Corra and the rest of the kitchen workers were indeed hidden in one of the cellars. Elana helped Andrew lift the heavy hatch and usher everyone down into the darkness. Andrew, taking his responsibility seriously, followed his laird’s family into the darkness, and Saf nodded approvingly.
Before she dropped the door again, Mary looked up and met her eyes in the dim light. “Be safe,” the lass whispered.
Saf nodded again, although she wasn’t sure Merrick’s oldest could see her. Mary’s concern tugged at her chest, and she wanted to hug the girl. “I—I will. Keep everyone quiet.”
“Aye,” came the whispered response as the hatch closed once more, trapping the servants and children in the darkness.
Saf spent a moment to offer a prayer for their safety.
If the saints were on their side, Merrick and his men would repel the Lindsay warriors, and the bairns would be released soon, no worse for their midnight adventure.
If Lindsay was successful…
Saf shivered. Well, if John Lindsay was successful in wresting the keep from Merrick, it meant they all had problems. He’d take the title of laird.
But that would mean Merrick’s death.
This time, Saf shuddered in true fear. The thought of losing him so soon after they’d truly found one another was abhorrent. Yesterday—had it been only yesterday?—when he’d kissed her in front of his clan, his people had shown their support by cheering. When he’d loved her by the waterfall, he’d shown her his caring.
And when he’d told her his secret, he’d shown her his trust.
They’re the children of my heart.
If she hadn’t loved him before, she did at that moment. The Sutherland Devil was a good man, and she would not lose him.
Especially not before she had the chance to marry him! She wanted a lifetime doing what they’d done last night… A lifetime playing chess and arguing about clan politics and laughing about their faults and learning from one another.
She wanted to bear his children and love his clan. The Sinclairs were her family, aye, and she’d started on this mission to save her clan. But somewhere along the way, finding the missing jewels had become less important than seeing Merrick as the man he truly was.
She loved him.
Saints preserve us!
Abruptly, the knowledge that Merrick could die slammed into her, and Saffy slumped against the door. She could lose Merrick!
Before she truly understood what was happening, her feet had carried her through the great hall and into the armory. The main doors were open, and the noise and smoke from the courtyard was near overpowering.
Pulling the neck of Merrick’s shirt up around her nose and mouth, Saf crept slower toward the exit, watching where she placed her bare feet carefully, until she could see the battle.
When she did, she sucked in a gasp so hard she fell to coughing, then gagging on the smoke. Through streaming eyes, she did her best to guess what was happening, whilst doubled-over.
The stables were fully aflame, which explained the screams of horses and men as they did their best to remove the animals. The courtyard swarmed with men wearing colors she recognized from the ambush a sennight ago, and she swallowed thickly when she realized they outnumbered the Sutherlands.
Her throat hurt from the need to cry out, but she couldn’t. She might not be a warrior, but she understood enough about tactics to know what was going on.
The Sutherlands were losing.
“Without fear!”
The bellow came from the clump of men where the fighting was thickest, and was picked up by far too few throats.
Saf’s cheeks were wet with tears now. She recognized that voice, and understood what it meant when so few answered it.
She was halfway down the steps before a burst of wind swirled through the courtyard, blowing away the smoke long enough for her to see Merrick, his sword flashing in the light from the flames, his face a grim mask.
Merrick!
Had she screamed his name, or just imagined it? Either way, he seemed to hear her.
His blade slashed against the unprotected face of one attacker, and he whirled.
Their eyes met, and she read his lips as much as heard his command.
“Go!”
She shook her head mutely, eyes wide in the face of so much horror and carnage. Leave him? Nay! Her heart would break!
“Saf! Go!”
It was all he yelled before twisting once more to block another sword. He was fighting for his very life, and he’d paused long enough to ensure her safety as best he could.
