Heart of the Highlands: The Wolf (Protectors of the Crown Book 2)

by April Holthaus

  “Ye have my vow, lass. If he as much as harms one hair on yer son’s head, I will gut him like a pig and feed him to the dogs.”

  Rylan’s vow was powerful and moving. It was the first time he seemed genuinely sincere in his words. Leaning forward, Fallon planted a soft kiss on his cheek to thank him. She did not even know what came over her. Breathing him in, her body instantly reacted to his scent. Her stomach fluttered like tiny butterflies and her muscles melted like butter. Their eyes locked. Lifting his hand, he brushed his fingers along her cheek. Fallon trembled.

  Rylan could see she was hurting, and there was nothing for him to do to comfort her but to distract her.

  “What of yer family? Why are ye so reluctant to talk about them?” Rylan asked.

  Fallon’s eyes shifted elsewhere. Rylan could tell it was a sore subject, but he was not going to let his questions go unanswered.

  “I do no’ discuss my family verra often.”

  “Why? Are they thieves? Rapists?”

  “Nay! Why would ye ask…how could ye think…”

  “Ye leave much to assume, lass. If ye are no’ ashamed of them, then why do ye wish to no’ talk about them?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Then uncomplicate it! Why did ye leave? Was it because of Nathanial? Did ye love him?”

  Fallon’s eyes narrowed on him. Rylan did not mind testing her. He wanted to explore her boundaries, see how far he could push. He wanted to know exactly how far he could go without offending her.

  “I thought I did once. But I couldn’t fully. There had only been one man who I had given my heart to completely. The mon I did love was killed…in battle. We were young and he went to join the King’s army. A year had passed, and then another. I had not received any official word, but I knew. We loved each other. Even spoke of marriage. But my father, of course, was against it. That’s why I left. When Nathanial came along, I was broken. It’s getting late, Rylan, and I wish no’ to discuss Lord Blackwell any longer. We should rest,” Fallon suggested as she laid back, pulling the plaid up over her.

  Rylan studied her for a moment as he tried to put the pieces together. He did not quite understand how she had become acquainted with Lord Blackwell in the first place. Laird Montgomery, from what he knew of the man, did not seem to be the type of father who would deny his child anything. He was a kind and compassionate man. But Fallon viewed him in a different light. Perhaps he was a different man behind closed doors. Perhaps he was just as good at wearing a mask as his niece.

  Chapter 13

  Rylan found comfort in watching Fallon sleep. Too distraught and overwhelmed from the day, there would be no sleeping for him this night. Tomorrow would be another hard ride as they crossed the border into England. They were going to be heading into the heart of enemy territory, and keeping her safe was his top priority.

  Longing to return home, Rylan was annoyed by the unexpected turn of events. He had thought his orders were clear, but now that he had a chance to face an old enemy, revenge could not be sweeter. It was as if the opportunity presented itself perfectly by placing it right in the palm of his hands. Life did not offer such conveniences, but in this case, good fortune had been smiling down on him. From now on, Rylan would be able to count his blessings, twice.

  He had given up seeking revenge against the Blackwell family long ago, or at least thought he had. For the sake of Fallon’s son, he now had a new reason to raise old debts from their grave. However, Rylan did not want to lose sight of his mission: save the lad, honor his clan, protect the crown.

  Fallon stirred in her sleep from a noise off in the distance. Rylan heard it too. The sound of birds taking flight. Something had spooked them. Rylan stood and walked the perimeter, kicking dirt over the burning embers to snuff out the flames. He hovered over Fallon’s sleeping form protectively. In silence, he readied his sword. His eyes scanned the trees. Keeping his sword at the ready, he bent down on one knee next to Fallon.

  “Lass,” he whispered.

  Fallon moaned, but said nothing.

  “Lass, ‘tis time to leave.”

  “But the sun has no’ risen. Is something wrong?” she asked as she rolled over to face him.

  “Nay, but ‘tis best we leave. There are men in the woods,” he warned.

