, but still, Erskine's condition was perilous. He'd lost a lot of blood.
"What of the outlaws?" she asked as they headed inside.
"We killed four of them, but Haldane and McMurdo fled."
Jessie nodded, having mixed feelings about her youngest brother. In order to stop him from his objective, someone would have to kill him. But when that happened, she would be saddened, for he was still her brother.
"By my estimation, Haldane's gang is down to about six men," Torrin said. "They don't stand much of a chance now, unless he hires more men. I'm going to recommend that the MacKays patrol the area in parties of a dozen or so and mayhap they can pick off the rest of them. Haldane wants Dunnakeil, so he won't go far."
***
An hour later, Erskine was resting in a bedchamber. Nannag and her helpers had stitched up his wound and stopped the bleeding. He'd awoken enough to drink a special herbal tea Nannag had prepared.
Jessie prayed he would recover quickly without getting a terrible fever. Leaving the chamber, she found Aiden lurking in the corridor with several others, his head hung dejectedly. Fury at the risk he'd taken and the danger he'd put everyone in burned through her. "I want to speak to you in the library," she told him.
He eyed her warily. "Very well."
"Mind if I join you?" Torrin asked behind her.
She glanced back at him, finding he wore a concerned frown. "Whatever you wish."
Once in the library with the door closed, Jessie asked, "Aiden, what on earth possessed you to slip out? Are you mad? Now Erskine is almost dead because of you. Dirk will be furious."
Aiden pressed his eyes closed. "I ken 'tis my fault but—" He swallowed, his prominent Adam's apple bobbing. "You've never been close to Haldane. You only came back three years ago. He's… my brother. We've been together our whole lives… until last winter."
"I know that," Jessie said, her throat tightening at the emotion in Aiden's voice.
"I was hoping to change his mind… to convince him…" Aiden shook his head. "He wouldn't listen."
"Of course not. He's beyond redemption." Jessie hated to say the words, but Aiden needed to realize the truth, so he wouldn't do something daft again.
Tears glistened in Aiden's eyes and he hung his head.
Torrin placed his hand upon Jessie's shoulder and squeezed gently. She didn't have to look at him to know what he wanted to tell her—to not be so hard on Aiden. Maybe Torrin was right. Aiden did appear exceedingly remorseful.
"I'm glad you were unharmed," she told her brother in a softer tone.
"I'm sorry." Aiden quickly left the room.
Jessie pulled away from Torrin and faced him. "What? Did you wish me to be easier on him? He put the whole clan in danger."
"You're right. I was furious with him, too. But the lad feels terrible. He just wanted his brother back. I can understand that."
Jessie nodded and pressed her eyes closed. "Well, he's right. I was never close to Haldane. We didn't grow up together. And the three years we lived here at Dunnakeil together, we didn't get along. But I've always watched out for Aiden."
"You're close to Dirk, too, are you not?"
"Aye. I'm four years younger than him, and we had the same mother." When she thought of Dirk, she couldn't help but think of her childhood, a time when things were fun and uncomplicated. "When we were small, we spent a lot of time together. Why do you think I like knives so much? I played with him, Keegan, and the lads who were always in mock sword fights. I just wish Dirk was here now to help with all this."
Torrin gave a slight lopsided smile. "You'd make an excellent chief."
She gave
a soft snort. "Hardly."
"You're tougher than some men I know."
Her heart leapt at his high praise. "I thank you, but I had to be."
"Why?" With a small frown, he tilted his head.
"Life with my foster family was not easy."
"The Keiths?" he said in a bitter tone.
She nodded. "The daughter closest to my age was a real harpy. She was jealous of everything and everyone. My closest friends were the cook and one of the nursemaids. But I did love Lady Keith. She was warm, welcoming and motherly, very different from my own stepmother." 'Twas really the only mother she had known, other than her own nursemaid when she was a wee lass.
"I'm sorry you had a tough time of it," Torrin said. "Did anyone ever hit you or punish you?"
"Nay, thank goodness. My father visited a couple of times a year to check on me, and he would've been furious with them if they'd beaten me."
"I must have been more of a hellion than you were, then," he said.
"Why? Were you punished?"
"Aye, my father used a leather strap—or his fists—on me… and my younger brother."
It pained her to imagine an older, bigger man beating a young Torrin. She could never understand why some parents were abusive. If she had children, she would likely spoil them. "What did you do to deserve that?"
He shrugged. "I can't even remember. He simply enjoyed hurting people. Not just us but the servants, too. Sometimes he would say 'twas how he was going to make hardened warriors out of us."
She shook her head, his story and his sad expression breaking her heart. "'Tis terrible. What of your mother?"
"She died when I was ten summers," he said in a matter-of-fact tone that had to be concealing deep emotion.
"I'm sorry to hear of it." She knew the void and emptiness of not having a mother, but she had not known hers. To lose a mother at ten must have been the worst.
"I was away, fostering with the Stewarts at the time," he said. "I didn't even get to attend her funeral. Da sent a missive, and that was that. When I returned home a year later, Ma simply wasn't there anymore."
"'Tis tragic," Jessie whispered, tears welling in her eyes.
My Notorious Highlander (Highland Adventure 5) Page 15
