Winning the Highlander's Heart (42 page)

Anice couldn’t strike any with her weapon, so instead, she grabbed Venetia’s wrist.  The lady cried out in fright.  “Come, let the men fight.  We will return to my chamber.”

They headed down the stairs, encountering three more of the baron’s men running up it.

“’Tis the Lady Anice,” the one said.

“We will not harm you or your lady,” another said.  “Just lay down your weapon.”

“Forgive me if I do not believe ye.”

They tried to shorten the distance so they could strike at her bow.  She shot the first man and sent him tumbling backward into the other two.  Again, she readied her weapon, only winging the second man.  But the third man she killed outright.  The second one tried to get to his feet, but Malcolm suddenly appeared, blood dripping from his shoulder.  “Malcolm!”

He slew the last man and motioned for her to return to her chambers.

“I was trying to once I retrieved my lady-in-waiting.”  She hurried past him with Venetia, while he followed behind.

“Neither Dougald nor the lad have come to relieve me.”

“So Morrigan and I will aid ye.”

“Aye, she has killed a goodly number already.  If you help me, I shall feel well protected,” Malcolm said sarcastically.

Anice smiled, but then quickly frowned.  “While we wait for the next batch, I will take care of your wound.”

“’Tis only a scratch.”

Nola rushed out of the room.  “I will take care of our laird while you ladies defend us.”

“Where is Mary?” Anice asked peeking into her chamber.

“She has fainted.”

“Och,” Anice said, shaking her head, thinking Venetia would have been the one to faint instead.  “’Tis good we havena such weak stomachs.”

Malcolm kissed her cheek.  “Have I told you how much I love ye, lass?”

“You will have to prove it, milaird.  With Gavin MacNair telling folks I’m with bairn, you will have to make sure he tells no lie.”

“Are you challenging me, Anice?”

She wrapped a cloth around his arm.  “Aye, milaird.  I know how you like a good challenge.  But now if you are unable to do anything about it because of your wound...”

He chuckled.  “You know how I am when you challenge me, lass.  I’ll take you up on it.”

Tying the cloth securely around the wound, she asked, “Aye, why think you I challenged ye?”

“Malcolm!” Dougald shouted from the third floor.  “Fontenot’s got Angus!”

Chapter Sixteen

Malcolm’s head pounded as he tried to think of a way to save his youngest brother.  Mayhap if he offered himself as a hostage instead, he could get the better of the baron.

When he reached the solar, the baron had a dagger at Angus’s throat, sending a shard of ice hurtling down Malcolm’s spine.  MacTavish had his sword readied, but couldn’t get any closer for fear of the baron slitting Angus’s throat.

“I want your word you will give me and the rest of my men safe passage from here,” the baron said.

“And in return?”

“I will let your brother live.”

“Aye, you are free to go.”

The baron released Angus.  “I know you are a man of your word.”

“Aye, you have my word.”  As much as Malcolm did not wish to give it to a murderer like Fontenot.  But the king would seek the man’s head for having killed Anice’s uncle and for siding with Robert Curthose.  And that would be the end of it.

“How many are left of the baron’s men?” Malcolm asked Dougald.

“Five, maybe six.”  Dougald rounded the men up and corralled them into the courtyard.

“Our horses,” the baron said as they moved them toward the outer bailey.

“You have lost the battle.  Just as in the joust, you have given them up to the winners.”  The baron and his men should have all died, and if it hadn’t been for Angus, every last one of the baron’s men would have.  “How many of our men were killed or wounded?” Malcolm asked.

“Five killed,” MacTavish said, “ten wounded.  None seriously.  The women are taking care of them.”

Angus walked with them, his head hung low.  “I’m sorry, Malcolm.”

“Nay, Angus.  I left you the most dangerous of jobs.  You were unarmed with three of his knights and the devil himself.  You did well.”

“If you like, milaird, you can return to Lady MacNeill while we clean up around here,” MacTavish said.

He smiled.  “There is naught more that I would like to do.”

Angus said, “You are no’ hurt verra much, are ye?”

“Nay, just a scratch.  It will no’ stop me from finding pleasure with the lady tonight.”

“Aye, good Scots’ blood,” Dougald said.  “Go, tend to that sweet lass of yours.  We have been through enough of these skirmishes to know how to deal with it.”

The gate guard and his men closed the portcullis once the baron and his men had passed beyond the gate.  “They will no’ be coming back inside here any time soon.”

“Make sure none of them are left skulking about the place,” Malcolm said.  Though his body was weary from all of the fighting, his step was instantly invigorated by the notion he would join Anice and bed her again.

When he reached the top step, servants were dragging the bodies of the baron’s men down them.  “Milaird,” the men said in greeting.

“Good work, men.”

