“So who is going to do it?” Lindsay asked as she held out her hands, fist against fist, offering to have them tied. “Who is going to help me bait them?”
Before anyone could respond, a firm voice echoed through the forest moments before Conall appeared. His expression was fierce and his eyes determined as they met Moray’s. “Time is limited. I just spoke with Aðísla who did some spying in the wee hours. The Earl slumbered too long for Cressingham’s taste, and he already sent Sassenach and Welsh archers over but had to call them back.”
“Aye, ‘tis all about patience with this battle,” William said, clearly already aware this had happened.
“As was made apparent, Cressingham is eager to take action despite the Earl’s reservations,” Conall continued. “’Tis rumored he believes Lindsay was taken by William and Moray and it has angered him greatly.” He gestured at Lindsay. “Allow me to help her fuel that anger so that they act sooner rather than later.”
When Moray and Wallace hesitated, Grant stepped forward. “John de Warenne might be an overly-arrogant Earl, but he’s also one of England’s most seasoned commanders. If he decides to change his plan of attack, it could cost Scotland this battle.” Only Adlin detected the hint of emotion in Grant’s voice as his hard eyes went between the men in charge. “None are as loyal to this country as my grandson. Allow him to do this for ye. Trust him with what matters to ye most. Giving Cressingham the reason he needs to lead the charge now. Lindsay.”
Moray eyed Conall for a long moment. “He willnae charge without the Earl’s order.”
“Then let us hope the Earl was equally enamored with Lindsay as I suspect he was and is as arrogant as we know he is,” Grant countered. “As ye well know, since he defeated Scotland’s aristocracy at the Battle of Dunbar, he is overly confident. As I hear it, he thinks he’s battling nothing but a rabble here and is greatly underestimating yer forces.”
Moray considered Grant’s words before he finally nodded. “Aye, if Wallace agrees, Conall and the lass can go ahead as planned.”
“The name is Lindsay,” Lindsay corrected as she gave Moray a level look. “Not lass.”
Moray nodded, a flicker of amusement in his eyes that she would worry about such a thing right now. “Lindsay, then.”
William looked from Lindsay to Conall before he offered his opinion. “Aye, then, but ye’d best make it quick.” He wore a look of disgust as his eyes turned south. “I’ve a need for Sassenach blood on my sword.”
When Conall started to lead Lindsay in the direction of the bridge, Milly caught her hand and met her eyes. “Be careful, sweetie...please.” Her eyes went to Conall, and her voice grew hoarse with emotion. “Don’t let anything happen to her.”
Conall again surprised Adlin when he took her hands, lowered his head, and murmured a prayer. When finished, his solemn eyes met hers. “I will take care of her, Milly. No harm will befall your friend as long as I draw breath.”
Milly nodded before he led Lindsay through the forest closer to the clearing in front of the bridge. Instead of tying her hands, Conall yanked her along as though forcing her, stopped at the edge of the woods where they would be visible to the English and did the last thing anyone expected.
He locked Lindsay against a tree and kissed her.
“Damn,” Mildred whispered. “What’s he doing?”
It didn’t take Adlin long to figure it out.
“Trying to bait the Sassenach so she doesnae have to,” he murmured.
Lindsay struggled against him, but Conall allowed no escape.
“Hmm.” Mildred narrowed her eyes, obviously getting the sense her friend was not truly opposed to the kiss at all. “I think this might be the first time I’ve seen Lindsay overact.”
“Aye, it seems something can distract her from executing her craft perfectly after all,” Adlin commented.
Thankfully, Conall’s instinct was right because the English began crossing the bridge as fog curled in heavy drifts. One such bank soon took Conall and Lindsay from sight.
“I can’t see her,” Milly said, concerned. “I can’t see either of them. Can you?”
“Nay, but that doesnae mean they arenae there, lass.” His eyes went to Grant. “’Twill be some time before enough Sassenach cross and Wallace takes action. I’m going to check on your grandson, and Lindsay then prepare to fight. Watch over Milly, aye?”
“Aye, with my life,” Grant assured.
