Kahleena MacCarthy ~ To Meet a Highlander (26 page)

Chapter 18

Tsarina woke up the next morning to find Zarik beside her watching her sleep. “How long have you been watching me?”

“Not verra long.”

Looking around, she noticed they were no longer in her room. “You moved me?”

“Aye, lassie. Ye belong in here to be sleeping. Otherwise the gossips will start. Ye ken?”

Tsarina blushed as she remembered her behavior from the previous night. “Maybe I shouldn't have shown you that stuff.”

“Lass, dinnae worry yerself on it. I dinnae mind a bit of different in our chamber.” Zarik cast a mischievous look. “I cannae think of anything I'd rather be doing than to make ye squirm beneath me. Ye're mine, Tsarina. Know that much.” He didn't know why, but he felt more protective of her than he'd ever been of anyone in his life. Zarik hoped it was simply his honor causing him to do the right thing. She was his wife after all and he'd never had one of those before.

**

              A short time later, as Zarik and Tsarina made their way down the stairs to the great hall for dinner, Caelan came rushing through the doors, not even bothering to get off his horse. “Zarik, it's the MacLean's. They're set to attack. They've gathered on the backside of the hill. I saw them as I was returning from a hunt.”

             
“Are ye certain they mean to attack?” Zarik knew the MacLean's caused trouble, but to form an actual real attack? They were getting bold. They must feel they made significant advance by attacking at one of Tsarina's almost weddings.

             
“Aye, they are gonnae attack us. I've already altered the guards watching our gates, archers are also assembling on the battlements.”

             
With a sigh, Zarik made certain he had a number of his swords and daggers on him. “Verra well then. War it is.” Seeing Drostan, he continued, “Drostan, ye'll stay at the keep to protect Tsarina and the others.” He saw that Drostan, one of his best warriors, was about to object. “Ye are needed here. I'll no have my wife in danger as she was last time.” Zarik gave a significant glare to Tor who had ran into the hall armed with his shield and sword. “Tsarina, lass.” He waited for her to look up at him. “Ye stay inside the walls and inside the keep. Dinnae go out. No matter what. Ye ken?”

             
Tsarina nodded as she watched them leave the keep. Now was not the time to grow concern with him. He had far more important things to think about right now. Like staying alive.

**

              The battle was long and bloody. Zarik longed to have Drostan to his left as he always had been. Things were different now, though, and he needed Tsarina safe – no matter the cost to himself. She could already be with child.

             
Zarik smiled, in spite of himself, as he cut down yet another MacLean. Turning, he realized no further came in his direction. It must be over.

             
Wiping the blood from his face, he went in search of Caelan, hoping Odhran had stayed well out of harm's way.

             
“'Tis all for this day, aye?” Odhran said as he wiped his blade across an area of his kilt not yet covered in blood.

             
Zarik nodded as he quickly accessed his youngest brother's well-being.

             
“Gabhran is our only serious injury. Others have scratches of little importance.” Odhran made his statement matter of fact. He wanted to show Zarik he was worthy of being in battle with him. If he took responsibility of the injured from his elder brother, he might begin to prove his worth.

             
“Aye, thank ye.” Looking at Caelan, Zarik continued, “is he verra bad off?”

             
“Nay, he'll be in need of stitching, but all will be well.” Caelan hoped the words he spoke were the truth.

             
“Let's get him back as quickly as we can then.”

             
Caelan could sense the urgency within his friend and quickly ordered a number of men to see to Gabhran. “Let's be back to the keep, 'tis nothing more to do here.”

**

              As they stabled their horses and quickly helped to brush them down, Zarik worried. He'd not seen Lachlann MacLean, nor had he seen Gregor. Shrugging, he knew it had been many a confrontation since Gregor, chief of the MacLean's had actually bloodied a sword in battle. The man was older than his own father. “Caelan, will ye see to the horses? I need see to Gabhran.” Zarik asked as he was dropping the straw he had been wiping Rage down with.

             
“Aye, 'tis no a problem. Ye are needed more in the keep anyway.”

             
“Something yet does not sit well with me. Did ye happen upon Lachlann?”

             
Caelan gave this serious thought and tried to picture having seen him. “Nay, I dinnae. I wonder if he was hiding past the ridge.”

             
“Hide? Doubtful. Though he's no honorable, he'd not miss watching us.” Zarik spun and headed, in a hurry, to the keep.

**

              As Zarik opened the door to the keep, he heard Drostan and Tsarina arguing. Hand on his sword, he was ready to run his best friend clear through. “What's this?” Zarik asked.

             
“She refuses to stitch up Gabhran.” Drostan has a fire in his eyes that was rarely seen. He was rarely that angry.

             
“Tsarina, ye need stitch him up. Igrid is fetching the sewing supplies.” Zarik wasn't sure his wife could do it, but he needed someone that could stitch. Gabhran was bleeding too much.

             
“I...I can't, Zarik.” Tsarina had tears running from her eyes as she watched Odhran holding one wound so that it might lessen the bleeding, while Faolan, Gabhran's brother, held another. “We need a doctor, not a history major.”

             
“If ye dinnae do it, my brother is not long for this world.” Faolan told her.

             
“And what if I don't do it right? And then he dies?”

             
“Lass, he's well on his way to death now. Ye can do no more harm.” Faolan needed her to at least try.

             
Igrid arrived with sewing materials and Tsarina backed up. “I can't.” Spinning on her heal, she almost ran into Tor as she ran up the stairs.

             
“I'll do it, lad.” Argus worked his way through the warriors gathered.