“Aye, and ye, milaird.  Had the baron and his men won, none of us would have been left alive.”

“Aye.”

Malcolm hurried down the hall and found the door to Anice’s chamber shut.  He listened, but not hearing any voices, he knocked.  “Anice?”

“Come in, Lord MacNeill,” she said.

He hesitated to hear her call him lord in the English way.  She wouldn’t have addressed him so formally either.  Was she warning him that something was amiss?  “Anice, I will be right back.”

He motioned to one of the servants and whispered, “Get three of my men at once.”

“Aye, milaird.”  The servant ran down the hallway and scooted down the stairs.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dougald, Angus, and MacTavish bolted up the stairs.  Malcolm motioned them to tread lightly.

When they reached him, he said in a hushed voice, “I fear one or more of the baron’s men is with Anice.”

“What about her ladies-in-waiting?” Dougald asked.

“I do not ken.  I told Anice I was leaving.  Mayhap you can ask to talk to Morrigan and see what happens.”  Malcolm’s neck tightened so taut, it was ready to snap.

“Aye.”  Dougald stepped up to the door and knocked.  “’Tis me, Dougald MacNeill, milady.  I wonder if I could have a word with Mistress Morrigan.”

“She...she is not here, milord.”

Dougald frowned, then whispered to Malcolm, “Is the lady trying to speak in the English manner?”

“Aye.  And she wouldna.  No’ unless she was trying to warn us something was not right.”

Dougald spoke to the door again.  “Angus would like to speak to Venetia.  Is she there?  He cannot find her anywhere.”

“No.  No one is in here.  Where is Malcolm?  I wait for him.”

“His wound is bleeding something fierce.  One of the servants is taking care of it.  I think ‘tis worse than he thought before, milady.”

“I will not sleep until he returns to me.”

Malcolm whispered, “How can we get her to tell us how many men are in the room?”

Dougald shrugged.  “Milady, how many arrows are left in your quiver?”

“Four.”

Angus whispered, “Whoever is in there could try to use them on us when we enter.”

Dougald said, “Then if he uses it on us, we will know he will run out when he has finished the four.”

Malcolm clenched his fists, trying to keep a clear head and not go charging in and slaughtering the brigands, however many there were, like he wanted to do.  “Morrigan has a quiver also.”

“Och,” Dougald said, under his breath.

Malcolm asked MacTavish, “Do you have a ladder that will reach her room?”

“Aye.”

“Get it.  Nay, do you have two?”

“Aye, milaird.  I will get them right away.”

Dougald spoke through the door.  “How many arrows are left in Morrigon’s quiver?”

“I would not know.”

Her voice sounded harried and tight.  Malcolm was certain he heard whimpering from another corner of the chamber, like the soft crying of one of the women.

He said to Angus, “Have someone count all of the bodies of the baron’s men.  There were sixty to begin with.  The baron and six of his men left.  We need to know how many are left.”

“Aye.”  Angus hurried down the hall.

“I will leave ye, Dougald, and MacTavish to storm the door, and I will send some other men up this way.”

“You are coming up the ladder?”

“Aye.”

“But your arm.”

“Of nay consequence.”  The burning sensation had completely vanished when he had discovered the lady in harm’s way.

Dougald grinned.  “You will wait until all the arrows have been fired.”

Malcolm nodded, with a smile twitching on his lips.  “Ye are right, brother.  That is why I am the laird of the castle.”  He slapped him on the back.  “We will let you know when to storm the chamber.”

“Watch yourself, Malcolm.  If you go and get yourself killed, I will have to marry the lady.  With her record of husbands, I am no’ sure I want to do that.”

Malcolm rubbed his chin.  “I have no intention of leaving her a widow.”  He hastened to the stairs.  ‘Twas nay big a deal to draw the arrows in his direction, then call for his brother to storm the chamber from the hallway.  He only hoped the baron’s men were lousy shots.

Before he reached the exterior of the keep, Angus grabbed his arm.  “The ladders are ready.  I want to be the first on one of them.”

“Nay, Angus.”

“Venetia is up there, too.”

Malcolm stalked toward the ladders.  “I dinna want to tell James I got you killed when I am to protect ye.”

“I can do this, Malcolm.”

He stopped in his footsteps.  “You wait until I give the signal to enter the windows?”

“Aye.”

He nodded, not wishing his youngest brother to get hurt, but knowing his pride was at stake.  Before he ascended the ladder, he sent five of Anice’s men upstairs to join Dougald.  He motioned to Angus, and they began the thirty-foot climb.  Two men followed after and when Malcolm and Angus reached the stone sill, they paused and listened.

Dougald shouted through the door, “Milady, you must come at once as His Lairdship has taken a turn for the worse.”