Dreamer (Highland Treasure Trilogy) (35 page)

Vaguely aware of Susan’s sharp gasp
of fear, Catherine casually reached for the horse blanket and with a sure
movement, trapped the head of the snake beneath the cloth with her hand. In an
instant, she had quickly covered the rest of the wriggling creature with the
edge of her cloak.

When she looked up, their guard was
scratching himself and staring longingly at the fires that were just beginning
to crackle by the stand of trees. Susan’s face was the picture of shock and
revulsion, and Catherine almost laughed in spite of their situation.

“Aye,” she whispered with a wink.
“A viper...come to call. And you know, I never expected help to arrive so
soon!”

****

The rain had turned almost entirely
to sleet, and the wind was continuing to lash at the warrior’s faces. Athol was
determined, though, to reach Ironcross Castle this night, so he relentlessly
pushed his weary horse and his warriors ahead.

At first, when they’d turned their
steps southward, he had not thought much about the urgency of this trip. He
knew that Catherine, for the first time, had proceeded appropriately. With Tosh
to accompany her on the journey--and Adam’s band dispersed--there was little to
fear. Everything would be well, and she would be waiting for him when she
arrived at his friends’ holding.

But the farther south they
traveled, for some reason, the less comfortable he felt.

He didn’t know why. But a tiny prickpoint of worry that had begun in his belly, had lengthened into a sharp, thin
line extending up his spine and burning the skin of his neck. Now, the taste of
iron was there in his mouth. It was the taste of fear.

He spurred his horse on as quickly
as the darkening trail would permit.

And then, she was there in his head.
Her thoughts, her voice--the same way that, so many times in the past, she had
been present in his mind. And something was wrong.

Wiping the rain off his face and
pushing ahead even faster, he knew she was in danger. She needed him. Visions
of dragons and giants with stumps for arms flooded his brain, clouding his
thinking.

John!

He could hear her. This time, she
was calling to him.

Coming over the crest of a hill, he
was the first one to spot the lone horseman coming across the meadow. Like
himself, the other man appeared to have a devil in pursuit of him. Moving down
the hill, Athol slowed his pace. His small company of warriors followed his
lead and slowed, as well.

Almost immediately, the traveler
saw them, for he reined in his horse for a moment, and then came on,
approaching at a near gallop. The horseman did not appear to have a sword or
lance in his hand, but he was riding toward them at a gait that made the men
behind Athol begin to murmur among themselves.

Through the rain and wind and descending
darkness, there was no way Athol could identify him. He could have been one of
Gavin Kerr’s men, or even one of his own men, though the horse was not--

Suddenly, the truth descended on
him like a sharp cuff to the ear. Feeling the sudden tightening of his chest,
the blood flooding into his face, Athol jerked his horse to a full stop. His
men gathered behind him and watched the oncoming rider with narrowed eyes.

John Stewart, as well, assessed the
man. His large build. The hilt of the weapon that he could now see strapped to
the man’s back. The determination and skill with which he pushed his horse
ahead. Athol motioned for his men to stay and spurred his own steed forward.

The two reached each other by the
rushing creek at the bottom of the meadow. Bringing their snorting horses to a
stop, each man studied the other. Two pairs of piercing gray eyes exchanged
looks of amazement as they took in their likeness.

With the Highland wind whipping
about them, Adam broke the silence.

“I was coming for you.”

“I’ve been looking for you, as
well.”

Adam gave a curt, comprehending
nod. “I ask you to put your anger aside for the moment. There is a matter of
much more graver importance that we need to see to.”

“My anger? Have no fear on that
score. But whatever you are about to ask, I only ask that you give your word
not to disappear afterward. I need to--”

“My word?” The corner of Adam’s
mouth curved in a look of long-accustomed scorn. “You are asking for the word
of a thief--of one who has been robbing you and your people of their peace for
half a year?”

“I am asking the word of my
brother.”    

