by R. L. Syme
The sun was just breaking the last of its rays on the rough faces of the southern mountains, and she knew she’d never be able to navigate without light—not that she could remember much about how to navigate when it was light, anyway. Especially not this far north. Going to the bothan had been one thing. But going all the way to Castle St. Claire was a task she had not considered much before undertaking it. She had simply received news she had to act on.
From far away, she heard hoof beats. There were no crofts up here as far as she knew, and no village for miles. The Sinclairs all lived in the keep, surely, or surrounding. So whoever approached would be on their way to the keep as well. Only they were approaching from the west, not the south. Kensey turned Brid to face the galloping horse, and was surprised to see the outcast Sinclair she’d met the day before.
The man was magnificent, and she couldn’t help but watch the deft command he held over his body and his animal. Every visible muscle rippled with regulated exertion, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to feel those muscles under her hands. With a quick blush, she shook herself and reined in her horse, which pranced nervously as the rider approached.
“What are you doing here, lass?” he yelled to her, slowing his speed as he came upon her. “It’s nearly dark, and you’re unaccompanied?” His shoulders tensed and he scanned the valley. “Do you not have an attendant or chaperone with you?” He swore an oath and came alongside her horse. “Of all the reckless, dangerous, bull-headed.”
But Kensey would have none of it. She was already on the verge of tears and his blatant disregard for her agenda brought up a bubbling frustration that threatened to loose all of her careful control.
“It is really none of your business what I’m doing out here.” She pulled at Brid’s bridle to modify their trajectory, but he was in front of her before she could bolt. She heard a faint chuckle and met his eyes in the darkening light only to find blatant amusement. Her blush returned.
“I was merely trying to be of service.” He took his reins, commandingly, and turned his magnificent horse away from her. “Very well, then, you can obviously find your own way. So I’ll leave you to your mission.”
“Wait!” She reached a hand toward him. He stopped his retreat, but kept his back to her. “I do need your help, sir, if you know these parts.”
“I know them well enough.”
“Can you show me to Castle Sinclair? I must see Malcolm right away.”
“You must see Malcolm?” He raised a long eyebrow. “What about Duncan?
“He’s gone to Berwick and told me if there was a need, I should send for Malcolm.”
“And yet you insist on coming yourself.” The gruff edge to his voice send a chill straight through her and she pulled the cloak tighter around her body, but the chill remained and trilled through her again and again as she stared at the big Highlander.
“Yes, I need to see him at once. It’s concerning… a matter of the heart.”
“Ah, I see.” He turned to face her and pulled on his hood with ceremonious caution, so she could only see the outline of his face in the setting sun. “I’ll take you there myself.”
“I see you’ve been riding your animal too hard,” he commented as they rode on and she tried to increase the pace. “Maybe we should proceed more slowly, to save your horse.”
“If you please, sir,” she said. “I must get to Malcolm immediately, and Brid will be quite alright once we reach the keep.”
“I’m sure Duncan’s stable lad will tend her well, yes, but...”
“Please,” begged Kensey. “We must hurry. It’s a matter of life or death.”
“I’m sure you must think it is, lass,” he said, more to himself than to her, but he crept the pace up to where she could barely keep up and her heavy breath belied the difficulty.
Just as the sun set, Castle St. Claire came into view. They’d ridden back into the valley and come around an altogether different hill than she expected, then when they came up out of the valley, there it was. Rising out of the hill in the fading sun just as she remembered from her girlhood. Not far from the North Sea itself, for she could smell the cool, salty brine of the coastline.
Kensey breathed a heavy sigh of relief as they neared it. There was movement from the watch and she knew they’d been spotted. At that moment, she dropped her hood back so they could recognize her face, should they wonder at her identity. She fumbled in her bag for the swath of plaid he’d given her.
The stranger stopped his horse and Kensey did likewise, though she wondered why he’d reined in. Then she saw in the faint darkness that the gate was open, and a rider approached them, carrying a torch.
“What are you doing, sir?”
“I’m leaving you to your man. Surely he will recognize you, even from this distance.”
“But...”
“You are much welcome, and goodbye,” he shouted over his shoulder as he continued on his westerly course. His horse had such a long gait, he was practically over the hill before she could find her wits again.
“Will you not stay with me?” she called after him, her shamelessness notwithstanding. The darkness frightened her, although she would not admit as much to him. But he continued to retreat and she soon couldn’t see him anymore. The sun had set, and the high, full moon was all that lit the countryside, leaving most of the shadowed hillsides big enough to swallow a man into them fully.
She continued to ride toward the darkening keep. There was a slightly worn path, but because they were so far north, those who traveled it were few and far between. It wasn’t quite like the roads to the south, which had been worn well down to the dirt and rock beneath. Before she could get even to the walls of the keep, the rider reached her.
“Who goes there?” A man called as he approached on horseback.
She recognized the same flame-colored hair that Duncan sported and hoped this was his brother, Malcolm. She waved the plaid cloth and both the rider and the men behind him slowed.
