Highland Scoundrel (Highland Brides)

by Greiman, Lois

  “Stay put!” he hissed and rose.

  The pursuers were nearly upon them. “Dugald.” She tried to rise, but he pushed her back.

  “Down!” he growled and sprang away.

  Someone shrieked a battle cry, but the noise ended abruptly. From her hiding place, Shona saw William’s soldier drop his sword and stumble back, his torso impaled on a seven-foot branch.

  The next man leapt forward, but Dugald snatched the dead man’s spilled sword and swept it upward. The villain blocked the cut. Dugald’s sword broke in two. The brigand shrieked in glee and lunged. But Dugald spun about in a wild circle and slammed the broken blade into the hollow of his throat.

  He fell clawing at the bloody hilt.

  The rest was a haze of movement and screams. But in a moment all was silent, and Dugald stood alone. He turned and ran toward her. His sleeve was torn and blood stained the fabric, but otherwise he seemed unscathed.

  “How did ye do that?” she whispered, her gaze frozen on the gore.

  “Come,” he said, reaching for her hand.

  Light exploded from the camp. Men screamed.

  “Nay!” Twas a boy’s cry that issued through the morning air.

  “Kelvin!” Shona yelled. She scrambled to her feet. Dugald grabbed her, but she fought him off.

  “Kelvin!” she yelled again, and jerking free, scrambled away.

  “Shona!” Dugald yelled. “Nay. Stay here.”

  But she could not. Heart pounding, lungs aching, she flew through the woods. It seemed like an eternity before she burst into camp.

  Bodies lay strewn everywhere. She stumbled past them, searching for the boy.

  Rachel jerked from Liam’s arms and ran toward her.

  “Rachel.” Relief flooded through Shona as she pulled her cousin into her arms. They clung together, blocking out reality for a few brief moments. But the reprieve could not be prolonged. The nightmare was real. “Rachel,” Shona said, pressing her to arms’ length. “Where is Kelvin?”

  Rachel’s face was streaked with blood and dirt, but beneath the grime, she was as pale as death.

  “They took him,” she whispered.

  “Nay!” Shona fell to her knees, still clasping her cousin’s hand. “Tis not so.”

  Rachel knelt down beside her, holding her in her arms as she rocked back and forth.

  “Why?” Liam asked. He was gripping his right arm. Blood oozed between his fingers. “Why did they come? What did they want?”

  “Tis my fault.” Bullock stumbled up. His leg bandage was bloody and there was a slash cut across his temple. “I failed. I slept.” His face was somber, his expression tortured. “I slept while I should have guarded.”

  Shona rose slowly to her feet. There was no time for mourning—not now. “No one heard them come, Bullock. Not until it was too late. And ye were wounded and drugged.”

  “Twas as if we were all drugged,” Liam said, his tone confused, his face twisted in agony.

  “Why?”

  “It makes no difference why!” Bullock growled. “Twas my duty to stand guard. And twill be me who will make the bastards pay!” He stepped forward, but even as he did so, he faltered on his wounded knee.

  Shona caught his arm. “Nay! Please dunna go,” Shona pleaded. Bullock had been her friend and protector long before she had known the meaning of the words. Now, it seemed, it was her time to protect him. “Ye must not go after them. Stay here.”

  He turned to her, surprised by her response. “What of the boy?” he asked.

  “What of Rachel?” she countered. “Ye know how she is. She will tend the wounded and forget all her own needs. What if yet another evil should befall her?”

  Bullock scowled. “But the lad is like a son to ye.”

  “And Rachel is like a daughter to the Flame,” she said. “Your loyalty lies with her.”

  Understanding shone in Bullock’s face. “And what are your plans?” he asked, his eyes narrowed.

  “Dunna worry over me,” she said.

  A soldier limped up. “We must return to Dun Ard. Gather troops,” he said.

  But Rachel’s gaze never left Shona’s face. “Ye plan to go after them yourself,” she whispered.

  “Dun Ard is too far,” Shona said, ignoring Rachel’s words. “Blackburn is closer. Go there. Tell Hawk what has happened. He will send a message to Father.”

  “Why did we sleep so?” Liam asked, still mired in his questions. “Twas like an evil spell.”

