Highland Bride

by Colleen French

  "Do you know where my brother is?" Harry asked.

  She shook her head. Her cloak caught on the wind and flapped noisily. She tugged on the corner to silence it. "Nae. I haven't seen him, but he may be in the barn. There was a horse that needed tending."

  "My cousin?"

  Kara glanced at him sideways. There was something in his tone of voice that made her wonder if something was wrong. "In the hall, I believe."

  "Are you going down soon?"

  "Aye, 'tis cool."

  "Would you send Dungald up?"

  "Up here?" She glanced at the ground far below them. "If you wish." She turned away to follow his bidding, then back to Harry. "Did you want Ian as well?"

  "Nae, I can handle this myself."

  She started for the door again.

  "Kara."

  She halted.

  "I want to handle this myself."

  She entered the narrow cylindrical stairwell. She didn't know what was afoot. As she took the stairs carefully, but quickly, she wondered if she ought to fetch Ian. But Harry had specifically said he didn't need his brother. He specifically said he'd deal with the matter on his own. He had the right, of course; he was the earl.

  Kara found Dungald in the great hall drinking from Harry's footed goblet. She coolly sent him above stairs and took the goblet to wash it out herself.

  * * *

  "Ye sent for me, my lord?" Dungald stared coldly beyond Harry, into the gray sky beyond the parapet.

  It was obvious he didn't like being called before Harry, but at this point Harry didn't give a damn. Though he had done nothing Harry could interpret as a threat to his earldom, he was tired of Dungald. Tired of his whining, tired of his sulking.

  "The men I just saw ride out, there were two dozen."

  "Two dozen?"

  Harry folded his arms over his chest. His cloak flapped in the breeze, blowing open, but he was not cold. He was too annoyed to be cold. "Where were they going?"

  His cousin kept his gaze averted. "Going, my lord?"

  "Are you addlepated?" Harry snapped. "Stop repeating what I say and answer me. Truthfully." He paused, emphasizing each word. "Where have those men gone and who sent them?"

  Dungald swallowed. His Adam's apple slid down, then bobbed up again. "Perhaps Ian—"

  "Ian did not send those men abroad! He would not do so without my permission! He knows better."

  Dungald cringed. "I... I may have sent them, my lord."

  "You may have?" Harry planted his hands on his hips. "May have? Ye don't know what you do and what you don't do?"

  Dungald stared at his boots for a moment, made a feeble gesture. "I sent the patrol... to sweep to the south of Dunnane. I sent them looking for Robert the Red and the reivers."

  "Why?"

  "Because... because I wanted to bring them in for you, my lord. To end this matter. You've enough—"

  "Do not lie to me, cousin." Harry took a threatening step toward him. "I know you better than that. I know ye do nothing that you will not profit from."

  Dungald slid a step back. "All right, all right. I wanted to bring the reivers to justice to end the trouble for Dunnane, but also... also to show you I can be of some use."

  Harry twisted his mouth in thought. "To show me you can be of some use to me, or so that I may reward you?"

  Dungald gave a quick smile, then let it fall. "That, too, my lord. I fear I have debts."

  "A man should not gamble more than he can afford to lose."

  Dungald clasped his hands. "Aye, my lord. I ken that."

  Harry exhaled, glancing out over the ground far below. "What is your monthly stipend now?"

  Dungald named an amount.

  It was more than sufficient, more than generous. But Harry did not want to be unkind. Perhaps if Dungald had a few more coins in his sporran, he would not be so jealous of that which would never be his.

  "I will increase the amount."

  Dungald looked up in surprise. "My lord, you are most—"

  "But I will not hear of you giving orders to my men again. Do you understand?"

  Dungald lowered his gaze in apparent gratitude. "I understand."

  "We cannot afford to leave ourselves short of men. We know not what goes on around us. The men are angry, restless. Don't you understand that the castle could be attacked? That we would need those men if someone dared to raise arms against us?"

  "No one would dare, not Dunnane," Dungald breathed, wide-eyed.

