Knight Defender (Knight Chronicles) (3 page)

She swallowed and nodded.

“Excellent.”

He tossed her over his shoulder, anchored her legs against him with an arm, and continued walking.

“How dare … ”

One of those huge palms smacked her rump.

“Oooo! I’ll make you regret you ever touched me.”

A second smack was followed by an order for silence.

Since her backside began to throb, Jessamyn subsided in favor of plotting retribution. She’d start with boiling in oil followed by a sound beating, and end with banishment.

She was deciding whether or not to add tar and feathers when she heard the creak of leather hinges. They crossed a doorway, and she went flying through the air to land in a heap, face down on a feather bed.

“Dry clothing will be brought. Dinna imagine I care for your comfort. I simply canna be bothered to find another heiress if you catch an ague and die.”

She struggled to right herself, sputtering and pulling hair from her face. The brute deserved the sharp side of her tongue. She gathered breath as she turned to speak, just to see the coward disappear and the door bang shut behind him.

He was not getting away that easily. She leapt from the bed, ran for the door, and nearly jerked her arms from her shoulders when the wooden barrier refused to budge at her angry pull.

Dumbfounded, she could only stare.

He’d barred the door?
Boiling oil and banishment are too good for him. I must see him drawn and quartered.

Ignoring the shouted curses and pounding behind him, Raeb pressed his fingers against his eyes as he tried to slow his racing heartbeat and the throbbing in his loins.

Heaven help him! The reports of Jessamyn Du Grace’s beauty had been wrong. If anything, the praise was totally inadequate. Nothing he had heard described her height or the towering passion contained within her willowy form.

He was in serious trouble. While conversing with Dougal, captain of his guard, about the plan to deceive Edward I, Raeb had seen her fall to the ground but had not been fooled by her abrupt change from lady in charge to weakling in need of support. He had gone to confront her with her deception, but the moment he had gazed on her face the compulsion to touch her overset all logic.

Impulsively, he had clutched her to his chest like a child with a treasured gift, afraid that someone might steal it away. Her softness had registered first, then her lavender, mint, and woman scent assaulted him. His body had hardened in an instant. He had prayed she would speak, so he could discover if her voice was as fair as her face or if it would squawk and screech. If she were a Scot, she would be a perfect mate. That was the thought that had caused him to think with his brains and lock her away. Now, he needed two moments to gain control of himself before rejoining his folk below. His body might lust after Jessamyn Du Grace, but neither he nor his clan could afford to have his
slat
guide his actions.

He was still ensnared in fantasies of golden hair, green eyes—no blue, the reports had got that wrong too—and a tall, slender form, when running footsteps approached. Dougal came into view and skittered to a halt in front of Raeb.

’Twas beyond rude to treat her like a prisoner, but he must make certain the household understood the consequences of defying his orders to shun her. Once assured of their cooperation, he’d release her.

“Baron, blood’s about to be shed in the bailey.”

He lurched into motion and pressed his lips together against the urge to curse. He’d missed his supper while dealing with his betrothed, and he was hungry—hungry for a lot more than food. The last thing he wanted to do was intervene between quarrelsome warriors. “St. Finan’s ghost, who is it this time? Linden and MacEth? I swear if they’ll no settle their differences, I’ll bash both their heads.”

Dougal spun on his heel and raced down the stairs beside his baron. “Nae, those two are still at odds, but tonight ’tis five of your men about to damage Rhuad MacFearann.”

“I may wish MacFearann to the devil, but he’s done naught to offend here and will be given the hospitality any stranger deserves until he proves he shares his father’s reputation.” Raeb’s brows clashed, and guilt rumbled like unspent wind in his gut. He’d given no hospitality to Jessamyn Du Grace, and she was the next best thing to a stranger. Aye, but she was English. God reserved a special place in hell for the English, who were thereby undeserving of the least courtesy. Yet he’d not been cruel. He’d rescued her and that screeching busybody of a maid from the rain. He’d placed Lady Jessamyn in the best chamber, thus forcing himself to sleep in the barracks with the guards. Despite great provocation, he’d not hurt her, and would be sending her back to her father untouched. That was more than hospitable enough for someone already cursed.

“The trouble blew up quickly when one of our men took exception to how MacFearann looked at your sister.”