“Are you Miss Kensey MacLeod?” the redhead asked.
“Are you Malcolm Sinclair?”
He nodded and reached her at last. She continued to hold up the cloth. “Duncan said if I should have any trouble…”
His face hardened. “What’s happened?”
“It’s worse than I had imagined.” She had been riding so hard, for so long. She thought she might collapse right there, but it was so imperative that she bring him the news immediately.
“Come inside and tell me, lass. We need to get you in front of a blazing fire and out of this night air.”
“No, I can’t. We must leave immediately. Colin Ross came today and took Fiona.”
“What? Has her father sent men after her?”
Kensey choked back her tears. “Her father sent for Colin and told him he could take her when he found out... she planned to marry Duncan in secret.”
Malcolm stopped his horse short and shadows from the torch played across his face. The fire caught his red hair and his entire countenance seemed ablaze.
“How could her own father do that to her?” He looked up, directing his anger into the sky. “The man is sending her to her grave. He must know what Ross is like. We’ve all heard about his first wife.” The young man crossed himself.
“The message came to me, but I haven’t yet seen Fiona.” Kensey reined Brid around toward the south. “But we have to go after her.”
“It’ll take us half the night to reach Balconie Castle, lass.” Malcolm turned to face the castle. He waved the torch back and forth in front of him and Kensey could have sworn she saw movement on the watch again that looked like burrowing ants. “And beside that, I have no claim to her, with Duncan gone.”
“But… they will marry tomorrow!”
“And what about posting the banns?”
“You know very well that nobles can get around those rules. All it takes is one priest in his pocket.”
He che
wed his lip and glanced back at the men who’d accompanied him. They hung back several feet, well outside the ring of light the torch cast. Kensey guessed there were four or five here, with nary a fire between them.
“All I know is what Fiona wrote to me. She sent one of her attendants early this morning.” Kensey watched as the gates opened again and several bursts of orange light started bouncing toward them.
“Yes, Duncan tried to argue the arrangement with the Earl when they were first posted. But you know these court weddings. Sometimes they post banns two or three times and still never wed for months. Duncan thought he had time.” Malcolm ruffled his short shag of hair.
“The Earl has a new heir, his new wife’s baby, and Fiona believes he wants to fully indebt himself now to the English, so he makes alliances with the only Scots nobles who truly support them.”
Malcolm frowned and the tension on his face kept Kensey from approaching too close. He was still young—younger than both his brothers—and seemed to have retained the volatility of youth in a way that levelheaded Duncan hadn’t.
Kensey wondered for the first time about Broccin. The oldest. Why hadn’t Duncan left the castle in his protection? She knew very little about Broc, as he always tended toward distance around her. He’d been the silent watchman over all their childhood games.
But never a participant.
She knew Duncan and Malcolm much better. Although she’d been much closer to Brigid and Alana until she left for France. She wasn’t even sure she’d heard Broccin speak to her more than twice in her whole life, regardless of her attempts to draw him into their games. Perhaps he thought himself too serious for their childhood play.
But then where was that serious brother today? Had he been one of the banished? Her mother never hinted toward it in her letters. Then again, after the mess with the betrothal had been cleared up, her mother rarely spoke of the Sinclairs, preferring instead to limit news to her brother and father, and then ask incessantly after her connections at court.
“Duncan left me instructions to send for him immediately if we heard of Fiona’s marriage.” Malcolm glanced around and fixed his eyes on a small boy on a horse. “Will could keep quite a quick pace during the day, but he couldn’t make Berwick in time to find Duncan and then travel to Balconie.”
One of the men drew his horse forward. “We must do what Duncan would do in our place.” He was a huge, broad-shouldered, dark-haired man with a sword strapped to his back. Kensey shivered at the thought of how quickly he could likely draw and use that sword. And the fate of his enemy. He was a warrior, for certain sure.
Another called from the dark, “If we take the path through the Reay, we can be there in half the time.”
“It will be slower going without as sure a footing,” said the larger man. “Even if we can stay on our trail.”
“But if we can manage to come upon them in the night, perhaps we can surprise them and take the girl before their guards are even roused,” said another.
Frustrated with the limits of the dark, Kensey stopped trying to follow the conversation and closed her eyes. She wanted Fiona to be safe. However it happened, it must happen. It must.
“Alec is right. The forest will require a slower pace, but it will save time if we can manage it,” said another voice. More hoof beats signaled more approaching men. They would have almost twenty if Kensey had counted right. Surely they could secure Fiona’s safety with twenty men and a castle caught unaware with most of its men off fighting elsewhere and preparing for a wedding.
“We must go for her tonight, then,” Malcolm said. As the rest of his men approached, he called to them, “Tonight we ride for Balconie.”
***
The journey did not take as long as Malcolm predicted, mostly because they rode their horses hard and had light from a full moon to keep their feet on steady ground. But it took more of a toll on Kensey than she expected. By the time they reached the edge of the forest and Malcolm had them extinguish their torches, she was ready to sleep. He stopped them as soon as the blocky, well-lit castle came into view, and bid them all dismount.
