Highlander's Bride (Heart of the Highlander Series Book 1) (33 page)

Malcolm took the message and dropped it into a
small leather pouch that hung from a drawstring around his neck. He nodded as
he pushed the pouch to the inside of his shirt. "Aye, Alexander. If the
need arises, I'll do as ye ask. But ne'er have I seen a Frenchman who was able
to out fight or outwit a braw Scot." He tapped his chest. "I'll hold
it fer safe keepin', but perhaps I willna return it to ye at all. I'm thinkin'
a lass such as Lady MacGregor, would want to hear it from yer own lips."

Alexander smiled and clapped him on the back.
"'Tis a difficult task it may be to convince her, but I will gladly spend
the rest of my days in the attempt." Sighing, he sat back in the shadows
and waited for his clansmen.

As the moon rose high in the sky, sounds of
mounted riders approached. Alexander nodded silently, then he and Malcolm rode
out toward the noise, staying under cover of the trees along the roadside. When
the men's red and green tartans came into view, he sighed in relief and nudged
Tursachan out into full view. He called out to the man nearest him. "Did
you have any trouble leaving the town?"

The rider shook his head. "Nay. These French
devils take to their homes and drink early. When we left, the streets were as
empty as a cattle pen after the reivers ha' been through. 'Twas nay hard fer us
to slip away."

"Good. Then let us ride. We'll pay our debts
to the bastards who killed Fiona and stole Lady MacGregor, and with God's good
grace, be on our way back to Scotland before the sun rises!" He led his
men to a knoll not far from the manor house. There, Malcolm, two of his men and
he dismounted and silently crept forward to the outer walls surrounding the
dwelling.

The remaining men held the horses, while the
silent foursome scaled the walls. As they lowered themselves to the ground on
the other side, one man mimicked the cry of an owl; the signal they were
inside, and for the rest of the men to take the horses and station themselves
just beyond the gates.

Alexander motioned to his man-at-arms and the two
clansmen. "Lads," he whispered, "Malcolm and I will go in alone.
You two open the front gates and wait with the rest of the men. If the
household sleeps, we may be able to do what we came for and leave without
causing alarm. If you hear a cry, storm the manor, find Lady MacGregor and get
her away to safety. Malcolm, you go in by a window on the front side. I will go
in from the back."

Nodding, they split off from each other.

Alexander watched as the three men spread out and
were swallowed by the darkness. Circling to the rear of the manor, he reached a
lightless window and climbed inside; knowing Malcolm would do the same.

As he crept through the dim room, he drew his
sword from its sheath. Eyeing a door, he hesitated. Hoping the servants kept
them as well oiled here as his people did at home, he slowly pulled it open.
The iron hinges creaked faintly. Holding his breath, he waited. Would anyone
come to investigate the slight noise? 

Long moments dragged by. Nothing moved. No one
called out an alarm. Apparently the French didn't prepare for attack in the
night as all wise Scots did. Perhaps Malcolm was right and defeating this
bloody Frenchman would be an easy task. But he would not risk Katherine's
safety by being careless.

Cautiously, he peered across the threshold. The
corridor was empty, lit only with a single torch at the far end. It appeared
the area held nothing of importance, for it was totally unguarded. Nonetheless,
he proceeded with stealth, looking in each alcove and room.

Grateful for the continued silence in opening the
door at the end of the passageway, he raised his broadsword and quickly stepped
through the doorway. It was naught but a stairwell leading to the next floor.
Darting a glance about the small empty area, and seeing nothing suspicious, he
climbed the stone steps, holding his sword ready.

The next door opened onto a brightly lit hallway
on the second floor. Damn. They would light this one up like the fires of
Beltane. One, two, three, four. Four bloody rooms to check with the place lit
like a summer's day. Slipping into the nearest chamber with a quick silent
stride, he turned and pushed the door almost closed, leaving only a thin ray of
light to guide his way.

Nothing there but dimly lit pieces of furniture
and shadowy corners. Returning to the door, he listened then cautiously stole
into the corridor once more. Moving methodically from room to empty room, he
continued his search for Katherine. 'Twould seem this floor wasn't used in the
evening. Only one room left. And it was as silent as the rest.

