Highland Bride

by Colleen French

  "Thank heavens you're back," Harry went on. "I need someone to go up to the parapet and check on the munitions. I think—"

  Kara watched Dungald draw his sword, but even as he did, she could not believe it was happening. He seemed to be moving slower than humanly possible. Time seemed to slow down. Everything was happening at once, and yet she saw each piece separately.

  She heard Harry's words as he began to give his orders to his cousin, catching his breath. She saw Dungald's sword flash in the candlelight. She saw his intention. She heard Harry's voice grow tight and drift into silence as the boy realized what he was about.

  "Dungald, no!" Kara screamed, lunging forward toward him.

  "Step aside, woman, and wait your turn!" Dungald shouted. "Draw, boy, and let us be done with this here and now."

  Isla screamed. The baby screamed. Harry pushed Isla sideways, out of Dungald's way, as he drew his own sword.

  "Kara! Take Isla. Run!" Harry commanded as sword met sword and the hideous sound of clanging metal assaulted her ears. "For my sake, Kara... protect yourself and my heir."

  Suddenly time caught up and sped past Kara and she was helpless to stop it. Helpless to stop Dungald. "Harry!"

  "Kara, go!"

  The tone of her husband's voice could be construed as nothing but a direct order, an order from the Earl of Dunnane.

  "Protect the baby!" Harry swung his sword again and again. "Swear to me!"

  Isla cried hysterically.

  "I swear!" Kara grasped Isla's arm and pulled her forward, still attempting to keep ahold of the candle, still fighting the urge to turn back, to help Harry.

  "Sir!" cried a male voice ahead of her.

  Someone else was coming, coming fast, carrying a torch.

  Kara turned left into another arm of the catacomb, disappearing from Harry's sight, avoiding the stranger.

  "Leave your torch," Kara heard Dungald shout.

  Again and again swords clashed.

  "Leave the torch and get her! Don't let the red-haired bitch get away. Kill her!"

  "Harry, Harry," Isla sobbed. The hysterical girl tried to turn back, but Kara would not allow her to.

  The baby screamed, taking great gulps of air into her little rosebud mouth.

  "Hurry, Isla. The horses," Kara insisted. "For God's sake, Isla, we only need to get to the end of the tunnel."

  Behind her Kara heard pounding footsteps. The man. Dungald's man. Chasing them.

  The sounds of the swords had died away and there was only the thumping footfall. Maybe she was too far from them now. Maybe that was why she couldn't hear them.

  Kara kept running, running, her arm linked through Isla's, dragging the maid along.

  "What the bloody hell!" the male voice behind them cursed.

  An instant later Harry's monkey sped past them.

  Chapter 25

  Dead end. Dead end, Kara's mind screamed even before she consciously realized she had made a wrong turn. They had to turn back. She whipped around, holding tightly with one hand to the candle, the other to Isla.

  Too late. It was already too late. Dungald's man was upon them.

  Isla screamed. She screamed so loud that her voice tore through Kara's head and echoed off the walls. One would have thought she'd already been run through.

  "Stand back!" Kara shouted at the man with the torch as he entered the short passageway that had been stoned up. She glanced wildly about, looking for a weapon. A stick, a loose stone. Anything. Why had she left the castle without a weapon? How would she defend Isla and the baby? Her own child?

  The man lifted his torch high, illuminating his face.

  Kara stared in amazement. She knew him. Robert the Red, the cattle reiver.

  But what was he doing here? Why was he in the bowels of Dunnane?

  "Stand back," Kara said again, because she didn't know what else to say.

  Robert the Red made no attempt to move out of her way. But he made no attempt to come closer either.

  "My lady," he said, seeming as surprised to see her as she him. "I did not realize 'twas you."

  Isla sobbed, her entire body shaking as she clutched her crying child. Kara slipped her arm around her companion, trying to offer some comfort. "What are you doing here?" she asked the thief. Her candle was nearly out now. She had to depend on his torch to see him.

  "I am beginning to ask myself the very same thing, my lady," he said dryly.

  They stood for a moment sizing each other up. Somewhere Kara heard footsteps. She wanted to think it was Harry coming after her, but her hopes were short-lived.