“I’m going in alone,” Malcolm said, pulling weapons from his saddle and pushing them into his belt.
“You cannot go alone,” insisted the big man.
“We must all fight together,” said another.
Malcolm passed an arm wide in front of them. “I am the best climber, and Duncan’s brother beside. I must go alone, and silent as possible. I will discover her, and I will liberate her. Hopefully, there will be no fighting.”
“Then why are we here?” asked yet another. Malcolm gave him a sharp look, which did not seem to calm him much. This man was quite a bit older than Duncan, perhaps by as much as 20 years, and did not appear to be angrily defiant, but rather untrusting.
“You are here, Fitz, because I command it,” Duncan stated, putting hands on his hips and spreading his legs. He stood like this for quite some time, staring down the men. “Alec, you must understand,” he said to the one who had first opposed him, “if I go alone, I may go silently and quickly. Then, if I find my way is blocked, or I need help, I will call for you.”
“But how will we know if you need help if you do not allow us to come with you?” one of the men said, sharply. This one was younger than the rest, perhaps not 18 yet. He was lithe and spry, but his face still bore much of the boyish character of one too young for the battlefield. This must have been the Will who could ride so fast.
Malcolm patted the boy on the shoulder. “You especially must stay, to protect Kensey.” He took Kensey’s arm with this statement. “She has entrusted herself to my family, and I will not have anything happen to her. As the only remaining son of my father’s brother, you are charged as her guardian until I return.”
This made Will straighten and stop asking questions, although he appeared to still have some to ask. Malcolm put his hand on another of the men’s shoulders and gave more orders.
“Alec, I am leaving you in charge.” At this, Will stiffened next to Kensey. She sensed his expectation that this would be his own duty. Malcolm continued, “I will attempt to gain entry to the castle myself, without causing any alarm, then find Fiona and free her from this prison.” There were some grunts from the men. Kensey could not tell if they were supportive or not. She had not expected there to be such tenuous bonds among these warriors.
“If I should fail…” Malcolm began.
“You will not.” Alec interrupted him with a gruff smack to the arm.
“While I appreciate the vote of confidence, we must be prepared for failure as well. Now, if I should fail, and am captured or killed, you will return to St. Claire without me. If I am not back before dawn, leave my horse and head for home.”
There were groans among the men, and several tried to argue again. With a wide gesture, Malcolm silenced them.
“I am the next in line behind my brother and owe him my life. If anyone will fight Duncan’s battle, it will be me. And if I am captured, it must appear that I am alone, or we risk Ross bringing his wrath upon our whole clan.” With that, Malcolm took off running, across the rocky ground, towards Balconie Castle, and left a dozen and a half warriors and a woman to wait for his return.
“Impetuous fool.” Alec spat at Malcolm’s retreating back. Will stepped from Kensey’s side and went face-to-face with Alec’s taller, broader form.
“Do not speak of my cousin like this,” Will ordered. “He is the laird’s brother.”
“As am I,” Alec said.
“Brother by law, not by blood.” Will seemed to take some pride in saying this and Kensey felt a quick tug of fear push her to intervene.
“Forgive me, young master,” Alec said with too much honey in his voice, overemphasizing the diminutive title. “I only meant that he put himself in danger needlessly. Any one of us would gladly have gone after his lass ourselves, and produced her for him without putting his own life in danger.”
The air around them seemed to collectively hold. In broad daylight, in their courtyard back at St. Claire, they would undoubtedly have drawn swords or at least launched into fisticuffs. The clandestine nature of their position required more quiet than they were about to create.
Kensey sighed loudly and swayed on her feet. Both men turned their attention immediately to her and Will was at her side with haste.
“I’m sorry, my lady.”
“How may I help?” Kensey asked Will after nearly a full minute of silence.
“The best service you can do right now, lass, is to sleep.” Alec stepped up, near her feet and looked around at the rest of the men. “All of you, put down your cloaks and try to get some sleep. We will all stay behind the bush cover here, and tie the horses down the hill so they remain out of sight.”
At his command, two of the men gathered all the horses, including Kensey’s, and led them down the side of the hill to where there was another small grove of trees. They tied the reins to the trees and walked back up the hill.
“Will and I will remain awake the first hour to keep watch for Malcolm or his sign. When we wake two new watchers, we will sleep.” Alec’s voice was gruff, as though he expected a fight. Will’s clenched fists lasted as long as Alec spoke, but once the rest of the men started to arrange themselves for sleep, he turned to Kensey, prepared to speak.
A noise behind them silenced the entire group. Will stood and moved toward the sound, holding out a hand to maintain everyone’s silence. The only noise was the quiet slide of steel as several of the men slowly drew their swords.
“There’s a man out there.” Alec’s certainty gave Kensey chills more so than any coldness in the night. Had this all been a trap? Were they waiting to kill Duncan, assuming he would come? Had the letter even been from Fiona?
“Who did we leave at the keep?” Will stood stop the small hill so he was barely visible above the bushes and scanned the woods below and behind them.
