Kate Robbins - The Highland Chiefs Series 03 (17 page)

Neville came forward and gathered her into his arms. “Aye love, and I come to tell you that your brother is alive and well and fighting outside.”

Freya doubled over and cried out. “Fergus is alive?”

Ronan could not imagine how much more she could take. This glad news on the cusp of escaping the worst fate imaginable was bound to send even the strongest mind into turmoil. She swayed and he knew what was coming. Ronan caught her just as her legs buckled.

Chapter Seventeen

Freya blinked several times to get her bearings. The stone sculptures topping pillars inside the chapel spun around her and voices were muted. It took her several tries before her eyes came fully open and she was able to place what had happened. Strong arms held her. Ronan.

She jerked out of his grasp only to stumble, causing him to grab for her again. Once she was steady, he released her and held his hands up, palms out.

“Do not touch me!”

“Freya, you must let me help you.”

She backed up until she was closer to Neville and said, “I do not need your help. My brother is outside and he will offer me all the protection I could ever need. It is too bad I did not have the sense to heed him about you in the past.”

His brows drew tight and he frowned. “You do not mean that, Freya. You have been through much in the past few days. I understand you are angry, but all was necessary to make Alexander believe I had sided with him so that I could discover his plans and use them against him.”

“I do not believe any filthy word spewing from your lips.” She turned to Neville. “Please, get me out of here.”

Neville shook his head. “That would not be wise, Freya. Until this is over, you are not going anywhere near Alexander Sutherland, in fact—”

Her belly dropped. She did not like the sound of that.

“What?”

“Fergus suggested you and Ronan marry as soon as possible so that Sutherland would not be able to claim you. At least that way, he could not place that kind of mark on you.”

No. “No!”

“Aye, lass, ’tis the only way.”

“No, there must be another way.”

“While there are thousands of men out there fighting right now, there is no way to know if we will prevail. If Sutherland is victorious, he will come back for you. Marrying Ronan now is the only way you can be protected.”

“Your grace,” Ronan began, “if a couple had previously engaged in an intimate act and then married. Would the marriage be considered consummated?”

“It would, my lord. But I do not see how that is a relevant question.”

Freya’s heart sank. If she married Ronan, she would not have to bed him in order for the marriage to be valid. It would be binding and unbreakable. There was no way she could go through with it. Not now. Not after all he had done, even if he had done it for his so called right reasons. She had been through hell and back, and he was the cause.

“It is a relevant question, your grace, because Freya and I have the blessing of her brother and guardian and it just so happens that we—”

“Ronan!” she said. Her cheeks heated as though touched by flame. She glanced at the bishop and noted his rounded eyes and that his mouth had formed a circle.

“If this is true, then I must marry you right away before your souls endure any further harm.”

Freya glared at Ronan. Thankfully, he did not look smug. His eyes had taken on a concerned expression but he still frowned. This was not the way she imagined marrying him way back when she thought they were meant for one another.

He reached out to her. She stared at his hand, hanging in mid-air. If she married him today, she would save her body from torture, but ensure her heart would never find peace.

How much had passed between them since that day in the wood when they first met? He seemed so much older now than he did then. She too had matured from the young adventurous lass who had given herself so freely to him without care or consequence.
That
Freya would have longed for the day when circumstance allowed them to join their lives together forever. What had happened to her along the way? Did any of her remain?

A sudden pounding on the chapel door roused her back to the present. Her gaze flicked up to Ronan’s.

“If I give you my hand, it does not mean I will ever give you my heart.”

His lips set in a grim line. “I understand. We must do this now, Freya.”

She lifted her hand as the pounding on the door increased and placed it in his. Together they turned to the bishop and he rushed through the vows. What seemed like seconds later, the bishop declared them husband and wife and Ronan’s lips were on hers in a hard but searing kiss.

Freya blinked at him several times as he pulled away. A slight curl to his lips reminded her of the man she thought he was, the one with whom she had fallen so desperately in love. Was he still there? Would the old Freya fight for him?

