Kilts and Daggers (19 page)

“What are we going to do?”

“When the men took me away, one of the guards said the spy was traveling with four men.” He moaned when he tied off the binding. “I think 'tis Lord Mildmay because Ruairi wouldnae allow Ravenna to come, especially only accompanied by four men. Your uncle has been working for the king for years. I'm certain he's been placed in more dire situations than this. He'll know what to do, and I'm sure he has prepared his men. I have nay doubt he knows that these men arenae to be trusted. He'll be ready.”

Fagan lowered his painful leg to the floor, trying to find a more comfortable position. “What am I going to do with ye, Grace? First, ye blacken my eye, and then ye slice me in the thigh.” He chuckled. “I bet ye ne'er knew I was a poet, did ye?”

When he felt her hand pat him, he chuckled. “Ye cannae get enough of me, can ye?”

“Pardon?”

“Och, lass. That isnae my thigh.”

* * *

Grace pulled back her hand as if she'd touched a flame. She was never so thankful for the darkness that hid the blush she knew crossed her face.

“Don't flatter yourself. I was only showing you sympathy and missed your leg.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I can't believe I stabbed you. Can you ever forgive me?”

“How angry do ye think Ruairi and Ravenna will be when they find out ye've agreed to wed me?”

“I know you're only trying to distract me.”

“Then answer the question.”

“Ravenna loves Ruairi. I don't think she'll have a problem with the fact that you're a Scot, but she may have a difficult time understanding why we no longer want to kill each other. All my sister and Ruairi ever saw was us quarreling, and I never told Ravenna about the times when you kissed me. I think this will come as quite the shock.”

“Ye mean when ye kissed me.”

She swatted him in the arm. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Distracting me.”

“I'd do anything for ye, Grace. And what will ye say to Casterbrook?”

“That is a conversation I'm not looking forward to having. The banns haven't been posted yet, but I did talk to Ravenna before I left about Daniel. She knew I was confused and said she'd support whatever I decided. I was foolish enough to think that Daniel and I could grow to love each other. I hope you understand that I wanted to marry into the aristocracy because that's what my father desired for his girls, but now I realize he only wanted us to be happy. At least I hope that's true.”

“A father would do anything for his children. Even though I ne'er knew your sire, he sounded like a great man. He would've wanted the best for ye and your sisters, but I'm certain he wouldnae deny any of ye love.”

She leaned against his arm. “Then I'm in luck because I have the best of both worlds. Although you're being an arse for not telling me how you feel, you challenge me to be a better person. I want to be a better person when I'm with you. You and I are like kindred spirits.”

“Och, lass. I knew that when ye first arrived at the gates.”

“Fagan…”

The light was coming closer and the door swung open. Two guards entered and torchlight illuminated the room. She gazed down at Fagan and felt like she was punched in the gut. Blood had soaked clean through the makeshift bandage and he was covered in muck. He looked much worse than she had imagined.

“Ye're coming with us.” One of the guards stepped forward and pulled Grace to her feet.

She shook off his arm. “Get your hands off me. I'm not going anywhere with you.”

“Leave her the hell alone,” said Fagan. He tried to stand, but the guard kicked him hard on his wound and brought him to the ground. Fagan held his leg and briefly closed his eyes.

“The damn spy sent a messenger to see if ye are hale. He will nae meet with the captain until 'tis confirmed that ye are.”

“Fagan…”

“Ye donna have a choice, lass. I beg ye to remember what I told ye.”

Grace was escorted out onto the cliffs and up the path. She prayed Ruairi and his men would arrive in time. At least she had confirmation the spy was Uncle Walter. Perhaps she'd have time to warn him about what these men intended to do. But Fagan's words haunted her. He didn't need to remind her that once she was no longer useful to the mercenaries, they would kill her.

Grace stood in an open field flanked by mercenaries. She hadn't uttered a single word since the guards escorted her from the cave. Not only was she concerned for Uncle Walter, but Fagan did not look well. He needed a healer to properly see to the wound that she had inflicted.

