by Caroline Lee
Elana threw herself into her brother’s arms. “Thank ye, Laird!” she sobbed.
Saf was holding out Merrick’s boots when he turned away from the siblings. “Sounds as if ye’ll get the chance to prove yerself, Gavin,” she said, obviously listening to the sounds of battle from below.
“Aye,” his friend growled as he squeezed his sister once more, then set her away from him. “And when I’m through, someone can tell me what the hell happened since I’ve been away. Yer squire has tits, Merrick.”
It was hard to hold onto his grudge, not when battle lust was coursing through his blood. Merrick straightened from pulling on his boots and winked at Saf. “Aye, and fine tits they are.”
He whirled and yanked open the door, just as a breathless Andrew tumbled down the hall. “Laird!” he cried, half-falling into the room. “Lindsay is attacking! What is Gavin doing here? Is that Elana?”
Merrick ignored the lad’s questions. “Andrew, help Nell and Mary round up the bairns. Elana will show ye wherever Corra and the other kitchen lasses are hiding.” He clamped the lad on the shoulder as he steered him toward the nursery. “I’m putting my family’s safety in yer hands, lad.”
Andrew straightened proudly under his laird’s trust. “I’ll no’ let ye down,” he called out as he jogged down the hall.
“Elana, go with them,” Gavin commanded as he ran for the stairs down to the great hall.
Merrick would’ve followed, but there was one thing he needed to do first…
Grabbing Saf’s hand, he pulled her into his arms, holding the back of her head as his lips slammed over hers. The kiss was over in far too few heartbeats, and left his blood pounding.
Or mayhap it was the thought of finally facing Lindsay.
“Hide,” he commanded as he set her away from him. “I have to ken ye’re safe, Saf.”
“Nay.” She shook her head “Nay, I can help.”
“Ye are nae warrior, love,” he said gently, in exasperation, already backing away from her. “Keep yerself safe, Saffy. I mean it.”
She lifted her fingertips to her lips, still clutching the linen coverlet around her. He nodded and left for the battle.
Lindsay’s men were already in the courtyard, and the stables were aflame. Sutherlands swarmed, some panicking to get away, some determined to remove the horses from the fire, some rushing into battle. Shouts and screams and the sound of blades clashing filled the air, which was already hazy with smoke.
Still, when Merrick whirled his sword above his head, he was grinning in anticipation. “Without fear!” he bellowed, knowing his men would recognize the clan rally.
Around him, his warriors took up the cry. “Without fear!”
The Sutherland forces slammed into Lindsay’s men.
Chapter Thirteen
Hide?
It was almost a full minute after Merrick had dashed away that Saffy finally shook herself from the daze his kiss had left her in. He wanted her to hide?
Well, to hell with that!
She ducked back into his chamber and reached for one of his shirts. She dropped the coverlet around her feet, and as she pulled the linen over her head, she was enveloped in his scent. It took a moment to roll up the sleeves so they didn’t dangle over her hands, but there was little she could do for the gaping neckline.
For the first time in a few sennights, she missed her chemise.
Her lips were set in a grim line as she tugged on a pair of Merrick’s too-large braies, and yanked hard on the ties. They would have to do.
Hide?
She might not be a warrior, but she wasn’t going to hide when she could help!
The nursery was near the laird’s chambers. Unfortunately, Nell and Mary were having trouble rousing the sleep-addled children and getting them down the stairs. Andrew was bellowing frantic orders as Mary changed Emma’s swaddling, and Maggie was arguing loudly to be allowed to join the fight.
They’re the children of my heart.
Merrick hadn’t sired this rowdy bunch, but they were most definitely his. And if she was to be his wife—God and Da willing—they’d be the children of her heart, as well.
They already were.
Saffy stepped into the room. “Nolan, put down that sweet roll and hold Beck’s hand. Do no’ let him go, ye understand?” She waited for the solid lad to nod before turning to the next pair. “Eva—aye, ye can bring yer dolly—Adelaide is scared, can ye no’ see?” The older girl scowled at Saf, but when eight-year-old Eva turned to her, she looked afraid. “Yer sister needs ye to hold her hand, Eva. Can ye follow Elana to the kitchens, and help Adelaide?”