“Come now, all of us,” Ronan said, while moving to the side entrance, but not letting go of her hand. “We must find a safe place for the women and the bishop inside the castle.”

The pounding continued as they slipped out the side door. They ducked back behind the chapel and onward through the dense brush until they arrived at the back of the castle.

The din of the fighting was almost unbearable. The roar of thousands of men, steel clanging against steel, and the stench of fresh blood was enough to make Freya’s legs tremble. Though she did not fully trust or forgive him, she did not let go of Ronan’s hand. He led the party to a set of narrow steps that led to an upstairs hallway. Creaking the door open, they moved quickly and quietly toward the main staircase, and onward to the third floor to where she had left Morag and Muren but an hour earlier.

When they turned the corner, her belly dropped when she realized it was empty. If the three guards were gone, what had happened to Morag and Muren? She could not bear any more loss or heartache this day.

Ronan released her hand and practically ran to the chamber. He threw open the door and stood in the doorway staring inside. Freya caught up to him and peered in to find the guards sitting down looking like sheep to the slaughter and Morag pacing in front of them.

“What passes here?” he asked.

All four of them slipped inside and promptly closed the door.

“I am teaching these lads some manners,” his mother said. “Just because they are soldiers does not mean they cannot be polite when asked a question.”

They glanced at one another and then at Ronan with dumfounded expressions.

“And so you thought you’d bring them inside and lecture them instead of letting them perform the job for which they were brought here?” Ronan raised his hands in question.

For the first time, Freya glimpsed the undercurrent of his frustration. It softened her anger toward him. What if he really was trying to protect them all this time? He had placed them in awful positions in doing so, but what if she suspended her anger for one moment and allowed that he might have had the best intentions?

While that may be true, the unfortunate cost was her ability to trust him. And now she was bound to him for the rest of her life. Freya slumped onto the bed and stared at the wall. While Ronan and his mother bantered about the proper etiquette of guards outside a lady’s door, Freya could not bring herself to get past the next moment, let alone what the future held for them both. Did he intend for her to live here with him or would he send her home to her brother? And did any of that even matter with a battle raging outside?

She moved to the window and gazed out over the ocean. The sight that beheld her made her gasp. “Ronan!”

He was by her side a heartbeat later, staring out through the window with his jaw set. “Christ’s teeth! I must warn them.” He turned to her.

His proximity heated her flesh. She was torn between meeting his scrutiny and looking at the dozens of ships about to make landfall. Reinforcements. This would be a bloody battle and there was no way to know who would emerge the victor.

“Freya, look at me.”

Everything else fell away when he spoke her name. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried closing her heart to the sensations hearing her name on his lips brought, but she could not. Try as she might, she loved him now, and always would—him and no other.

Freya opened her eyes and turned her head. He lifted her chin so that she had to look up at him.

“I must go warn them.”

“I know.”

“I will return for you,” he whispered.

She tried holding back, but a single tear escaped and slid down her cheek. Her emotions were a swirling vortex. She loved him, despised him, was furious with him, and wanted to bed him all at the same time, and she was ready to collapse with the weight of the burden.

He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. “I love you, Freya. I always have. I always will. My beautiful, Freya, enchanting faerie from the wood. You stole my heart that day and I knew you would never return it.”

His words made her heart squeeze tight. Air escaped her lungs in a desperate whoosh. The Ronan she had met that day, not quite a man full grown, had stolen her heart too. She wanted to tell him so, but the reminder choked her words.

“Can you ever love me again?”

“Ronan,” she whispered.

He touched his forehead to hers. “I will return for you.”

He brushed his lips across hers once more. A sudden surge of panic hit her as she realized he may never return. When she opened her mouth to speak, he took the opportunity to press his affections further.

Ronan swept his tongue inside and it quickly tangled with hers. It was as though no time had passed since they were last together at Tongue, stealing away in the secret chamber. Their bodies cared not that their minds had separated.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him in tight and kissed him as though there would never be another opportunity. After several minutes, she finally pulled back to look into his eyes.

“I am still angry with you. I may always be angry with you.”

