Winning the Highlander's Heart (44 page)

“Milady, you wished to speak to me about something most urgent?”

“Aye.  The marshal’s daughter poisoned my uncle.  She told Laird MacNeill where to find my former steward, yet she was his mistress.  Do ye think the devil would tell him the truth about Laird MacKnight’s hiding place?”

MacTavish’s eyes grew round.  “I will have the woman arrested at once.”

“And assemble fifteen men as my escort.  We need to warn Laird MacNeill he is on a wild boar chase.”

“Ye cannot go, milady, by order of Laird MacNeill himself.”  MacTavish’s jaw remained set, like it always was when he countermanded her wishes.  Despite himself, she liked the man.  The only one she’d ever known who could stand up to her.  Well, like Malcolm could.

‘Twas a disagreeable turn of events she had not anticipated.  She wasn’t about to sit back and wait for Malcolm’s return like the dutiful wife when he was not headed in the right direction, she was certain.  She had every intention of going after him, informing of his error, and accompanying him in his quest.

“Go!” Anice said, unable to contain her irritation.  “Arrest the girl.”

MacTavish moved not a foot to do her bidding.  Then deciding otherwise, he said, “Aye, milady.”  When he hurried outside the keep, Morrigan rushed inside, carrying her bow and arrow, her brown hair loosened from the braids by the breeze, her brown eyes wide, her face flushed.  “Nola says ye are going to leave here to capture MacKnight.  And ye wish to take me?”

“Aye.  I need you to accompany me since you can use a bow as well as me.”

“I heard tell Laird MacNeill gave orders to detain you.”

“Did he now?”  Anice shook her head.  “That is like telling the sun not to rise when the day arrives.”

*  *  *

As soon as all the men were armed, the party rode in the direction Malcolm and his men had taken, but on the way there Anice sensed trouble, only this time in the village of Carr, in an easterly direction not north where Malcolm and his men had gone.  “Och,” Anice said, the vision as clear as if she saw the scene played out before her.

“What is the matter, milady?” Morrigan asked.

“Laird MacKnight is hiding in the village of Carr until he can secure reinforcements.”

MacTavish heard her words and turned his horse to rejoin hers.  “Milady, are ye sure?” he asked, his face a mask of disbelief.

“Aye,” she lied, “the marshal’s daughter oft went there on business, but when I questioned her about it, she had seemed uneasy about something.  I thought she was secretly meeting with a man her da did not approve.  Now I know it was MacKnight.”

“But ye said you wished to locate Laird MacNeill first, milady.”  He sounded hopeful Anice would go along with her earlier plan.  In fact, she assumed it was the reason he agreed.

“Aye, that was before I realized where MacKnight would be hiding and it takes us east instead of north where Laird MacNeill was headed.”

“Will ye return with an escort, milady?  We will go to the village and arrest MacKnight.”  ‘Twas not a question, but more of a command.

“Nay, your numbers would be reduced.  Lead the way, sir.”

He shook his head.  “I was rather fond of Laird MacNeill.  He will now have my head over this.”

“I will speak on your behalf, MacTavish.  I have His Lairdship’s ear.”

For a second, MacTavish stared at Anice, then he barked out a laugh.  “Ye have much more than that, milady.”  He kicked his horse to a canter and spoke to his men.

Anice’s body heated with chagrin.  Took a man to see something sexual in a lady’s comment when there was none intended.

“Did ye see MacKnight in a…a vision, milady,” Morrigan asked, her words hushed, her eyes big.

“Think you I have visions?”  Anice had no idea anyone other than Mai was aware of it.  She hoped her ladies didn’t think her a witch.

Morrigan’s gaze did not shift.  “Aye, milady.”

“Who else thinks such a thing?”

“Nola, milady.  Mary.  Well, and Venetia.  We suspect Mai does but she wouldna say.”

“You have discussed this behind my back?”  Anice raised a brow, annoyed.

Morrigan nodded.  “Beg pardon, but Mai said we should never bring this up if we knew what was good for us.  So can you?  See the future?”

“Sometimes,” Anice admitted, hoping her ladies would understand and judge her not harshly.  “But not everything.”  Not everything, but she could see a battle in the village and there was no stopping it from happening.

But worse, Laird Robertson was there with some of his men.  If he caught sight of her, he’d kill her to avenge his brother’s death.

*  *  *

Malcolm and his men searched the village but found nothing amiss.

“Think you the marshal’s daughter had the wrong place?” Dougald asked, joining him after searching a croft.

“Methinks the wench might have been protecting MacKnight.”

Angus grunted.  “How many more are traitors at Brecken?”

“Milaird!” Kemp shouted, galloping into the village, sending the dust flying, his small size dwarfed by the horse he’d commandeered.

Malcolm started to spit out, “What are ye—”

“’Tis Lady Anice.”

“What has happened?” Malcolm said through clenched teeth, his heart thundering against his ribs.