Eva clucked sympathetically and reached for her older sister’s hand, Saffy knew she wouldn’t get into any trouble on the way. Turning to Maggie, who seemed a combination of excited and afraid, Saffy offered a calming smile.
“Ye’re a warrior lass, are ye no’?”
“Aye! But this clodheid says I cannae fight with my father’s men!”
She pointed her dagger toward Andrew, causing Mary to frown up at her from where she was finishing up with Emma.
“Andrew is a fine warrior, Maggie, and deserves yer respect.”
“He’s an ignorant—”
“Enough!” bellowed Saf, doing her best impression of Merrick. “Nell, ye have Isobel? Mary, Emma has what she needs?” When both women nodded, Saf gestured to Elana. “Lead the way, please. Andrew, ye scout ahead.”
The young man looked irritated she was giving him instructions, but he nodded in agreement, and slipped out of the room ahead of Gavin’s sister, who was no longer crying at least.
As Nell ushered her charges from the room, Saf turned to Maggie once more. “Ye have yer dirk? Do ye have another?”
The twelve-year-old scowled. “Always,” she growled, and spun to rifle through a small chest by one of the beds.
She pulled out two more daggers and tossed one to Saf, who caught it gingerly and pulled it from its sheath. She tried to mimic the easy way Maggie stood, brandishing the weapon in front of her, but knew she’d failed when the girl smirked.
“Ye’ve been training with Da’s men, have ye no’? Ye look worse than Adelaide does with a weapon!”
“That’s because we’re scholars, she and I,” Saf snapped in return. But she had to admit the girl was right. While she felt better to be armed, she was no warrior.
As Merrick had said.
With a sigh, she re-sheathed the blade and slipped it into the waist of the braies, hidden by the long tail of Merrick’s shirt. At least she wasn’t completely defenseless.
“Aright, wee warrior,” she said as she nudged Maggie out the door after her siblings. “Ye and I are bringing up the rear. Stay low, donae make noise, and have yer dirks ready.”
The girl beamed, obviously thrilled to have responsibility. She nodded once and slipped out the door. Saffy breathed a sigh of relief her manipulation had worked, and followed.
The fighting, so far, seemed confined to the courtyard, which was a good thing. It meant the Sutherlands were holding the enemy warriors. She knew Merrick’s men were fine fighters, but they’d been taken unaware for the most part. How many had Andrew—thanks to Gavin—been able to rouse from the barracks? How many had been in the village with their families, and now were cut off from the keep’s defenses? Was the smoke they could smell from the village, or closer?
Corra and the rest of the kitchen workers were indeed hidden in one of the cellars. Elana helped Andrew lift the heavy hatch and usher everyone down into the darkness. Andrew, taking his responsibility seriously, followed his laird’s family into the darkness, and Saf nodded approvingly.
Before she dropped the door again, Mary looked up and met her eyes in the dim light. “Be safe,” the lass whispered.
Saf nodded again, although she wasn’t sure Merrick’s oldest could see her. Mary’s concern tugged at her chest, and she wanted to hug the girl. “I—I will. Keep everyone quiet.”
“Aye,” came the whispered response
as the hatch closed once more, trapping the servants and children in the darkness.
Saf spent a moment to offer a prayer for their safety.
If the saints were on their side, Merrick and his men would repel the Lindsay warriors, and the bairns would be released soon, no worse for their midnight adventure.
If Lindsay was successful…
Saf shivered. Well, if John Lindsay was successful in wresting the keep from Merrick, it meant they all had problems. He’d take the title of laird.
But that would mean Merrick’s death.
This time, Saf shuddered in true fear. The thought of losing him so soon after they’d truly found one another was abhorrent. Yesterday—had it been only yesterday?—when he’d kissed her in front of his clan, his people had shown their support by cheering. When he’d loved her by the waterfall, he’d shown her his caring.