Saf stumbled backward, her rear end plopping down hard on the steps. In his chambers, he’d said he needed to know she was safe. If he was distracted worrying for her, he wouldn’t protect himself as well as he should. And since she couldn’t protect him, the wise thing would be to follow his orders and allow him to devote his attention to his own defense.
It was logical, even though it hurt her heart to consider it.
Saf scrambled up the steps to the landing, then flipped over and pushed herself to her feet. She would stay safe, for Merrick and his family.
The doors! They were heavy, aye, but mayhap she could close them, delay the attackers a few precious moments.
It took all her strength to unhook them, but the first swung easily enough. She didn’t take the time to appreciate the marvel, however, before rushing for the other side. As she barricaded them, she peered through one of the arrow slits.
Gavin and Merrick were fighting, back to back, moving together the way she’d seen them in training. They were fierce, and somehow graceful, trusting one another to protect them.
Merrick’s expression had turned angry. “Lindsay! Lindsay!” he was bellowing.
And that’s when Saf knew Gavin had been wrong. John Lindsay, despite his promises, had not been leading the attack tonight. He might be here, but he wasn’t fighting.
He was the coward Merrick had always thought.
The Lindsay men surged forward, mayhap emboldened by Merrick’s cry, and Gavin faced two men at once. He didn’t get his sword up quickly enough to block the third, and went down with a blade in his side.
Nausea cramped her stomach, threatening to double her over again, but she forced herself to avert her eyes and breathe through her nose as she barricaded the doors.
If Merrick was going to die in that courtyard, she’d not allow John Lindsay such easy access to the keep.
The bairns and kitchen servants needed to be warned. Choking back her tears, praying frantically, Saf turned and ran.
Even as the roar of battle intensified behind her, she didn’t look back.
Couldn’t.
Couldn’t watch Merrick fall.
A grunt escaped Merrick’s lips when he was thrown on the rush-covered floor in front of the dais. He’d taken more than a few blows in the last minutes; blows to his body, blows to his soul, and now, blows to his pride.
The blood from the slash which had eventually felled him, spilled from his forehead and into his eyes. He knew from the light-headedness that he was losing too much blood, too quickly.
Like so many of his clansmen.
“I have waited a long time for this, brother.”
He’d never met John Lindsay, not in person. But Merrick would’ve recognized that self-assured sneer. It belonged to a man who had his enemy at his feet and was determined to gloat.
To hell with that.
Merrick grunted again as he got his palms beneath him and pushed. There was a burning in one shoulder, which he refused to allow himself to turn to look at. Either it wasn’t bad enough for his attention, or it was. It did not matter; he could do nothing about it now.
Best to concentrate on the coming moments.
He managed to make it as far as his knees before he made the mistake of looking up. His half-brother, clean and untouched by battle, stood on the dais in front of the table where Merrick’s family dined. Lindsay sneered down at him, and Merrick imagined how h
e must look—bloody, filthy, and defeated.
But at least that meant he’d fought.
“I should’ve…known.” It was difficult to catch his breath. “Known ye were too much of a coward to face me directly.”
Lindsay smirked and stepped from the dais, nodding over Merrick’s head. Before he understood what was happening, Merrick’s arms were grabbed from behind, his head pulled back so Lindsay didn’t have to bend to look him in the face.
“I am facing you directly now.”
Merrick considered spitting, but his mouth was too dry. Gods, had it only been an hour ago he was curled around Saf, secure in the knowledge of their future together?
He’d been…happy. Joining with Saf there beside the stream had unlocked something inside of him. Something which had nothing to do with the decade since he’d plunged into a woman, nothing to do with lust.
He’d been happy to hold her, happy to tease her, happy to fall asleep with her in his arms. Happy to know his children were safe, and he’d likely planted another one in Saf’s womb. Happy that she’d be his wife and her bairn his heir.
God’s wounds, but it didn’t seem fair!
Fair?
“Life isn’t fair, little brother.”
Lindsay’s sneering announcement jerked Merrick back to the current catastrophe. Had he known Merrick’s thoughts? Or was he whining about his own situation?