  “Shona,” Rachel said. “Ye must come with us to Blackburn. Hawk will send troops. They’ll find Kelvin. They’ll bring him back.”

  “Damn William to the depths of hell!” Bullock swore.

  “Why did he do it?” Liam asked. “Why attack us? Why take the boy? Surely he can do them no good. He is but a waif.”

  “It matters little why he did it,” Bullock growled, glancing around at his fallen men. “For he will roast in hell for his sins, no matter what the reason.”

  But Liam was of an entirely different mind. Born without Bullock’s tremendous bulk, he had survived by his wit and cunning. He turned his gaze on Shona, his eyes narrowed as if he could see through her to her soul. “Why?” he repeated. “What did they want?”

  She shook her head, afraid she knew the reason, yet hoping against hope that she was wrong. “I dunna know,” she whispered.

  “William wanted Shona,” Dugald said, striding up. “She was his quarry.”

  “What?” Rachel and Liam spoke in unison.

  “William attacked Shona in the woods.”

  “What were ye doing in the woods?” Rachel asked.

  “Revenge, then?” Liam said. “Revenge for breaking their engagement?”

  “A stinted lover?” Bullock rasped. “He has slaughtered my men and his own cousin for naught but his bruised pride?”

  “What has happened here?” A soldier wandered up, his eyes round and bewildered, his gait still unsteady with sleep.

  All eyes turned to him.

  “Stephen!” Bullock gasped, “Ye have survived?”

  “Survived? 1 was fast asleep.” He glanced dazedly about. “Surely this is but a dream.”

  “A dream!” Bullock rasped, and lunged toward his own man, but Liam stopped him, able, in Bullock’s weakened state, to pull him to a halt easily.

  “Do ye say ye slept through the entire battle?” Liam asked.

  “I…” Stephen paused, hugging his wounded arm to his side. The bandage from the night before seemed inordinately clean amidst the chaos. “I did naught but sleep after Lady Rachel tended my wounds.”

  Rachel scowled. “The herbs should not have been so strong that…”

  A shriek cut her words short.

  They turned as a unit toward the noise.

  A soldier stumbled from a tent, staring wildly about at the carnage around him. “Merciful God, what has happened?”

  “Where have ye been?” Bullock growled.

  “I… I…” The soldier stumbled toward them, looking disoriented and hazy.

  “Tis as if we were bewitched,” Liam murmured.

  “Did this man take your herbs, Lady Rachel?” Dugald asked.

  “Nay, he—”

  “Warwick.” Liam said the name softly, as if he did not mean to say it at all.

  Shona turned quickly toward him, her heart thumping wildly against her ribs, her stomach sick.

  “What are ye saying, Liam?”

  “Tis the work of the Dark Sorcerer. He made it all seem peaceful here beneath the rowans. He did this.”

  “Nay. The wizard is dead. Boden killed him.”

  “Boden killed him,” Liam murmured, “but he is not dead.”

  “Ye make no sense,” Rachel said, but just then someone groaned. She jerked toward the noise as if wrenched from her own terror and hurried to the downed man’s side.

  Liam went after her.

  Shona watched him go, her mind boggled, her fear escalating.

  Warwick! Alive! But how? And if s
o, why would he have come here?

  The answer came to her quickly. She reached up and pulled Dragonheart from beneath her nightgown. The amulet glowed warm against her palm.

  Could the old wizard have somehow survived Boden’s sword? And if so, could he now be haunting her, still trying to obtain Dragonheart? Twas not possible. Why would anyone want the pendant enough to kill for it?

  “Bullock,” Liam said, returning to the group. “Rachel says for ye to lie down. Stephen and Andrew, she needs your assistance.”

  The two soldiers hurried off to help tend the wounded, and Bullock, though told to do otherwise, limped off to do the same.

  Liam turned toward Shona. Their gazes met.

  “Why does the wizard want Dragonheart?” he asked.

  “What are ye talking about?” Shona asked.

  “What has the pendant done for ye?”

  She shook her head in confusion, but Liam stepped forward and grasped her hand in his own.

  “What gifts has it given ye, lass?” he asked.

