Chapter Six
“They could be dead,” Bryden said.
“Nay,” Grant and Ross answered in unison, then looked at each other as an unspoken agreement passed between them.
Thomas and Allisdair had been missing for a fortnight. The countryside had been scoured, the path to London had been searched, and there was no sign of them. Yet neither man was willing to count their younger brothers as dead until their bodies were cold before them. The mere thought filled Grant with terror. He could not lose Thomas, too.
Grant stared at the map on the table in the great hall, trying to decide where they should look next. The weariness pressing on him made it hard to concentrate, and as he stared down at the maps, the door swung open with a bang and Kade rushed in.
Grant glared at his commander of the watch. Kade had been instructed to train the men in Grant’s absence. “Unless someone has died in training, I dunnae wish to be disturbed.”
“Aros is here, and he has yer brothers.”
For a moment, shock held Grant still, but then rage flooded him. He withdrew his sword, the blade singing from its sheath in harmony with Ross’s. Grant looked to his friend. “He’s mine to kill.”
“Only since we are on yer land, but if ye fail—”
Grant nodded. “Finish the deed, cut off his head, and set it on a spike upon the long path to Dithorn.”
“They’ve come by horse upon the steep mountainside trail,” Kade clarified, “and they are flying a truce flag.”
Grant made a derisive sound at those words. “Aros dunnae wish for a truce.”
Kade nodded, stepped toward Grant, and handed him a folded note. “I agree, but that is the game he plays for now. He sent a rider ahead for ye. He told me what the letter contained so I’d ken the urgency.”
Just then, the door to the great hall flew open once more and Esme raced through the entrance, long blond hair flapping behind her. “Does nae anybody knock?” Grant asked, frowning at Esme’s attire. He’d told her a thousand times it wasn’t proper for a lass to wear braies, but the hellion refused to wear gowns, just as she’d so far refused to consider marriage, though at eighteen summers, she was plenty old enough.
Esme set her hands on her hips and glared at Grant. “I was on the rampart, and I saw the MacDougalls approach. I want to fight!”
“Ye can help by staying in the safety of the castle,” he snapped. “I’ve told ye a thousand times nae to go up to the ramparts.” For one thing, she distracted the men up there. Esme was a beautiful lass, though she did not appear to realize it. But his men did. They would stare at his sister when they should be concentrating on the narrow passage below that led to the castle. One thing Grant had learned while he led the clan when Simon had been playing the traitor in England was that no matter how seasoned a man was, the one thing above all else that could make him weak was a beguiling lass.
Esme’s face took on a very familiar, stubborn look. Devil take her. She intended to argue, and he simply did not have the time to be as patient with her as he always tried to be. Esme’s life had been hard. Losing both their parents when Esme was so young. And now Simon’s death clearly had shaken Esme to her core, as it had him.
“I dunnae wish to be kept in a safe place like a valuable,” she said. “I wish to fight by yer side.”
“And I wish ye wed to a man who can take ye in hand. If ye refuse to leave this room now, I’ll write to the laird of the MacPherson clan and tell him I accept his offer to wed ye to his son, and then I’ll see that the wedding takes place in the next sennight.”
She gasped. “Ye would nae!”
“I would, and I likely should have done just that when ye first refused the offer.”
Esme bit her lip. “At least let me stay and hear what’s transpiring.”
With a sigh, he waved her to a chair. “Nae a word from yer mouth, ye ken?”
“I ken ye,” she muttered. “I’m nae deaf nor dumb.” She strode to the chair closest to them and sat, a mutinous look settling on her face.
Grant frowned, refocused his attention on Kade, and reaching out, he took the paper from his commander. He unfolded it and read the letter aloud:
“Laird Fraser,
I will give ye until the striking of the next bell to release my father. If ye do this, I will release yer brother and the MacLorh lad. If nae, I will slit their throats and attack yer home, take my father, and kill ye as I killed yer brother Simon. If ye try to attack me and my men, I assure ye, yer brother will die before I do.
Aros MacDougall”
Grant crumpled up the note and threw it in the fire, his anger swirling within.
