Highland Lover: Book 3 Scottish Knights Trilogy (43 page)

Knowing his men would be alert for trouble, Jake said, “I saw many camped on the hillside above the river and others in woods east of the yard, so beware. None will recognize us, so we’ll approach quietly as if we ken nowt o’ them.”

Turning his mount, he led the way up and around through woodland west of the tower. When they rounded the hilltop and the stableyard came into view, he saw many more men gathered there.

Tension filled the air, stirring him to reach back and adjust his sword.

Mace and Ranald had brought him thirty-four men. But if Will had judged aright when he’d seen them in town, Lyle commanded half again as many.

To the two riding behind him, Jake said, “Pass word
back that every man must keep his head and do nowt without my command.”

He could see in the brighter moonlight that things had reached some sort of standoff in the yard. Men who looked like farmers holding rakes, hoes, shovels, and the occasional lance, axe, or pike faced many more men-at-arms. No one moved.

“That’s Mungo… Sir Kentigern,” Ranald murmured. “The one wearing the French breastplate, with his long cloak flung back to show it off.”

The man’s breastplate gleamed like polished silver, an absurdity against farmers, Jake thought. Urging his mount on slowly, he wondered if Mungo’s sword was as well-maintained as his plate and if he would challenge him.

Jake hoped he would.

The man-at-arms who seemed most likely to do so was the only visible man of Mungo’s on horseback. Mungo remained as he was. A younger chap stood beside him, whom Ranald identified as Clyne. Either both men were trying to appear indifferent to Jake and his men or they had mistaken them for someone else’s.

The mounted man, likely Mungo’s captain of arms, rode up to them, saying, “This be private land, sirs. Ye’ve missed your road a half mile back.”

“Sakes,” Ranald said, “who do you think you are?”

Just then, Jake’s sweeping gaze alit on Alyson, nearly out of sight behind Mungo. Two other men flanked her… nay, dared to restrain her.

Aware that Ranald was still speaking, Jake interrupted to say firmly to the captain, “You are the one who errs, sirrah. I am Sir Jacob Maxwell. The lady Alyson is my wife, and this is our land.”

“Seize him,” Mungo said, but the men afoot hesitated.

“You are in the wrong, sir,” Jake said, shifting his gaze to Mungo.

“Dinna come closer, sir, or ye’ll regret it,” the mounted captain said, drawing Jake’s attention swiftly back to assess him.

“I dinna think
I’ll
be the one to regret it,” Jake said softly, challengingly.

The captain whipped out his sword, but Jake was faster. He parried it with a clang, feinted high, and when the captain began to raise his to deflect it, Jake reversed with a twist and sent the other weapon up and away. A farmer, holding a shovel in one hand, snatched the sword out of the air by its hilt with his free hand.

“Dismount and return to your men,” Jake said to the stunned captain, who looked over his shoulder as if trying to understand what had happened.

Turning back to eye Jake defiantly, the man said, “Unless there be more wi’ ye than I see, we outnumber ye by many.”

“We have support,” Jake said, gesturing toward the farmers he assumed to be Alyson’s tenants.

The captain snorted. “A worthless lot. Tried tae pretend tae be an army by sticking shovel handles and such up from yon peat stacks. I’ll admit they looked summat like a company o’ lancers till the moon peeked out o’ the clouds. It turned them right quick from armed men tae peat stacks.”

“We’d give you fierce battle,” Jake said. “But you should hear me out first.” Looking at Mungo, he said, “You are a knight of the realm, sir. So I’ll do you the honor to explain why attacking us would be a grave mistake.”

“ ’Tis yourself be making the mistake,” Mungo snarled. “I act for the Duke of Albany.
He
promised me this land.”

“I heard it a bit differently, but as you are a fellow knight, I’ll accept your version of what he may have said. Forbye, since you claim him for a friend, you should know that he is likewise a friend of mine.”

“Aye, sure, he is,” Mungo retorted with a sneer.

“I’ve known him since my childhood,” Jake said calmly. “Moreover, he believes he is deeply indebted to me. So, I assure you, he will disapprove of your plan to take
any
land from my lady wife.”

“Albany holds himself indebted to nae one. He keeps his word, too. Sakes, I’ll let ye face him for yourself when he comes, as he will shortly. In troth, I’d expected him afore now.”

“He suffered a delay, thanks to news he received this morning,” Jake said. “But he did say he would stay with the Blackfriars, so I suggest you send someone to meet him in town and guide him here. Your man can also take a message from me. Then Albany can decide who is friend and who is not.”

Mungo looked shaken at hearing such news of Albany’s intentions coming from Jake but said staunchly, “I’ll do nae such daft thing. Seize them, lads!”

The swordless captain reached for his dirk, but a gesture of Jake’s weapon persuaded him to hesitate. He glanced at his master.

Jake, too, looked at Mungo, aware of a nervous stirring of men in the yard and those behind him. His own men had put hands to their weapons but would not draw them without his command.

He thought Mungo would see the folly of engaging a
mounted troop with most of his men afoot. Then, hearing noises from the track near the tower, he glanced that way. Mounted men appeared there.

“They are also mine,” Mungo said grimly.

Jake met his gaze. “We should talk privily.”

“Ye’d do better tae surrender. Tell your men tae throw down their arms.”

“I think not,” Jake said.

Reaching behind him, Mungo grabbed Alyson and jerked her forward, drawing his dirk as he did and aiming the point of its blade low between her breasts.

“Do as ye’re bid, sir, or I’ll split her. Then we’ll hang ye as a welcome tae your good friend Albany, who doubtless finds ye as great a nuisance as I do. None will be left then tae debate Niall’s claim tae this land and
mine
.”