He smiled and her heart broke. “When I return, you will let me begin all the ways I plan to make it up to you.”

“Aye, I will. You will return.”

He nodded. “I have a wife now. I have to return or else she will punish me. Perhaps even torture me.”

His wife. Ronan’s wife. She could not twist her mind around how much had happened in such a short time.

“Go now and Godspeed, Ronan. Please, be safe.”

“I will, Freya. I love you.”

“And I you, husband.”

Her words drew a heartbreaking smile from him that had her heart pounding in her chest and other parts of her stirring to life. Consummation or not, if he did not leave soon she would drag him to the nearest empty chamber and finalize their wedding all over again.

Ronan broke from their embrace and then addressed his mother and sister. He gave instructions to his guards and the bishop, then left. He glanced back once toward her and winked—and then he was gone.

Chapter Eighteen

Ronan’s biggest challenge was to skirt around the battling Sutherlands to get to Fergus. With Neville tight to his heels, he crept along the outer wall of the castle, careful not to draw attention to either the fighting men ahead of them, or the reinforcements behind him.

They managed to secure weapons inside the castle so that they would not have to attempt going to the armoury. Thankfully, Dunrobin had always housed a grand weapons display in the great hall. He and Neville availed of his father’s prized broadswords and dirks. They were now well equipped.

The din of battle pounded in his ears. Ronan’s heart drummed together in time with the relentless clang of sword against sword. One life struggling against another. The warrior behind him, though aged, was strong and true. Ronan had heaved a sigh of relief when he encountered him earlier. And yet another when he learned that Fergus lived.

Ronan scanned his surroundings once again to plan his route. If he veered left, he would surely encounter the Sutherland army and risk capture. No good could come from it. Yet it was the fastest way to reach the MacKays and MacKenzies. Ronan tried brushing away thoughts of the men he would have to fight against today, only to rule once this was all over. In a matter of days, his uncle had undone the two years of hard work he had put into the clan. He was right back to where he had been with his father. With that realization came a certain clarity and determination.

Ronan recalled his outrage at his father’s behaviour. His uncle’s was worse, so why had he been less driven to stick a sword in his gullet? He wanted his uncle dead with every fibre in his soul. So, why did he hesitate?

“What is it?” Neville whispered.

“I am working out which route to take.”

“There is only one logical option, lad.”

Ronan sighed. Neville was right. If they went right they would have to work their way around the entire army and that could take hours. The only way was to the left and straight through.

“Are you ready for this?”

Neville looked at him and grinned. “Like you, I have someone waiting for me when all of this is over, and I do not plan to get myself killed and in trouble with her.”

Ronan grinned. “So, you wish to court my mother, do you?”

“Aye, I believe I do.”

“Well then, I guess we had better get this over with. If I let anything happen to you, I’ll have to answer to her—no good can come from that.”

Neville grinned. “We need to go fast and hard, lad.”

“Aye. That we do.” He pointed to a copse of trees just beyond the stables. “On my mark, we make a run for there. Are you ready?”

Neville nodded. Ronan held up three fingers and let them fall, one by one. When he brought his arm down he took off across the side gardens toward the stables.

Once out in the clearing, the back end of the fighting came into view. He did not risk taking the time to do more than glance, but in that one split second, saw blood spurting out from one man’s neck. Friend or foe he could not tell. Again, he grappled with exactly who his enemies were in this battle.

Once they reached the stables, they ducked inside to remain undetected. Ronan was barely winded, but thought it wise to allow his breathing to slow some before moving forward again. One more sprint to the edge of the trees and they would be in the thick of it.

“If I fall or am taken, you must get to Fergus. Tell him where the others are and make him promise to keep all three safe.” He grasped Neville’s broad shoulder. “Do you understand?”

Neville nodded. “Aye. I understand. Now show me a man worth following.”

Neville’s words stuck a chord. All this time, he had focused on what he thought was wrong in a leader when he should have spent more energy on what was right, and show by doing. He drew in a deep breath.

