Highland Warrior

by McCollum, Heather

  A small group of Robert’s men had come up to the three cottages yesterday, but Kára’s people had a routine they would play out when strangers came near. Three small families would show themselves above. The rest of the Hillside families would stand on guard quietly in the underground dwellings with shocks of barley laid against the doors to hide them. They had hidden this way for as long as Kára could remember, using the dwellings of the ancient Orkney inhabitants. Children huddled together. Mothers desperately keeping their babes hushed. Fathers and sons holding what weapons they had.

  When Joshua had emerged after Robert’s men rode away, he stood watching them all come out looking like frightened rabbits, silent and spying about for danger. He’d started working with her warriors that day, including Geir. Even Osk had begrudgingly decided that what Joshua had to say was worth his time.

  He has a book on war, Osk had told her, a look of admiration in his eyes. ’Tis in French, but he can read it. Hopefully, some of the information in it would make them strong enough to stand against Robert, his sons, and the whole bloody crown of Scotland. “Dammit,” she murmured.

  If they kept growing in size, however, they would need to dig out more underground homes or split into groups, living apart. Her uncle, Erik Flett, had brought the issue up at the last council meeting where the elders gathered to discuss the ongoing threats to their people.

  The pressure of grief grew behind her eyes. She wished they could go into Robert’s palace and free Erik as easily as they had Hilda. He was a good leader, even if he was stubborn. But he would be guarded there, if he was still alive. And like every leader of their group, Erik had made them swear not to endanger themselves to save him. All efforts were to save the family as a whole. The group would not try to rescue her if she were taken, either. Direct confrontation with Robert had led only to their deaths, which was why she needed Joshua. If anyone could change the balance of power in their favor, it was the Highlander who was built to win wars.

  “If Joshua will not lead us in a battle against him, at least he is teaching us to defend ourselves,” Brenna said, stroking her babe’s swaddled back. “We will go on hiding and surviving.” She smiled reassuringly. “It is what we do.”

  Kára pushed up off the pillows, pulling in a fast breath through her nose. “I want more for us.” She looked at Brenna. “I want us to stand together out in the open without worrying someone will see us and attack. I want your lad to laugh loudly and roll down the grassy hills with the other children without having to constantly look over his shoulder for Robert’s patrols.” She ran a hand down her face. “I want our people to hunt and raise livestock without fear of them being stolen by men who have riches and luxuries.” She exhaled long. I would die to keep my people safe and living with their dignity, she thought.

  Kára squeezed Brenna’s leg through her smock and robe as she lay on the bed. “I will convince Joshua to lead us against Robert. I must. If we do not act now, as Robert’s children grow—”

  “Like that pig, Henry.”

  “Aye.” Kára sighed. “There will be no freedom for us if they continue to live and rule this isle.” As Brenna tipped the sleeping babe from her breast and covered herself, Kára touched the wee babe’s head gently, marveling in the little movements of his lips as he slumbered. “I do not want to live always in shadows,” she whispered. “And I do not want you to live in them, either.”

  “If we must, we must,” Brenna whispered, meeting Kára’s gaze. “And there are plenty of shadows on Orkney.”

  The outer door opened and closed, and heavy footfalls came to the bedchamber door. Calder poked his head in, saw his sleeping son, and smiled broadly. “Full and sleepy?”

  “Aye,” Brenna said and smiled. Since Calder had married her, Brenna had been smiling nearly all the time. Thank God, the man had finally committed. Was it the fear of losing her that had brought him around?

  Calder walked into the room with a wooden cradle. Brenna crossed her arms over her son’s back so that he lay completely against her. “I am not putting him in that to sleep. He will always sleep right here on me.”

  “As long as you want,” Calder said, setting it down. He lifted a dagger and Bible out of it. “To protect wee Joshua?” The name was a question, and he waited.

  Brenna nodded, glancing at Kára before going back to Calder. “Aye, wee Joshua.”

