Dangerous Pride (42 page)

By midday, the travelers were tired and hungry, and Lachlan agreed to stop briefly to water the horses before resuming their journey.  At the rate they were traveling, they wouldn’t arrive at Boyne Castle much before nightfall, he thought, cursing their slow progress under his breath.  Turning around to watch their progress, he saw that once again the serving lad had fallen behind.  Though he was riding a new mount, he led the horse which had gone lame.  Frustrated, Lachlan set his heels to Laeg, anxious to speed the lad along.

Lachlan had closed almost half the distance between himself and the lad when he saw the boy bring his horse to a sudden, desperate halt.  Frantically, the lad gestured to the hill that lay to the west of the trail.  “Lachlan!  To yer right!” he shouted frantically.

Turning in the direction the lad pointed, Lachlan watched in dismay as a group of riders came charging down the hill.  Quickly, he turned back to see the boy tear off his bonnet.  Long, mahogany curls sprang forth as he – she – waved the cap frantically, shouting her warning in an effort to attract the attention of his other men.

Damn her stubbornness!
he thought, cursing Catriona for her recklessness.  It wasn’t enough that she had disobeyed his orders, taking it upon herself to travel to Boyne Castle in disguise.  But now she was in the middle of an ambush, her very life in danger.

From the corner of his eye, Lachlan watched as Rory and his other men raced toward him, their swords drawn.  “To the Forbes,” Rory cried as the men fell in behind him.  Reaching back, Lachlan drew his own sword from its harness on Laeg’s back.  He had but a few moments before the men fell upon them.

Having succeeded in attracting the attention of Lachlan’s men, Catriona sat numbly on her mount, unsure what to do next.  Lachlan caught her eye, motioning to her to the safety of the  trees near the burn.  Quickly, she nodded her understanding, reaching back to loosen the reins of the lame horse before she kicked her mount into a frantic gallop.

When Lachlan saw that his wife was not being followed on her way to the grove, he turned and made his way toward the riders as they raced down the hill.  They would have to get by him – and his men – if they hoped to get to Catriona.  As he faced the men who surged forward, the battle cry of Clan Forbes sprang from his lips, and he heard it echoed from the lips of the men behind him.  He knew every man who stood with him today would be willing to lay down his life for the honor of the clan.

Lachlan had little time for any further reflection as he pushed all concerns from his mind and focused on the enemy before him.  The men were not particularly well-armed or well-trained, and the horses they rode were not of good quality.  Quickly he scanned the faces of the men who surged towards him, but he was disappointed that he saw no sign of Calum Leslie.  It was possible that this was a group of broken men; men who sold their swords for coin and earned their bread any way they could after having been forced out of their own clans for one transgression or another.  These would be the kind of men Calum would hire to help in his cause, for no man of honor would be willing to stand beside him in a fight.

The sound of sword clashing against sword rang through the glen as the men met in battle.  As Lachlan struck out at the man before him, he could see Rory and several of his other men guarding his back, protecting him from their attackers.  Even as he swung the first strokes of his sword, Lachlan could feel the sweat pouring down his face.  It took every ounce of his will to concentrate on the battle before him, and not the pain that wracked his body.

As the last of his warriors joined the battle, Lachlan was silently grateful for having brought a strong force of men with him.  It was soon apparent that his men well outnumbered their attackers, who quickly revealed themselves to be poorly trained and even more poorly equipped.  The men of Clan Forbes fought with greater intensity than usual, many of them anxious to avenge those friends and kin who had been slain in the earlier attack.

Within minutes most of their attackers had fallen from their horses, mortally wounded.  Still others, realizing that they were outnumbered and outmatched, turned their horses and fled from the field.  Rory signaled for some of the Forbes warriors to take chase, unwilling to let these cowards escape, only to live to attack another day.

Mercifully, Lachlan was not forced to parry long with his opponent.  The man was young, and poorly trained, for which Lachlan was profoundly grateful, given his weakened state.  Laeg held his ground, steady and true, showing that the hours devoted to training the great war-house had been time well spent.  When the man before him pulled back to strike, exposing his chest for an instant, Lachlan summoned the last of his strength to strike the man a killing blow inches beneath his shoulder.  The man’s eyes widened in surprise as he released his grip on his own sword, sending the weapon tumbling to the ground.  Lachlan watched the light fade from the man’s eyes as he slowly slumped forward in the saddle, finally falling from his mount as the horse frantically dashed from the field.

