by Amanda Scott
His own weapons in hand, Ian focused his attention on his opponent.
Dougal sneered. “I hope when ye married her, ye were shriven of your sins.”
“You think you can best me?” Ian taunted softly.
Seeing color sweep into Dougal’s face, Ian realized he could anger the man with ease. Tucking that helpful wee fact into his imaginary weapons chest, he made a show of returning his dirk to its sheath and gripped his sword with both hands.
“Tired?” Dougal asked, moving lightly to his right and holding his sword out straight as if to flaunt his strength. He kept his dirk in his left fist near his thigh.
“You may hope,” Ian replied, turning just enough to maintain their respective positions. As always, when certain danger and an unpredictable outcome confronted him, time came to a near standstill. Even his pulse slowed.
He had been breathing heavily after his battle against the other two. Now, he felt as clearheaded as if someone had doused him with revivifying ice water.
Every sense had come alert. He could hear Dougal’s feet on the soft ground and his sheath creaking softly as it swung from his belt. His baldric made noises, too. Ian heard them all and noted every movement of the other man’s eyes, face, hands, and feet, as if he had many eyes instead of two. He could smell the piney air and the man’s sweat, although they had not yet begun. Ian felt every ridge in his sword’s hilt right through his gloves. He sensed the weapon’s weight and slightest movement.
He had never understood the familiar phenomenon, but he treasured it.
As Dougal’s sword made its movement at what seemed to be a snail’s pace, Ian felt his muscles tense in response. Images passed through his mind, one after another as clear as could be, of what he would do and how he would do it if Dougal lunged left, right, or straight at him. He felt as if he had all day to decide.
Dougal attacked deftly and without much warning by shifting left while attacking to the right. But Ian’s sword flashed up to meet his with a clang that echoed through the silent woods.
From that point, things moved with blinding speed, because Dougal was a fine swordsman. The deftness of his movements and agility matched Ian’s own.
Even so, Ian’s ability to think faster than he acted and to remain aware of every sense and detail remained steady. His eagerness for the battle had increased as it always did against a worthy opponent. The only time he had been hurt, the worst of it was his knowledge that the swordsman had been less experienced and that the injury had been his own fault. He had been careless.
With no room for carelessness now, he fought hard and well.
Dougal eased to his right and forward as he had many times before, forcing Ian back to his own right. When Ian expected Dougal to leap to his left, as he had each time before, Dougal flashed forward to his right instead.
Hastily shifting his sword and position to parry the blow, Ian failed to heed a branch no thicker than his forearm on the ground behind him. His right heel came down on it, rolled back with the wood, and cast him off balance just as Dougal’s sword swept toward his head.
Gasping, Lina clutched her hands to her breast and clamped her lips shut. Feeling helpless, she called on the Fates with every fiber of her being to help Ian.
She was sure in that moment that, with Ian falling, Dougal would win.
It happened so fast that she could not be sure what Ian did. He seemed to hit the ground with his left shoulder and roll catlike to his feet, facing Dougal again, with his sword at the ready. Without pause, he charged, taking Dougal by surprise. With one deft, slashing stroke, he knocked Dougal’s sword from his hand and away.
“Yield, and you will live,” Ian shouted.
“The devil I will!” Dougal shouted, rushing Ian with his dirk held to stab.
Swinging mightily with both hands and the side of his sword blade, Ian hit Dougal’s upstretched arm hard enough to send the dirk flying from it into the trees.
When Dougal turned away to run after it, Ian put down his sword, drew his dirk, and dashed after Dougal to finish him.
“Nay!” Lina cried. “Do not kill him!”
When Ian paused and Dougal scrambled away toward his dirk, she wanted to bite off her tongue. She dared not look at her mother, certain that Lady Aubrey would condemn such an outcry. Ian would have much to say about it, too.
Worse, she could not defend herself because she had acted without thinking. As often as she had condemned Ian’s doing so…
Dougal stopped abruptly, turned, and leaped toward Ian, apparently hoping to strangle him with his bare hands.