The two horses tossed their heads
and circled one another. Adam’s voice dropped to a husky growl. “I was told
that you didn’t know you even had a brother.”

“What you were told was true. But I know now.” Athol tried to calm his own agitated horse. “I believe we have both lost a
great deal--you far more than I--by our ignorance of the truth.”

Their faces glistened in the
pouring rain.

“I cannot change the past,” Athol
continued. “I cannot undo what was done to you. But I can ask for a chance at a
better future. A chance to know the man who is my brother.”

Adam stared at him, and Athol could
see the uncertainty in the man’s eyes.

“I...I didn’t expect this,” Adam
said finally. “I was coming after you, certain that you’d slay me before giving
me even a chance to speak of the danger that lies ahead.”

“I’ve just been to see the earl of
Huntly. He told me that you had left there before I arri--” Athol’s frown
suddenly deepened as Adam’s words sank in. “What danger?”

As the rain and wind continued to
whip about them, the band of renegades huddled beneath an assortment of cloaks,
tartans, and horse blankets around the smoky, sizzling fire. No attempt had
been made to cook anything, and Catherine had a sense that they would be moving
on as soon as the weather allowed. The bickering had subsided, and a surly
silence had settled over the troop.

This was not what Catherine had in
mind.

The viper beneath the blanket had
also settled down, only occasionally thrashing its long body as she held it
tightly just behind the head. Catherine knew the adder was poisonous, but she
was not afraid of it. Thanks to Brother Egbert and his interest in the natural
world, she and her sisters had handled snakes and other small creatures their
entire lives.

Catherine and Susan sat close
together, pretending to be sleeping. Both of them were keeping their eyes
trained  on the darkness beyond the renegades’ camp.

She couldn’t explain it, but there
was no doubt in her mind that he was coming. In fact, she knew that he was very
close at this very moment. She knew that, just like her knight of a thousand
dreams, John Stewart would be stepping through the smoky light of this fire,
sword in hand, eyes flashing.

And until he appeared, she would
keep up her silent vigil and her quiet struggle with her venomous friend. Now,
peering into the darkness again, she considered her role in battling these
blackguards.

From what she’d been able to glean
from the arguments of the two leaders, they were clearly in the pay of Sir
Arthur Courtenay, the king’s Deputy Lieutenant in Yorkshire. Hearing his name
on their lips had by no means surprised her. Sir Arthur was a pox-faced weasel
who had been a vicious enemy to her family since her father’s original capture
and imprisonment. He’d seemed to enjoy persecuting her family, but she’d had no
idea he was one of those searching for the Treasure of Tiberius.

Foolishly, Catherine had thought
that when they’d left England, Courtenay and his vile threats would have been
left behind, as well. Certainly, he could have had no power to touch them in Scotland. She--and her mother, too--had obviously underestimated the reach of the brute’s
tentacles. Gold is a powerful tool, and greed a great motivator of men.

Catherine felt the other woman
stiffen and then nudge her with her elbow. Fully alert now, she followed with
her eyes the line of Susan’s gaze. First she saw nothing in the darkness. Then
she saw the flash of the sputtering firelight on metal. There were men between
them and the river.

John.

Looking about her, though, she
could see that her husband’s warriors would be forced to fight their way up a
rain-soaked hillside. By taking shelter against the jagged rocks of the bluff,
her captors had strategically eliminated any chance of anyone approaching them
from behind. It would certainly only be a moment before one of the brigands
spotted the advancing rescuers. To her left, by the line of trees, the outlaws’
horses were becoming restless, and she saw some of the huddled blankets stir.

Catherine’s mind raced. She had to
think more like her youngest sister, Adrianne. In all their years of growing
up, Adrianne had been the most courageous of the three. The one who from a
young age had insisted on arming herself and learning the strategies and
techniques of battle by hiding in the hayloft and watching their father in the
courtyard, training his men for the possibility of war. Laura and Catherine had
always teased her that, as a woman, she would never need protection--but would
instead provide it for some lucky man.