  Helping her to her feet, Rylan grabbed the blanket from the ground, rolled it up, and stuffed it inside the bag that hung from the saddle. He could not help noticing her scent on his plaid as he began to roll it up in his arms. It smelled like lilacs.

  Hearing voices murmuring in the wind, Rylan grabbed Fallon’s waist and quickly lifted her onto the horse.

  “What are ye doing?” she asked, but her words fell short as three English soldiers covered in chainmail came into view.

  Rylan had waited too long.

  As the three men approached, they stumbled and wove along the path. They slurred their words, and a strong stench of whiskey hung in the air.

  The man in the middle had shaggy, short black hair and day old scruff peppered his face. As for the others, they had short brown hair, but where one man was short and portly, the other was tall and lanky.

  “Well, look what we have here! I believe we found ourselves one of them fairies those Scots so often talk about.”

  Fallon lowered her eyes to the ground.

  “You don’t have to be frightened, little fairy,” the portly man said, laughing loudly as he grabbed Fallon’s leg.

  He smelt of urine and wet dog. Fallon kicked him away from her.

  “Get yer hands off her,” Rylan demanded.

  The fat, little man raised his hand and grabbed her by the throat.

  Their smug expressions were meant to scare him, but little did they know that it only amused him. Like scenes from a play, scenarios played out in his mind. Rylan could easily disarm the plump man to his right. It was hard not to notice how he walked favoring his left side. The man to his left appeared to have a blind spot as the side of his face was scarred so badly his eye had been drained of color. The enemy who stood before him appeared to be equal in size and measure, standing nearly six foot two with shaggy, black wavy hair. A worthy opponent.

  “You are trespassing on Nathanial Blackwell’s lands. Lord of Falstone Castle, Duke of Canbury and son of the great Lord Alexander Blackwell,” his opponent advised him.

  Rylan grinned.

  “Does it make an Englishman feel empowered to have so many titles? Or is he just trying to compensate for a small cock?” Rylan jested.

  The three men snarled.

  “That be Lord Blackwell to you,” the tall one sneered.

  “Well, if ye dinna mind, my lady and I will be on our way,” Rylan said, taking Fallon by the hand.

  Turning on his heel, one of the guards stepped out in front of him, blocking his path.

  “I’m afraid you will not be going anywhere.”

  Rylan glanced over his shoulder at Fallon. Blood curdling fear masked her beauty. He knew if he attempted to ward off their assailants, she would be stuck in the middle and could potentially get hurt. Of course, if these men had any honor they would leave the lass be, but it was a chance Rylan was not ready to take.

  Rylan took a cautionary step back and immediately threw down his weapon. The clattering of steal against stone resonated off the hollow tree trunks. He would fight, but not today.

  “Arrest him,” the guard ordered.

  “Under what charge?” Fallon said, bravely stepping forward.

  “Isn’t having his filthy barbaric presence on English soil a good enough reason?”

  The guardsmen standing in front of him smirked as the other two looked at each other in confusion. As the guard ordered the other two to take Rylan into custody, Fallon’s face drained of color like snow in winter.

  “Ye have me, now let the lass go. She is of no concern to ye other than a well-used whore,” Rylan said showing little attention to Fallon.

  “And why would we do that?”

  “I dinna
think ye know what fortune has come upon ye this day. I am the Highland mercenary known as the Wolf.”

  “The Wolf? I heard there is a reward of forty silver on your head.”

  “I heard a hundred,” the other one added.

  “Well there ye have it. Release her and I will go wit’ out a fight. Surely, a reward of one hundred silver is worth more than this unfit tramp.”

  Rylan held his breath as the leader of this small pack of swine nodded his head. Silently, he sighed in relief.

  “Get the carriage and chain him,” the black-haired man instructed.

  Rylan turned to Fallon. Her eyebrows were drawn together, her brow pleated between them, and her head tilted slightly to the right. Clearly, she was not the whore he made her out to be, but it was the only way to cause the guards to lose interest in her.

