The Clan MacDougall Series (86 page)

Though he shook like a leaf in the wind, he held on for dear life as he leaned through the open windows to extinguish the flames. They were riding at breakneck speed over rutted and gnarly roads. The lanterns were swinging to and fro, making it nearly impossible to get a grip. Having had enough of trying to fumble with the flames, he began tearing the lanterns off and throwing them to the ground.

Robert did not let up on the horses until he saw Forbes riding beside him and heard him call out.

“Slow down lad!” he yelled. “Ye’ll do us no favors if ye tip the carriage over!”

Robert’s heart was pumping quickly and his hands and feet trembled. He pulled up on the reins and slowed the horses just enough so that one of the lady’s soldiers could climb onto the carriage. Robert gladly handed the reins over to the man.

As they dashed along the open road, the soldier sitting next to Robert cast a smile his way. “Was that excitin’ enough fer ye lad?” he asked.

Robert was taking deep breaths of air into his lungs as he tried to steady his shaking hands. He shook his head and gripped the edge of the seat. “Aye, ’twas,” he answered.

He had not felt any fear when he had jumped out of the carriage and into the driver’s seat. ’Twas instinct that had kicked in, or madness, he wasn’t sure which. But as they rode along, the realization of what he’d done began to settle into his bones. He was no longer certain he wanted to live the life of a warrior when he grew up.

While Robert was driving the carriage to safety, Findley and the rest of his men were in a full out attack in the courtyard. The resounding ring of metal clashing against metal and the coppery scent of blood that spilled from those slain, assaulted the senses.

Findley and Richard made their way through the courtyard with relative ease. Their real fight however, began as they made their way up the stairs and into the keep. Buchannan men had begun to pour out from all directions like bugs escaping from under a rotted log.

As they stepped through the door of the keep, three men came at Findley from his right and two more were on Richard’s left. Richard thrust his sword upward into the gut of one man, while using his dagger to slice through the throat of the second.

Findley plunged his broadsword into the chest of one of his attackers as another swung his sword directly at Findley’s head. In one fluid motion, Findley ducked low and spun the dying man’s body that still hung on his sword and pushed hard against him with his shoulder. The man was thrust into one of his comrades, and the two tumbled down the stairs back into the keep.

As Findley rose, he swung his sword across the belly of his third attacker who fell forward against him. Findley shoved the man away, tossing him on the pile of men at the bottom of the stairs.

Together, he and Richard raced down the steps, swords swinging, and daggers thrusting, as they fought their way into the grand gathering room. Nial and a group of his men soon appeared to help fend off dozens of Buchannan men.

The MacDougall and McKee men fought their way through the throng of Buchannan men, slashing, plunging and hitting their way toward the stairs. Findley knew that Maggy was on the second floor and Ian on the third. The plan was to have himself and Richard make their way to Maggy while Nial and his men made their way up to get Ian.

As he fought with a frenzied hatred, Findley made his way up the stairs to the second floor. Just as he stepped onto the landing of the second floor, a Buchannan man jumped from the shadows. Findley had been thinking of Maggy and how close he was to reaching her now, and had been caught off guard.

The Buchannan man’s sword was coming straight for his head! Findley tried to duck but not before the tip of the man’s sword found its way through the gap in his hauberk and managed to inflict a good cut under his right arm. A sharp pain shot up Findley’s arm and for a moment the pain took his breath away.

The man raised his sword in both hands, preparing to smash Findley’s skull with the hilt of the sword. Findley feinted left, then right, before thrusting his dagger up into the chin of the man before him. Blood splattered in all directions and speckled Findley’s face and torso.

More Buchannan men, most without armor, began pouring down the stairs from the third floor. Richard, Rowan, and Nial helped Findley to fend off their attacks, allowing Findley to make his way down the corridor in search of Maggy.

He found the last door on the left and bothered not with trying to unlock it. With two good kicks of his foot, he was inside the room in good time.

His heart did not beat, not so much as a flutter, when he saw Maggy chained to the wall and the look of sheer terror awash in her face and in her eyes.

A man with dirty blonde hair and even dirtier clothes stood beside her. In one of his large hands, he held Maggy by her hair, pulling her head up and against the wall.