  “Ye canna truly believe tis magic.”

  “Sara held the dragon before ye,” he said. “Three days she was in the wilds alone. Three days with a bairn not old enough to crawl. Not a bite did she have to eat, not a drop of milk for the babe.

  But neither of them sustained so much as a scratch for their trials.”

  “And ye would give credit to the pendant?” she asked, incredulous, confused, shaken.

  He remained silent then blew out a heavy breath. “In truth, lass, it matters naught what I believe.

  It only matters what the wizard believes.”

  “The wizard,” Dugald said. “The one called Warwick?”

  “Dunna say his name out loud!” Liam warned then lowered his voice. “No good can come of it.”

  “Ye think he is after Shona’s pendant because of its powers?”

  “Dragonheart is not Shona’s,” Liam said. “She is only keeping it for a time.”

  “Keeping it for whom?”

  Liam shrugged, impatient and angry. “I dunna know. I only know that she has it now, and as long as she does, the wizard will hound her.”

  “The wizard is dead,” Shona whispered.

  “Did ye see his body?” Liam asked. “Nay. And neither did I. I should have searched for him harder. I should not have given up.”

  “If the pendant endangers her, then she should be rid of it,” Dugald said.

  “Nay!” Liam’s tone was sharp, but softened in a moment. “Nay, it has come to her for a reason.”

  “Come to me?” The whole thing seemed unreal, and yet, somehow, Shona was not surprised at Liam’s words, for there was something about the dragon that was not quite normal, not quite earthly.

  “What powers does it give that the wizard would wish to possess?” Dugald asked.

  “How would I know what is in his twisted mind? I am not like him!” Liam snapped.

  Shona stared at him.

  Liam ran splayed fingers through his hair and drew a deep breath. “I dunna know,” he said more softly. “Mayhap tis all foolishness conjured up in a sick old man’s mind.”

  There was a moment of silence as each person turned to his own thoughts.

  “What kind of bird is behind you, Shona?” Dugald asked quietly.

  “What?” Shona turned to him in surprise, certain he had lost his mind.

  “There is a bird on a branch behind you. What kind is it?”

  “Our men are dead or wounded and ye would ask about a bird?”

  He stared at her. “I would know why William of Atberry held a knife to your throat,” Dugald said, his voice deadly soft. “I would know why, before I cut his heart from his chest.”

  She swallowed, remembering the sharp snap of a broken neck and Dugald’s stoic expression as he left the man dead.

  “Tis a treecreeper behind me,” she whispered. “In fact, there are two of them.”

  Liam started. “How did ye know?”

  Scowling, Shona shrugged. “I dunna know. I suppose I heard their calls.”

  “In the midst of battle, with your mind boggled by the loss of a boy ye love like a son?” Liam said. “Amidst all that, ye heard the high-pitched call of a tiny bird?”

  Shona tightened her fingers over Dragonheart. “He has enhanced my senses?” she asked, awestruck and quiet. “Is that what ye think?”

  “I canna explain it, lass. Your senses have always been uncanny. Mayhap it but enhances one’s own gifts. I dunna know its mysteries, and for that I am sorry. I only know that the Dark Sorcerer thinks it precious beyond all else.”

  She straightened. “It matters naught if it is magical or nay,” she said. “Nor does it matter why the wizard wants it. All that matters is Kelvin’s life.”

  “We will get him back,” Dugald said. “They came for you, of that much I am certain. They only took the lad to lure you to them.”

  Shona’s stomach turned over. “They would use him as bait?”

  “Aye,” Dugald said. “And therefore they dare not kill him.”

  “Kill him!” She could hear the terror in her own voice, could taste the bile in her throat. “I must go!”

  “Go?” Dugald caught her arm. “You are not thinking, Shona. They have two dozen men, all trained and well armed. We have little more than a handful of warriors, and most of them wounded.”

  “Shona,” Rachel called. “Come here.”

  Shona hurried through the camp to where her cousin knelt beside a fallen man.

  “Hadwin.” Shona whispered his name as she crouched beside Rachel. “What happened?”

  “William!” Hadwin croaked. His eyes were wide and staring, his skin waxy. “I did not know.”