             
“Nay, ye auld fool. Ye cannae even see well enough to read any longer and ye wish to sew up a body.” Zarik was irritated. His wife had left him looking quite the fool. “He needs help now. And quickly. I'll handle it.” Zarik removed two of his daggers and walked over to the fire. “Tor, Faolan, Caelan...” Looking around more he noticed his newest men, “Galen and Trystan. Hold him down. Dinnae let him move.” Zarik hated what he was about to do, but there was little else he could do. He needed to seal the wounds.

             
Slowly he walked over as Igrid was scrubbing the wounds as best she could. “They willnae stop bleeding to clean proper.”

             
“Dinnae worry. 'Tis good they bleed. They'll be clean enough to seal.” Zarik braced himself as he placed a scorching hot blade to each wound. He knew he'd never forget the scream Gabhran let out. The smell of burning flesh filled the room and he heard Tsarina's painful wail. It was even worse than the one Gabhran had let out.

             
“Why would you do that, Zarik?” Tsarina had hate in her eyes. How could he hurt another man so?

             
“What would ye have me do, lass? Ye walked off without stitching him. I'm no a stitcher, I know swords. So, I helped in the way I ken.” Zarik was angry. He wasn't sure if it was more because she had left him to do or it or because she had confronted him in front of a large number of clan members. As he thought on it, he felt a small hand on his arm, even amid the blood that covered him, Tsarina dared to touch him. Just when he thought she may not be cut out for the end results of battles, she surprises him.

             
“I'm sorry, Zarik. I don't know if I'm cut out for your world. It's things I've never seen and such brutality.” She lowered her gaze from his eyes.

             
“All is well. He shall heal well so long as he doesnae take a fever.” Zarik watched as she walked over toward some of the other men. Seeing someone in a cloak, pulled much too far over their head, he called out to her. “Tsarina, stop.” He shoved others out of the way and grabbed the figure. As he did, he felt a dagger dig into his thigh.

             
Quickly he brought his own dagger to the throat of the crazed clan member. As he pulled down the hood, he saw Lachlann MacLean. “Ye would come into me keep. How did ye get in?” Zarik felt as though he could breath fire.

             
“Aye, we easily snuck passed yer guard bringing items to trade and sell here. No one of yer guard asked us to remove our hoods to see our faces.”

             
Alarm ran through Zarik. “We? Our? Ye are not alone.”

             
It was a statement, not a question. However, Lachlann answered anyway. “Aye, look there.” He motioned carefully to one side. There was another, cloaked in the same manner, aiming an arrow right for him. “And ye might be wanting to look over there.” Lachlann again, with even more care, motioned to another area. There was another, his arrow aimed directly at Tsarina.

             
“Nay!” How would Zarik get out of this. He'd happily surrender himself, but he knew they'd likely not let Tsarina live and if they did, the life they would allow her would be far worse than death.

             
“Zarik. You know full well what choice you have.” Trystan said with a commanding voice. One that left no room for him to change his mind. In that moment, the look he saw cross Zarik's face – he knew the man would gladly give his own life to save Tsarina's. In return, he must do what he had to do as well. At the moment their eyes locked, they gave a slight nod to the other.

             
Zarik didn't like what he was about to do and hoped his wife could eventually forgive him. But, honor bound, it was a man's choice to sacrifice himself for those weaker than he. “MacLean, call off yer men.”

             
“Nay, we have the advantage and ye well ken it.” Lachlann was confident they'd come out holding the MacKinnon keep and it's land on this day.

             
“As ye wish it then. No MacKinnon surrenders. Ye have chosen yer own fate when I offered ye an escape.” Zarik sliced Lachlann's throat, hearing the curdling of blood as he died, under the circumstances, not enjoying it as much as he'd always thought he would. In the next instant he watched the arrows leave their nitches and hoped Trystan had the courage to do what he had offered to do.

             
Zarik continued to stare at Tsarina, watching as Trystan put himself in front of her, taking the arrow himself, that had it's point set on her.

             
Tsarina screamed.

             
Zarik wondered, as Trystan fell to the floor, why he was not in any pain at all. Granted, he'd not mind pain, but it was, at the least, a small annoyance. Yet he still felt nothing. Could their aim have not been true?

             
“Lad, look at yer feet. Lad.” Argus sounded urgent.

             
Looking down Zarik saw why he'd not felt an arrow. Niall was slumped at his feet. The arrow, Zarik's arrow, deep within his chest.

             
“Zarik, son, ye will now lead yer people. Everything is as I hoped. Love yer lass and bring me many a grandchild. I can now join yer mother again.” Niall spoke the words as strongly as he could.

             
“Nay, I'm no ready.” Zarik did not want to be laird. He'd never wanted to be. He especially didn't want it to happen in this matter. The fault of his father's death rest firmly on his shoulders. He saw Tor approach and was surprised when he knelt to grab their father's hand rather than cursing wildly at him.

             
Within moments, his father was gone. The laird that always knew what to say, what to do. The one that had kept everyone happy and peace within the clan for years. His father had lead with his brain and negotiation skills, not the strong sword arm Zarik had.

             
Would he ever be able to live up to it?

             
“Zarik, yer lass be in need of ye.” Drostan pulled his friend from his father, hating to do so, yet knowing that in this moment, Tsarina needed him more than anyone else. Also knowing, Niall would not begrudge him to go to her. “Ye ken, it's where yer Da would want ye.”

             
Quickly, not glancing back, Zarik went to Tsarina. Kneeling beside her, he pulled her gently into his arms as she sobbed uncontrollably.

             
“Trystan, how could you? That was meant for me. You aren't supposed to die. I am. I need you.” Tsarina couldn't lose her brother. The tears flowed freely. She no longer cared who saw her. “You know I don't want anyone dying for me. You've even said so yourself.”