The men were at the ready, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. To make matters worse, a light rain obscured her view of the forest. She wasn't sure where the rest of the men were lurking and lying in wait, which meant neither did Uncle Walter. She glanced around the tree line praying for some type of rescue from her brother-in-law and his men. Nothing stirred, at least not anything she could see, and that frightened her even more.

“We know ye're there!” yelled the captain. “Come out. Ye can see the wench still breathes. We have fulfilled our end of the bargain.”

Something moved out of the corner of her eye, and five men emerged from the forest several hundred yards away. One man wore a dark-colored cloak and walked ahead of the others. Although she couldn't see his face, he was the same size and shape as Uncle Walter. The men approached, and their hands mirrored those of the mercenaries with fingers strategically placed around the hilts of their swords. She had to warn her uncle before it was too late.

“Don't come any closer! They're going to kill you!”

One of the guards whipped his head around, and his eyes darkened. “Shut your mouth, wench!” He imposed an iron grip on her arm, and she cried out in pain.

Two of Uncle Walter's men now flanked him, and the two others stayed back. They stopped when they reached the mercenary captain. Her uncle's men gazed around warily as Uncle Walter stood as still as stone. A few moments passed, and then he lifted his arms and removed the hood of his cloak.

Grace gasped.

“Release my betrothed at once.”

“Daniel?”

“Are you all right, my dear? Worry no longer because I am here to take you home.”

“She's nae going anywhere until ye hand over the evidence against the Earl of Orkney—which ye have.”

Daniel lifted his head haughtily and puffed out his chest. “You see, my good man…that may be a problem because the earl's son, Robert Stewart, was already taken to Edinburgh where he will stand trial for his insolence.”

The captain's face clouded with uneasiness.

“Oh, my apologies, you didn't know. Stewart was not the wisest of men. You see…while his father was already imprisoned for disobeying the king's commands, Stewart also had an accomplice, Patrick Halcro, who talked. And he talked a lot.”

The captain shifted his weight. “What the hell are ye rambling on about?” He turned to his men. “Me thinks this whelp likes to talk a lot.” When his men laughed in response, Daniel's eyes narrowed.

“If you had any hope of seeing the earl released from prison, it's too late, my friend. I'm afraid his fate is sealed. You see…Patrick Halcro insisted that he acted on the earl's behalf, even though the earl was in prison. The servant girl, Margaret Buchanan, whom one of you killed, read instructions for Halcro written in the earl's own hand. In turn, Halcro gave the letter to Stewart who read it and then tore it into pieces ‘for the better,' he told Mistress Buchanan. And why, you ask? So that the letter could do no harm in the future, and because the Earl of Orkney did not want to lose his head for it, she was told. And before she was killed, she told me the contents of the letter.”

The rain hardened, and Daniel smoothed back his hair. “I've already given this information to the king's advisors, and now I'm here with you speaking with the authority of the king. The Crown is perfectly aware the Earl of Orkney hired you, but the poor earl didn't expect Mistress Buchanan to talk with me before you killed her. And now I'm afraid you won't be getting paid for your efforts because you're a little too late to bargain anything. So let me tell you how this is going to work. I'll be leaving here with my betrothed, and you'll be leaving here without your heads.”

The captain smirked. “If ye havenae noticed, your king's laws arenae observed in the Highlands. And I would have to say that our numbers are far greater than yours, ye English prick. If anyone is going to lose their bonny head, 'tis going to be ye and this English wench ye came to rescue.”

Daniel sighed. “I was afraid you were going to say that, but I was hoping you wouldn't be difficult. Perhaps there is still time to change your mind.” Daniel raised a fist into the air as armed men on horseback rode out of the forest from all directions. Immediately, Grace recognized the royal badge of the Tudor rose divided by the Scottish thistle, topped by the royal crown. It had been a long time since she'd seen her countrymen, and she'd never been so relieved in her life.