  Harry turned away. "I pray not." He leaned on the parapet wall. "You are dismissed. But cousin, if I catch you usurping my authority again..." He held up a finger.

  Dungald halted.

  "I will send you away from here. Do you understand me? Far from here. Dunnane has other holdings, on the islands to the far northwest. Is that where you wish to live out your days?"

  Harry saw a strange coldness flash in Dungald's gray-green eyes, there one moment, then gone so quickly that he thought he must have imagined it.

  Harry waved a hand. "Dismissed."

  But Dungald did not retreat. He slipped the hand that trembled under his arm. "Do you wish me to send someone out to bring the men back?" He hesitated. "Or would you prefer I do it myself?" He lowered his gaze. "Because I was the one who sent them."

  Harry thought a second. "Aye. Go yourself. I will not spare any more men."

  "As you wish, my lord, thank you, my lord."

  Harry heard Dungald retreat down the steps.

  Below him, over the wall, Harry caught sight of Kara. She waved to him from stories below. Ian appeared across the brown, brittle grass, his face breaking into a broad grin at the sight of Kara.

  Harry could not help but smile himself. There were a hundred things in his life he wished he could change. He wished he had not been married off so young. He wished he had had a chance to be a true husband to Kara. But seeing that smile on his brother's face, how could he wish to deprive him of such happiness?

  Fate. Was this all fate? He thought maybe so.

  Far below, Kara caught a glimpse of Ian and stopped to wait for him.

  Harry turned away and leaned on the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. If this was fate, he wondered, then what was his fate? Would he know it when he saw it?

  * * *

  "What the hell are you doing here in broad daylight?" the man demanded, appearing out of the rocks that hid his encampment.

  Dungald slung himself out of his saddle, catching the reins as his boots hit the hard, cold ground. "Now. Now is the time," he said anxiously. "Tonight."

  "What are you talking about?"

  Dungald glanced beyond the leader of the ruffians to his men. Some sat on campstools eating from wooden trenchers; others gathered around a small fire. All appeared uneasy.

  "Surely you have more men than this."

  "Surely ye have more sense than to come here. To allow yourself to be seen." He pushed on Dungald's chest, backing him up out of view of the reivers.

  "I had to come. The opportunity is too perfect."

  "I don't know that I can be prepared."

  "You'll be prepared," Dungald swore hotly, "or I'll find someone who is."

  The man burst into hearty laughter. "Find someone else, indeed. No one else would be fool enough." He studied Dungald carefully. "I can't help but ask." He shrugged. "Not that it makes a pence to me, but why a fight? Why not knife him in the back? 'Twould be easier. Cheaper."

  Dungald scowled. "Because there will be less suspicion, you simple gowk! Who will question the death of a man in battle?" he scoffed. "Besides, what better man to inherit than a hero? If I am able to lead the Gordons into a victory, if I am able to defend Dunnane, I will be welcomed into the arms of my men, my seat undeniably established."

  The man looked away, shaking his head as if in disgust.

  Annoyed, Dungald tucked a lock of his black hair behind his ear. Who was this man to judge him? Who was he to understand the intricacies of politics and honor? He was nothing but a dog,
a hired killer. "Can you or can you not attack tonight?"

  He exhaled, ruffling his scraggly red beard. "I suppose I can. I'm ready to take my leave of this place anyway. We've been here too long."

  "Ye have other men. More men?"

  He gave a wave. "You tell who you must. I will gather the others."

  "Same meeting point?"

  "The same," he agreed, not bothering to meet Dungald's gaze.

  "Excellent." Dungald clasped his hands together. "Of course, I cannot be there."

  He cut his gaze at Dungald as if considering him an idiot. "I would think not."

  "Excellent. Excellent." Dungald strode back toward his mount. "Then I shall see you."

  "For my payment. And healthy it had best be." The red-bearded man pulled his dirk from his belt. "Or you know the penalty."

  Licking his lips, Dungald caught his horse's reins while keeping one eye on the thief as he mounted.

  The thief stood on a rock, knife drawn, until Dungald lost sight of him on the rolling horizon.