Alyson had managed to move enough to see past Mungo. Because she was watching Jake, Mungo’s swift move to grab her had caught her off guard. She’d tried to wrench away, but he was too strong, and now his dirk pricked her just below the joining of her ribs, forcing her back against him out of fear that he might, even inadvertently, pierce through.

Niall shouted at Mungo to let her go, but the point pressed harder.

Mungo shifted away from Niall, still holding her tightly, but Niall grabbed the hand gripping the dirk. Certain that he would not be strong enough to hold it for long, she was terrified that in the struggle, Mungo might kill her.

His left arm was a bar across her upper chest. As they wrestled for control, that arm shifted up nearer her throat.

Sensing that he’d fixed his concentration on Niall, she eased her upper arm free of his fingertips. She heard Jake shout but paid no heed.

The pressure of the dirk’s point eased.

Her right arm slipped free, and the point shifted away. Alyson ducked, jabbed her elbow into Mungo’s midsection as hard as she could, wrenched free, and shot out under his arm. Tripping over his feet—or her own—she fell headlong, and scrambled up in time to see Niall collapse.

“Niall!” Rushing to his side, she shouted at Mungo, “What have you
done
?”

Mungo stood frozen. Then he dropped to a knee beside her. “Niall, lad, look at me,” he begged. “Och, laddie, why did ye interfere?”

“Get away from him, you villain,” Alyson cried as she probed gently but swiftly to find where Niall was wounded.

“Don’t, Allie,” he murmured. “That devilish blade”—he paused, gasping—“it drove straight… into my chest. I’m done.”

“Nay, you’re not!” she cried, slipping an arm under his shoulders and drawing him close, as if she might keep him from dying by force of will.

He gazed at Mungo. “Not your fault, m’ lad,” he muttered. “But… you should not… have threatened… Allie.” On that last word, his voice broke in a rattling sob, and he grew heavier in her arms. Shocked, she recalled her vision, when she had thought the man she held was Jake.

Firm hands gripped her shoulders, and she heard Jake’s voice from a great distance, saying, “He’s gone, love. We’ll look after him now.”

“Nay!” The word exploded from Mungo in a bellow of fury that snapped her back into the moment, in time to see his body fly toward her.

Before she realized that he was leaping at Jake, Jake straightened and his hands left her shoulders, apparently to defend himself against Mungo.

Bending protectively over Niall, she did not see what Jake did. But she heard a sort of thump. Collecting her wits enough to realize that he had done something to send Mungo soaring up and over himself as well as over Niall and her, she looked back to see Mungo crash hard to the ground.

In seconds, Mungo was on his feet, charging Jake again. Trusting Jake’s abilities, Alyson watched confidently as Mungo’s own fury carried him chin-first into Jake’s fist and senseless to the ground.

“Mace, see to him,” Jake said, wincing and cradling his right hand in his left.

Alyson returned her attention to Niall, but Jake had been right.

Niall was dead.

Jake’s hand hurt enough to make him fear he might have damaged it badly. But seeing tears on Alyson’s cheeks banished his physical pain and stirred something new inside.

The image of Mungo holding a dagger to her breast had evoked fear in him unlike any he’d known. That he might have lost her had been bad enough. Seeing her weep over Clyne stirred something that made him feel murderous again until she looked up, her eyes still full of tears but
with a new, soft look on her face that Jake knew she meant for him.

That look sent a glow of warmth through him. But he had no time to savor it.

Shouting for two of his men, he went to her. “Let my lads take him now, love,” he said gently.

“Aye,” she said, letting him help her up. “He tried to protect me, Jake, and it cost him…” Her voice broke.

“I’m grateful to him, sweetheart. ’Tis Lyle who should be dead. In troth, he should be glad he’s unconscious. If he weren’t, I’d kill him.”

She looked at him, her lashes damp and heavy. He knew that she was recalling the night on the
Sea Wolf
when she had thought she’d seen his death.

His own emotions still unstable, he greeted with relief the two men he had summoned. “Take care of him, lads. He may have saved my lady’s life tonight.”

“Will we bury him in the graveyard here?” one of them asked.

Alyson said, “Find my steward and tell him to ask some of our women to prepare Master Niall for burial. They’ll know what to do. We must summon a priest, too, to say words over him.”

“This ’un be coming round, Cap’n,” Mace said of Mungo.

Jake turned and knew that Mungo would make no more trouble.

Getting unsteadily to his feet, the man stared at Niall.

“Niall’s dead then,” he muttered.

“He is, aye,” Jake replied. “Your dirk…”

“I ken fine it was mine,” Mungo said. “I never meant…” He paused and then seemed unable or unwilling to continue.

Watching him, Jake saw that he was truly shaken, even grief stricken.

Glancing at Alyson, he saw similar awareness in her eyes.

Nevertheless, the situation remained precarious.

Mungo said to one of his men, “Fetch my cloak.” When the man handed it to him, he draped it carefully, tenderly, over Niall’s body.

“Jake,” Alyson said, looking beyond him.

He turned and saw that Mungo’s other men had dismounted.

One stepped forward but kept his distance as he said, “If ye’ve got summat tae say tae the Duke o’ Albany, ye’ll soon ha’ the pleasure. The man be a-riding up the hill yonder wi’ a long tail o’ followers.”

“Good sakes, he cannot want to stay here!” Alyson exclaimed.

“He won’t,” Jake said. “I’d wager that he came with a force of men to ensure that Lyle and Clyne would succeed in claiming the land he’d promised them. But he’ll stay with the Blackfriars tonight.”

“You seem sure of that, sir.”