Dread swarmed into his mind. “Which one?”

“Neilina.”

Pity he and his visitor had both been so occupied that their private conversations had not taken place. With more information, Raeb might have been able to prevent this kind of trouble.

Raeb and Dougal came to a halt in the bailey. Before them five MacKai clansmen, swords and knives drawn, surrounded Rhuad MacFearann.

“C’mon, cowards. You outnumber me and no one of you has the
claches
to strike the first blow,” Rhuad snarled.

Ugly murmurs spread through the crowd of onlookers.

With a growl the largest MacKai lunged and swung for MacFearann’s neck.

Rhuad sidestepped neatly.

The big MacKai’s momentum carried him forward. He scrabbled to maintain his balance. But MacFearann’s foot on his opponent’s backside sent the fellow to the ground, skidding across the cobbles. The watchers scattered to avoid being bowled over like ten pins. The clansman only stopped moving when his head smacked into the courtyard wall.

While Rhuad was disposing of his first attacker, two others leapt on him from behind.

A roar of outrage went up from the crowd at the cowardly attack.

MacFearann went down under the weight of the two men and a melee of fists and blades ensued.

“Stop,” Raeb roared.

Between the shouts of the crowd and the grunting insults hurled by the fighting men, no one heard the order.

“Dougal, take two men and get buckets of water. We’ll have these dogs separated in a trice.”

Dougal sped away.

Rhuad struggled to his feet. One hand on the neck of each opponent, he knocked their heads together.

The last two MacKais circled close, taking jabs at MacFearann but never coming near enough to get in a killing blow nor for him to strike solidly at them. Blood ran from numerous gashes all over the man’s body. His balance was unsteady, but still he growled, daring his attackers to make an end.

The man facing MacFearann raised his blade to slash. The one behind pulled back to stab.

“Naaae,” keened over the noise of the fight and the crowd. A pathway formed, severing the circle of onlookers. A screaming fury hurtled into the cleared area and stopped directly between the fighters.

“Neilina, nae!”

But Raeb’s shout came too late.

She plastered her body to MacFearann’s, shielding him in the only way an unarmed woman could.

The slashing blade sliced the side of her bliaut as MacFearann swiveled to move her out of striking range. A red line welled where the cloth gapped.

Rhuad’s movement caused the second stabbing blade to miss its mark. Still, the point scored his thigh.

Water flung from the buckets Raeb had ordered, drenched everyone in the fighting field.

The crowd leapt back. Dougal ordered the MacKai men away from MacFearann.

Raeb pushed his way through, but by the time he reached the center, Rhuad held a fainting Neilina against him with one arm and threatened all comers with the blade in his opposite hand. Battle light still hazed the man’s eyes.

“She needs aid, Rhuad, as do you.” Raeb kept his voice level. The last thing he wished was to set off a blood-fueled rage.

Blinking rapidly, MacFearann fixed a stare on Raeb. “You’d have me trust you when you set your men to attack a guest? ’Tis nae the type of hospitality offered elsewhere in the Highlands, even to a MacFearann.”

Blood covered the man’s leg, and he staggered. His blade never wavered, and his hold on Neilina tightened.

“You should know better than to think I issued such an order. Now give over my sister and lower your sword, else I’ll have no choice but to kill you myself.” Raeb let his hand hover above the hilt of his sheathed sword, so MacFearann would know the truth of the threat.

Rhuad bared his teeth. “What assurance have I that you’ll no kill me once I release her?”

As if answering his call, Neilina stirred in his grasp and came alert. “Set me down, you godless dolt.”

MacFearann smiled. “’Tis glad I am you’ve recovered,
beag duais mo
.”

The crowd laughed, for Raeb’s sister was far from little.

She clouted Rhuad on his ear and regained her feet. Arms akimbo, she stuck out her chin and snarled. “I am no a small prize for any man. Even were I such, I’d nae be yours.”

“
Mo cridhe
, have pity,” MacFearann pleaded. He turned his sword hilt toward Raeb. “You may be anything you wish if you will just please tell your brother he’s no reason to kill me, for ’tis an honest woman I’d make of you.”

“What?” Raeb roared.