“I should have been Lord Sutherland,” Lindsay was ranting. “My mother was as noble as yours, but Father neglected to mention he was already married when he planted me in her belly. This would have been mine, and you have been downright cruel to ignore my true claim!”
True claim?
“I had no choice but to attack your—our people, you understand. And tonight!” Lindsay whirled, a gleam in his eyes. “Tonight, I have shown you all who deserves to be Lord Sutherland! Not you, a broken and bleeding loser!”
“Nor ye,” Merrick croaked. “A coward who attacks in the night and refuses to face danger.”
Lindsay—Merrick refused to think of him as his brother—peered down at him. Then he took two steps forward, pulled back his hand, and slapped Merrick across the mouth so hard, he tasted blood.
Mayhap the blow wouldn’t have stung so much had Lindsay’s two clansmen not been holding Merrick in place. Of course, if they hadn’t been, he wouldn’t have knelt there and let Lindsay land the blow.
Darkness began to creep into his vision, but Merrick couldn’t shake his head to clear it. He wasn’t sure if the dizziness was from the blow or the blood loss. He remembered how weak Saf had been after her wound—a wound from a Lindsay warrior!—and how she’d allowed him to tend to her.
Too bad she’ll no’ be able to return the favor.
God willing, Saf had followed his order and gotten to safety. He trusted her and Andrew to get the bairns away, to keep them from Lindsay’s hands. Even though they were Lindsay’s own blood—although somewhat further removed than he suspected—the bastard wouldn’t allow any of them to survive to adulthood and challenge his place as laird.
Nay, Saf had to get them to safety.
During the battle, there’d been a moment when he’d turned and sworn he’d seen her on the keep’s steps. He’d yelled to her, but the next time he’d whirled in that direction, she’d been gone.
She’s safe.
She had to be. If he thought she wasn’t, there’s no way he could accept whatever Lindsay had planned for him.
A commotion by the hall drew Lindsay’s attention, and Merrick watched from the corner of his eye as two Lindsay warriors dragged a limp man between them.
“What should we do with the traitor, milord?” one asked.
It wasn’t until he lifted the limp man’s head that Merrick recognized Gavin. Despite his best friend’s recent treachery, Merrick had been glad to have him at his back moments before, and although he’d known Gavin had fallen, Merrick’s stomach tightened to see him like this.
Gavin had betrayed the Sutherlands, but the Lindsays seemed to have no loyalty to him either. Dully, Merrick remembered Gav being so sure Saf wasn’t a Lindsay. It must’ve been because he’d known these men. Had he known what they were capable of?
“Is he dead?” Lindsay drawled.
“Nay, milord. We’re killing as many of the others as we can, as ye commanded. But the Sutherland bastards are dragging away their wounded before we can reach them.”
Merrick surged against his captors then, his heart bleeding to think of his wounded men being cut down like animals. What kind of man issued a command like that? Especially about men who were related to him?
Lindsay ignored his struggles. “Do not worry,” he said with a lazy wave. “We will find them later. As long as my brother is dead, they have no one to lead them. Are the fires under control?”
Merrick forced himself to swallow down his pain—and anger at Lindsay’s unthinkable command—and listen his enemies as they described putting out the fires and saving the horses and servants.
“And this one, milord?” the man prompted again.
Lindsay tutted dismissively. “I suppose we cannot kill him, since he did us those small favors, and lent me that delectable sister of his rather against his will. Throw him in the dungeon. Mayhap he will do us a favor and bleed to death.”
Merrick watched the men drag Gavin toward the armory and the stone steps down to the dungeon, not sure if he should be thankful his friend still lived. Movement caught his eye, and he watched a small shape flit to the shadows from the door to the kitchens. It floated toward the men holding Gavin, but when they disappeared, the figure stopped and turned toward the dais.