  “I suggest ye go back to Amery Hall where ye came from. And speak of this to no one,” Rylan proposed, hoping she would understand his hidden message.

  “It will be alright,” he whispered so only she could hear.

  The guard nudged between them and pushed Fallon to the ground. Pain struck her shoulder as she hit the hard ground. Rylan looked at her with concern in his eyes. There was nothing he could do. Holding his wrists out, let the tall, lanky guard cuff him in iron.

  “No, no, please no!” Fallon cried out.

  She needed Rylan to find her son. She could not do it on her own, and Braeden would be lost to her forever.

  Kneeling helpless on the ground, she wept, begging the guards.

  “Please have mercy.”

  But they ignored her pleas. Tossing Rylan into the wooden carriage, a man followed in behind him as the other two climbed to the platform and began to drive away.

  Fallon could barely make out Rylan’s face as he peered out the window of the carriage. Their eyes locked until the carriage turned down the road, leaving Fallon in the dark woods, alone.

  Amery Hall, he said. The abbey? Why did he suggest she go there, and in the opposite direction of all places? Regardless of his reasons for sending her there, Braeden was at Falstone, and that was exactly where she was going! What good would going to the abbey do her? It most certainly would not bring back her son. Nor would it save him. Was the man daft? What was she supposed to do there, pray?

  Chapter 14

  The castle had not aged from what Rylan recalled, though a few windows were broken and the stairwell to the entrance had been expanded and modified.

  As Rylan stepped on the platform of the bridge, a chill crawled down his spine. Auld Blackwell would be rolling in his grave had he known the young lad he had once banished from this place was returning. Rylan had sworn he would never return to this place, but here he was, standing in the same spot from which he left.

  “Keep it moving,” the lanky guard demanded, whom the others referred to as Bonny.

  Rylan followed behind Bonny and the other two guards walked closely behind Rylan. His heavy iron chains scraped along the wooden platform; his ankles and wrists bound.

  Passing many of the servants, some looked at him in disgust, while others looked on in pity. Two of people carrying large buckets of excrement dumped them into the river. The foul odor filled Rylan’s nostrils and nearly made his stomach churn as a bout of nausea reached the back of his throat. Along with other pungent odors, rotting limbs hung high upon the castle walls and heads were mounted on stakes, their eyes plucked out by crows.

  And they call us Highlanders savage! Rylan thought to himself as he saw strips of tattered plaid hanging from the limbs.

  As the guards led Rylan towards the guard towers and crossed through the castle gate, the sights and smells changed. Merchants, peasants and lawmakers filled the narrow passageways between the small buildings. Loud thuds could be heard over the commotion of the blacksmiths hammering away, and a friar preached in the street to a small gathering of people.

  What was once a small town had grown exponentially and prospered since Rylan had last seen it. As they neared the keep, master masons were busy finishing a newly constructed wall.

  As the guards led Rylan to the door of the keep to await Lord Blackwell’s summons, he glanced up the tower wall as a face appeared in the window.

  Nathanial.

  Though Rylan was not acquainted with the man, he was the very image of his father.

  Jerking at his iron chains, the guards yanked Rylan up the staircase and inside the great hall. Walking towards the dais, Rylan spotted a man with dark black hair sitting in a high-backed chair with red velvet padding. The light from a nearby candle shimmered off his damp hair and sweat glistened off his bare chest. Behind him, a young red-headed maiden stood, her dress barely clinging to her shoulders. It was obvious the interruption had annoyed the man greatly. As for the lass, she appeared grateful.

  “My Lord, we apprehended this man wandering north of your lands. We have reason to believe he is the outlaw we have been searching for.”

  “There are far too many Scottish outlaws to remember them all. Who are you?” he asked directing his attention to Rylan.

  “I am Rylan Arnett of Clan MacKay,” he proudly responded.

  “The Wolf? So, you really do exist,” he said with a grin. “With your reputation, it seems improbable that these two dim-witted fools captured you so easily.”

  “Perhaps ye overestimate me.”