Always be prepared. Examine your
opponent carefully for possible strengths and weaknesses. Try to think like
him. See his advantage. Take steps to diminish his power if you can--before the
first blow is delivered.

Catherine turned her head and
whispered directions to Susan.

Quickly, she scanned the group of
outlaws once more. The two leaders had positioned themselves closest to the two
women. There was no doubt in Catherine’s mind that, in the event of an open
attack, these brutes would not hesitate to use her and Susan as human shields
or as a means of forcing her husband to lay down his weapon. Well, that would
not happen if she had anything to say about it.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded to
Susan.

“‘Tis time!” she whispered.

*****

Elgin Cathedral’s ancient crypt
must have been a lively place that night, for the two women’s piercing screams
were surely loud enough to wake the dead, and Athol was certain the two could
be heard at least that far.

His men were ready, waiting only
for his signal to rush the renegades. The brigands outnumbered his men, and he
knew they would never reach them before the alarm was raised, but John Stewart
would die before he let these pestilent dogs take his wife another step.

He felt Adam’s firm hand on his
shoulder.

“‘Tis a distraction,” the earl said
with certainty, watching the renegades leap up from their places around the
fire and race toward the bluff.

By St. Andrew, at least he hoped it
was. Even from this distance, Athol could see the snake dangling by its tail
from Catherine’s hand, writhing and hissing menacingly at her.

“I know,” Adam replied. “I saw her
pull the snake from beneath the blanket.”   

In a moment, the entire band had
formed a half-circle around the screaming women. Athol paused not an instant
longer.

“Now!”

Running close to the ground, Athol,
Adam, and the rest quickly closed the distance between themselves and the noisy
group of outlaws.

Catherine and Susan’s diversion was
indeed more valuable than he could ever have imagined. With the two women’s
incessant caterwauling and with the viper’s unsuccessful attempts at striking
anyone toward whom Catherine swung the creature, Athol and his men were on the
brigands before they even knew they were under attack. 

With the fury of two avenging
angels, the brothers fell on the necks of their adversaries, swords arcing
through the night rain and carving a bloody path toward the two women.

Though they were outnumbered at
least two to one, the element of surprise quickly evened the odds. Fighting
side by side, the two brothers hacked their way toward their women, who had at
the onset of their attack moved swiftly toward a wounded Tosh and were now
standing over him. Catherine still waved the snake around them, and Athol and
Adam showed no mercy on the band of thugs.

The wind howled as the battle
continued. The blood spilled on both sides, mixing with the falling rain and
churning the earth into a blackened mud. Then, one of the leaders broke away
from the bloody fray and rushed toward the women, his fingerless hand
outstretched. As Catherine held the creature up, the snake struck out at his
hand, stopping him in his tracks. He stood there for a moment, but then the
stunned look suddenly gave way to one of intense pain. Clutching his hand, the
man turned and ran screaming into the night.

Almost as if by magic, that
signaled an end to the outlaws’ resistance, and in a few moments, it was over.

With the surviving renegades
subdued, John moved to see to Tosh. In a moment, he realized that Catherine was
no longer near him. Looking about in a flash of panic, he quickly calmed down
as he saw her standing a bit farther along the bluff, gently tossing the viper
to the ground by a pile of rocks. As he watched her, the rain stopped.

She turned and he let his loving
gaze wash over her. He knew that he would never satiate the unquenchable thirst
he had for the sight of her. He knew that in a millennium, he could never tell
her how much he loved her.

But he would try.

He couldn’t help but laugh at the
way she ran back to him. Her hug was fierce--her voice joyful--her tears the
sweetest nectar he’d ever tasted. And John Stewart, for the first time in his
life, tore down the barriers around his heart and whispered softly in her ear.

“I love you, Catherine Percy
Stewart. And I swear for as long as I live, I will strive to save you from
yourself.”

She drew back and gave him her
prettiest scowl. “And what do you mean by that? Nothing that happened here was--”