Ian raised his dirk again.
Lina clamped her mouth shut and squeezed her eyes shut as well.
She heard a loud crack, then a thud, and then silence.
As Ian rubbed his fist, doubtless bruised from its hard contact with Dougal’s bony chin, he looked at Lina and nearly smiled at her expression. Determined to keep that touch of amusement out of his voice, he said sternly, “Open your eyes.”
Her eyelids squeezed tighter, and her lips pressed together so tightly that he was sure her little white teeth must be gripping the lower lip.
After a swift, oblique glance at her nearly smiling mother, Ian waited.
Lina’s cheeks grew pink. She opened her eyes. Her lips relaxed.
He did not know what he had expected her to say, but she said firmly, “You must not kill him, sir. It would only make matters worse if you do. Pharlain would call it murder, and you would have no defense, because he’d deem Mam and me to be unacceptable witnesses. And all who oppose the King would agree with Pharlain.”
Glancing at Dougal, who was either still unconscious or pretending to be, Ian said, “What would you have me do with him?”
Handing him the rope that had bound her mother’s wrists, she said, “We should take him back to Bannachra with us and decide there.”
Ian eyed her sternly. “If you are hoping that I’ll have no more to say to you about all this, you should know that your hope is misplaced.”
“I do know that,” she said, meeting his gaze. “But I also know that I am right about Dougal. You must not be the one who determines his fate.”
“You seem to know much today,” he said. “What was all that about Dougal coming to ruin through a friend?”
“All what?”
Her expression was as guileless as ever he had seen it. Knowing what she thought of liars, he found it impossible to imagine that she was lying now to him.
Silently taking the rope from her hand, he moved toward Dougal, who was beginning to stir.
Lina followed him. “What did you mean by that?” she asked as he knelt and bound Dougal’s wrists behind him.
Feeling the icy chill he had felt earlier, Ian said, “We’ll talk about it later.”
Lina would have liked to press the matter then. But Dougal was conscious.
Turning toward her mother, she met Lady Aubrey’s most penetrating gaze, the one she employed so usefully whenever one of her daughters had misbehaved.
Resigned to a well-deserved rebuke for crying out to Ian in the midst of a fight as she had, Lina drew a breath and went to hear what her mother would say.
To her surprise, Lady Aubrey said quietly, “How do you feel, love?”
“How do I feel?” When her ladyship nodded, still eyeing her in the way that made Lina feel as if her mother knew her thoughts, she tried to think of an acceptable answer to the question. “I feel as I usually do, Mam. Although, I confess that I’m gey curious. Did you know that Dougal would be here?”
“Aye, because he surprised me in our woods and made me agree to meet him and not tell anyone. Later, I found a message telling me when and where to go.”
“You should have told Father.”
“He will doubtless agree with you when I do tell him,” Lady Aubrey said with a wry little smile. “But once I knew what Dougal wanted, I also knew that I had to keep my promise to meet him. Sithee, love, meeting him was all I promised. I knew that I ne
ed not fear that meeting, and there was one other thing, too.”
“I’ll wager that the villain threatened to do us harm if you refused, aye?”
“Aye, he threatened us all, but that is not what I meant,” Lady Aubrey said gently. “I meant that I knew you were somehow involved.”
“You saw something,” Lina said.
Lady Aubrey nodded. “I dreamed it. Whilst you were captive and I was sick with worry, I dreamed of you here in this place, confronting a man whose face I could not see. The dream comforted me, because it suggested that you would survive your captivity. So, when Dougal told me where he wanted to meet, I knew I had to come here. I learned long ago not to ignore such dreams when they occur.”
“Did Lady Margaret know about this dream?”
“Nay, but she may have noted that my behavior was unusual, especially when she began to complain. Sithee, I had received Dougal’s message by then, naming this place, so I did not exert myself to make her feel comfortable. Forbye,” she added dryly, “she was happy enough to put us both to work when we arrived.”
“What did you mean about learning not to ignore such things?” Lina asked, wondering if, in view of her own recent experiences, she really wanted to know.
