Her Highland Protector (Scottish Highlander Romance)

by Barbara Bard

  Smaller tables joined the larger, then there was nothing else they could do.

  Dashing into the bedroom, Myra gazed down into the bailey, still brightly lit, but with no Scottish warriors down there she could scream to for help. Wondering if they might climb down the sheer wall, she discovered that was not an option – the stones were smooth with no hand or footholds.

  In the main room, the oak door splintered under the impact of the ram. Wheeling, Myra and Idina spun to face their attackers who still had the bar to contend with.

  “No matter what happens,” Myra said. “I’m glad you’re my friend.”

  “We wi’ sell our lives dearly,” Idina said, meeting her gaze. “We die as warriors.”

  Myra embraced her quickly, then drew a deep breath, preparing herself for battle.

  The bar broke under the battering, fell to the floor. Men cursed as they grunted, pushing the remains of the door against the piled furniture. Though it did not stop them for long, Myra knew the stacked tables and chairs bought Idina and herself a few precious minutes. Fear fluttered in her belly, but her heart remained firm.

  “Stand your ground,” she muttered. “Stand your ground.”

  Primshire burst into the room, his sword in his hand. His soldiers spilled into it, spreading out, five of them. A small enough number to get into the castle undetected, Myra recognized.

  “Greetings, fair Myra,” Primshire said with a tiny bow. “You cost me a great deal of trouble you know. Put down your knife and come with me now.”

  Myra saw the deep scar on his cheek where she had cut him, and grinned. “No.”

  Primshire sighed. “Very well. I have very little time, so I will kill you quickly and go. Pity your red-haired friend isn’t here. I wanted so much to use him to get my horses back.”

  “Her friend be here.”

  Greer charged into the room, his sword high. Without hesitation, he slammed into the small line of soldiers, killing one with a savage blow to his head with the edge of his steel. Behind him, Jared, Gavin and two more clansmen ran into the room, and engaged the Primshire men-at-arms. They fought back, sword to sword, grunting, cursing, hacking at one another. Greer made Primshire his target, wielding his sword with savage strokes as Primshire held his ground, fighting with both hands on the hilt of his blade.

  Myra held her breath as the two struck at one another’s steel, sparks showering where blade met blade, neither one able to get past the other’s guard. Behind them, Jared killed his man with a savage stab to the soldier’s chest, then slashed another man across the neck with the edge.

  “Idina!” he yelled.

  Idina glanced wildly from him to Myra. Myra shoved her hard. “Go!”

  “Ye come wi’ me.”

  “Idina!”

  “Go with him,” Myra commanded, shoving her again.

  Idina ran toward Jared, dodging the fighting men, leaping bodies on the floor, into the safety of Jared’s arms. Gavin still fought his soldier, the two clansmen down on the bloody floor, clutching their wounds to slow their bleeding. Jared shoved Idina out the door, then yelled for Myra. “Come oan.”

  Greer stumbled to the floor on his back, his left leg bleeding, useless, unable to rise, his sword spinning from his grip. Screaming his triumph, Primshire raised his blade high over his head, the tip ready to plunge deep into Greer’s heart.

  Myra didn’t blink. She didn’t think. Charging in, her dagger ready, she savagely sliced her dagger across the back of his knee.

  Primshire shrieked, stumbling, trying to stand, to still slay Greer who seized his sword back into his grasp. With both hands on the hilt, Myra snarled, and buried the blade deep into Primshire’s back.

  Lunging up like a snake, Greer plunged his sword into Primshire’s lower gut, tearing his belly wide open. Staggering away, blood spilling down his thighs, Primshire waved his own, turning to strike Myra down. Greer, rolling forward onto his knees, slashed Primshire’s healthy leg out from under him. The Earl fell, still screaming, helpless. With a wild yell, Greer plunged his sword into Primshire’s throat.

  Myra stared down as the Earl of Primshire gurgled his last breath, his hands at his gaping neck. His dying eyes met hers briefly. Then his head fell back, his body shivered once, and then grew still. The man who tried to kill her, her mortal enemy, lay dead at her feet.

  The sound of running boots and Greer’s swearing forced her eyes from the dead man at last. “Greer.”

  She and Jared fell to their knees beside Greer, who sank back to sit, his hands holding his wounded leg. He grinned up at her. “Me fierce falcon wi’ the heart o’ a lion.”

  “How badly are you hurt?” she asked, fearing he would bleed to death. She knew how easily leg wounds could drain a man.

  “Ach,” Jared said, peering down at the wound. “If I can stop the bleeding, he be fine.”

  With her dagger still in her hand, Myra cut a length of cloth from her skirt. “Use this.”

  Sheathing her dagger, Myra held Greer’s hand, still fearing for his life.

  Primshire cannot succeed even after his own death.

  Greer yelped as Jared tightened the cloth over the cut in his thigh. “Shut yer mouth, this be but a scratch,” Jared ordered.

