Highlander's Rescue A Cree & Dawn Short Story (Cree & Dawn Short Stories Book 4)

by Donna Fletcher

  A moment later, the bulky man appeared sword in hand. “Get out of my way,” he yelled at Dawn.

  Without hesitation, she jabbed at him with the piece of wood, the flame beginning to dwindle, and kept jabbing at him as he tried again and again to catch her with his sword. She would have continued to keep him at bay if the flame did not diminish and splinter the wood apart.

  As she fought to keep hold of one piece of the pitiful weapon, the man caught her arm with his sword, slicing through her sleeve. She winced, fury filling her eyes and swung the piece of wood at him with such force that the sizzling end caught the back of his hand and he quickly dropped his sword. She did not hesitate to run straight at him. As she did, she lowered her head and rammed it into his stomach.

  Torr and Cree appeared just as Dawn and the man tumbled to the floor.

  Torr rushed to Wintra and Cree to Dawn.

  Cree yanked his wife off the man, setting her aside, then reached down, grabbed the man by the shirt and hit him so hard in the jaw that a crack echoed off the stones. Cree released his limp body and another crack was heard when his head hit the stones.

  Cree turned and his eyes filled with rage when he saw his wife’s sleeve soaked with blood. He went to her and took hold of her face. “Did I not tell you to stay out of harm’s way?”

  She had no time to respond, Torr yelled out to her and she looked to see Wintra cradled in his strong arms, gripping her stomach.

  Chapter Seven

  Everything happened at once, though Dawn caught every detail. She pointed to the room where Torr was to take Wintra as Cathan and Ardit rushed off the stairs. Ardit hurried to Margaret and they hugged. Cathan could not hide the relief she felt when she saw that Margaret was unharmed. Though, it was what she saw on her husband’s face that surprised her the most.

  When his eyes settled on Margaret, he recognized her. He knew who she was and from the surprised look on Margaret’s face, Cree was no stranger to her.

  There was no time to question her husband about it. Dawn had to see to Wintra. She need not worry about Margaret now, Cathan and Ardit would look after her. She hurried into Wintra’s room, Cree following close behind her.

  “I am sorry, so very sorry,” Wintra said, clinging to Torr as she sat cradled in his arms on the bed.

  “Hush,” he said, holding her close never intending to let her go. “It does not matter now. You are safe and we are together that is all that matters.”

  “You were foolish,” Cree scolded. “You put us through hell and all because you are too stubborn to listen to reason.”

  “And your wife does not do the same to you?” Torr snapped, defending his wife despite Cree being right.

  Dawn shook her finger at both men and pointed to Wintra.

  “Dawn is right. This is no time to argue,” Torr said.

  Cree walked over to the bed and glared at his sister. “Who hit you?”

  Torr looked to Cree, anger in his eyes and the scar on his face more pronounced than usual. “I will be the one to see the culprit suffer.”

  Wintra looked to her brother. “You already saw to him, the one who wounded Dawn.”

  “Damn,” Cree spat and turned to his wife. “Let me see your arm.”

  Dawn gestured, letting him know there was no time. They needed to leave and get Wintra to a safe place to deliver the bairn.

  “Yes, please, let us be gone from here,” Wintra pleaded. “I do not want our child born in a place where his mum was held prisoner.”

  Cree and Torr exchanged glances, and Dawn went to her husband’s side and tapped her chest.

  “Aye, tell us what is wrong,” Wintra voiced what Dawn’s gesture expressed.

  Cree’s hand went to rest on his wife’s waist as he explained. “We may be trapped here. A contingent of warriors will arrive soon and we do not know if they are friend or foe, though I suspect they are the latter.”

  “What could they want from us?” Wintra asked.

  “I do not know.”

  Dawn felt her husband tense beside her as he answered. He did not speak the truth. He was aware of what the warriors wanted and she suspected it had something to do with Margaret.