  "Rob, are you there?"

  The unmistakable voice of Dungald. The enemy. The serpent. "Did you get them?" His voice echoed off the crumbling stone walls.

  "Where do you go?" Robert asked, glancing over his shoulder.

  "Above," she whispered. "To safety in the village." Of course she wanted to go back for Harry. She knew she had to find Harry. He might have been injured... or worse. But she had promised Harry. Duty. It was her duty to protect Isla and the baby, to protect Harry's heir.

  "Then come; ye must hurry." He stepped aside to let her pass.

  Kara did not move. "I don't understand."

  "What is there to understand?"

  "Dungald. He told you to kill us. I heard him."

  "Aye, he so ordered. But who says I must do what he orders? Who tells Robert the Red what to do?" He stared at her wild-eyed, wild-bearded. "No one. It's a creed I have always stood by. I don't know why I ever considered differently." He shook his head. "I do not kill women."

  She swallowed hard and took a step toward him, pulling Isla with her. She didn't know what was going on for certain, but thought maybe Dungald had hired Rob to attack the castle. "Come on, Isla; this is the way."

  "Nae, nae," the girl whispered.

  But Kara led her forward."'Tis all right," she soothed. "He is here to help us. He will get us out."

  Kara passed the red-bearded man. She wasn't certain she could trust him, but what choice did she have?

  "To the left," he told her. "Down the long corridor, second entrance on the right. Mind your footing. We'll have to hurry."

  "Rob? Rob? Have ye found them?"

  Kara could hear Dungald calling. She could hear his feet pounding on the dark, hard dirt. He was behind them, somewhere in the cold darkness.

  "We must hurry," she whispered.

  Kara followed Robert the Red's instructions, and moments later she could feel the cold spring air as it blew into the catacombs from the outside. Another moment and they were above ground. She immediately heard the neighing of the restless horses. The sound was strangely comforting, considering the other sounds that haunted the night air. Musket fire, men's screams. The air was filled with smoke and stank of burning tar. It stung her eyes and tasted bitter on her tongue.

  "Can you get astride yourself?" Rob asked urgently. "I'll have to go back and head off my friend."

  "My husband is still down there; can you find him?" she begged. "Be certain he's all right... for I fear he is not."

  "I will see what I can do," the thief said roughly. "Now go."

  Kara ran for the horses left tied in the copse of trees. She would think about Harry, not about Ian, not now. What she needed to do was get Isla to safety. "Thank you!"

  She glanced over her shoulder to see Robert the Red pull on his tartan bonnet and bow. "My lady." Then he turned and ran back into the tunnel.

  "Get astride!" Kara urged Isla.

  Both women used the stump of a branch thrust from a tree to step up and into the saddle. Seconds later they were riding down into the village, away from Castle Dunnane.

  * * *

  Dry brush around the castle had caught fire and illuminated the stone walls. Clumps of men were silhouetted as they fought hand-to-hand. There was no telling who was winning, but if Gordon clansmen had spilled from the walls of Dunnane, it was a good sign. They were pushing the attackers back.

  Ian lifted his sword and
swung it. Metal met metal as his opponent struck again and again. Sweat beaded and ran down his face, stinging his eyes as he concentrated, making every movement count.

  He wondered where Harry was. He should have been here by now. He hoped to God there had been no trouble getting the women astride and into the village. But he couldn't think about that now. He had to believe Harry had followed through on his task. There was so much confusion, so much smoke, that Harry could well be twenty feet from him, and Ian might not know it.

  A united army had fallen upon Dunnane, but it had quickly fractured. Clearly these were hired men, and not well trained. They were dirty, probably hungry. Their weapons were poor. They fought, but not with heart. 'Twas always the trouble with mercenaries.

  The question was, who hired them? Dared he guess? He didn't want to suspect Dungald's hand in this, yet who else would profit so handsomely from Harry's fall? Ian sidestepped an injured man lying at his feet and swung his sword again.

  A sound of horses approaching drew his attention. Not more reinforcements for the attackers, he prayed. But he recognized the leader almost immediately. "I'll be damned," he panted.