In his other, he held a long dagger against her throat. The man paid no attention to Findley, or to Rowan, who now stood behind him in the doorway of the room. Findley was afraid to startle the man, for fear he would twitch and cut Maggy’s throat.

Covered in sweat and blood, Findley stood almost motionless as he tried to keep his anger in check. His chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing. He watched, waiting to make his move.

The man was shouting at Maggy, his words slurred as if he had suffered some form of apoplexy.

“Ye lied! Ye lied to me, Maggy!”

“Traig,” Maggy said, her voice trembling with fear. “I’m sorry! I had no other choice! I did it fer Ian’s sake!”

“Aye, ’tis what ye keep sayin’ and I want to ken why! Why did ye lie? Ye had to ken Ian was Gawter’s! Ye can tell by lookin’ at the lad that he isn’t mine! Yet, ye pretended no’ to ken that Gawter and Helena were sharin’ a bed when I told ye!”

“I didn’t ken, I swear it!” She hadn’t known. Aye, she’d known Gawter had bedded many women during their marriage, but she had no clue that Helena, the woman she loved as a sister, was one of them. She felt more than just betrayed by her friend; Maggy felt like a fool.

“Lass, no’ even ye can be that stupid! It had to be goin’ on fer years. How could ye no’ see it by just lookin’ at the boy?”

Maggy’s head was spinning. Traig was going to kill her; she could see it in his glassy, angry eyes. Mayhap if she kept him talking, explained the truth of it, she could get him to change his mind.

“Traig, yer right, Ian is no’ yers,” she swallowed, her throat dry, her voice hoarse from crying, pleading for her life, and lack of water. “But he’s no’ Helena’s either.”

Traig looked at her as if she was the one who had lost her mind. “That makes no sense!” he shouted. “I’ve had enough of yer lies, Maggy!”

Findley had taken a step into the room, but Maggy’s words stopped him in his tracks. What on earth did she mean that Ian was neither Traig’s nor Helena’s?

“Traig, listen to me, please!” Tears flowed down her cheeks as she fought to spill the secret she’d been holding onto for more than eight years. “Do ye remember when I was pregnant with Liam, months before I had him, I grew ill and nearly died?”

Traig studied her closely as if he were waiting for the slightest hint of a lie or trick. He did remember it. Everyone but Gawter had been terribly worried over Maggy. She had become violently ill and was abed for a week. Everyone in the clan thought she would lose her babe, or worse yet that she would die. And that would have been a horrible loss for everyone. Everyone, but Gawter.

He nodded his head. “Aye, I remember.”

“’Everyone thought ’twas food poisonin’, but they were only half-right. My food was bad, but it was done on purpose. Gawter tried to kill me, Traig. He poisoned my tea.”

Traig remained suspicious but Maggy could tell he was thinking over what she was telling him.

“I ken it was Gawter. I heard him talkin’ to someone, not long after I recovered. He was quite angry that I hadn’t died! I could no’ see who he was speakin’ to, but he admitted that he should have used more poison. He wanted out of our marriage and he didna care if our babe lived or died. He hated me Traig!”

The more she told him, the more he loosened his grip on her hair. But the dagger still remained pressed to her throat.

Maggy took another breath. “Ye and Gawter left not long after. Ye were gone fer months, and still gone when I gave birth,” she said. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and neck and they began to pool along the edge of the blade.

“When ye returned, ye learned that Helena had given birth to yer son,” she paused, choking on tears and guilt. “Ye remember, Traig, ye were so surprised because ye didna ken she was with child when ye left.”

He remembered that as well. Helena had explained that she hadn’t realized she was with child until after he had left. He had been so glad to have a son that he hadn’t bothered to question her explanations. The look of suspicion remained etched on his face as Maggy spilled forth with the truth. With his brow furrowed, he nodded for her to continue.

“Helena was my friend, Traig. I trusted her more than I trusted another living soul,” she said, taking another deep breath. The pain of Helena’s betrayal was still very fresh.

“How is Ian no’ hers?” Traig asked, believing he already knew the answer.