“Grant,” Ross began, his worry evident by his tight tone.
“Dunnae fash yerself, Ross. I will send the MacDougall, but at the same time, Aros must send us our brothers. We will nae release the MacDougall before then.”
“Cousin, what is yer plan?” Bryden asked. “Let me be the one to accompany MacDougall to his son for ye. I fear Aros will try to kill ye.”
“Dunnae fash yerself about me. I ken how to protect myself. And if Aros attempts to kill me, our men can attack with one simple signal,” Grant said. “Aros is in a desperate situation, and he kens it. Dithorn is impregnable unless someone on the inside turns traitor.”
“I’d kill any man who did such a thing,” Kade growled.
“As would I,” Bryden added.
Grant acknowledged both men’s comments with a nod, even as he thought upon the likelihood of a traitor in their midst. It was never out of the realm of possibility, which was why he was always checking in with the guards, speaking with them, and taking their measure. There was one entrance route to the castle, and it was a plunging nightmare, a narrowed path carved into the rock from the seashore to the land at the top of the cliff upon which Dithorn sat. Whoever dared to venture onto that pathway risked their lives. The path twisted narrowly, purposely, so that the would-be attacker would be blind to the archers lying in wait. And they did wait, day after day, night after night, frequently rotating the guard duty, for only the men he considered the best shots with the truest character could be given the responsibility.
“I ken Aros crows like a rooster about breaching Dithorn, but I also ken he will nae hesitate to kill Thomas and Allisdair if I dunnae send him his father. I will nae sacrifice the boys for vengeance. Vengeance will come for Simon another way, so help me God.” Grant felt as if a fire had been lit in his heart, which sparked flames through his body. “I will hunt Aros and his father down until both their heads are on spikes.”
“I will aid ye,” Ross and Kade declared as one.
“Ye ken ye always have my sword arm,” Kade said.
“And mine as well,” Bryden added. “We are as brothers!”
“Aye,” Grant agreed, looking to Bryden. His cousin had been raised more like a brother than a cousin after his father, Grant’s uncle, had been killed ten summers earlier by an English knight. Grant’s father had become laird after his elder brother had died, and he’d raised Bryden as one of their brothers, honoring him by making him head of all the guards, since he was no longer in line to be laird of the clan. Bryden had always been loyal.
“Bryden, bring me some parchment,” Grant said.
Bryden rushed to the end of the table and came back with parchment and a quill. Grant took them and quickly penned his response, reading it aloud as he did:
“I will bring yer father to ye. I will meet ye at the entrance.”
Grant paused to think. If they met there, Aros, his father, and whatever man Aros brought would have to get their horses up the other side of the mountain to the woods before they found cover from arrows in the dense forest. If Grant worded things just so, perhaps Aros would not realize what Grant intended.
“Ye may bring one man and nae more. Bid yer other men to stay at the path to the other side of the mountain. My warriors will be ready, so dunnae think to cross me. Once the exchange is made, I will hold the temporary truce until ye are
off Dithorn Cliff. Then the peace is over.
Laird Fraser”
Only the cliff carved into the land upon which Dithorn actually sat was known as Dithorn Cliff. The other side of the mountain, the side they’d need to climb to reach the woods, was simply called Fraser Mountain. The only trail up that mountain to the woods was a narrow one that had several drops to the sea below.
He trembled as he stared down at the title he’d just signed, a potent reminder that Simon was gone.
Ross arched an eyebrow at Grant. “Ye mean to have the archers kill the men as they traverse Fraser Mountain?”
Grant grinned. “Aye. The righteous shall prevail,” he said, reciting the motto that Simon had long ago told him by which Bruce’s closest confidants, known as the Circle of Renegades, lived. He handed the letter to Kade. “Take this to Aros personally. If his answer is aye, hold yer sword high above yer head and I’ll bring the MacDougall down.”
“I should be the one to take the offer,” Ross said.
“Nay. It would be far too tempting for Aros to have the laird of the Frasers and the brother of the laird of the MacLorhs at his fingertips. Ye must remain, and if anything should go amiss, take control and care for Esme.”