  * * *

  "Kara, wake up." She heard a voice somewhere in the recesses of her mind.

  "Oh, God, please, Kara. You must wake up."

  She struggled to the surface from a deep sleep. "Harry?" she mumbled. "Harry, what is it? Are you—"

  The moment her eyes opened and she saw his face in the candlelight, she knew Harry wasn't ill. Something else was wrong. Horribly wrong. She sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "What is it?" she whispered, clasping his hand.

  He climbed off her bed, pulling his shirt over his bare chest as he went to her clothing chest. "You must get up and dress quickly."

  She slid her bare feet over the side of the bed. "What's wrong?"

  He turned to her, stuffing his shirt into the waistband of his green-and-brown plaid kilt. "Attack," he said softly, as if still not believing it himself. "Dunnane is under attack."

  Kara shot out of bed. "Attack? Attack by whom? The cattle reivers?" She grabbed the nearest gown, left flung over a chair, and dropped it over her head, over her sleeping gown.

  "They haven't come for cattle." He strapped a wide leather belt meant to carry a sword around his narrow hips. His blond hair fell boyishly over one eye, but he did not look a boy to her at this moment. He looked like a man preparing to defend his castle, his people.

  He shook his head stiffly. "There's too many of them to be the reivers."

  "Then who?" As she jerked on a stocking, she glanced toward Isla's chamber. She could hear the girl racing about, making preparations of some sort.

  "I don't know."

  The sound of men's shouts seeped through the closed window, and instinctively she turned toward it. She thought she heard the sound of musket fire.

  "Kara, you must hurry. We must go now."

  "Go where?" She slipped on the other wool stocking, not bothering to roll it up or tie it. She stepped into a pair of shoes left under the edge of her bed.

  "There's too many of them," he said, grabbing her cloak from a peg on the wall. "Men left on a patrol yesterday. Dungald went to retrieve them but I don't know that they have returned. We're shorthanded."

  She thought she heard him swear beneath his breath. A French oath.

  "You didn't say where we are going." She hurried toward the door where he waited for her, her cloak thrown over his arm.

  Isla burst into the room carrying a bag, baby Meggie tied to her mother's chest in a sling. The red-checked infant was wide-eyed and shaking her hands in excitement, as if she thought she was going on an outing.

  Musket fire echoed. A shot ricocheted. The sound of chipping stone could not be ignored.

  Harry threw open the door. "Hurry, ladies. I believe we can hold Dunnane, but you go to higher ground. We've a safe place to hide you beyond the walls. You will escape through the tunnel out of the catacombs and no one will be the wiser."

  "Us? What of you?"

  Harry threw her cloak over her shoulders, ushering her and Isla down the tower steps. He held a candle to light their way. "I stand with Dunnane, wife. Where do you think I go? I stand with my men. They need me."

  He said it so simply that Kara wondered if Harry knew what he said. Understood. But the look in his eyes made her realize he did.

  The look in his eyes scared her. Harry Gordon would stand with Castle Dunnane, fight for her until she'd withstood the siege, or fell. There would be no discussion, no compromise. It had been nearly a year since Kara and Harry had wed, and in these months she had encouraged him again and again to stand up and be the man she knew he could be. Now he was.

  Now she wished he could just be a boy again.

  Men rushed by up the narrow staircase carrying firearms, bows and ammunition. Each time a group approached, Kara and Harry and Isla pressed their backs to the wall to make room for them to pass single file.

  The boots pounded on the stone steps, making a deafening noise that rocked Kara to the bone.

  This was real. The castle was under attack and there was a real chance Dunnane might fall. A real chance Harry or Ian might be killed.

  "Harry, please." She clutched his arm desperately. "Go with us."

  A step behind her, he had to look down upon her, the candlelight casting an aura of light around him. "Nae."

  "Then let me stay with you."

  He frowned as if she had said something completely preposterous. "Your duty is to the heir of Dunnane. Now listen to me. You will be safe until we have won the day, and then Ian or I will come for you."