The sun was pinking the eastern sky by now. The attack had come hours before, it seemed, and dawn was heralding a new day. A new day with John Lindsay as the Sutherland Laird, in control of the keep.
Merrick breathed deep, knowing this day would be his last, and trying to be at peace with the knowledge.
Mayhap he would’ve been, had the growing light not revealed the figure’s face.
“Merrick!”
Saf screamed his name as she tore barefoot across the rushes, and he cursed silently. What in damnation did she think she was doing? She couldn’t help him, and now he couldn’t go to his death knowing she was safe.
Merrick surged forward once more, intent on getting to her, at the same moment, Lindsay lazily reached out and snatched her by her hair, yanking her to a stop.
The warriors behind him forced Merrick to the ground once more, and he met Saf’s terrified eyes, willing her not to speak. She was dressed as if she’d just come from bed—his bed, and although she wore his clothing, Lindsay couldn’t mistake her sex, not with his shirt gaping open on her that way.
She lifted her hands to his, where it gripped her hair, but he merely lifted her off the ground. The noise she made—part whimper, part curse—made Merrick pray for a blade to plant in his half-brother’s neck.
Lindsay was peering down at her like she was an interesting plaything, and when he licked his lips, Saf shuddered. He turned to grin at Merrick.
“Well, well, brother. Who is this?”
It was that moment that Merrick realized Lindsay hadn’t seen his futile attempts to save Saf. All the other man knew was that this wench had screamed Merrick’s name and tried to save him.
If Lindsay realized how much she meant to him, the bastard would hurt her just to punish Merrick.
And so, even though it was damn near impossible, Merrick forced a bland expression as he met his half-brother’s eyes. “Just a lass, Lindsay.”
The other man hummed thoughtfully and fingered the man’s shirt she wore. Saf flinched away from his touch and met Merrick’s eyes, the unspoken plea loud in their blue depths.
Forcing himself to harden his heart against her terror, Merrick kept his attention on his half-brother.
“It seems you have a taste for adventurous wenches, brother.” Lindsay smirked. “We share that trait, apparently. That Elana was woef
ully unimpressive—she did nothing more than cry when she was under me. I would’ve slit her throat had I not needed her to keep her brother in line.”
Had Lindsay’s earlier command to kill the wounded not convinced Merrick he was a monster, his casual admission about raping an unwilling lass did. Bile threatened the back of his throat, but Merrick swallowed.
“Nay, this one…she is weak-willed.” Saints, but the lie was hard to utter, made worse by the hurt he saw in her eyes. “She’s addled as well.” Mayhap, if his lies didn’t save her, he could make Lindsay underestimate Saf. “Does little in bed beside cry and pray.”
There. That sounded unappealing.
Her tongue flicked out over her lips. “Ye really are the Devil, are ye no’?” she hissed at him.
He kept his expression bored as he met her eyes, wondering if the pain he saw was for his words, or if she’d understood what he was trying to do.
Affecting an uninterested shrug, Merrick grunted. She bit out a curse.
But Lindsay was staring down at her, a speculative light in his eyes. “Hm. Mayhap ’tis as my brother says.” He leaned down and dragged his tongue across her cheek, making her flinch away once more. “Or mayhap I can make you beg. When a man’s blood lust is high, a wench who just lies there and takes his cock can be appealing as well.”
As quick as an adder strike, Lindsay twisted, dragging Saf with him, and tossed her toward one of his men. “Lock her in my new chambers—the laird’s chambers. When I’m through with this trash, I’ll fuck her black and blue.”
Saf’s terrified scream mixed with his roar of fury as he threw himself forward once again. This time, his rage lent him enough strength to tear away from one of the warriors. He needed to get to her, to save her from this bastard’s touch.
He would! He wouldn’t let her be afraid any longer!
If he had to die to ensure her safety, he refused to allow his last glimpse of her to be the horrified look she threw his way as she was being carried from the hall. He would go to her!
The Sutherland Devil Page 15