  After Jared tied off the knot, Greer jerked his head toward the other room. “Tend tae them.”

  “Right.”

  Jared rose from his knees, and trotted into the anteroom. Myra stroked Greer’s scarred cheek, smiling. “You saved my life. Again.”

  “I expect I did,” Greer replied, taking her fingers. “I must ask ye something before I lose me nerve.”

  “Ask me what?” Myra gazed down at his bound leg, trying to determine of his bleeding was slowing or not, distracted.

  “Wi’ ye marry me, Myra?”

  Stunned, she gazed into his face. “What?”

  His fingers tightened on hers. “Marry me and make me the happiest o’ men.”

  She observed the tension in his face, and recognized that it was not all from the pain of his wound. He feared her rejection. But her annoyance took control of her mouth.

  “You are asking me now?” she snapped, “while you’re bleeding all over the floor?”

  “Aye. I hae tae.”

  “Well, you certainly aren’t the romantic sort.” Myra sat back and stared at him, at his growing smile, and the love in his green eyes. She grinned, feeling her irritation pass, and her love for him grow. “Yes, Greer, I will marry you.”

  Pulling her to him, he kissed her slowly, deeply. Then he gazed into her eyes. “Good. Nae I can cease frettin’ o’er ye sayin’ nay.”

  Myra snorted. “You’re a fool if you thought that I could ever say no to marrying you.”

  “Tae many warriors would hae tae wife,” he said, “but now ye be mine, me wee falcon.”

  “When you learn to fly,” Myra replied with a grin. “I just hope you can keep up.”

  Epilogue

  After Sondra stitched and bound the long gash on his thigh, Greer was bedridden for only a few days before he was determined to be up and putting weight on it. With the aid of a walking stick, he limped his way into the bailey with Myra at his side. In the bailey, he found Kerr, Leith, Jared, and Gavin, his own cut stitched.

  Kerr glanced up as they approached. “Ye supposed tae be up and aboot, lad?” he asked.

  “I dinnae care. I hae tae keep it movin’ or it nae heal right.”

  Kerr grunted. “As long as ye be here, I just received a message from the Primshire seneschal, Lord Buckston.”

  “And?”

  “He done buried Primshire wi’ his ancestors, and the men we killed, and at me suggestion, he did a wee bit o’ snooping.”

  Greer glanced at Myra, confused. “What kind of snoopin’?”

  “Evidence that the Earl be the murderer o’ Scottish lasses. He wrote tae tell me what he found.”

  “Are you going to tell us or do we have to torture you first?” Myra demanded.

  Kerr and Leith lau
ghed. “He done discovered the corpses of the Duchess o’ Greenbriar and her maid in the Primshire Castle dungeons,” Kerr said, still grinning.

  Greer knew he jaw went slack, and Myra’s eyes went round. “No,” Myra gasped. “He killed his lover?”

  “Aye, that he did. They both died the same way our lasses did, tortured first. It be clear now that Primshire be the one who murdered them all, even the dead in England. The peasant he hanged be innocent, ye ken. Now Buckston wi’ inform the King o’ England fer certain that the Earl be the guilty one.”

  “King Robert should also be told,” Leith added, “’afore he makes war oan Edward.”

  “Aye, I wi’ send a messenger tae Robert.”

  Greer finally shut his jaw. “What wi’ happen tae the Primshire lands?”

  Kerr shrugged. “The King may give them tae a loyal noble, as the Earl be dead and a criminal. Or he may permit Primshire’s nearest blood tae inherit.”

  “We should sneak across the border and steal more stock,” Gavin added with a smirk. “While nae one be in charge.”

  “That nae be a bad idea,” Greer replied and grinned.

  Kerr shrugged. “Perhaps.” He glanced at Myra. “But we hae a wedding tae plan dae we nae? Fiona would rip me head off if we dinnae begin preparations to get these two married.”

  Myra snuggled under Greer’s arm. “He finally asked, which is all I wanted. We can take our time, maybe be married in a few months. And I want Lilibet to come.”

  Greer frowned, puzzled. “Who that be?”

  “The Primshire head housekeeper,” Myra answered with a poke to his ribs. “She raised me, is like my mother.”

  “Ach, aye, of course she should come.”

  “Maybe now that Primshire is gone, I can go see her?” Myra gazed up at him. “Please? I do miss her.”

  Greer glanced at Kerr, who shrugged and nodded. “Peaceful travel across the border be permissible,” he replied. “I be wagering that Buckston be in charge fer a while, and if he be agreeable, I be.”

  “Then as soon as your leg is healed enough,” Myra said to Greer, “I want to go. I want you to meet her.”

  “Then I expect I be headed sooth o’ the border in broad daylight fer a change.”

  His attention was caught by the sight of Fiona and Idina crossing the bailey toward them. Just as Myra had, Idina wriggled her way under Jared’s arm, her arm sneaking around his waist.