  Alfred Gordon. Somehow word had gotten to Alfred and the man had brought reinforcements for Dunnane. God bless his soul!

  Ian raised his sword in salute to Alfred, then brought it down just in time to meet his next assailant. He caught his opponent's arm with the tip of the blade and the man's dirty sleeve instantly flowered in red.

  "They're retreating! They're retreating!" Ian heard someone shout.

  The man Ian fought glanced sideways to where the voice came. Elsewhere someone hollered "Retreat! Retreat!"

  The ruffian paled.

  "The other men go without you," Ian said under his breath. "Tell me who you fight for and I will spare your life."

  The man's chin quivered as he raised his sword to fight off Ian's next blow.

  "Tell me or die," Ian threatened through clenched teeth.

  "I don't know!" the ruffian cried.

  "Ye don't know?" Ian thundered.

  The man's entire body seemed to shake with the reverberations from Ian's voice. "We was hired! I was promised coin to fight where I was tol' to fight. Didn't nobody say 'twould be Dunnane!"

  "Ye don't know who hired ye?" Ian swung his sword, knocking the other man's inferior weapon from his hands.

  The man fell to his knees. "Nae, I swear on my mother's grave I dinna know!"

  "Someone offered ye the coin. Who?"

  "A red-haired man. Called Rob." The man clasped his hands as if in prayer. "I swear, 'tis all I know. We wasn't supposed to know."

  Ian eyed the man at his feet carefully. He seemed to be telling the truth. So who was at the bottom of this? It could be no one but Dungald....

  Ian withdrew his sword. "Go, and do not show your face upon these lands again or I will cut you down."

  The tired, dirty man stared into Ian's face as if he did not believe him. Could not. Then he leaped up and ran, leaving his sword on the ground where it had fallen.

  Ian let his sword slip to his side and wiped his brow with the back of his free hand. It was wet with sweat and blood. The fighting had ceased. With the arrival of Alfred's men, the mercenaries had realized they were now outnumbered, most definitely outskilled. Those hired men who had not fallen in the battle now retreated. Dunnane was safe.

  Now to find Dungald, Ian thought, his fury increasing with every stride he took.

  "Ian, 'tis good to see you safe," Alfred Gordon said, riding up to him and dismounting. Someone took the reins from his hands.

  Ian nodded, continuing toward the castle walls, his gaze searching the darkness."'Tis good to see you, Alfred."

  The man glanced at the ground. "When word came, I thought of remaining safe within my walls, but I could not. The boy—his lordship," he corrected himself, "deserved my allegiance."

  Ian exhaled. He was not ready to share with anyone else who he suspected was at the bottom of the attack, but it was imperative that he find Dungald and Harry as quickly as possible. "Have ye seen the earl?" Ian asked, walking toward the front gate.

  "Nae, but 'twas such mayhem when we rode in. Shall I find him for you?"

  A man on the ground groaned and reached out to Ian. Ian halted and squatted to take his hand. A Gordon. "Alex," he said, glancing at the shoulder wound, noting it was not fatal.

  "Run the bastards off, didn't we?" the injured man said, wincing with pain.

  "That we did. I'm proud of you." He patted the man's hand. "The earl is proud of you."

  Ian glanced over the dead grass, littered with fallen weapons and the dead and dying. "Help comes." He squeezed Alex's hand and signaled for someone to come to the injured man's aid. Then he rose and started for the castle again.

  "If ye would go in search of his lordship 'twould be appreciated," Ian told Alfred. "Also his cousin. It is he I seek most of all."

  Alfred looked up at Ian. "Ye suspect he has something to do with this? They were obviously mercenaries."

  "Let me just say I wish to speak with Dungald."

  "Anything else I can do? Anything. I feel I owe his lordship. My behavior previously was not what it should have been."

  "Get some healthy men to help bring the injured into the hall. The dead can go here by the gate. We'll carry the bodies in after the living are cared for. And find someone to regroup those still able to fight. Men need to be on the parapet to watch, should they try to attack again."

  Alfred nodded. "I'll see to it."

  Ian rested his hand on Alfred's back. "I appreciate it."

  Alfred started to walk away, signaling to his men.

  "And Alfred..."

  He turned back.