When fear flashed in Milly’s eyes, Adlin cupped her cheeks. “All will be well, lass. I must see this through, you ken, aye?”
“I do,” she whispered. “But it doesn’t make this any easier.” She swallowed. “There are a ton of English out there, Adlin.”
“Aye.” He brushed his thumbs over her cheekbones, his touch tender. “And you have my word I’ll not fall beneath their blades. Not when we, at last, have a chance to live a full life together...to do so many things we never got to do before.”
“We better.” She put her hand against his chest. “Don’t make me come after you, Adlin MacLomain. Because I will.”
“Nay, you willnae,” he murmured. “Not with Grant watching over you.”
Before she could argue, he kissed her soundly, whispered ‘I love you’ then headed through the forest. He found no sign of Conall and Lindsay by the tree. For that matter, he found no sign that they had walked away at all. So he touched the trunk and tried to sense what might have happened. He frowned and pulled his hand away. Whatever it was, it had been very abrupt and of a magical nature.
Adlin did not linger long but joined Wallace and Moray as their warriors laid in wait.
“Where are Conall and Lindsay?” Bryce asked as he came alongside, an eager look in his eyes as he watched more and more English cross the bridge.
Adlin shook his head. “I dinnae know.”
Graham eyed him as he joined them. “But ye speculate?”
“Based on the magic I felt, I think either Conall or an ally spirited both of them out of here,” Adlin said.
Bryce narrowed his eyes. “What ally?”
Adlin shook his head. “’Tis hard to know just yet.”
What he wasn’t going to tell them at this juncture was that it could have very well been her ring. Because he had not missed that she slipped it on as Conall pulled her after him.
“Just as long as she’s safe, I suppose,” Graham said. “’Twas one hell of a kiss, aye?” He snorted. “I didnae think Hamilton had it in him he’s become so stiff lately.” He grinned and winked. “And rumor has it not in the way the lassies like.”
“She could verra well be my future mate.” Bryce scowled. “So watch yer tongue, MacLomain.”
Graham shrugged. “And she could just as easily be mine, aye?”
Adlin shook his head. “’Tis time to focus more on battling and less on lasses.”
Bryce grunted his agreement as he eyed the English with relish. “’Twill be a bloody good battle.”
“Aye.” Graham kept grinning, a wild look in his eyes. “I’ve never been so eager to cross blades with a Sassenach.”
Adlin couldn’t agree more and took great pleasure in being part of such an epic battle.
Though they were clearly eager, Wallace and Moray’s men were exercising the patience asked of them as the English slowly but surely made their way over the bridge. They had absolute faith in their leaders’ plan of attack and a need for vengeance that was as great as their loyalty to their county.
When at last enough of the vanguard, including over two-thousand English and Welsh infantry plus several hundred cavalry had crossed the bridge, Wallace and Moray gave the signal to attack. Their front line rushed from their position on the lower slopes of the Ochils and charged the English bridgehead. With spears leveled at the horrified English infantry, their attack was ruthless and swift, and the bridgehead was soon cut off from retreat.
“Pro Libertate,” Wallace finally roared as he raced forward. It was his clan’s motto and meant ‘For Freedom.’
Adlin and his cousins joined the main force of Scots as they fell upon the leading ranks on the causeway that led from the bridge to more solid ground. Left vulnerable to the oncoming Scots, the English cavalry charge would soon be ripped apart before their infantry was counterattacked.
Eager for blood, Adlin ducked beneath the swing of a sword then ran his dagger across the man’s throat before he crossed blades with another. He made quick work of ending him then kicked an oncoming man in the gut while parrying with yet another before he roared with rage and ran him through.
All the while, he engaged and taunted more to rush him.
He punched a man in the gut twice then dealt an uppercut to his chin before he drove his dagger into the side of his neck. Before he fell, Adlin shoved him into two more men and engaged a third with his sword. He didn’t spend much time on him but lopped off his head and went after the two who had struggled free of the man he had pushed at them.