Looking toward Ian, who was still dealing with Dougal, Lady Aubrey said, “We’ll talk more about that later, love. But tell me what else you feel now.”
“I don’t know exactly what I feel other than relief that Ian defeated Dougal. I’m also relieved that he did not kill him.”
“Why should he not have killed him?” Lady Aubrey asked.
Surprised, Lina said, “Dougal was unconscious. It would have been murder.”
“He was not unconscious when you shouted that Ian must not kill him, love. And Dougal would have killed Ian, had he been at Dougal’s mercy so.”
That was true, Lina realized. Not to mention that two very dead bodies already lay on the clearing floor. Might Dougal accuse Ian of murdering them?
Meeting her mother’s gaze again, albeit less confidently, she said, “The truth is I don’t know why I cried out, Mam. It just seemed that I must. I thought afterward that it had been just a thoughtless impulse. And so it must have been. I know that Ian is irked with me.”
A twinkle lit her ladyship’s eyes. “He is likely irked about more than that, my dearling. What brought you here?”
Lina felt heat rushing to her cheeks but knew she had to tell the truth.
Meeting that penetrating gaze again, she said, “By my troth, Mam, I saw it all happening. That is, I saw you walking here and someone grabbing you. I saw it four times! And it was always the same… or nearly the same. The first time, I saw you in a room with a chest, reaching into it.”
“You’d better tell me the rest later,” Lady Aubrey said, looking beyond Lina.
When Lina turned her head, her gazed collided with Ian’s, just feet away. She could tell that he was still angry with her, although his face showed no expression.
“Mam and I can fetch your horse, sir,” she said. “I remember where it is.”
“We’ll all go,” he said.
Dougal looked even more disgruntled than usual, but he made no comment. With his hands tied behind him—doubtless securely—Lina knew he must be uncomfortable. And thanks to the hard whacks Ian had given his chin and dirk arm, they must hurt, too. But she had no sympathy to waste on Dougal. A dry voice in her head suggested then that she ought to reserve all her sympathy for herself.
Shaking her head at that unwelcome thought, she caught Ian’s gaze again.
“Do you mean to debate my decision with me?” he asked softly.
Realizing that he thought she meant to quibble over his decision that they would all go to fetch his horse, she shook her head again, more fervently.
“A wise choice, aye,” he said. “Dougal will go first. Walk carefully, my lad,” Ian added. “We would not want you to fall and hurt yourself.”
Dougal gave him a sour look.
Only then did Lina notice that Ian must have found a second rope, because one now tethered Dougal’s ankles, leaving just enough slack between them to walk.
“What about my men’s bodies?” Dougal asked.
“I’ll send someone,” Ian replied, urging him back the way they had come.
Lina did not want to let her mother out of her sight, so she let her go next.
When they were able to walk side by side, though, Lady Aubrey said quietly, “You were telling me about something you saw, dearling, where I was reaching into a chest. Do you recall more of that dream?”
“It was not a dream, Mam. Nor do I think that yours was a dream, either.”
“Were you not asleep?”
Feeling fire in her cheeks again, Lina remembered where she had been the first time and what she and Ian… mostly Ian… had been doing.
“Nay, I was not asleep the first time or the other times. I… I was nearly asleep once, but otherwise I was doing ordinary things. I think…” She glanced at her mother, who nodded encouragingly. “I think you know what happened, Mam.”
“I think so, too,” Lady Aubrey said. “I also think we had better talk about it later, rather than now where we might be overheard. You should discuss the matter with Ian before then.” She jutted her chin slightly but meaningfully toward the men.
Lina saw that, despite Dougal’s rope shackles, the men had moved faster than the women and had stopped some distance ahead. Ian looked impatient.
“We’ll walk faster, Mam,” she said. “But before we catch up with them, tell me what you meant when you said you had learned not to ignore such events.”
Lady Aubrey glanced at her, nodded, and said, “You know the story of your father’s and my departure from Arrochar, with Andrena as a baby, aye?”