“Move yer arse,” Grant said not long later as he pushed Laird MacDougall along the path around the mountain and through the tunnel that led to the sandy shore and water. Up ahead, the sunlight streamed in, so he knew they were close to the entrance. He nodded to another set of his warriors as he passed them. Each man had been informed of what was occurring, from the guard on the wall above, to the warriors in the tunnel, to the archers situated upon the cliffs of the mountain passage, their arrows aimed toward the men on the shore. They understood their roles: protect the lads, guard the tunnel, kill the MacDougalls.
When he came out of the tunnel, he increased his grip on his sword and on the rope that bound the MacDougall’s hands behind his back.
“Grant!” Thomas shouted, his dirt-smudged face cracking into a wide, relieved smile. He tried to surge forward, but the guard holding him jerked him back.
Grant ground his teeth. “Send over my brother and Allisdair.”
“I will. At the same time ye release my father,” Aros responded.
Kade came immediately to Grant’s side as Grant released his hold on the MacDougall when Aros motioned for his guard to release Thomas and Allisdair. The boys started toward Grant as MacDougall started toward Aros, but when the laird passed the boys, he made a grab for Thomas. Grant sprang forward at the same time Aros did. Aros yanked his father toward him as Grant tugged both the boys to him. His heartbeat thudded in his ears. MacDougall twisted in Aros’s arms to glare at Grant. “Ye’re lucky my son stopped me. I’d have snapped yer brother’s neck.”
Before Grant could respond to the devil, Thomas tugged on Grant. “Brother!”
Grant glanced at Thomas, and his heart squeezed tight with relief and an overwhelming flood of gratitude for getting the two boys back alive.
“Brother, I—”
“Silence,” Grant interrupted, turning his gaze back to his enemies. Later, he would listen to Thomas beg forgiveness for disobeying orders, as he assumed Thomas was trying to now do, though Grant kept his gaze trained on Aros. Grant could not be distracted from his enemy. “For keeping yer word,” Grant said to Aros, “I will kill ye swiftly.”
Aros smirked. “If ye get close enough to kill me, though I appreciate the sentiment.”
Grant nodded. “Yer father I will kill breath by breath, as if he had a thousand days to live in pain.”
“I’d expect no less from one bent on avenging his brother,” Aros said, offering a mock bow. When the MacDougall went to grab a dagger from the guard, Aros took hold of his father’s arm. “Save yer strength and yer anger. We’ll need both.” He turned away, still gripping his father, and motioned to his guard.
Grant watched them stride toward his other men, who were mounted in the distance. Five more steps and his enemies would be off the land known as Dithorn Cliff, and his word would have been kept. His body hummed in anticipation.
Four steps. Three.
He slowly started to raise his hand to give the signal.
Two.
Aros turned suddenly, glanced up toward the archers who were visible, smiled, and then leveled his gaze on Grant before saying, “Demaskas, bring forth the woman!”
Grant frowned at Aros and then toward Thomas, who was frantically pulling on Grant’s arm. Suddenly, a man rode toward the front of the line, and as he did, he pulled down the hood of the cape upon the rider mounted in front of him. Grant felt his jaw slip open as waves of shiny red tresses spilled in vivid contrast against the dark cape the woman wore. Her thick hair blew around her with a gust of sudden wind. She raised her hand and grasped the edges of her hair to twine it into a knot at the nape of her neck. His gut tightened at the sight of the willowy creature with ramrod posture, a proud and stunning face, and eyes the color of heather. He blinked, sure he was imagining it, but her cat-shaped, heather-colored eyes narrowed on him with obvious mistrust.
“Grant, Grant!” Thomas cried.
Grant flicked his gaze to his brother, who looked up at him desperately, but then Aros spoke, drawing Grant’s attention once more. “If ye shoot at us, the lass will die.” The guard Demaskas, who sat behind the lass on the steed, brought a sharp, gleaming dagger to the pale, slender column of her neck. Grant half expected her to cry out in fear, but the only noticeable reaction she had was to fist her hands.