  Wintra turned tearful eyes on her husband. “You must hate me for being so foolish. Now I have placed all our lives in danger.”

  “I could never hate you. My love is much too strong for you,” Torr assured her. “We will get through this together—” Wintra’s sudden gasp stole the rest of Torr’s words and when she grabbed at her stomach, he flinched as if he was suffering the pain along with her.

  Dawn went to her, realizing her pains were coming a bit closer now. She gestured for Torr to lay Wintra on the bed.

  “No,” Wintra protested, “I want to stay a while longer in his arms.”

  “I will hold you in my arms for as long as you like,” Torr said.

  Wintra smiled, though it vanished rapidly, her eyes turning wide. “Dawn your hand is covered in blood.”

  “Damn!” Cree snapped. He had been distracted from seeing to his wife’s wound. He went to her, took hold of her arm and his eyes darkened when he saw the slice the sword had made in her arm. “I am going to wait until that idiot wakes, then I am going to kill him.”

  “I want that privilege,” Torr argued.

  Cree had no time to argue with him. One of his warriors appeared at the door.

  “The troop approaches the keep.”

  “Are the men ready?”

  “Aye,” the warrior said. “The servants have taken their positons as well.”

  “Good. Have them ready their bows. I will be there shortly and drag that man slumped outside the door down the stairs and see him tied tightly.”

  The warrior nodded and left, the sound of the man’s head hitting each stair, echoing up along the stones.

  Cree turned to Torr. “Stay with Wintra. I will send for you if necessary.”

  Torr nodded, grateful he did not have to leave his wife.

  Cree’s hand went to rest at his wife’s lower back and, with a gentle nudge, eased her out the door. Before he could say a word to her, she gestured and he smiled. “You know me well, wife. Aye, I did send one of my warriors for help. We need only to hold them off until he returns with a large contingent of my warriors, which will probably be by morning.”

  Dawn pointed in the direction of the other room, then pointed to him before tapping his chest.

  Cree’s scowl surfaced. “I will not speak falsely to you. Aye, I do know Margaret and it is better you do not.”

  Dawn gestured that the woman had said the same to her.

  “That was wise of Margaret to say, so pay heed to us both and ask no more questions about her.”

  Dawn placed her hands on her hips and glared at him.

  “Heed my word on this, Dawn,” Cree ordered. “I have enough to handle without having to worry about what foolish things you will do. While Torr may not see fit to punish Wintra for her foolishness, I have no such misgiving to do so if you do not obey me on this.”

  Dawn nodded slowly.

  Cree leaned down until their noses touched. “I know that stubborn look well. Remember what danger Wintra has placed us in with her foolish mulishness and see that you do not make it much worse for us all.”

  Dawn kissed him lightly before giving a firm nod. However, his warning about Margaret caught her curiosity and it was difficult to ignore anything that made her curious.

  Cree was pleased that she acquiesced and whispered in her ear, “When this is done and we have returned home, I intend to see that we spend a whole day in bed together.”

  She grinned and nodded, definitely agreeing with him on that.

  “Another pain,” Torr called out.

  Dawn kissed her husband quick and hurried to Wintra.

  Cree went to the other room to find the three women huddled in chatter. “Cathan!”

  The woman jumped, startled.

  “I will have a word with you,” he ordered and stepped out of the
room. He did not give Cathan a chance to say anything. “Are you truly a healer?”

  Cathan nodded.

  “You better pray you tell me the truth,” he warned. “You will see to my wife’s wound.”

  “Aye, I will do that.”

  “The contingent of warriors approaches the keep.”

  “You will protect Margaret?”