She and Fagan were about to be saved by Daniel and the king's men.

* * *

Fagan lost track of how many times he'd cursed Grace. Now that he was injured, by her hand no less, there was little he could do to aid their escape. He prayed Mildmay had thought long and hard before he summoned the mercenaries to bring Grace to him.

His leg was getting worse, and God how he wished he had a healthy dram of whisky to ease the pain right now. But the constant throbbing in his thigh wouldn't be close to the agony he'd feel in his heart if something happened to the lass. He was supposed to protect her, but all he'd done thus far was deliver her into the arms of the mercenaries—twice.

He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. It would be so easy to just let go and give in to the blackness. But he had every reason to live. His eyelids flew open when the sound of clamoring men echoed through the cave. He held his breath. He didn't think he imagined the noise, but the guards shouldn't be back so soon.

In the distance, metal struck metal, and he realized the men were only having a wee bit of swordplay. He supposed they needed something to pass the time and was thankful they weren't torturing him to satisfy their restlessness.

Fagan shook his head to clear the fog because he swore he'd just heard a scratch at the door. He hesitated another moment to decide whether or not to investigate the noise. When there was another odd sound coming from outside the door, he grudgingly pulled himself to his feet.

Pain shot through his leg, and his breath hitched in his lungs. He willed himself to remain conscious. With his hand, he placed pressure on his wound as he took a small single step. “One dram: nae the better or the worse from it.” He inched forward. “Two drams: the better and nae the worse from it.” About two more steps and he'd be at the door. He continued to speak through the agony and caught himself before he crumpled to the ground. “Three drams: the worse and nae the better from it. I. Need. A. Damn. Drink.”

He reached for the door and leaned his head against the bars. The boisterous guards were still practicing their swordplay in the distance, but he heard a faint whine coming from outside the door.

“Is someone there?” Not that he expected anyone to answer. He paused another moment, and heard another scraping noise. “Who's there? Can ye help me?” This time he heard another whimper—the kind an animal would make.

Something thumped up against the door, and Fagan took a chance by reaching his hand through the bars. He was greeted by a large mass of fur and another whine. “Angus?” A tongue licked him on the hand. “Och, Angus.
‘Se balach math a th'annad. An cuidich thu mi?” You're a good boy. Will you help me?

Torchlight was coming closer and reflecting off the cavern walls.

“Fagan!”

“In here! Please,
greas
or
t
!
”
Hurry up!

Ruairi gazed through the bars, and Fagan had never felt so relieved in his life. When the door swung open, his leg gave out beneath him and his friend caught him. Ruairi draped Fagan's arm over his shoulders and grabbed him around the waist, supporting him. As Ruairi pulled him from his prison, Fagan realized he would've laughed if the situation wasn't so dire because he was the one who'd always saved Ruairi's arse. They moved through the corridor of the cave as fast as Fagan's legs could carry him.

“Mòran taing.” Many thanks.

“How badly are ye injured?”

“'Tis naught. Where's Grace? Did ye make it in time to help Mildmay?”

“Mildmay? What are ye talking about, and where is Grace?”

Fagan stopped. “Ye didnae see her?”

“Nay. Calum told us what happened to ye, and thank God I was able to track ye here from the signs ye left us. The guards are dead.”

“Nae all of them. These bastards wanted Grace because Mildmay holds evidence against the Earl of Orkney. They threatened to kill her unless Mildmay came here and didnae deliver the evidence to Edinburgh to the king. The men took Grace to meet her uncle.”

“Are ye able to ride?” As if Ruairi read Fagan's mind, he pulled out a flask and handed it to him.

“Aye.”

* * *

The captain bristled. “Ye think that ye and the king's men will make us cower at the feet of the English?” He turned to his men. “Kill them all.”