Ronan turned toward the trees and sprinted as fast as his legs would allow. He ran as hard and fast as he could, until his lungs burned and his legs cramped. The battle raged all around him, beating on his senses as his blood pounded in his veins. Once he reached the end of the tree line, he stopped.

Hundreds of men engaged in battle just a few feet ahead. In the flash of a moment, an axe flew at his head, and a large screaming and barely clad Highlander raced toward him. He then realized he still wore his tunic with the Sutherland crest on it. Daft! He could not do anything about it in that moment and so unsheathed his broadsword and waited for the warrior to reach him.

Ronan planted his feet wide and waited. He focused on nothing but the approaching man. Slowing his breathing, he never let his gaze fall from the man’s eyes. They were wild from the frenzy of fighting. Ronan placed both hands on the hilt of his sword and swung it around in a circle and then grasped tight. When the man finally reached him, he dropped to one knee and slashed straight through his mid-section. His look of shock at the blood spurting from his middle was quickly replaced by savage anger. The great man roared and tried to come at Ronan again, but Ronan drove his blade into his heart before he could even raise his sword again.

Others had now taken notice of Ronan and worked their way toward him. Clearly they meant to avenge their clansman. Christ’s blood, why had not he thought to remove his tunic? There was no time now. He glanced around, hoping Neville was within earshot to assist—he was not.

“I fight with you!” Ronan said to the now six approaching men. “I fight with Fergus Mackay and Kenneth MacKenzie!”

They appeared not to hear him so he shouted it again. One of them grinned. Oh, they had heard him—they just did not care. Ronan raised his sword to attack just as a loud bang filled the air. A second later, his world went black.

* * *

Ronan squeezed his eyes shut against the pain shooting through his head. The light was too bright so he blinked several times before he could focus. A blurred shape moved around him and voices taunted his muddled mind. He tried sitting up, wincing as the pain in his head intensified.

A strong arm pushed him back down followed by a rapid tsking. “Tell me why I should let you live?”

Fergus. Thank God. Ronan opened his eyes despite the pain, and worked hard to focus on the man who sat beside him.

“You are a sight for sore eyes,” Ronan said as best as he could with a dry throat.

“Am I? Well, lad you have a funny way of showing it by killing one of my best new warriors.”

“That could not be helped. He saw me trying to get through the lines and mistook me for one loyal to my uncle.”

Fergus jabbed his finger into Ronan’s chest. “I can see why. Tell me, Ronan. Do you play both sides?”

“No.” He replied without hesitation. “I had to wear this tunic to stay close to my uncle. I was somewhat preoccupied this morning and did not think to remove it before attempting to find you.”

“Aye, fortunately for you, Neville has filled me in on the details.” To Ronan’s great relief, Fergus reached out his arm. Ronan eagerly grasped it and Fergus drew him upward to sitting.

They sat inside a canvas tent. The sound of fighting had ceased. A truce? Not possible. A standoff then? Fergus looked between Ronan and the tent entrance . “Both sides retreated at sundown. We both lost many men today. I await Sutherland’s terms. Oh, and by the way, you have Neville to thank for that lump on your head. If it weren’t for his quick thinking, you would not be here right now.”

Fergus’s matter-of-fact statement made Ronan swallow hard. He did not doubt it. Fergus was known as a ferocious warrior and personally oversaw the training of all those who served under him.

“I thought you were dead.”

“Aye. I thought so too.” Fergus spooned steaming broth into a wooden bowl and passed it to Ronan.

He took the bowl and put it to his lips, drinking deeply. The briny liquid soothed his dried throat. When Fergus offered him bread, Ronan shook his head. The broth was soothing, but he had no stomach for anything heavier.

“Tell me how you survived?”

Fergus laughed and shook his head. “It appears my healer is very good at what she does. She packed me full of yarrow and then lectured me until I had no choice but rally my forces and catch up with the MacKenzies. Neville tells me Freya is unharmed.”

“Aye, she is unharmed. She will be angry with me for the rest of her days, but she lives and has at least some protection from Alexander. Fergus, we need to get them out. I could not risk exposing them during the battle, but I do not want them left inside that castle for him to find. I have told the guards to keep moving them to a different chamber every few hours, but it is only a matter of time before they are found.”

