Devil in a Kilt (36 page)

"Tomorrow,
before first light," his booming voice rang out, "we shall descend
upon the camp of the bastard Kenneth and have done with them afore they'll ken
‘tis their time to take their places in hell!"

Resheathing
his sword, he planted his hands on his hips and raked his men with a
challenging stare. "No quarter! We'll slice every last one of the
miscreants to ribbons. All save Kenneth. Sir Marmaduke alone shall have
that
honor."

He
paused to draw a breath, his angry gaze sweeping the width of the hall before
issuing further challenges.
"Cuidich' N' Right"
he shouted,
his fist thrust high in the air. "Save the ki—"

The
war chant froze on his lips when he spied his wife teetering through the crowd,
her fiery tresses cascading unbound to her waist, her amber-colored eyes wide
in a face gone deadly pale.

What
the devil was she doing up and about? He'd ordered a watch placed on her door.

Hers
and the lad's.

But
instead of his orders being heeded, none had stopped her and she now struggled
toward him through the tightly-packed hall. The sheer terror in her eyes made
his gut clench.

Blood
of Christ, he'd meant to spare her hearing details of the butchery wrought
upon his people, meant to know her safely ensconced in her chamber, far from
this gathering intended to stir the fires of revenge in his men.

Saints,
but he'd not wanted her exposed to such madness.

The
lad neither, his seed or nay.

Not
that he'd admit any greater concern for the child than he felt for any of the
other bairns under his protection.

Scowling,
he dragged his arm over his damp forehead and watched her approach. As if
they'd only just become aware of her presence, his men parted before her,
clearing her way through their midst.

Unfortunately,
Duncan's mood worsened with each faltering step she took forward. Holy St.
Columba preserve him, but, as she neared, he imagined he saw her not as she
appeared, healthy and whole of limb, but mangled and bloody.

Violated.

Her
creamy skin streaked and crusted with blood, her lush curves horribly mutilated
in the heinous ways his patrol reported Kenneth and his band had massacred his
crofters' women.

And
the poor crofters themselves.

Their
innocent bairns, too.

Even
the oxen and milk cows hadn't been spared. Naught had escaped their butchery.

Closing
his eyes on the imagined horrors, Duncan threw back his head and let out a
bellow of sheer rage. When he opened his eyes again, Linnet stood directly
beneath him, her hands clutching the edge of the table for support.

"My
lord, I must speak with you," she stammered, the words trembling as much
as her body. "‘Tis a matter of grave importance."

Seeing
her so close, so near he caught the sweetness of her scent rising up to him,
pushed Duncan's control beyond its limits. The very thought aught could happen
to her made his blood run cold. The possibility terrified him and undid the
last vestige of his already waning discipline.

Jumping
from the table, he landed mere inches from her and clamped his hands down hard
on her shoulders. "Whate'er possessed you to hie yourself down here?"
he shouted, his words echoing in the vastness of the vaulted hall. "Can
you not see this is no place for a woman?"

Her
trembling increased at his outburst, but she stood her ground. "Sir...
husband.
..
you did ask me to warn you if ever I foresaw danger."

"Lady,
‘tis because of
danger
I ordered a guard on your door. I willna have you
underfoot here, jostled about and hearing tales not fit for a lady's
ears!" he fair boomed, his voice rising with each word.

"But—"

"No
buts," he cut her off, half-mad from the silky feel of her hair beneath
his fingers, for as he spoke he imagined her shining tresses brittle and matted
with dried blood. "Naught you can warn me of matters now. ‘Tis too
late."

Linnet
shook her head. "Nay, but it does. What I must tell you has naught to do
with whatever wickedness has caused you to raise a hue and cry." She
paused to wet her lips. "‘Tis of a future evil I must warn you, a foretoken
I beg you to hear."

Duncan
swallowed his irritation. He didn't want to learn of more ill tidings. What he
wanted was to know her safe in her chamber.