And when he’d told her his secret, he’d shown her his trust.
They’re the children of my heart.
If she hadn’t loved him before, she did at that moment. The Sutherland Devil was a good man, and she would not lose him.
Especially not before she had the chance to marry him! She wanted a lifetime doing what they’d done last night… A lifetime playing chess and arguing about clan politics and laughing about their faults and learning from one another.
She wanted to bear his children and love his clan. The Sinclairs were her family, aye, and she’d started on this mission to save her clan. But somewhere along the way, finding the missing jewels had become less important than seeing Merrick as the man he truly was.
She loved him.
Saints preserve us!
Abruptly, the knowledge that Merrick could die slammed into her, and Saffy slumped against the door. She could lose Merrick!
Before she truly understood what was happening, her feet had carried her through the great hall and into the armory. The main doors were open, and the noise and smoke from the courtyard was near overpowering.
Pulling the neck of Merrick’s shirt up around her nose and mouth, Saf crept slower toward the exit, watching where she placed her bare feet carefully, until she could see the battle.
When she did, she sucked in a gasp so hard she fell to coughing, then gagging on the smoke. Through streaming eyes, she did her best to guess what was happening, whilst doubled-over.
The stables were fully aflame, which explained the screams of horses and men as they did their best to remove the animals. The courtyard swarmed with men wearing colors she recognized from the ambush a sennight ago, and she swallowed thickly when she realized they outnumbered the Sutherlands.
Her throat hurt from the need to cry out, but she couldn’t. She might not be a warrior, but she understood enough about tactics to know what was going on.
The Sutherlands were losing.
“Without fear!”
The bellow came from the clump of men where the fighting was thickest, and was picked up by far too few throats.
Saf’s cheeks were wet with tears now. She recognized that voice, and understood what it meant when so few answered it.
She was halfway down the steps before a burst of wind swirled through the courtyard, blowing away the smoke long enough for her to see Merrick, his sword flashing in the light from the flames, his face a grim mask.
Merrick!
Had she screamed his name, or just imagined it? Either way, he seemed to hear her.
His blade slashed against the unprotected face of one attacker, and he whirled.
Their eyes met, and she read his lips as much as heard his command.
“Go!”
She shook her head mutely, eyes wide in the face of so much horror and carnage. Leave him? Nay! Her heart would break!
“Saf! Go!”
It was all he yelled before twisting once more to block another sword. He was fighting for his very life, and he’d paused long enough to ensure her safety as best he could.
Saf stumbled backward, her rear end plopping down hard on the steps. In his chambers, he’d said he needed to know she was safe. If he was distracted worrying for her, he wouldn’t protect himself as well as he should. And since she couldn’t protect him, the wise thing would be to follow his orders and allow him to devote his attention to his own defense.
It was logical, even though it hurt her heart to consider it.
Saf scrambled up the steps to the landing, then flipped over and pushed herself to her feet. She would stay safe, for Merrick and his family.
The doors! They were heavy, aye, but mayhap she could close them, delay the attackers a few precious moments.
It took all her strength to unhook them, but the first swung easily enough. She didn’t take the time to appreciate the marvel, however, before rushing for the other side. As she barricaded them, she peered through one of the arrow slits.
Gavin and Merrick were fighting, back to back, moving together the way she’d seen them in training. They were fierce, and somehow graceful, trusting one another to protect them.
Merrick’s expression had turned angry. “Lindsay! Lindsay!” he was bellowing.
And that’s when Saf knew Gavin had been wrong. John Lindsay, despite his promises, had not been leading the attack tonight. He might be here, but he wasn’t fighting.
He was the coward Merrick had always thought.
The Lindsay men surged forward, mayhap emboldened by Merrick’s cry, and Gavin faced two men at once. He didn’t get his sword up quickly enough to block the third, and went down with a blade in his side.
Nausea cramped her stomach, threatening to double her over again, but she forced herself to avert her eyes and breathe through her nose as she barricaded the doors.
If Merrick was going to die in that courtyard, she’d not allow John Lindsay such easy access to the keep.