  Shona grasped his hand between her own. It felt unearthly cold. “He took Kelvin, Hadwin.

  Why? Where did they go?”

  “I swear… I was not privy to his plans,” he whispered again. “He wanted you, but…” His body spasmed. “Forgive me,” he rasped, and went limp.

  She rose slowly to her feet. Rage coursed through her. She turned away.

  “Shona,” Liam said, “tis too dangerous. Ye canna go.”

  “Twill be safer alone.”

  “Alone?” Dugald’s tone was as deep as the earth as he watched her from a few inches away.

  “Aye. They are not nearly so likely to see one coming as a whole troop. And too,” she said, pressing the pendant’s warmth against her chest. “If Dragonheart is powerful, surely he will aid me.

  For this much I know, the amulet is not evil. Mayhap this is the very purpose for which he came to me, to give me the strength to see Kelvin safely returned.”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Liam glance at Rachel. She saw her cousin nod and turned toward the magician.

  She knew he would try to stop her. But she would not let him. “Ye needn’t worry, Liam,” she said. “I am stronger than ye think—”

  But suddenly, reality dipped, the earth tilted beneath her feet. And though she fell like a bobbing apple into dark waves, she knew it was Dugald who had betrayed her.

  Chapter 25

  Shona awoke slowly. She lay on her back inside a tent. Outside, the world was dim, darkened by either clouds or nightfall. She remained still a moment, trying to ascertain which. Twas clouds, she decided, then remained motionless a while longer as she marshaled her senses. She did not know exactly how much time had passed since Dugald had spilled her into oblivion, but it had been less than half an hour, of that she was certain. Someone had carried her inside her tent, hoping to keep her safe. Their intentions were good, she knew, but that knowledge did nothing to improve her mood.

  After all, Kelvin’s life lay in the balance.

  The memory of him brought her fully awake. William had taken Kelvin. William, who had pretended to care about her. Anger burned through her, but she stilled it, forcing herself to think, to plan. She did not know why the duke had taken the boy. But just now it made no difference, for it would not change her acti
ons.

  Rising to her knees, she swayed then steadied herself. The tender dell below her left ear throbbed, but she ignored it.

  Now she must gather what she needed and leave before the others realized she was awake, for they would try to stop her. Glancing about, Shona recognized the canvas bag that contained her clothing. Dropping to her hands and knees, she crawled silently to it, pulled out her leather breeches and a simple tunic, slipped off her nightgown, and dressed in the men’s garments. She left her feet bare, plaited her hair into one thick braid, and retrieved her knife from the floor.

  Rising silently, she stood motionless and listened. Through the canvas walls of the tent, it seemed she could hear every word spoken—Rachel’s quiet orders as she continued to tend the wounded; Liam as he joked with the same. Where was Dugald? She concentrated a moment longer, then placed him some hundred rods away, speaking quietly with Bullock.

  Apparently she had awakened before they’d expected her to. Therefore she must leave now, while she still had the chance.

  Turning toward the back of the tent, Shona made one quick slice through the canvas. It parted in cooperative silence. She slipped through, glanced warily about, and hurried into the woods.

  This would be a mission of stealth and cunning. An arsenal of weapons would do her little good against William’s might. All she would need was a horse and a bow… and more luck than any one person was likely to have in a lifetime.

  The trail was not difficult to see, for William wanted nothing more than to be followed. Dugald urged Eagle on. He could not be more than an hour behind Shona.

  But what would happen when she found Kelvin? Dugald’s gut tightened with dread. He forced his thoughts aside; he would not think of that now. He would not think of her life in danger, or how her skin felt beneath his hands. Those thoughts only boggled his mind.

  He would not even think of how he would kill William, though surely that time would come.

  For now, he would concentrate on the matter at hand.

  They were heading south by west. Why? Where were they going? Unbidden questions burned in his mind, blurring his thinking. He steeled himself, blocking away the fear. Instead, he would plan.

  Of one thing he was certain: the element of surprise would be on Shona’s side. Never would a coward like William expect a maid to challenge him unaided. Nay, he would be certain she would bring her soldiers, soldiers who had been wounded, soldiers who would slow her progress.