  “I will protect us all.”

  ~~~

  Cree went to the battlements, beaten by weather and time, to see the size of the troop that approached. All he had to do was see the look on his two warriors’ faces to know it was much larger than expected.

  “I stand ready,” a young peasant lad said his bow in hand and a full cache of arrows strapped to his back. “I am skilled with a bow, my aim sharp and accurate.”

  “You only need to aim at one person—the leader,” Cree directed and went to look out over the battlement. The barren land that circled the front of the keep was filled with about fifty or sixty warriors some on horses and some on foot. From the look of them, they were mercenaries—warriors for hire—who cared for naught but the riches promised them if their mission proved fruitful. He should know, for he had been one himself.

  Cree made his way to the Great Hall. Peasants, who had been forced to serve the ragtag group, stood gripping the fallen warriors’ weapons ready to fight as did his men. The servants jumped when a loud pounding sounded at the door.

  “I will be given entrance,” a strong voice boomed.

  Two of Cree’s warriors went with him to the door and opened it.

  The man stopped abruptly as he tried to enter, since he was met with the point of Cree’s sword.

  “Cree,” the man said with a smile that showed no sign of friendship.

  “Hugo,” Cree acknowledged the man he had not seen in years. His once dark hair was all gray now and tightly drawn back from his lean face. He was reed-thin, something that had always worked to his advantage, since most men thought him too weak to defend himself. Cree had seen Hugo take huge men down in two blows with his fists. He was not a man to underestimate.

  “What are you doing here?” Hugo demanded.

  “I can ask the same of you.”

  “I have come to collect a woman inside that waits for me. Hand her over and my men and I will be on our way,” Hugo said.

  Cree looked over the mercenary’s warriors, then back at Hugo. “She dislikes you that much that you need a troop of warriors to help you retrieve her?”

  Hugo did not laugh. “I have never known you to be humorous.”

  “I am not.” Cree’s cold, harsh tone had Hugo laying his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Careful, Hugo, or my sword will pierce your belly before you can draw yours.”

  Hugo held his hands out to his sides. “We are friends—”

  “We were never friends.”

  A scowl that rivaled Cree’s surfaced on Hugo’s face. “I would not mind killing you.”

  “Nor I you.”

  Hugo stepped back and glanced around. “Your warriors are nowhere in sight.”

  “You will see them if necessary.”

  “I think you lie. You have few warriors with you,” Hugo challenged.

  Cree gave two sharp nods and when nothing happened Hugo laughed, until four arrows landed in the ground near his horse.

  “Believe what you will, Hugo, but know if you try to enter this keep you and whoever follows will die before they reach the door.”

  “The gray sky warns of more snow. I will camp the night and leave in the morning. Any objections?” Hugo asked.

  “Would it matter if I did?”

  “No. I will speak to you in the morning.”

  “You will leave by morning or it will be my warriors you see.” Cree stepped back and the door slammed shut.

  Cree turned to see Cathan standing there. Worry quickly marred his brow. “My wife?”

  “Dawn is fine. I cleaned and applied a healing balm to her arm, then wrapped it. You should have your healer see to it when you return home. I have heard she is an extremely knowledgeable healer.”

  “You heard right.”

  Cathan stepped closer to Cree, keeping her voice to almost a whisper. “You cannot let them take Margaret. You know what they will do with her.”

  “Taking only Margaret was never their complete mission. They will see anyone involved in this matter dead, for the dead cannot talk.” His eyes narrowed. “Who are you to Margaret?”

  A shout from Ardit across the room had Cathan turning before she could answer.

  “Hurry, Margaret needs you.”

  Cathan never answered Cree, she ran to Ardit and the two women disappeared up the stairs.

  Cree spoke to those in the Great Hall. “They will do nothing until morning.”

  “Tomorrow there will still be more of them than us,” a servant called out.

  “Tomorrow there will be more of us than them,” Cree said and a cheer sounded. His warriors should reach here by then. Sloan would see that the warriors rode throughout the night to get here as soon as possible. He only hoped Hugo would not strike before then.