Neilina whirled. Eyes wide, she placed herself once more between Rhuad and any threat. “He lies.”

Raeb glared death at the man grinning behind her. Why would a man lie so he would be forced to wed a woman almost as poor as he?

“Dinna listen to him, brother. I’ve done naught to shame myself or MacKai. You and all here know I speak true.”

“Get out of the way, Neilina.” Never looking away from MacFearann, Raeb grasped the offered hilt.

“Nae.” She pulled herself to her full height and stamped her foot.

“Dougal, get her out of here,” ordered Raeb.

From the corner of his eye, Raeb saw Dougal move toward Neilina.

She backed toward MacFearann.

The man reached for her, but his outstretched hand dropped, and he crumpled to the ground.

Neilina turned at the clatter of Rhuad’s collapse. “Nae.”

Dougal rushed in and grabbed her.

At the same moment, Raeb raised the sword and strode to stand above MacFearann.

The crowd hadn’t moved.

“Get out, all of you!” shouted Raeb. “Go about your business and let your baron sort out this mess. Those who broke Clan MacKai’s hospitality will answer to me in the great hall after I have seen to our guest’s wounds and comfort. Is that understood?”

“Aye, Baron,” grumbled the five MacKai warriors.

With nothing left to see, the onlookers stirred and shuffled away, leaving Raeb, Dougal, and a slowly subsiding Neilina alone with the unconscious MacFearann.

“Please, Raeb, he’s defenseless. Dinna hurt him more.”

Raeb shook his head. He was disinclined to reassure his sister, simply because she’d been so foolish as to get between drawn swords. “Dougal, take her to her chamber and keep her there until I come for her. On your way, find two men. Send one for Maeve and the other here to help me with MacFearann.”

At their next oldest sister’s name, Neilina ceased struggling.

“Aye.” Dougal nodded acknowledgement. “This way, Lady Neilina.”

“Hmph.” She gathered the side of her bliaut together, stuck her nose in the air, and set off.

Despite her posturing, Raeb noticed the tiny upturn of her lips and knew she felt reassured that MacFearann would not die this night.

• • •

High above the courtyard, Jessamyn finished changing her clothes and stared in astonishment out the narrow window of her prison chamber. Too far away to hear any words that might explain the action below, she could only wonder. What kind of man locked his future wife away without explanation? What kind of place was this where the hosts attacked a guest? She’d seen the attacked man on board the ship from time to time. Since his clothing differed from the MacKais’, he was likely not of their clan. What kind of baron was Raeb MacKai to allow such an attack in the first place? Granted he’d taken some action, but too little too late as she saw it. Then, when the MacKai woman was injured defending the victim, the baron had acted with surprising restraint. Now the baron, alone in the bailey, knelt by the fallen man’s side and to every appearance was tending the man’s wounds. So engrossed she was by the events unfolding below that she jerked back from the window at the sound of a soft voice.

“Come quickly, my sister has need of you.”

Jessamyn turned, wide-eyed, to see a slim girl standing in the now open doorway. She was petite, and thus judging her age was difficult. Jessamyn might have thought her ten or twelve. However, the girl’s carriage and expression suggested she might be older.

“I beg your pardon. Who are you, who has need of me, and why?” Jessamyn asked.

“My name is Artis. Neilina needs you. She’s my sister, the one injured in the courtyard. Maeve would see to Neilina, but the one with the greatest wound must be treated first, and that is MacFearann. Please hurry, Neilina is in pain.” The girl spoke in a rush and even now turned to lead the way.

“Wait a moment.”

Artis turned back, her foot tapping impatiently. “Neilina needs help urgently.”

“I’ve no herbs or medicines. Does your keep not have a healer?”

“Our sister Maeve is the only healer. Please, you must hurry.”

Despite the girl’s pleading, Jessamyn was unconvinced of the need for haste. Neilina, whoever she was, had walked from the bailey on her own two feet and showed no signs of serious injury.

“If you want to get out of here before Raeb decides he needs to check on you, you’ll come with me now and help Neilina.” Artis’s gaze had turned sly.

The girl had discovered the right lure, but Jessamyn maintained her dignity. “Yes, I would like to leave this room. However, if I am to help your sister, I’ll need medicaments, bandages, and some food—for I am beyond hungry.”