  Calder grinned and nodded. “I have left the dagger and Bible in the cradle since he was born, and we will lay them underneath it to protect him when you are ready to set him inside.”

  “Not until he is christened,” Brenna said.

  “Tomorrow morn, and we’ve already wet his head and given him a nip of whisky for luck,” Calder said.

  Kára rolled out the side of the bed. “I am going to wash and see if Amma needs help preparing the blide-maet meal for those coming to meet little Joshua.”

  Calder looked at her, his smile fading. “I forgot to say, Torben is looking to talk with you as soon as you emerge from Brenna’s nest.”

  Kára puffed her cheeks out with her exhale, bracing herself for another of his long explanations of why she must marry him. With Joshua at Hillside, the man seemed even more determined to win her for himself despite her refusals.

  Kára walked out the door into the muted sun of late morning. Orkney was headed into the dark season of winter. Usually, that meant less aggression from Robert, but now Kára wasn’t sure of anything after rescuing Hilda and Broch.

  She spotted a group of men standing on the upside of the hill and walked toward them. The clergyman from Scotia stood, watching the gathering. She had seen him talking quietly with Joshua after the birth. Was he trying to convince Joshua to return with him?

  Her heart pounded a little harder when she saw Joshua standing in the middle of the group, opposite Osk. Where her brother was still thin in muscle, Joshua was a mountain of strength, twice his size.

  Before she could get close enough to hear, Torben walked out of one of the three up-ground cottages. “Kára,” he called, striding toward her.

  She kept her eyes turned toward the group. “Torben,” she said. At one time she had considered marrying him, especially with Brenna pressing her to find another husband so they could have their babes together. But when her friend became pregnant without a wedding, she hadn’t pressed so hard.

  “You are allowed out from Brenna?” he asked.

  “Calder is with her and Joshua.”

  “Joshua?” The word came out like a curse. “What is he doing with them?”

  She glanced at Torben. He was handsome, with light-colored hair and strong features, his strength built up with the strain of daily living and farming off their rocky land. He used to laugh often but not recently. “Brenna named the babe Joshua.”

  Torben rolled his eyes. “The Sinclair is not our savior. He is selfish, cocky, and will not help us.”

  She stared out toward the group and captured a strand of hair that continued to blow across her eyes, tucking it behind one ear. “To Brenna, Joshua Sinclair is her savior for bringing Hilda and holding her up during a difficult birth. And…” She gestured down the hill. “He seems to be helping us.”

  Torben looked out and crossed his arms. “But he will not lead us to lay siege to the Earl’s Palace and Robert. Nor to kill Henry or Patrick or The Brute. He fears King James’s reaction.”

  It was hard to imagine Joshua Sinclair afraid of anything. “Not fear but prudence guides him, Torben. There is a difference.” She held up her hand when he tried to argue. “And I have not yet given up swaying him.”

  “That is part of the bloody problem,” he mumbled. “I do not like you around him. He is dangerous.”

  She squeezed his arm. The two of them had grown up together, and even though she had never become very fond of him because of his caustic remarks and judgmental slander, he was a part of their extended family. �
�Thank you for your worry, but we want him dangerous. It rather goes along with him being the Horseman of War.”

  “Horseman of War?” He snorted. “I do not see him connected to God in any way. The devil more like it.”

  She sighed, crossing her arms. “Torben, we will never marry,” she said, switching topics to the likely underlying cause of his disdain.

  He captured her arms, leaning in. “We could be so happy together. I could help you lead our people. My mother would be so joyful.” His look was intense, but she saw no love in them.

  Kára narrowed her eyes. “Your mother would be joyful?”

  “Aye,” he said, looking past her as if looking for the sour woman. “She talks of nothing except our people seeking revenge against the Stuarts for all they have done to us. If we were to wed, she would have something happy to focus upon.”

  Kára sighed. “Do not wed to bring your mother happiness.” She shook her head. “It should be for your happiness.”

  His eyes widened. “I would be happy, too, of course.”