"Lady,
I dinna ken what fouler deed can befall me than what already has. A full score
of my kinsmen and their families have been killed,
butchered"
he
told her, his voice ragged, drained. "Simple farmers who work the outlying
reaches of MacKenzie land. ‘Twas Kenneth's doing, and an even worse devastation
than he'd wrought upon the Murchisons. In the wee hours, I'll ride out with a
party of my best men. God willing, we'll find them before they can escape
us."

His
wife blanched upon hearing his words, but didn't lower her gaze. Instead, she
slowly shook her head once more. "It was not Kenneth I saw," she
insisted, digging her heels into the rushes when he tried to propel her from
the hall. "‘Twas a stranger, a two-headed man surrounded by flames."

Gasps
issued from the men standing near enough to have heard her whispered words, and
Duncan swept the lot of them with a furious glare, cowing them into silence.

‘Twas
nonsense his lady wife spoke, and he wouldn't have his men plagued by thoughts
of two-headed monsters whilst Kenneth merrily hacked his way through those
MacKenzie kin not dwelling within the safety of Eilean Creag's protective
walls.

Gathering
Linnet into his arms, he stalked toward the spiral stair at the back of the
hall. His men fell back, making way for them, as he strode angrily through
their midst. "‘Tis no such thing as two-headed men. I'll hear naught of
such drivel," he thundered, purposely raising his voice so his men would
hear. To them, he called, "Sharpen your blades, then get what sleep you
can. 'Twill be time to sally forth before you know it."

"I
wouldn't discount the lady's words," Sir Marmaduke cautioned, stepping out
of the throng and boldly blocking Duncan's way up the stairs. "It behooves
you to listen to her warning."

Duncan's
patience snapped. "Indeed?"

"Yes,"
the Sassunach replied, crossing his arms. "She wouldn't appear so troubled
without just cause."

"And,
pray, did you
hear
her warning? ‘Twas of a two-headed man she
spoke." Duncan heaved a deep sigh. "Mayhap such blighted creatures
roam England, but I forswear I've ne'er seen one hereabouts. Furthermore, it behooves
you
to get yourself out of my way lest I be tempted to ask why my orders
weren't followed. I told you to post a guard on my lady's door."

He
paused to narrow his eyes menacingly at his friend. "Is it possible you
also neglected to send a guard to the lad's chamber as well?"

"Think
you I'd shirk my duties?" Sir Marmaduke asked, a look of mock astonishment
on his scarred face. "Nay, my liege, never would I ignore your wishes,
‘Tis only a bit late I am in implementing them... with just reason, of course."

"And
what might that be?"

Rather
than answer him, Sir Marmaduke nodded to someone in the crowd behind Duncan.
Before he could turn around to see who it was, Thomas, the tongueless lad,
pushed his way forward, Robbie perched high atop his broad shoulders, a
child-sized wooden sword clutched tightly in the boy's hand. Mauger, Robbie's
ancient hound, followed close on Thomas's heels.

Duncan's
heart turned over in his chest. If e'er he'd doubted he possessed one, he knew
it now. As with Linnet, for one sickening moment, he imagined the wee lad limp
and lifeless, bloodied and bruised.

For
a moment, Duncan lost his footing on the loose rushes, slick as they were with
ale spilled from his men's tankards. He stumbled and would've dropped Linnet
had she not clung to his neck. Truth to tell, he was nigh onto losing the last
victuals he'd eaten, so wrenching was the thought of Robbie meeting the same
fate as he knew had befallen his crofters' innocent bairns.

"What's
the meaning of this?" he demanded of Sir Marmaduke, venting his rage on
him rather than face the demons riding his back.

Keeping
his gaze averted from young Thomas and Robbie, he thundered on, "Why isn't
he in his chamber with a guard watching over him?"

"I
dinna need a guard," Robbie piped up, brandishing his little toy sword.
"Uncle Marm'duke said I must protect the ladies."

"And
so you shall, little mite," Sir Marmaduke addressed the child, his good
eye twinkling with mirth.