Christ. Disbelief rendered him speechless for a moment. Was the lass a pawn or a willing participant in keeping MacDougall and Aros alive? “What do I care if the lass lives or dies?” Grant asked, choosing his words carefully to try to discern what was really occurring. “She dunnae mean anything to me.”
“Grant,” Thomas practically yelled, but Grant ignored his brother as Aros smiled slowly.
“I’d thought ye more honorable than to kill a lass,” Aros said.
“Ye’re mistaken,” Grant lied. “Any lass who is friend to ye is foe to me.”
“I’m not—” the lass started to say, but Demaskas drew a drop of blood from her neck. She gasped and fell silent immediately, and Grant’s fingers curled reflexively around the hilt of his sword with the instinct to protect her, but did she need it?
“She’s a rather special lass,” Aros said, a smug smile on his face. “She’s agreed to wed me in exchange for allowing yer pups to be returned to ye unharmed.”
“A convenient lie to keep ye safe,” Grant replied, though doubt niggled at him.
Aros arched his eyebrows. “Can ye live with her death if I’m being truthful?”
Grant’s eyes met hers, and for a breath, he saw them flash with fear before she averted her gaze. It was either real or she was excellent at portraying a false face. But if it was real…
“Away with ye, then,” he growled. “I vow my men will nae shoot at ye.”
“We ride!” Aros ordered.
The MacDougall, who’d been unusually silent, chuckled. “Bested again, Fraser!”
With that, the men quickly mounted the destriers being held for them and started toward the path that would lead them across the mountain to the woods.
“Grant, ye must listen to me!” Thomas hissed to him.
“Aye, ye must!” Allisdair seconded.
“Silence!” Grant commanded, his mind racing as his eyes skimmed the terrain as he sought out a way to kill his enemies and rescue the woman, if she indeed needed rescuing. He raised his right hand, giving the call for his men to sound the war horn and come to aid him, and then he turned to Kade. They had few precious moments before the MacDougalls would enter the forest, which would make it much harder to find them. And once the MacDougalls reached their land, which was not that far from his own, nothing short of war would get the lass back, and he could not risk his clan by rushing blindly into such a thing. That would take preparation. “I’ll get the lass; ye go after the MacDougalls.
Kill who ye can.”
“Aye, laird,” Kade answered, already turning to run toward the mountain path.
Grant swung toward his brother and Allisdair. “Make yer way inside the castle to safety, and dunnae even think of defying me.”
“We’ll nae,” they both assured him.
“Grant,” Thomas wailed, tears flooding the lad’s eyes.
Grant stared in shock. Thomas had not cried since their father had died.
“The lady is called Eve. ’Tis as Aros said. She saved our lives,” Thomas went on. “She traded herself for our safety.”
“Christ,” Grant whispered fiercely. Then seeing the fear in his brother’s eyes, he said, “Dunnae fash yerself. I’ll rescue her.” He did not wait for his brother to reply, but instead, he took off toward the mountain path as the war horn sounded from above. His men would be coming, but it would be too late. Even the warriors stationed on the cliff path were not close enough to aid him.
He raced across the rock, scaling upward past the path upon which the MacDougalls were treading and Kade was following. He’d cut them off by going high when they had to wind about, and then what?
He caught the sharp rocks with his fingertips and found his footing, then climbed at a dizzying speed, higher and higher. The wind blew hard, setting a rushing sound in his ears and mingling with his breath, which was coming in sharp, desperate intakes as his heart pounded.
To his left was nothing but blue sea and jagged rock, except where the waves tumbled white when they met the rocky shore. The path the MacDougalls rode would take them over a deep section of the sea. Grant glanced down to get his bearings as to where they were, but his foot slipped from the ledge he’d just stepped onto, and for a moment, he clung to the rock with his hands and a single foot, searching for purchase once more. Finding it, he located the woman, and the guard Demaskas whom she rode with. Demaskas led the fleeing party. Grant had but one choice: drop straight down in front of them, get hold of the lady, and then they’d both jump into the waters below. If God was feeling merciful, they’d live. If not, he’d see Simon sooner than he had thought he would. A grim smile stretched his lips, and then, with a prayer, he released the ledge and dropped.
Highland Avenger Page 7