  "Both of you," she whispered, clasping his cloak. "Both of you will come for us. You'll take care of each other. Promise me."

  He smiled, the weight of his responsibility lifting from his shoulders for just a moment. "I promise. Now hurry."

  Just as they reached the bottom of the tower steps they heard a sound behind them. Something coming down the stairs fast. They heard a whine and a shriek, not human, but close.

  "James," Harry said. "Heavens, I've forgotten James."

  The monkey came around the corner in the stairwell and practically flew into his master's arms. Harry scooped up the pet and dropped him onto his shoulder. "Hurry, ladies," he urged. "Ian waits below."

  Within the castle the sounds of gunfire and men running were punctuated by guttural shouts. Cries of battle. The sounds seemed to reverberate off the stone walls of Dunnane as Kara clasped Harry's hand and allowed him to help her down the wooden steps into the catacombs below the castle.

  She was shaking all over. Frightened for Harry. For Ian. For Dunnane. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be happening. And yet she knew it was.

  Recognizing Ian's hulk in the dark shadows at the bottom of the steps, Kara ran forward, toward him. Her foot caught on the uneven dirt floor and she almost fell into his arms.

  "Ian."

  He held her tightly for a moment, surrounding her with his cloak, with his love. He ran one broad hand over her belly. Then he clasped her arms and pushed her back so he could look her in the eyes. "Listen to me," he said in a tone she could not ignore. "I'm going for horses."

  "Don't leave me," she whispered. She wanted to say she didn't want to leave Dunnane. She wanted to stand with him and fight beside Harry and Ian, but she knew better than to even voice such a desire. She was well gone with child. Harry was right. Her duty was to protect the heir to Dunnane.

  He shook her gently to get her attention. "I must go for the horses."

  "Leave them in the trees and go straight to the rendezvous point. Men should be waiting there for us," Harry told him. "We'll take the enemy from behind, as planned. I will see the women safely above and astride, secure this passageway so they cannot enter the castle from here and then join you and the men."

  Ian drew Kara into his embrace again. "You and Isla are to ride down into the village. There is a cottage, the sixth or seventh on the right, on the main road. A little fence before it. Put your horses in the lean-to behind it. The widow will see you hidden. Cared for. Her name is Ru
thie. Give my name and you will be safe." He lowered his voice, but it was still laced with urgency. "Our babe will be safe there."

  Tears ran down her cheeks but she made no sound. "Who attacks?" she whispered. "Who would dare?"

  "I don't know." He kissed her quickly, a hard, hot kiss to her lips that could have been a good-bye if she allowed herself to think of it as such. He released her before she was ready to let him go.

  Harry had Isla by the arm, his monkey still on his shoulder. "You go ahead, Ian," he ordered his brother with a sound of authority no one would have dared question. "We'll meet you at the entrance in the trees."

  Ian ran up the steps, into the darkness and disappeared. A sob rose in Kara's throat but she forced it back. She could not let Harry know how afraid she was. She had to be strong for Harry, for Isla, for the baby she carried.

  Kara took the single candle and they ran down the narrow stone tunnels, the low ceiling hanging damp and close overhead. Harry held tightly to Isla's arm, supporting her as she ran with the baby. The light from the candle bounced here and there on the walls and dirt floor as they ran.

  "Which way?" Kara asked.

  "Left," Harry shouted.

  The passageways beneath the castle were so confusing. Kara had no idea where she was. "Which way?" she shouted again and again.

  Each time Harry answered immediately, confidently, without hesitation. The days he had spent hunting baby rats had become of use.

  Kara made a sharp left, her heart pounding, her breath coming in gasps. She hoped it was not much farther. She held the candle up with one hand, the other grasping her skirt and pressing against her swollen abdomen.

  "Right and right again," Harry called from behind.

  Kara turned, and without warning he was there.

  Dungald.

  She stopped short.

  Harry craned his neck to see around her. "Dungald," he panted.

  Kara saw the look in Dungald's gray-green eyes. The look she remembered from her first night at Dunnane. Cold. Evil.