“Aye, you are right. Sutherland has many men. Far more than we anticipated. We can only hold him off for so long. Sinclair and MacIntosh join us on the morrow.”

“Good. I had sent word to the Stewart King as well, warning of Alexander’s intentions.”

Fergus’s brows shot up. “You sent word to the king? I would give all that I own to have witnessed his reaction to that, considering your clan’s past dealings with him.”

Ronan grinned. His father had partnered with the MacDonalds two years ago to plot against the king using the MacKay and MacKenzie clans as bait.

“Indeed. I managed to win back your trust, though.”

“That you did, Ronan. Though I have to admit, I struggle with it. There was a time I would have had my blade inside your heart without blinking. You may thank my sister for that change in opinion.”

“And now, I do not believe she will ever forgive me, though I will have to spend the rest of our lives making up for it.”

“I trust you are willing to give it your best effort.”

Ronan laughed. “Aye, I will that. I am certain she will make me suffer as long as possible. Still, Fergus, you have my word, I did everything I could to get close to Alexander and protect her at the same time.”

Fergus’s brows drew tight. “Did he harm her?”

“No. I had to let them both believe in my indifference to her in order to glean as much information from him as possible.”

“That makes sense. So, why is she angry with you? Because you pretended indifference?”

“It is a little more complicated than that. You see, he was convinced there was something between us.”

“A very perceptive man.”

“Aye, he is that. And so in order to draw me out, he claimed he would marry her. I could not challenge him on it because he would have known I cared for her and used her against me in the worst possible way.”

“So, she thought you had abandoned her.”

“Aye, she did. He told her the vile things he planned to do with her and I could offer no comfort or outward display of protection.”

“Yet you secretly plotted with Neville to get word to MacKenzie and me.”

“Aye.”

Fergus clasped his shoulder. “You might need a fair bit of luck on your side if you are to ever win back her trust, lad. My sister is a warrior when it comes to her beliefs. If she feels you have betrayed her, I fear there is little to be done but give her time and prove your valour to her every single day. She may never commit to you, Ronan. You must keep this in your mind.”

He did not know. “Did Neville not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“The complications do not end with Freya being angry with me, Fergus. ’Tis a good thing you did not kill me as you would have killed your own kin.”

Fergus’s brows drew together and then a grin spread across his face. “How on earth did you get her to marry you?”

Ronan explained the scene in the chapel in detail. “Opportunity arose and I leapt at it. She may hold on to her anger as long as she wants. But tonight she will not have to endure that man’s sick fantasies.”

“You will always have my gratitude for what you have done, Ronan. We are truly allies now as clans, and as family.”

Ronan drew a great breath. “That is very good to hear, Fergus, for I fear this is just beginning. I have yet to share all I have learned about his plans. And believe me when I say they are extensive. We have a lot of work to do.”

Fergus nodded and turned toward the tent entrance. “Andrew!”.

A young man entered the tent a moment later. “Fetch the MacKenzie. Tell him Ronan is awake and has much to tell.”

“Aye, Fergus.”

Fergus turned back to Ronan. “When Neville brought you here, he said you had gleaned much from your uncle that would affect how we proceed. I presume he means you sending word to the king?”

“Aye, that. But also the ships he intends to send to Edinburgh. Fergus, he plans to take the entire country. Even my father was not that mad.”

“Your father was that mad, Ronan. He just did not have the resources your uncle does. He was too busy taunting me to reach outside his realm to expand his claim. Your uncle has had ten years to build his. He is a formidable enemy. And one we must not underestimate.”

“By now, he will know I am not in the castle and will have gone hunting for Freya.” Ronan placed his head in his hands. “I should have taken her with me. I should have taken them all with me.”

“Steady, lad. You would not have made it here with others in tow. ’Tis about time you shared this burden you carry. I know It has been hard for you to keep your sanity when nothing but madness has surrounded you your whole life. Truth be told, I do not know how you have managed it.”