  "Should ye find Dungald, hold him; use force if ye must," Ian said gravely.

  Alfred saluted and walked away.

  Ian hurried toward the castle. As he made his way through the dissipating smoke, through the darkness lit only by torches thrust in the ground here and there, he stopped to speak to wounded men. He asked anyone he met if they had seen Harry or Dungald. Several had seen the cousin, but none had seen Harry. Cold fear tugged at Ian's heart as he hurried through the castle yett. He kept telling himself that Harry was safe. Perhaps he had even decided to ride with the women into the village—though that seemed unlikely, as he had been adamant that he fight beside his men.

  Perhaps Harry was in the great hall looking for him.

  But he was not. Inside the hall Ian found nearly as much confusion as outside. One of Alfred's men was setting up a station for the wounded. Servants were caring for the injured.

  Ian stood in the center of the room, turning, his gaze moving from one face to another. His heart was pounding. Where the hell was Harry? There was still so much confusion. It was not unusual for men to go missing right after a battle, only to be found unharmed later. He refused to consider that it was not usual for the leader to be missing.

  So where did he look for him now? Did he ride to the village, check on Kara and be certain Harry wasn't there? Did he find the bastard Dungald and just hold him at swordpoint and ask him where the hell Harry was?

  "Ian?"

  The moment Kara spotted him in the center of the hall, in the midst of the disorder, she ran toward him. She had come as quickly as she could, leaving Isla and the baby in the care of Ruthie, and ridden back to the castle. She had thought of going into the catacombs herself; only her promise to Harry to protect the heir had prevented her. By the time she arrived at the wall of Dunnane the battle was already over. It had taken her precious minutes to find Ian.

  She ran to him, her step unsteady. Only the reminder of the people around her kept her from throwing herself into his arms.

  "Kara, what are you doing here?"

  She closed her eyes to gain her equilibrium. "I came as quickly as I could," she said breathlessly. She wanted desperately to touch him, to prove to herself that he at least was safe. That he was real.

  "You shouldn't have come.
You were to wait for us to come for you."

  "Harry," she burst out. "Oh, God, Ian. Please tell me Harry is here with you. We got separated in the catacombs. It was Dungald. He attacked Harry. They were fighting. He wanted me dead, too. I didn't want to go but Harry said it was my duty. He told me to—"

  Ian grasped her arms, not seeming to care who saw them. "Kara, you have to slow down. I don't understand."

  She trembled all over. "In... in the catacombs, after you left us," she said, taking a deep breath. "Dungald, he turned on Harry. Harry said I had to run." Against her will, tears rolled down her cheeks, and she dashed them away with the back of her hand. She had to be strong now, strong for Harry. "I didn't want to run, I wanted to stay and help him, but he said it was my duty. And then Robert the Red was there...." She stumbled. "And—"

  Ian squeezed her shoulders, not allowing her to go on. "Listen to me. You must go to your chamber," he said urgently. "You'll be safe there until I get my hands on Dungald."

  She shook her head wildly, then pressed her hands to her swollen belly. "Nae! I will not retreat again. I'll help you find him. I know where I last saw him. We have to go into the cellars below. We have to look there first."

  She knew his first impulse was to argue with her, but when he looked into her eyes, he seemed to realize she would not be dissuaded. Short of physically carrying her upstairs, she would not go.

  Ian whipped around. "You. You." He pointed, designating men. "Grab torches. Come with me." He waved to Alfred Gordon. "Alfred!"

  Alfred was beside him in a second.

  "Gather men and find Dungald. I want him brought here to the hall. I don't care what you have to do to get him here, bound hand and foot if ye must."

  Alfred only nodded, seeming to guess what was about by the grave look on Ian's face.

  Ian hurried out of the hall, Harry's men falling in behind him. He hurried through the passageway that led to the door to the catacombs. "Stay to the rear," he told Kara, pushing her back with his arm. "'Twould really be better if you—"

  "I will not stay behind!"

  Ian exhaled. "Charlie." He pointed to a man. "You guard her back."

  The dirty-faced clansman nodded.

  Kara lifted her skirts so that she was practically running beside him. "I'll show you where I last saw him."