  “I think we have two weddings to plan,” Myra said, her tone dry. But her lips smiled.

  “Aye,” Jared replied with a grin. “She finally agreed tae marry me. It took a bit of doing.”

  “And a threat from me to never speak to her again,” Myra sniffed. “Bloody stubborn Scots.”

  “Nosy Sassenach wenches,” Idina replied, smiling faintly

  Fiona lifted her brow. “These two be friends or nae?”

  “Only the best of,” Myra answered, “but sometimes friends have to give their friends a little push.”

  “A shove more like,” Idina snapped.

  Greer glanced at Jared. “Ye understand that?”

  “Nae a word.”

  “It dinnae matter,” Fiona went on, eyeing both lasses sternly. “We hae two weddings tae plan, and we best get tae them. Come, Myra, Idina, we hae work tae dae.”

  Standing on tiptoe, Myra brushed a quick kiss across Greer’s lips. “I will see you soon.”

  “I wi’.”

  Watching the three of them walk across the bailey, a question occurred to Greer. “I ne’er got a straight answer, Da. How did Primshire get his men intae the castle?”

  “We found his horses tied in the hill just beyond the outer wall,” Kerr replied. “They sneaked in the way Myra sneaked oot, staying tae the shadows, outta sight o’ the guards oan the ramparts, then intae the bailey. Yer Maw hae rounded up the servants intae the hall and barred the doors, sae he had nae resistance.”

  “How did he find the chambers Myra were in?”

  “He been here long ago, lad, when he were a youngling. Ye dinnae remember, as ye were just young. He remembered staying in the guest quarters, ye ken, and ken that where Myra is.”

  Greer shook his head. “How close I came tae telling her tae stay in me own rooms. I wanted her wi’ Idina.”

  “Ye did the right thing, lad. Ne’er forget that.”

  “I wi’ nae.”

  The Extended Epilogue

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  Highlander’s Savior – Preview

  Prologue

  They had been traveling for a while through these dark woods, as they were going to meet Lord Flynn, the man who Rosemary was betrothed to.

  George had suggested that they find a place to lay their head for the night as it was getting too dark to keep traveling. Sarah and Rosemary were talking about Rosemary’s betrothal when another wagon pulled up. Sarah immediately felt that something wasn’t right.

  The wagon was looking strange and suspicious, with men being held in cages and the men that guarded the wagon were cruel to them. Sarah tried to carry on the conversation, but Rosemary was already distracted. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the wagon.

  Rosemary had always been the curious one, always wanting to know everything. Rosemary started to walk towards the wagon, wanting to investigate what was happening and why everything appeared so strange.

  This was the last time Sarah saw her.

  Concerned for her safety, the driver, George told the soldiers that she was indeed Rosemary. Lord Flynn had no reason to doubt them because he had never seen her.

  He took the lie as the truth and now Sarah was saddled with the responsibility of imitating Rosemary. She would be getting married to Lord Flynn just as Rosemary should be. However, Sarah felt ashamed of pretending to be her friend, as she was nothing compared to the beauty and grace that Rosemary carried with her. Her confidence and composure was something that Sarah would never have.

  Sarah wished she was not in this position, but Lord Flynn could never know she was not his bride. He would banish her from the country, or worse, kill her.

  This was a job Sarah had no choice but to carry out and for fear for her life, she hoped she didn’t fail.

  Sarah had not heard anything about the incident since that night. The only information she had was the recount of the bandits who arrived in Lord Flynn’s house the night of her arrival.

  They had been attacked by some Scottish brutes. Sarah was afraid that her friend had been kidnapped by those Highlanders or, even worse, killed.

  Chapter 1

  Sarah slammed the door to her bedchamber, she was breathing hard and fast. She stood still and closed her eyes so she would not collapse. She didn’t know imitating Rosemary would be this difficult, she wished the ground would open up and swallow her. Being so close to Lord Flynn had set her nerves into a frenzy. It wouldn’t be long before he discovered she was a fraud.

  Moving towards the bed, she perched herself on the edge and placed her head in her hands. Soft sobs began to make her body shudder, and warm tears trickled along her palms.

  The whole situation was a mess, and because of her frayed emotions, she was not even able to enjoy the opulent home in which Lord Flynn lived. He was a man of great wealth and evidently had no problem showing it.

  Her chamber was filled with so much luxury and extravagant decoration. The bed had four posts and was ever so comfortable. She could have sworn she was sitting on the cloud. There were artworks hung up on all walls, and ornaments placed on a mantelpiece in front of a huge fire.

  It was as though she had been placed in a dre
am, but this was a dream she wished she could wake up from.

  She knew she had to escape, one way or another. This was not her life, she was ashamed of pretending to be Rosemary, as she did not consider herself worthy. She imagined the punishment that would be meted out to her when the truth came out.

  She would be lucky to just be banished, for she could be thrown into a dungeon and forgotten for the rest of her life. No matter how she looked at it, this wouldn’t end well for her.