The bairns and kitchen servants needed to be warned. Choking back her tears, praying frantically, Saf turned and ran.
Even as the roar of battle intensified behind her, she didn’t look back.
Couldn’t.
Couldn’t watch Merrick fall.
A grunt escaped Merrick’s lips when he was thrown on the rush-covered floor in front of the dais. He’d taken more than a few blows in the last minutes; blows to his body, blows to his soul, and now, blows to his pride.
The blood from the slash which had eventually felled him, spilled from his forehead and into his eyes. He knew from the light-headedness that he was losing too much blood, too quickly.
Like so many of his clansmen.
“I have waited a long time for this, brother.”
He’d never met John Lindsay, not in person. But Merrick would’ve recognized that self-assured sneer. It belonged to a man who had his enemy at his feet and was determined to gloat.
To hell with that.
Merrick grunted again as he got his palms beneath him and pushed. There was a burning in one shoulder, which he refused to allow himself to turn to look at. Either it wasn’t bad enough for his attention, or it was. It did not matter; he could do nothing about it now.
Best to concentrate on the coming moments.
He managed to make it as far as his knees before he made the mistake of looking up. His half-brother, clean and untouched by battle, stood on the dais in front of the table where Merrick’s family dined. Lindsay sneered down at him, and Merrick imagined how he must look—bloody, filthy, and defeated.
But at least that meant he’d fought.
“I should’ve…known.” It was difficult to catch his breath. “Known ye were too much of a coward to face me directly.”
Lindsay smirked and stepped from the dais, nodding over Merrick’s head. Before he understood what was happening, Merrick’s arms were grabbed from behind, his head pulled back so Lindsay didn’t have to bend to look him in the face.
“I am facing you directly now.”
Merrick considered spitting, but his mouth was too dry. Gods, had it only been an hour ago he was curled around Saf, secure in the kno
wledge of their future together?
He’d been…happy. Joining with Saf there beside the stream had unlocked something inside of him. Something which had nothing to do with the decade since he’d plunged into a woman, nothing to do with lust.
He’d been happy to hold her, happy to tease her, happy to fall asleep with her in his arms. Happy to know his children were safe, and he’d likely planted another one in Saf’s womb. Happy that she’d be his wife and her bairn his heir.
God’s wounds, but it didn’t seem fair!
Fair?
“Life isn’t fair, little brother.”
Lindsay’s sneering announcement jerked Merrick back to the current catastrophe. Had he known Merrick’s thoughts? Or was he whining about his own situation?
“I should have been Lord Sutherland,” Lindsay was ranting. “My mother was as noble as yours, but Father neglected to mention he was already married when he planted me in her belly. This would have been mine, and you have been downright cruel to ignore my true claim!”
True claim?
“I had no choice but to attack your—our people, you understand. And tonight!” Lindsay whirled, a gleam in his eyes. “Tonight, I have shown you all who deserves to be Lord Sutherland! Not you, a broken and bleeding loser!”
“Nor ye,” Merrick croaked. “A coward who attacks in the night and refuses to face danger.”
Lindsay—Merrick refused to think of him as his brother—peered down at him. Then he took two steps forward, pulled back his hand, and slapped Merrick across the mouth so hard, he tasted blood.
Mayhap the blow wouldn’t have stung so much had Lindsay’s two clansmen not been holding Merrick in place. Of course, if they hadn’t been, he wouldn’t have knelt there and let Lindsay land the blow.
Darkness began to creep into his vision, but Merrick couldn’t shake his head to clear it. He wasn’t sure if the dizziness was from the blow or the blood loss. He remembered how weak Saf had been after her wound—a wound from a Lindsay warrior!—and how she’d allowed him to tend to her.
Too bad she’ll no’ be able to return the favor.
God willing, Saf had followed his order and gotten to safety. He trusted her and Andrew to get the bairns away, to keep them from Lindsay’s hands. Even though they were Lindsay’s own blood—although somewhat further removed than he suspected—the bastard wouldn’t allow any of them to survive to adulthood and challenge his place as laird.