“Because he’s mine,” she whispered. “Ian is mine!” She swallowed hard. The guilt was building in her stomach, the bile rising in her throat. “I gave birth to Liam and Ian!”

The words hung in the air like heavy smoke. Findley was frozen in place as he tried to make sense of what Maggy was telling Traig.

“I ken Gawter would try to kill me again and I worried he’d try to kill me sons! If he’d poison me whilst I was carryin’ them, I kent he’d try again! I wanted me boys to live, Traig! I had to keep them safe! If I couldna save them both, then I could at least save one! ’Twas Helena who came up with the notion. She said she’d love him as if he were her own!” she began to sob as the truth spilled out.

“Helena said she would take one of them, raise him as her own. I’d no’ have to send one of them away. I’d be able to see him every day because ye lived in the keep with us! I didna ken what else to do Traig! I was terrified of Gawter! And I had every right to be! Months later, he tried again to poison me. But we were better prepared, we were expectin’ it. Helena kept several antidotes ready, fer nearly any kind of poison he might use,” her voice was nearly gone and if she hadn’t been chained to the wall, she would have collapsed to the floor in utter exhaustion and heartache.

Giving up Ian had been the single most difficult decision she had ever had to make. Although she had been able to see him nearly every day those first few months, it was not the same. When Traig had learned he was a father and insisted he and Helena move into one of the cottages nearby, it had nearly done Maggy in. Every day, she had to remind herself that she had made the right decision. If Gawter succeeded in killing her, and, God forbid, Liam, then at least one of her sons would live. At the time, it had made perfectly good sense and it was the only thing that had given her hope.

Findley was shocked to hear Maggy’s confession. He was certain that Maggy spoke the truth. If Gawter had not already been dead, Findley would have been tempted to gut the bastard. Not just for the attempts he made to kill Maggy, but because she had been forced to give up one of her sons in order to insure he had some future and lived beyond his first year!

“So ye let me believe I was the boy’s father?” Traig whispered. His eyes were glazed over as he stared across the room. His mind reeled. Aye, he’d known the moment he laid eyes on Ian that the boy did not belong to him. Deep down however, he had been holding on to one last thread of hope that the boy was his. Maggy had destroyed that. After a long moment he looked back to her.

“Ye lied, Maggy! Ye let me believe he was mine!”

Fear enveloped Maggy’s heart and her stomach tightened. She had hoped her confession would bring back the man she had once called her friend. She had hoped he would realize why she had done what she had done and he would be able to forgive her for it. “Traig, I be sorry! I didna ken what else to do!”

Traig tightened his hold on her hair and slammed her head back and against the wall. His voice seethed with hatred and anger. “Ye could have told me! I could have helped ye! But instead, ye chose to lie like the whore I married!”

Findley knew that Traig had finally toppled over the edge. He knew time had run out and there was no hope that Traig would come to his senses and let Maggy go free.

In the length of two heartbeats, Findley pulled a dagger from his boot and flung it across the room. It landed in the back of the man’s neck with a sickening thud. The man jerked around, still holding to Maggy’s hair.

“Who the bloody…” his words trailed away. A confused look came to the man’s face as death took him in that moment and he fell to the floor.

Maggy sobbed as large tears streamed down her cheeks. Her eyes were tightly closed and her body shook uncontrollably. She was unaware of anything going on in the room around her.

“Maggy,” Findley uttered her name as he crossed the room to come to her aid. Rowan sheathed his sword and pulled the dead man away so that Findley might have better access to her.

“Maggy,” he repeated as he took her face in his hands, unable to control his own tears of relief.

Was she actually hearing Findley’s voice, or was she imagining it again? Long moments passed before she could open her eyes and several more before she could convince herself that he was really there. When recognition finally set in, her tears increased and it was very difficult for her to speak. “Findley,” she whispered.

“I hurried, as fast as I could,” he told her as he brushed a kiss against her forehead. Though he was relieved to see her alive, the vision of the woman he loved chained to the wall tore at his gut. Had he tarried any longer, she would be dead. The man who lay dead at his feet would have killed her.

Bile rose in his throat at thinking he had been only a heartbeat away from losing her forever. He pushed those thoughts aside as he pulled her head to his chest.