Duncan
winced inwardly at the look of adoration Robbie bestowed on his uncle. How long
had it been since the lad had looked at him thusly?

Saints
help him, he couldn't remember, and admitting such was akin to having a
white-hot blade thrust deep into his belly.

His
lady wife twisted in his arms, turning toward Thomas and Robbie. "I vow
‘tis no man I'd trust more to defend me," she said warmly, her voice, for
the moment at least, no longer shaky and frightened.

Stealing
a glance at her, Duncan saw her lips were gently curved as she gazed lovingly
at the lad. Faith, she had the face of an angel when she smiled like that.
‘Twas a look she'd gifted him with, too.

Once
or twice. Mayhap more often.

And
each time he'd managed to banish it with the bitter utterance of his harsh and
foolhardy words.

"I
asked you a question, Strongbow," he said tightly, tamping down the shame
he felt at his own actions and aiming a heated glance at his Sassunach
brother-in-law. "I would that you answer it."

For
the space of a heartbeat, Duncan thought the Englishman would try to outstare
him, but he finally complied. "Be our intent not obvious? We were making
haste to bring Robbie and your lady's maid to your wife's chamber."

He
paused, arching his one intact brow. "It was surely an oversight on your
part to order two guards posted at separate doors when in truth it is wiser to
have the Lady Linnet, her woman, and Robbie, safely ensconced in one chamber,
with one guard?"

Heat
crept up Duncan's neck at the wisdom of his friend's words and at his own
neglect in seeing it himself. He'd meant to spend what few hours remained till
he'd must rouse his men, sleeping peacefully in his lady's arms.

Right
or wrong, naught else had concerned him.

The
saints knew he'd need his rest, and all his wits, afore it was time to lead his
men in pursuit of Kenneth. But the good Lord knew no peace would be his with
Elspeth and Robbie sharing the chamber.

"I—"
Duncan snapped his mouth shut, swallowing the sharp protest he'd been about to
voice when he caught sight of Fergus and his lady hovering on the edge of the
circle of men gathered round them.

Although
she tried to hide it, he could tell the old woman was frightened. ‘Twas writ
all o'er her face and in the way her gaze kept darting to the wicked-looking
mace Fergus held in his gnarled hands.

"Aye,
‘tis right you are," Duncan conceded, watching Elspeth as he spoke. Sure
enough, the taut lines around her mouth relaxed upon hearing his words.

Turning
first to Sir Marmaduke, then young Thomas and Fergus, he continued,
"Marmaduke, you help me escort the women up the stairs. Thomas, you'll
follow with the lad, then stand guard at the door. And you, Fergus, see the men
stop quaffing ale. Send a few extra up on the wall walk and to the gatehouses
and make certain the rest bed down to sleep. 'Twill be a short night."

His
commands issued, he nodded briskly at his seneschal, then began the circular
climb up the stone steps, Linnet cradled securely in his arms. The others
followed close behind, the burning torch Sir Marmaduke held aloft casting eerie
shadows on the wall as they went.

"I
must speak with you," Linnet whispered close to his ear, her warm breath
sweet against his skin, and stirring more than his hair. "You
misunderstand the portent of my vision. It was not a true two-headed man I
glimpsed, but a veiled warning. My gift always works thusly, and I can do
naught but guess the meaning of such messages."

Curling
her fingers around his neck, she tried to draw him closer. "I canna speak
louder lest the others hear, and I do not wish to frighten Robbie, but you must
heed the warning. Please, I beg you."

Without
slowing his pace up the cold and damp-smelling stair passage, Duncan shifted
her in his arms, pulling her tighter against his chest. He held her so close
his heady male scent filled each breath she took, and the hard, unyielding links
of his mail shirt pressed into her skin despite the thickness of her woolen
mantle.

As
if he hadn't heard her plea, or chose to ignore it, he remained silent until
they came to the door of their bedchamber. Halting before it, her husband
ordered Sir Marmaduke to open the door, then, without releasing her, he stood
back to allow the others to file inside.