“Aye, sure, we have all heard it often.”
“What you do not know is that I had had versions of that vision several times and had simply wondered at them, fearing to tell your father I had seen Arrochar in enemy hands, lest he think I was daft. Sithee, I’d had odd feelings before then that something was right to do, or wrong, or that a decision would turn out well. Such things had all come about as I had sensed they would, but I still had no confidence in what I had felt or ‘seen.’ Only after Pharlain and his followers invaded Arrochar did I realize that I ought to have paid my ‘dreams’ more heed. I told your father at once then, but it was too late to save our three small sons. Had I told him sooner—”
“Mam, no!” Lina exclaimed fiercely. “You must not blame yourself for what happened. My brothers’ deaths are on Pharlain’s head, not yours!”
From what little Ian had seen of Lina’s conversation with her mother by glancing back now and again, he would have liked to hear what they were saying.
First, he had seen Lady Aubrey speaking, then looking intensely interested when Lina replied. And Lina had gone from a thoughtful look to sober speech, but not as if she were defending herself.
That was just as well, too, he decided. If anyone was going to scold his wife, he would. That right was not one he would let anyone usurp. In truth, he looked forward to it. He had missed the lass sorely. And if he could avoid it, he would not let anyone part them until he had had his say and some private time with her.
Heated desire flowed through him with that last thought.
Glancing back again, he saw Lina speaking with visible passion.
Catching her eye, he gave her a look stern enough to silence her, but when the two women drew near, he said only, “Try to keep up, lass. I want to see what is happening below.”
“We’ll walk faster, sir,” Lady Aubrey said. “After all that turmoil, I wanted to be sure that I was steady on my legs, but I’m fine now.”
Ian didn’t believe she had been unsteady, but he would not contradict her. Scowling at Dougal, he said, “You’ve had enough rest. Move along now.”
“I wish ye joy of your wife, Colquhoun,” Dougal said.
“Take care how you speak of her, you glitt
ous crackraip. She is the reason I nearly killed you and the only reason that you can still walk and talk. Bear that in mind and keep a civil tongue in your head.”
“How is the lady Elizabeth?” Dougal asked dulcetly.
Ian nearly growled but kept silent long enough to remember that Mag was at Bannachra. He said more cheerfully, “Do you know all of her ladyship’s brothers?”
“Aye, sure, I ken Patrick Galbraith well. He’s one of James Mòr’s lads and nae threat to me. Nor would Rory Galbraith trouble me.”
“I meant her brother Magnus. Unlike the other two, Sir Magnus Galbraith is a knight of the realm. He is also much more protective of his sisters than Patrick is.”
“I don’t know the man.”
“You should. He was a prisoner of your father’s for nineteen long months.”
To his satisfaction, Dougal tensed. His face paled. “I do not recall the name.”
“But I think you do,” Ian said. “They called him Magnus Mòr, because the man’s as big as a mountain. I think you remember him gey well. But lest you have forgotten, I’ll reintroduce you to him shortly. He awaits us at Bannachra.”
Ian could not be sure, but it seemed to him that Dougal lost more color.
They were walking downhill, nearing the place where Ian had tethered his mount. Since he did not know what lay ahead of them, he decided to have Lina lead the horse and keep close behind them with her mother.
He had seen no sign of trouble from the hillside. Nor had he heard aught to suggest that the battle had moved nearer. Again, he recalled Pluff’s six men.
“Ye ought to release me now,” Dougal said.
“Should I? Why?”
“I’m expected to be on the other side of yon pass anon.”
“At the Loch of the Long Boats, aye. So you told me. If you are taking this route, you must mean to cross Colquhoun land. I’d advise against that.”
Dougal shrugged. “The people I’m to meet will be south of Craggan. So one must assume they have Colquhoun’s leave to be there. He takes nae sides, but he has taken many a meeting of late with the true heir to the throne. He even invited him to hunt with him, as I told ye before. Sithee, the laird is a gey canny man.”