His chest heaving, his breath coming in gasps, Lachlan pulled Laeg back so that he could survey the fight that surrounded him.  Most of the attackers had fled, and only a handful remained to fight the Forbes men.  None of his men were in any danger, as they capably dealt with their unskilled opponents.  Satisfied that his sword arm was no longer needed there, Lachlan made his way to the outskirts of the battle, where Rory was now positioned to stop any of the attackers from fleeing the battlefield.

“I want you to make sure that at least one man is left alive so we can question him,” he told his man-at-arms, exhaustion and frustration etched on his features as he struggled to catch his breath.  “Did you see that someone was sent to guard Catriona?”

“Aye, laird, she is well seen to.”

There was a long pause before Lachlan asked the next question.  “Did you ken that she was with us when we left Tolquhon?”

Rory looked into the distance for a moment before turning to meet Lachlan’s furious gaze.  “No, Lachlan, I did no’.  I thought somethin’ might be amiss when yer mother brought the lad – I mean, yer lady – tae join us, but I did no’ think it wise tae question her judgment.”

It was Lachlan’s turn to stare uncomfortably off into the distance.  “There will be time enough to deal with the women later,” he replied, clearing his throat as he forced himself to focus on the matters at hand.  “I’ve no doubt this is the work of Calum Leslie, though it was no well-planned attack.  More likely than naught it was bad luck that his men stumbled upon us.  They were no’ well trained, and they certainly were no’ organized.  It’s more likely that they were merely out to raid.”

“At least we had a chance tae avenge the men we lost.  We’ve suffered no serious losses ourselves this day – only a few minor wounds and one horse that will likely need tae be put out of its misery.”  Rory’s gaze paced over Lachlan’s shirt, which was stained with fresh blood.  “Did ye suffer new injuries today, or did yer wounds reopen?”

“The latter, I fear,” Lachlan replied, knowing Catriona would have something to say about his recklessness.  He only hoped the lass would have been scared enough by the battle to see why he had feared for her safety – and why he had gone to the lengths he had to protect his clan.  The fact that she didn’t trust his judgment, or ability to keep her safe, hurt him more than he cared to admit.

“We are close enough to Boyne that we have little to gain by turning back now.  Unless any of our men have serious injuries, I want to make for Boyne with all haste.  We do no’ want to give those bastards a chance to come back for another run at us.”

After a few final instructions from Lachlan, Rory set off to ensure that one of Leslie’s men was kept in good enough condition to answer their questions.

When Lachlan arrived in the grove, he was pleased to see that his warriors had formed a circle around Catriona, ready to protect her from any of Leslie’s men who might have succeeded in breaking free from the battlefield.  From a distance, he could see the fear on her face as she sat astride her horse, pale and trembling, her eyes downcast.  Whether she had feared for his safety – or what he might do to her as punishment for her behavior – he knew not.  He only knew that his breath came much easier now that he saw with his own eyes that she was safe from danger.

After giving his men instructions on resuming their journey to Boyne, Lachlan had ridden over beside her, his temper barely contained.  “You will ride with me, wife, for we no longer have any extra horses,” he said curtly, motioning for Catriona to join him.  Unassisted, she slid from the back of her horse, walking to his side.  Though it pained him to do so, Lachlan reached down to take her arm, hauling her up before him.  He would rather die a slow and painful death than let her know how much his wounds hurt him.

His relief that she was unharmed was at odds with his need to show her how much her behavior had angered him.  He was torn between gathering her into his arms and kissing her senseless, and tossing her over his knee for a thorough spanking.  In the end, he couldn’t help himself from leaning forward, breathing deeply of her clean, fresh scent as he placed a tender kiss on the top of her head.  Still, he refused to say a word that would appease her guilt.

They rode in silence for some time before Catriona broke the awkward stillness that stretched between them.  “Do you honestly expect me to ignore the fact that yer shirt is soaked in blood?” she demanded, her tone furious as she twisted in the saddle to face him.  “Please, give me a moment to check yer wounds and bind them so that you do not lose any more blood.”