He actually had his hand on the doorknob before he
noticed the slight difference. Food. He could smell the aroma of food lingering
there. He froze as his mind berated him for his lack of caution.
Cocky fool.
Were you just going to saunter in sure the room was as empty as the last? And
did you think they would invite you to dine with them?
 

Drawing a silent breath, he listened for any
sounds coming from the other side of the door. The faint crackle and hiss of a
fire penetrated the wood, but nothing else. He waited for another moment,
listening, and then slid into the room as silently as a windless night on the
moor.

It was empty, but didn't look as if it had been
vacated for long. A fire burned in the fireplace. Two wine glasses sat on a
small dining table. One was still partially filled. He glanced across the room
lit only by the firelight. Another door stood at the far end of the chamber. A
thin line of light spilled out from beneath it. Although he couldn't hear any
sounds emanating from it, his warrior's intuition told him this might well be
the one he sought.

Cautiously, he started toward the door. As he
silently swung it inward, a scuffling sound erupted into a noisy commotion.
Raising his sword in front of him, he charged through the opened doorway.

Bright light blinded him for a moment as he
stepped into another well-lit corridor. Then the blurry movement a short
distance ahead of him, crystallized into two men wrestling on the floor. A dirk
lay just outside of their reach. He immediately recognized Malcolm as one of
the men, and hurried to his aid.

Apparently hearing Alexander's movement behind
him, Malcolm looked away from his opponent for a fraction of a second.

The assailant lurched out and grasped the knife.

As Alexander ran forward, he watched the struggle
play out in front of him. The grisly scene seemed to pass by in slow motion,
enabling him to see each detail, as if time had slowed down. His feet couldn't
carry him fast enough to his friend's side. He saw the gleam of the knife as it
flashed, arcing through the air, and sank into Malcolm's chest.

"
No!
" Alexander's voice seemed to
echo from a distance, as he watched his friend sink to the floor.

The assailant turned at the sound of his voice,
scrambled to his feet and started toward him, the bloodied knife held high. It
was the tinker!

An overwhelming fury consumed Alexander. First
Fiona, now Malcolm. Dear God, what of Katherine? "Damn you to Hell!"
he bellowed and ran to meet the attack. Slashing out with his sword, he sliced
the tinker across the throat. A bright shower of blood ran down the man's neck
and chest and splashed onto Alexander, spattering his shirtfront. The tinker
crumpled lifelessly to the floor with the knife still clenched in his hand.

Alexander tightened his grip on his blood-coated
sword and ran to where Malcolm lay. Reaching him, he heard the man's labored
breathing and knelt by his side. "Forgive me, old friend! I didn't move
fast enough."

"No, laddie, dinna blame yerself. Ye were too
far away to stop the bastard." A cough rattled in his chest and he took a
wheezing breath. "I… I came upon him spyin' through that door, yonder. He
drew his knife, but I had nay time to draw my own. I… was too busy tryin' to
relieve him of his."

Malcolm's voice broke into a ragged spasm of
coughing. Bubbles of blood oozed at the corner of his mouth. He smiled weakly.
"I vowed I'd keep yer message so ye'd have to tell Lady MacGregor of yer
feelins', Alex, but I didna mean to do it quite so well."

His fingers, slowed by the loss of his life's
blood, fumbled inside the neck of his shirt. He withdrew the leather pouch that
hung around his throat. It was covered with blood. A jagged tear was sliced
through one corner.

Malcolm dropped his hand to his side, his voice
faint. "Go fetch yer lady. The way that bastard was guardin' the door and
spyin' through it, I trow she may be within." His voice became a mere
whisper. "Dinna fash o'er me, laddie. 'Tis my time…have a fine wake fer
me, when ye are home in Scotla—" Silently, his head slumped to the floor.

Alexander's eyes burned and he swallowed against
the tightness in his throat. Pain flooded his chest as he gripped Malcolm's
shoulder one last time. "God be with you, old friend. I will never forget
you." Then he bent over the silent figure and pulled the old Highlander's
broadsword from its sheath. "Do not fear. I will not leave your sword to
the enemy."