  She would not be happy, but that did not seem to matter to him. Kára glanced toward the men working with Joshua. “I wish to hear what they are saying,” she said and pulled away to traipse down the hill. Torben cursed, turning to go back into the house.

  The wind whipped tall grasses around her boots as she strode closer until she could hear the deep rumble of Joshua’s voice. “Ye need to use your opponent’s attack against them,” Joshua said. “So, if I come at Osk…” He took two steps forward, a wooden training sword in hand. “What should he do?”

  “Run,” one of Osk’s friends yelled, which made the younger men laugh and the older ones smile. But Osk did not let down his guard. He kept his gaze on Joshua, his feet braced apart and his training sword ready.

  “I anticipate which way you will strike and watch for signs in your body as you near,” Osk said over the rabble.

  “Aye.” Joshua took another step forward. He turned his hips slightly and moved as if time had slowed. “I am swinging which way?”

  Osk nodded to his right hip. “You will swing with strength from that side.”

  “And what will ye do?”

  The young warrior wet his lips as if nervous but then pursed them. “Strike in the middle when you pull back to strike.”

  “Go ahead,” Joshua said.

  He slid his sword forward as Joshua brought his sword upward to slice down and across. Joshua turned his hips more so that Osk’s sword missed his middle and Joshua could bring his own weapon down across her brother’s shoulders, back, or neck.

  Kára’s throat tightened at seeing how vulnerable her brother was. Were all of Robert’s warriors trained so well? Of course they were. Joshua had trained them himself.

  Joshua backed away from her brother, and Osk turned red in the face.

  “That is a move most men would make,” Joshua said. “And it could work if your enemy does not anticipate the forward attack and turns so your strike brushes by them.”

  Joshua nodded to Osk. “Again.” Osk took up his stance. “Instead of going for my middle, knowing my body weight will be swinging this way…” He slowly showed his sword swiping across again. “Turn your body so my weight throws me off-balance.” The two came together, but this time Osk twisted out of the way as Joshua brought his sword over to slice him. “Keep going,” Joshua called.

  Osk turned where he could bring his sword down on Joshua’s unprotected back.

  “Good,” Joshua said and then looked at the men before him. “Instead of always going in for the attack, use the enemy’s own weight and speed against them. Get out of the way. Let them fall off-balance and then strike.” Many of the men nodded, their faces grim but focused.

  Corey called out, “Form two lines across from one another. We will pair off and practice.”

  Joshua’s gaze stopped on Kára where she stood at the base of the hill. He handed the wooden sword to Geir and strode toward her. He had removed his furs and cloak and still looked big, his broad shoulders supporting all the muscle that he’d built upon his frame. He walked the distance effortlessly, his power propelling him to her. Lord! She should have washed and brushed her hair before coming up.

  “All is well?” he asked, stopping before her, close, so very close.

  “Yes,” she said. “I was going to wash and change. Calder is with Brenna.”

  He nodded. “And the wee bairn?”

  “Still strong and nursing like a hungry lad.”

  The side of Joshua’s lush mouth turned upward in a grin, showing the edge of his white teeth. In the daylight, she could see the darker flecks of blue in the lightness of his eyes. They were different than any she’d seen before and seemed to pull her into their depths like pale blue whirlpools. With her own eyes being a grayish blue, would their children have blue eyes?

  Kára looked past him toward the gray ocean, heavy clouds seeming to reach down to the surface. “They have named the babe Joshua,” she said and looked back to him.

  His grin faded, his brows bending inward.

  “Because of your efforts to bring him safely into this world,” she added.

  “I was but one helper,” he said, and she could not tell from his tone if he were angered or stunned by the gesture.

  She shrugged, tucking a wildly dancing strand of hair behind her ear. “I am sure if the babe were a girl, they would have named her Kára or Hilda or Harriett. Not many men are strong enough to keep on their feet in a birthing chamber.” Calder surely had not.