“I will be fine until we reach Boyne,” he replied curtly, unwilling to embark on what would surely be a heated debate while in the presence of his men.

“Yer hardly fine, Lachlan!” she cried, outraged at his casual attitude.  “Your shirt is soaked in blood I can only assume is yer own!  Surely you can set aside yer anger long enough to let me stop the flow of blood.”

A fresh surge of rage flowed through Lachlan’s body as he stared into his wife’s flashing emerald eyes.  Again, she questioned his judgment.  Would she always view him as a damaged man who’d needed the security of a marriage alliance to save his clan’s failing fortunes?  “As you’ve shown verra clearly today, you have no’ the slightest idea what is best either for me or the clan.  Right now, Leslie could be sending other men to finish what the first warriors could no’.  Would you really have us waste time while you fiddle with yer bandages?”

“Yer twisting my words, Lachlan, as you well ken it.  I am only suggesting…”

Lachlan raised his hand, demanding silence before she could finish.  “I have no interest in what you think, particularly no’ after the poor judgment you have shown today.  You gave up the right to be listened to when you showed such little consideration for yer life, and the lives of those around you.”

Catriona’s eyes blazed with fury as she faced her husband.  “How dare you say that?  I only did what I had to do in order to help you mend things with my da.  You would have encountered those raiders whether I was with you or no’.  I do no’ believe I risked any lives, but if I did, it was only mine, to do with as I please!”

Lachlan snorted under his breath, frustrated in equal measure with her arrogance and her naiveté.  “What of the warriors who might have died trying to protect you today?  What of them, Catriona?  You ken naught of what goes on in battle.  It is hardly a women’s place to be involved in these things, as yer actions have proven time and time again.”

“That’s the way of it then, is it?  I am merely an instrument by which you have secured lands and mayhap made yer people safer.  What I think – what I feel – matters no’ to you.”  Catriona turned her back to him, unwilling to have him see the tears that streamed freely down her grimy cheeks.  “I am little more than a chatelaine to manage yer household.  A whore to warm yer bed.”

Her tears did little to soothe Lachlan’s anger, which burned even brighter with her stubborn refusal to see the danger she and the others had faced.  “Can you no’ think of the consequences before you act?  You chose to hide yerself on this journey so you could do what you wanted, despite my orders that you stay at home where you would be safe.  What kind of a women puts her selfish needs ahead of everything – everyone – else?”  His tone dropped to a low whisper as he reached his hand beneath her chin, gently guiding her face toward him until he could look into her eyes.  “Think, Catriona.  You have shared my bed for several weeks.  Even now you might carry my child – the heir to Tolquhon.  Did that ever cross yer mind when you concocted this ridiculous plan to travel to Boyne Castle?  Or could you think of naught but yerself?”

Catriona fought down the sob that threatened to spring from her lips.  What could she say to defend herself?  In truth, she had thought of little but her own selfish desire to prove to Lachlan how much he needed her to help right things with the Earl.  She had even manipulated the dowager to assist her in the plan, pleading her desire not to be parted from her husband.

The tears continued to flow as Catriona’s leaned forward in the saddle, her body wracked with sobs.  As Lachlan sat behind her, his expression grim, his body throbbing with tension and pain, he offered her no comfort or compassion.  He merely pushed Laeg to a gallop, effectively putting an end to their conversation.  Clearly, she had disappointed him beyond redemption.

It was the thought of the irreparable damage she had done to her marriage that haunted her as they made haste for Boyne.  The fact that she had no one to blame but herself only made the realization that much harder to bear.

###

The remainder of the journey to Boyne Castle was accomplished in short order.  The men road hard, anxious to avoid another confrontation with their enemies.  Rory and a small guard had traveled at a slower pace, for they escorted the prisoners who would now make their home in the Earl’s prison.  Lachlan had sent a rider ahead to advise the Earl that they had been under attack, and to make ready to receive them.  It was no surprise then that the drawbridge had been lowered over the moat, and the portcullis was raised.  Servants were there to assist them the moment they came upon Boyne Castle.