  “Perhaps, but with a warrant on your head, it seems foolish to allow yourself to become captured unless you have come here thinking you would gain something.”

  “I am no’ here to entertain ye. Or answer yer questions. I am here fer the boy.”

  “Young Braeden? I see. So Lady Sutherland was helping you,” he said, pacing the floor. “And if I may so kindly ask, what value does the boy have to you?”

  “I made a vow to his mother.”

  “Lady Sutherland, the clever wench. She even had me fooled. That doesn’t surprise me in the least.”

  “Why do ye call her Sutherland when her name is Fallon Montgomery?”

  “Is that what she told ye? Well, I do hate to be the bearer of disappointment, and you have come such a long way, but I am afraid you are a fool to trust the woman, and I have no intention of letting the boy go.”

  She’d lied to him? Sutherland was the family name of his clan’s enemy, and she knew it the whole time. She had deceived him.

  “Fallon will be punished. I can assure you. Helping a known traitor, under normal circumstances, would result in death. I have been more than kind.”

  “Then why punish the boy?”

  “Punish? Is that the type of man you think I am, that I would harm the little whelp? I assure you that Braeden has not been harmed.”

  “Then I demand to see him.”

  “I don’t think you are in any position to make demands. And besides, I don’t think you have anything to offer, though I have been told that the bounty on your head is rather generous.”

  “I can assure ye that I have something ye would be verra interested in.”

  “And what would that be, Scot? Coin? As you can see, I have plenty.”

  “Nay. What I have I promise ye is worth its weight in gold.”

  “I shiver with anticipation. So, tell me, what could you possibly have that I want?”

  “First, the lad.”

  Nathanial tapped his fingers on the table as he contemplated Rylan’s request.

  “Since you have managed to spark my curiosity, I will allow it. Bring the boy,” he ordered.

  Two by two, the guards shuffled out the door. The room was silent a moment while Nathanial stared daggers at Rylan, silently judging him. Rylan felt no regard for Nathanial or his level of authority. He was nothing more than a crooked-nosed knave.

  Soon, a guard returned with Braeden in tow. Braeden gasped. Rylan was pleased to see a huge smile on the lad’s face as he ran to Rylan’s side.

  Wrapping his arms around Rylan, Braeden whispered, “I knew ye would come fer me.”

  Rylan fe
lt a pinch in his chest.

  “Are ye alright, lad?” he asked, as he searched the lad for injury.

  “Aye. I am fine. Did me mum come wit’ ye?”

  “I am afraid no’.”

  “Why are ye in iron? Are we no’ leaving?”

  Rylan knelt down so that he was face to face with the young boy.

  Out of earshot of Nathanial, Rylan whispered, “Listen to me laddie, the first chance ye get, ye run and dinna stop. Ye are gonna get out of this place, and I promise ye will be safe.”

  “What about ye?”

  “Dinna ye worry about me. My only concern here is ye and yer safety.”

  “But I want ye to come wit’ me. Ye can live wit’ me and my mum and can protect us. I dinna want to leave wit’ out ye,” he explained as tears filled the young lad’s eyes.

  Rylan swallowed. He knew the hard truth, but how to tell that to a child?

  “I will no’ be leaving here, Braeden. Ye must stay strong. Ye are a Scot, which means that ye have the blood of the brave and the worthy. And no one can take that away from ye. I want ye to take this,” he said, removing his Protectors medallion and placed it in Braeden’s palm.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a symbol of honor and trust.”

  “Will ye no’ need it?”

  “Nay, lad. No’ where I am going.”

  Braeden’s jaw fell open and tears fell from his eyes.

  “They mean to kill ye, dinna they?”

  Rylan nodded. Braeden lowered his head and wept. Rylan was taken aback by the young lad’s compassion. All his life, he’d known he would have an early death, but not once in his imagination did he expect anyone to cry over his demise. Now a young, innocent boy stood in tears. Was this what it was like to have someone blindly care for him? It appeared his death would not be in vain after all.

  Placing his hand under the boy’s chin, he raised his head so their eyes met.