Daniel and his men unsheathed their weapons as the captain and his men did the same. Grace fled and didn't stop until she reached the tree line. The men didn't pay her any heed because they were more interested in killing each other. Even though the English had far more men than the Scottish mercenaries, all her nervousness slipped back to grip her. She wanted this to be over. She wanted Fagan to be well again. And she never wanted to hear about or see another bloody spy. How could she have been so foolish in thinking this was the life she wanted to lead?

She. Was. An. Idiot.

Swords were drawn. Blood was spilled. The men on horseback cut down the Scots on foot in less than a minute's time. A man was beheaded, another stabbed through the chest, and a few men were even impaled in the eye. Taunts were thrown like stones, and men screamed battle cries, each attacking their enemy with forceful blows.

Grace flattened her hands over her ears to silence the cries. There was chaos all around her, as if hell was set free on earth. She knew the mercenaries deserved their fate but was surprised by the brutality of her countrymen. She closed her eyes. Even though the battle was over before it had barely begun, it felt eternal. Hands gripped her, lowering her arms, and Daniel gave her a warm smile.

“Are you all right, my dear?”

Grace swatted at him. “How could you not tell me you were a spy for His Majesty?”

“You didn't need to know, but you are safe now and that's all that matters.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I'm sorry you had to see my men bring these mercenaries to their knees, but that's what happens when anyone tries to cross His Majesty—or Lord Casterbrook, for that matter. Come, dearest, let me take you home to England where you belong.”

She shook off his hand. “I'm not going anywhere. We need to see to Fagan.”

He lifted a brow. “Fagan?”

“Mister Murray, the captain of Laird Sutherland's guard.” She glanced around the field of blood as Daniel's men poked the fallen Scottish dogs, making certain they were dead. “Is my sister's husband with you?”

A look of disgust crossed his face. “Why would the bloody Highlander be here with me? And where exactly is his captain?”

She gestured toward the east. “He's injured in the cave where the mercenaries held us. He needs a healer. Do you have one with you? Please, we must move quickly.”

“You were held together in a cave? Is that why you call this
man
by his Christian name?”

She pulled him by the arm, leading him away from the scene that would be forever imprinted in her memory. “Daniel, please. What difference does it make what I call him? We are wasting precious time. Please gather some of your men because a handful of guards still keep watch over him.”

Daniel stopped dead in his tracks. “I'm sorry, my dear, but I think you misunderstand my purpose.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“The captain of the mercenaries is dead, and the evidence against the Earl of Orkney and his son has been delivered to Edinburgh. These men held Lord Casterbrook's betrothed, and they paid for that mistake with their lives.”

A war of emotions raged through her. “I don't understand. Why are you talking this way, Daniel? This doesn't sound like you at all. And why are we still standing here? A man needs our help.”

He waved her off. “Didn't I tell you that I wanted to send my own men to escort you home? And I told your sister and her Highland husband the same, and look what happened. You need to listen to me, trust me. As far as I'm concerned, I'm practically your husband. Now that you are free and safe, there is nothing else to do. My men will see to the fallen. Leave that barbaric Highland captain to his fate with the bloody Scots. There is nothing else you can do for him.”

Before Grace even realized what she'd done, she raised her hand and slapped Daniel hard across the face. She knew she was in trouble when her palm stung and his eyes pierced her. His voice lowered to a threatening tone.

“How dare you strike me in front of my men! Do you think to play me for a fool? I
saved
you, and this is how you repay my kindness?”

“Your kindness? You would leave a man to die!”

“I would leave a bloody Scot to die.” When her eyes widened, he added, “Don't look at me that way. I know you despise those Scottish barbarians as much as I do.”

“You attended my sister's wedding.”

“Only because you are my betrothed. You said yourself how you couldn't bear being in Scotland and around those men. That's one of the attributes I favor most about you—well, that and the fact you're Lord Mildmay's niece.” His voice softened, and he lifted his fingers, brushing back the wet hair that had fallen into her eyes.