  Cree left the men and went to see how his wife, Wintra, and Margaret were faring. He almost turned away when moans rippled down the stairs to greet him. He was reminded of when Dawn had given birth and the pain she had gone through and how they had almost lost their daughter. The tiny lass had not taken a breath when she was born. She had lain lifeless in his hands when he held her, but he had refused to let her die and now when she heard his voice there was no calming her until she was in his arms. He would do anything to keep his children safe and he would do the same for his sister’s bairn.

  He entered Wintra’s room to see Torr kneeling by the bed, holding Wintra’s hand while he dabbed a wet cloth along her brow.

  “You need me?” Torr asked when he caught sight of Cree.

  “No, it will be morning before anything happens. How is my sister?”

  Wintra raised her head, Torr slipping his hand beneath it to help hold it up. “I am fine. Dawn gave birth bravely and so can I.”

  “Mum delivered you on her own,” Cree said, stepping closer to the bed.

  “She did?” Wintra asked surprised.

  “There was no one to help her. I was out in the field from daybreak till almost dusk and when I came home, you were wrapped in a blanket, sleeping in the cradle that I once slept in. You were a good bairn, slept more than you cried.”

  Wintra gathered strength from her brother’s words and some of her worry faded.

  “Where is Dawn?” Cree asked.

  Torr eased his wife’s head down as he spoke. “There is a problem with the other woman and she is helping.”

  Dawn stepped out of the other room as Cree left Wintra’s room. When he saw her brow wrinkled with concern, he held his arms out to her and she hurried into them. He held her close, nothing more, he simply held her. She needed his strength and he would give it to her, for she was worn down from giving her strength to others. He had learned that about her when they had first met and it had never changed. She did what she could for others and always would.

  After she had not moved for a few moments, he thought she had fallen asleep in his arms. She always fell asleep in his arms at night in bed and he would not have it any other way. If she slept now, he would hold her until she woke, but she stirred and stepped away from him to speak slowly with her hands.

  He understood her clearly. “Margaret does not do well.”

  Dawn went to gesture again, but Wintra’s scream stopped her and she hurried around her husband and into Wintra’s room.

  Cree did not go to his sister, since Dawn had that well in hand. He went to Margaret’s room and stood just outside the door. He watched the woman thrashing around in pain on the bed.

  Cathan walked over to him, the worry in her eyes far worse than what he had seen in his wife’s eyes.

  “It does not go well,” Cathan said.

  Two agonizing screams erupted fro
m both rooms and Cree worried that death stalked the keep this night.

  Chapter Eight

  Cree looked out over the battlements at Hugo’s camp below. It was quiet, troops having bedded down for the night. Not that he trusted they would stay that way. Hugo was battle wise and he probably suspected that Cree’s warriors were on the way here and he would have to strike before they arrived or taste defeat.

  How long Hugo would wait to make his move is what troubled Cree. Would he strike before sunrise or wait until first light? Either way, if Sloan did not arrive by that time, he would have to keep Hugo and his men from entering the keep until Sloan got here. How he would do that with a handful of warriors and servants that had few skills with weapons, he was not sure. But he would find a way.

  The young lad was quick to pledge his fealty to Cree. “I will fight to the death for you—”

  Cree did not let the young warrior finish. “Death wants nothing to do with me or those who serve me. Ask Tannin there,” —Cree nodded at the man standing not far from the young warrior— “He will tell you that we have been through worse than this and lived to fight other battles as we will this one.”

  Cree heard Tannin laugh as he began detailing one of Cree and his warriors exploits.

  Something Cree never did was admit defeat no matter how dire the situation. If warriors lost hope in battle, they lost the will to survive and once that was lost so was the battle and one’s life.

  As much as it seemed they would not defeat the troop of warriors outside these walls, Cree held strong to victory. Besides, unlike other battles, he had his wife with him in this one and he would fight the devil himself to keep her safe.

  He turned to go make his rounds throughout the keep and almost collided with Torr. “My sister?” Cree asked anxiously.

  “She is doing well, if anyone can do well suffering such horrendous pain,” Torr winced.