The Witch and The Warrior (27 page)

“Would someone kindly explain to me what is going on?” Alex asked, wincing at the racket Isabella was making.

“It seems Robert has convinced Laird MacSween that his daughter has been ruined by all of you,” Gwendolyn explained.

“That's ridiculous!” scoffed Cameron. “No one ever laid a hand on the lass.”

“And in a bid to salvage her sullied reputation, Robert has gallantly persuaded one of his most brutal warriors to take Isabella as his bride in return for a fortune in gold,” she finished.

Alex regarded Gwendolyn in disbelief. “Surely MacSween turned this warrior down—”

“No,” said Gwendolyn. “MacSween agreed to the match. And so Isabella ran away.”

Isabella's wailing grew louder.

“Hush, now, sweet Bella,” crooned Brodick, stroking her back. “Everything is going to be fine. You're safe now.”

“She cannot stay here,” Alex said. “Robert has been lusting for war since we took Gwendolyn, but MacSween has been holding off. We have just sent his messenger home with another apologetic letter and a bag of gold, but if we keep his daughter here against his wishes, MacSween will have no choice but to send an army for her. We must take her back.”

“No!” cried Isabella.

“Really, Alex, you can't mean that,” protested Brodick.

“I have no choice, Brodick. I cannot risk the safety of the clan because Isabella doesn't like her father's choice of a husband.”

“But you are responsible for her situation,” Gwendolyn pointed out.

“It is hardly my fault that she has a milksop for a father and a bastard for an uncle,” countered Alex.

“Isabella did not ask to be abducted by you, MacDunn,” Gwendolyn argued, rising to face him. “You used her as a hostage so that you and your men could escape with me. Whether you like it or not, by taking her you destroyed her honor, and now she is suffering because of it. She has come here asking for your protection, and it is your duty to take responsibility for what you have done and help her however you can.”

“The lass is right, Alex,” agreed Cameron. “We've done wrong by this girl.”

“We're talking about war, for God's sake!” Alex thundered.

“That was a risk we were willing to take when we decided to steal Gwendolyn,” observed Brodick. “What does it matter if we fight a war over one woman or two?”

“Taking Gwendolyn was different,” Alex said.

“How?” asked Ned.

Because I needed a witch to heal my son, and for that I would have risked anything,
Alex reflected grimly. But suddenly he realized how terribly selfish that was. He had not chanced war because it was his duty as laird to save the next MacDunn. He had done it because he could not bear to watch his son suffer and die.

And because the moment he saw Gwendolyn he knew he could not stand by and watch her be engulfed by flames.

Everyone was staring at him in disapproving silence.

“Fine,” he muttered. “She can stay here.”

Isabella blinked, as if she hadn't understood.

And then she erupted into ear-splitting, hysterical sobbing.

“I'm glad to see my decision makes you happy,” commented Alex dryly.

“She's a loud one, isn't she?” remarked Cameron, wincing. “I feel a sudden need to make an inspection of the outer wall,” announced Alex. “Coming, Cameron? Ned?”

“Aye,” said Cameron, eager to escape the racket Isabella was making.

“I'll come as well,” offered Brodick.

“No need,” Alex said. “I can see Isabella enjoys your company, Brodick. I insist that you stay with her.”

“I don't think that's necessary—” protested Brodick.

“ 'Tis clear she finds your presence comforting,” teased Cameron, following Alex out the door.

A slicing pain carved through Alex's head as Isabella's wailing reached new heights. When Robert came with Isabella's betrothed, Alex would tie him up and force him to listen to her screeching.

A few hours of that and the poor bastard would be well cured of any desire to marry her.

         

“Aim for his throat! That's it—now thrust your sword into his gut, where he has left himself open!”

Cameron obligingly shoved his sword forward.

“Brodick,
watch out!”
shrieked Isabella.

His attention diverted, Brodick leaped back a second too late and ended up sprawled on the ground.

“You're a trifle slow today, my friend,” teased Cameron, the tip of his sword pressing into Brodick's stomach. “Is something distracting you?”

“Your lovely wife,” said Brodick. “There's something wonderful about a beautiful woman carrying life within her.”

Grinning proudly, Cameron turned to look. Brodick instantly raised his sword in a wide arc, sending Cameron's weapon flying into the air.

“Cameron!” barked Alex. “Stay focused on your opponent!”

“I thought the fight was over,” muttered Cameron, casting Brodick an irritated glance.

“Have some pity, Alex,” Brodick said, rising. “The poor fellow is hopelessly in love with his wife.”

“He won't be much good to her if he gets his belly carved open.”

“No one will get close enough to me to carve anything open,” Cameron scoffed, winking at Clarinda. “They'll be dead long before they can so much as scratch me.”

Gwendolyn watched as Clarinda gave Cameron an exasperated smile, then lowered her head once again to the arrow she was fitting with a feather. The moment between husband and wife was fleeting, but Gwendolyn was moved by its tender intimacy.

“If you're quite finished swaggering before your wife, Cameron, perhaps we could continue training,” suggested Alex.

“Certainly,” said Cameron, still smiling.