His heart raced with the thrill of battle as he assessed them. One man’s eyes were wide with shock. The other, who seemed far too confident, was taken down fast as Adlin whipped a blade into his windpipe. The second, who stumbled back in fear, tried to get a better grip on the hilt of his weapon, but his palms were too sweaty. That, unfortunately for him, made his death easy as Adlin drove a blade straight into his heart.
As he fought, he remembered all too well the innocents who had been slaughtered beneath the blades of Longshanks’ ruthless men in South Berwick. He took his revenge for that vicious atrocity now as he slashed man after man and became covered in the blood of his enemies.
Like his fellow Scotsmen, he relished the sweet taste of vengeance. The fury and passion born of retribution and righteousness. He continued to stab and gut and punch, immersed in the release this battle afforded.
Jostled from the causeway, horses heavy with armored English knights plunged into the deep mire on either side, unable to move or charge. Adlin had just cut down his current combatant when he spied Moray. Like the rest of them he was battling hard, but unlike most Scots, he was doing so wounded. Determined to protect him, Adlin fought his way over and fell in beside him.
Andrew nodded his thanks but did not slow down. Caught in the throes of adrenaline and battle lust, he was ferocious as he cut down several men with one swipe of his blade. Relentless and driven, it was clear he was determined to end as many Sassenach as he could.
Trapped, caught in an unexpected slaughter, several Englishmen shed their armor and tried to swim back across the river but ended up with arrows in their backs. More than gifted with the bow, Bryce took down five in rapid succession. Graham fell in on the other side of Moray, making many wary with his berserker laughter before his blade ended them swiftly.
Meanwhile, the Earl of Surrey who was left with few archers could only watch helplessly from the other side as his vanguard was massacred. The bulk of his army was still intact, and he could have held the line at the River Forth, but as Wallace had hoped, his confidence was gone.
After Sir Marmaduke Tweng, the last of roughly two hundred men to make it across, reached the other side, the Earl ordered the bridge’s destruction and retreated towards Berwick. He left the garrison at Stirling Castle isolated and at long last abandoned the Lowlands to the Scots. Even then not all made it out unscathed as James Stewart finally chose a side in the battle and charged the fleeing baggage train, depriving the English of supplies and munitions.
Much to Wallace’s pleasure, Cressingham was caught on the wrong side of the river and taken prisoner for what was bound to be a torturous death indeed. Meanwhile, Adlin helped Moray back to camp where Aðísla joined them and began tending his wounds. She wore a heavy frown, and he didn’t blame her.
“Keep Milly with ye for now,” he said into Grant’s mind. “She doesnae need to see me like this.”
“I’ll get water and clean bandages,” Adlin said aloud.
“Nay, dinnae trouble yerself,” Moray mumbled as he laid back and allowed Aðísla to remove his boots. “Have one of my men fetch it.”
Adlin would do no such thing. Caring for a man the likes of Andrew Moray was nothing short of a privilege. Saddened, he exited the tent only to find Milly standing there with her heart in her eyes as she whispered, “Adlin...I’m so sorry...”
“So ye remember this part of history, aye?” he said, his brogue thick with emotion as she wrapped her arms around him before he could stop her. He was covered in blood, and now she would be too.
“I remember,” she whispered as Wallace appeared, just as bloody. Grim, his eyes met Adlin’s before he entered Moray’s tent.
“Come, Milly,” Adlin murmured as he took her hand and they fetched what Aðísla requested. By the time they returned, Moray’s shirt was off, and William sat nearby, a haunting sadness in his eyes as he handed his friend a skin of whisky. Unfortunately, when Moray tried to swallow it, he only coughed it up along with blood.
“It seems my days of drinking fine Scottish whisky are over,” he muttered as he handed it back to Wallace.
“Mayhap for a day or two,” Wallace conceded as Adlin gave Aðísla what she had requested.
“I’ll start some water boiling,” Adlin said, but Moray shook his head.
“Nay, my friend.” Moray coughed up more blood into the cloth Aðísla held to his mouth. “’Twill not allow me all that much time and I’d like to enjoy this victory.” His eyes went to the Viking. “Clean it, dress it then I’ll have some time with my men.”