  Joshua rubbed his fingers through his loose, shoulder-length hair, scratching his head. “I had always thought women were strong, but after witnessing what Brenna endured, I know it firsthand now. I have rarely seen such endurance and courage in men.” He looked toward where Geir practiced against Osk. “Was your birthing as difficult?”

  “No,” she said. “Geir came early, so he was small and came properly headfirst.”

  He looked at her. “Early?”

  She nodded, watching her son, the tightness of worry digging its claws into the old familiar wounds from nine years ago. She swallowed, keeping her gaze away from Joshua. “He came a month early, and we worried he would not live. But look at him now.” She smiled against the sadness that pressed on her.

  “What makes a bairn come early?” Joshua asked, turning to stand next to her and watching Geir, both their gazes outward.

  “It could be poor nutrition, something wrong with the babe, an illness in the mother. Or…a fright to the mother can bring on labor early.”

  “What type of fright?” Joshua asked, his voice low.

  Images moved behind Kára’s eyes. Unbidden, the memories welled up as if needing to be released or threaten to cut her in an effort to escape the tight hold she kept on them. “Seeing one’s unarmed husband slaughtered.” She turned to meet his gaze. The sight of Joshua, so strong and invincible, pushed the nightmarish memories back, breaking up the pictures until they were just words again. “And being stolen away by the murderer while the father of your child bleeds out on the ground.”

  “Kára,” Joshua murmured, his gentle grip on her arm pulling her around to face him. “Who did this?”

  “Henry Stuart,” she answered. “By the time he wrestled me off his horse back at the Earl’s Palace, my water had broken.” It was the mess that had kept the monster from raping her.

  She took a deep breath. “Lord Robert scolded him and made him turn me out of the gate to walk home. Geir was born later that night.” There was a long pause.

  “What was your husband’s name?” he asked, his voice soft.

  Even though she faced him, Kára looked straight ahead at Joshua’s muscular chest, her gaze resting on the exposed tanned skin where the tunic tied. “I named Geir after his father.” She glanced up to meet his pale eyes that held strength and anger instead of pity.
They were easier to look at without pity in them. “So there would be a Geir on Orkney, and I swore to bring him up to be strong and able to protect those he loves.”

  “I am sorry, Kára,” Joshua said. “I am glad your son has grown strong.”

  “Train him to use a blade well.” She tipped her head upward to stare into his beautiful eyes. “Please.” She let her desperation fill the word, releasing a bit of the emotion she kept locked inside. The memories had weakened her, and Kára turned away before Joshua could make her crumble with another denial.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Bravery without forethought causes a man to fight blindly and desperately like a mad bull.”

  Sun Tzu – The Art of War

  “Protected under the name of God,” Pastor John said, pouring the water onto wee Joshua’s head as Brenna held him. Calder quickly dried it, the two parents smiling broadly as the young pastor announced that the bairn was now christened and under God’s protection from evil.

  Joshua stood across from Kára in the crowded room under the earth. Please. Kára’s simple entreaty shot over and over through Joshua’s mind as his gaze traveled over the villagers of Hillside who had gathered. They were good people. Honest, helpful to one another, and hard workers. They deserved respect and a good life, a life away from Robert Stuart.

  But Kára ignored any suggestion that her people move away from Orkney. Joshua could understand her resistance. He missed his home at Girnigoe Castle on the northern part of Scotland in Caithness and would die defending it and his family. He would be there with them now except that remorse for equipping Robert’s men with deadly skills kept him on Orkney. Remorse and…Kára Flett.

  His gaze rested on her where she stood, straight and proud, her long, pale tresses cascading in curls down her back. Someone had tied ribbons in her hair, a simple decoration that held part of the silky mass, plaited and encircled on her head like a crown. She wore a straight blue wool gown, the bottom embroidered with flowers and birds. It reminded him of the costumes of the ancient Norse who had inhabited the isle, straight and simple. Two brooches sat over her shoulders, wrought in looped designs in silver. Even without a crown of gold, she resembled a queen.