“Fine. Brodick, take a group of about seventy-five men over to the west wall and have them practice fighting with just their spears. Cameron, you continue to lead this group in swordplay. Ned, you will take another one hundred to the targets outside the wall and sharpen their archery skills. I am going to have the remainder work on fighting without weapons.”

Isabella added the poorly fletched arrow she had been working on to her meager pile and sighed. “My hands are cramped from all this work,” she complained. “I think I will stop for a while and take a stroll.”

“You should stay here and watch my father show the men how to fight without weapons,” David said. “My father is wonderful at that.”

“I'm sure he is,” Isabella agreed politely. “But I find wielding a spear so much more fascinating.” With that she quickly began to follow Brodick and his men to the west wall.

“She seems quite taken with our Brodick, poor thing,” observed Clarinda, shaking her head. “No doubt he charmed her from the moment they met.”

“Actually, he held a dirk to her throat and threatened to kill her,” said Gwendolyn, removing the mangled feather from one of Isabella's arrows and replacing it.

“He did?” gasped David, clearly intrigued. He watched as Isabella daintily made her way through the churning maze of grunting warriors to be closer to Brodick. “How can Isabella like him if he did that to her?”

“ 'Tis a strange thing, losing your heart to a man,” mused Clarinda, smiling. “Sometimes it happens when you're most certain you cannot abide him.”

“Isabella, for God's sake be careful!” Brodick dashed into the fray to grab her. “You shouldn't be so close to the men when they are training.”

“After ruining my life, I can't see why you should care whether I get savagely mutilated by one of these spears,” sniffed Isabella. “I should think you would be pleased if I were sliced wide open and lay here bleeding to death on the ground as these great brutes crushed my bones into mush.”

“Bella, how can you say such terrible things?” asked Brodick, taking her arm and leading her out of the training area. “You know I would do anything for you….”

Gwendolyn shook her head, unable to comprehend why Brodick remained so gallant toward Isabella. “Are you cold, David?” she asked, adjusting the plaids she had arranged over him. “The wind is getting stronger.”

“I'm fine.”

“We shouldn't stay out here much longer. Your father gave you permission to watch him train the men, but only for a short while.”

“But look,” David cried, pointing, “the men are starting to charge. Can't we stay and watch?”

His blue eyes were bright and pleading, his thin cheeks faintly flushed by the cool wind blowing against his pale skin. It had been six long days since that terrible afternoon when Gwendolyn had last taken him outside. Since then she had kept the lad in his chamber, watching over him as he slowly recovered from his violent bout of illness. But with Isabella's arrival yesterday, the castle had been swept into a whirlwind of activity as the clan prepared for the imminent arrival of the MacSweens, and David seemed to have been energized by it. No longer willing to remain in his bed, he had pleaded with his father for permission to watch the men as they practiced their fighting skills in the courtyard. MacDunn told the boy he could view the activity from his chamber window, but David had remained surprisingly steadfast in his request. He had assured his father the small excursion would do him good, and promised to tell Gwendolyn the moment he felt the least bit ill or tired.

Finally, MacDunn had relented.

“Well, I'm cold.” Gwendolyn rubbed her arms. “If we are to stay out here awhile longer, I must fetch a wrap. Clarinda, will you watch David for me while I run up to my chamber?”

“Of course. Look, David, see how well your father fights with just his hands!”

“He is just like the mighty Torvald,” said David proudly, “in the story Gwendolyn tells about the time he must battle a ferocious sea monster….”

         

The great hall was empty as Gwendolyn hurried through it and mounted the stairs leading to the tower. The looming arrival of Robert and his army had forced the MacDunns to set to work preparing for the attack. Alex had assigned tasks to all in the clan according to their abilities. While the fittest men trained to fight, the older men worked on fortifying the castle and preparing weapons. Youths who were too young to participate in the battle had been enlisted to gather heavy stones from the surrounding area and haul them up to the parapet, from where they would be dropped onto the MacSweens as they tried to climb the wall. The MacDunn women were busy making great stores of food in the event of a lengthy siege and were also helping to produce thousands of arrows. Even the young girls were hard at work filling the enormous cauldrons positioned over the gate with endless buckets of water, which would be kept boiling until the moment they were dumped on the MacSweens as they attempted to breach the gate. When Robert came, he would find the MacDunns prepared to meet his attack.

How much they would be willing to sacrifice for an unwelcome witch and a runaway laird's daughter was another matter.

Gwendolyn frowned and blinked against the gloom as she pushed the door to her chamber open. Someone had closed the shutters of her windows, blocking the afternoon light. At first she suspected this was to conserve the essence of some smoldering herb meant to ward off her evil, but the air was relatively clear. Unable to fathom why someone would want to deprive her room of light, she went to the window and attempted to open the shutters. They wouldn't give. She went to the next window, only to find its shutters also locked tight. She bent down and studied the latch, trying to discern what was keeping the shutters closed. Suddenly aware of a whisper of sound, she started to turn.

Pain exploded in her head, brilliant and paralyzing.

And then there was nothing.

         

“Did Brodick really hold a dirk to your throat?” David asked.