Lifting his plaid from his shoulder, Alexander
slid Malcolm's sword into the leather sheath across his back. Then he dropped
the tartan back in place. With God's grace, he would pass it on to his own son
one day.

Gripping his claymore, he ran to the nearby door.
The latch was still ajar and all was silent within. He kicked the door open.

Katherine stood frozen in the middle of the room,
her hands pressed to her throat, as if paralyzed with fear.

He rushed in, his bloodied sword held high above
his spattered clothing. A movement stirred near him just beyond his reach and
he whirled about. It was only his reflection in a large mirror.

By the cross, no wonder Katherine appeared so
frightened. Wild-eyed and covered in blood, he looked like an avenging angel of
death, descending into the room to smite her. Lowering his sword, he shoved his
hair back from his face and looked at her. Dear God, he'd feared he would never
see her again. Joy rushed through him, leaving him dizzy.

She dropped her hands to her sides but stayed
where she was. Was she so frightened she didn't recognize him? 
"Katherine."

They dared not tarry. Every second counted. And
yet he waited, hoping and praying. Surely she would realize why he had come for
her. His chest tightened, robbing him of his breath. Would she run from him?
Please, God, let her look beyond the blood, into my heart, and come to me on
her own.

Katherine slowly moved toward him, her hands
outstretched. 

He ran to her and clasped her tightly with his
left arm. "Katherine! Blessed Jesus, I thought I might never see you
again."

Her voice quivered. She clung to him as if too
desperate to let go. "They told me you wouldn't come."

He tightened his hold. "No man could keep me
from you."

Her wide blue eyes blinked back unshed tears as
she trembled against him. "I've been so frightened. Please take me away
from here, back to Scotland. You… you may do with me as you wish, when we
return there. Just, please… take me away from here!"

His heart felt as if it would burst. "I will,
my love, and you'll never leave my side again. I cannot live without you. I love
you." 

For the glimmer of a moment, her love showed
undeniably in her trembling smile. Then a torrent of tears spilled down her
cheeks. "I love you too. I feared you didn't want me back—" 

"Shh, love. I want no other. Come, I will
take you to safe hands. My men wait below to escort you to safety. I will
follow soon."

"No! Alexander, please don't leave me. Let us
leave here together. Now.  I can't stand the thought of being separated from
you again."

"I will be with you again shortly, my love.
But first I have a debt to repay."

She grasped his arms and shook her head. "The
man you seek is a madman. He is evil, the devil himself. Please, just let us
leave!"

 "No, Katherine. I will not leave before I
send Ja Bier's soul to hell by my own hands!" Bending, he removed his dirk
from its sheath inside his boot and held it out to her. "We haven't time
to argue. Do as I say. Take this and keep it close to you."

Turning toward the door, he pulled her with him,
pausing momentarily. "Katherine, love, you must be brave and not falter
when we leave this room. Malcolm gave his life for your rescue. He lies beyond
the door."

When she gasped, he hugged her quickly then shook
his head. "We cannot stop to grieve for him now. Any delay could cause his
sacrifice to be for naught. We will mourn him when we reach Scotland."
Alexander pulled her into a tight embrace, and for just a moment, his lips
covered hers. Then he released her and opened the door.

Ja Bier stepped across the threshold, blocking
their escape. "It would seem, ma
petite
, it is fortunate I decided
to pay you a visit before retiring." His sword already drawn and pointed
at Alexander's throat, he forced them back into the room shutting the door
behind him.

Katherine clung to her husband's side as he
stepped back.

The duke looked from him, to her, and back again.
"So, you must be the Scot dog my daughter foolishly wed. I did not expect
to see you here. But, no matter, you will not be leaving here. Alive." As
he finished speaking, the Frenchman thrust his rapier sideways, viciously
slicing Alexander's left shoulder.

Although the attack came without warning,
Alexander could have stepped away from the weapon. But he knew with a sense of
certainty, Ja Bier wouldn't hesitate to wound Katherine, so he'd leaned into
the path of the sword, shielding her body with his own.

As the blade cut into his flesh, he shoved her
toward the door. "Run, Katherine!"

She flew to the door, then stopped and turned as
if unable to run any further.