“It is best to clean it with hot water and alcohol,” she began, but Moray shook his head. “Just use what ye have, lass.” He gestured at his trunk, his gaze promising despite his ailing health. “Then I’ll let ye help me into my tartan, aye? ‘Twill be good to wear it one last time.”
Aðísla shook her head, but it was clear she appreciated his bravery, his good humor considering what he faced.
“A wee bit o’ privacy, aye then, Wallace?” Moray met William’s eyes. “See my men rallied then do me the pleasure of letting us view yer punishment on Cressingham.” Relish lit his eyes as they flickered from Aðísla to William. “Outside of feeling this lass in my arms one last time, ‘twill be a good sendoff.”
Wallace nodded and left.
“We willnae stay to watch Wallace’s punishment,” Adlin said as he pulled Milly out of the tent. “’Twill be brutal, and you shouldnae see it.”
“While I agree I’d rather pass on seeing a man skinned alive, I’m not as fragile as you think, Adlin.” Her pained but strong eyes met his. “I watched every minute of the fighting. The whole battle. All the killing...” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You.”
“Och, I wish you hadnae.” Adlin pulled her into their tent, murmured a chant and did away with the blood on them both. “’Twas not something I want you to remember when you look at me.”
“Why? I’ve never been more proud.” Her hands trembled slightly as she cupped his cheeks and stared into his eyes. “You were magnificent out there, Adlin and that is what I will remember every time I look at you.” She shook her head. “You fought with your heart and were willing to lay down your life for your country every step of the way.”
Her voice thickened with emotion. “A life that I’m glad you didn’t lose today...so glad.” She stood on her tip-toes and brushed her lips across his. “Because I want a chance at a full life with you. A normal one.” The corner of her lip twitched with amusement. “Well, as normal as it can be with a man like you.”
“Like me?” He managed a small smile, never so happy to hear her declaration.
“Yes, like you,” she murmured as she dropped a few more kisses on his lips. “Crazy and caring and full of humor at often inappropriate times.”
Adlin liked where this was going and wrapped his arms around her. “So will ye be staying then?” He dropped a few kisses this time as his brogue only thickened. “Will ye stay with me in Scotland despite everything on the horizon? Will ye stay with me knowing my country may verra wel
l fall soon?”
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” she began but didn’t get another word out before he closed his lips over hers and kissed any further talk away. His blood still pumped from battle, and all he wanted was to be deep inside her.
Seconds later, he had her beneath him on the furs, her skirts pushed up as he thrust hard. Ready for him, understanding this would be fast, rough, an outlet for the last of his battle lust, she wrapped her legs around him and dug her booted heels into his arse.
Her lips fell open, and her half-mast eyes held his as he thrust again and again. This was not a romantic encounter but a desperate one. A rush to reach a pinnacle that had him moving fast and long moans trailing from her lips.
“Adlin,” she cried out as she began climaxing.
He rode the clenching of her inner muscles until he roared, released and spent the last of his energy in her sweet body. Though he wanted to hold her in his arms and continue all night, there was no time. They must go to spare her from what was to come.
As they adjusted their clothing, Milly’s eyes met his. “Grant told me Lindsay is gone, but she’s all right, and I believe him.” She never looked away from him. “But I want your take on what happened. Where do you think she is? Where is Conall?”
“I dinnae know but rest assured Laird Hamilton is alive and still protecting her.”
“How do you know?” Worry snapped her brows together. “She could be anywhere. She might be...”
“No.” He held her shoulders gently, stared into her eyes and shook his head. “Dinnae think of ‘what if’s’ but trust in fact. If she had somehow lost her life, Conall would be dead too, and his heart would no longer be beating. If that were the case, not only me but all of his kin would know.”
“You put an awful lot of faith in him protecting her,” she whispered.
“I put every last ounce of faith I have in it.” He shook his head. “Conall and I may not always see eye to eye, but no man is more devoted to a cause once he sets his mind to it. No man nobler.” Adlin cupped Mildred’s cheek, offering comfort. “Laird Hamilton will protect Lindsay no matter where they might be because they are somewhere. They are alive, you ken?”
Sworn to a Highland Laird Page 26