“She has led a party to the village Carr—”

“What?” he bit out.

“I followed and heard the men talking.  Ye have to protect her, milaird.  They say MacKnight and more of his men are there.”

Malcolm and his men were already mounting their horses.  They headed out at a gallop, and Malcolm turned to Kemp.  “How does she know MacKnight is at this village?”  Had she had one of her uncanny premonitions?  ‘Twas the only reason he assumed she’d have left the safety of Brecken Castle.  The next time he gave an order, he would have the lady locked in the tower to ensure she didn’t talk her people into allowing her to do whatever she had a mind to do. 
Willful lass.

He and his men headed across Glen Affric, hoping they would reach the village in time to protect Anice and the men she rode with.  That sent a new plague of concern washing over him.

“How many were with her?”

“The Mistress Morrigan.”

“And?”

“Oh, aye, I get your meaning.  Fifteen like ye have here.”

Dougald gave a shake of his head.  “Did we no’ tell ye, Malcolm?”

“Say naught a word, brother, as I am sorely vexed with the lass.”

The only sense of relief he had in the matter was that she said Henry would have his physician examine her, and if she knew this for certain, she had to live.

But when they arrived at the village, his heart sank.  Anice’s men were fighting hand to hand in the village square against armed men, and some of the farmers were aiding the lady’s men, swinging pitchforks and scythes.

Malcolm and his men charged into the fray, but he saw no sign of Anice.  Seeing MacTavish, he headed in his direction, slashing at MacKnight’s men as he made his way.

“MacTavish!  Where is Lady Anice?”

“Milaird!”  MacTavish motioned with his sword toward the tavern.  “Safely inside.”

“Which of these men is MacKnight?”

“I havena seen him, milaird.  Armed men attacked us when we arrived.  I recognize three of the baron’s men we freed last eve.  Laird Robertson is here and has threatened to avenge his brother’s death.”

Malcolm cursed, his cut arm throbbing as he slew another of MacKnight’s men.  They were outnumbered two to one, yet Malcolm and his men were quickly evening up the odds, fighting skills he and his brothers learned in the Crusades.

He’d no more than sliced a man’s chest with his claymore when he heard Anice scream and saw her run into the square with her bow and arrow readied.

Dodging men to get to her, his blood rushed in his ears.  “Anice!”

But she didn’t hear him above the noise of angry Gaelic shouts and clashing swords.

She let her arrow fly, just as he reached her.  Grabbing her up, he ran her back inside the tavern.

“Malcolm, Kemp!  A man nearly killed him!”

“Damn, woman, stay here.  I’ll get the lad safely to ye.”

She nodded emphatically, tears streaking her cheeks, washing away the dust in rivulets.

His heart in his throat, he gave her a quick hug, then dashed outside and ran for Kemp, who wielded a sword too heavy for him.  Probably found one lying about, the owner no longer needing it.

“Kemp!” Malcolm shouted.  “Get yourself to the tavern and protect the women!”

“Aye,” the lad shouted back, his youthful voice tugging at Malcolm’s heart.  No lad should be as young as he, fighting his first battle.  Though he recalled Angus doing the very same thing at his age in a skirmish with the Campbells.

Malcolm fought the men around Kemp, clearing a path for the lad to retreat to the tavern.

A man raised a sword to strike the lad, but an arrow hit the man in the neck, killing him instantly.

Morrigan and Anice notched arrows from the doorway of the tavern.

More men poured into the square, and Malcolm dodged the sword’s sharp blade of one of the baron’s men.

“Where is your laird, mon?” Malcolm taunted, the blood coursing hot in his veins.  “Where is Fontenot?  Left ye to fend for yourselves?”

The Norman swung his sword, cutting Malcolm’s tunic.

Malcolm heard a lady’s scream.  Anice?  Morrigan?

With a sharp decisive thrust, Malcolm stabbed the baron’s man, then swung around.

Morrigan lay in front of the tavern still as death.  Anice was nowhere in sight.

His heart couldn’t beat any harder.  “Anice!”  Considering the swarm of new men, Malcolm feared he and his brothers would not survive this battle.  Then Anice’s words came to mind.  The king would want his head.  He would survive.

Fighting his way back to the tavern, he saw Fontenot thrusting his sword at Angus.

His brother’s sword arm dripped with blood, and he struggled against Fontenot’s blows, no doubt because the coward had waited until Malcolm’s men were half worn out.  Malcolm barreled through the men and slashed at Fontenot’s flank.

Startled to see Malcolm, Fontenot jumped back, but not before Malcolm’s blade cut Fontenot’s shoulder.  “All of ye will die at Robert Curthose’s hand,” Fontenot said.  “Except ye will be mine.”

Angus struck at Fontenot, the baron’s eyes sparked with fury, but he deflected Angus’s sword with a clank.  Another of his men threatened Angus, and Malcolm again took the lead against the baron.

Thinking to unsettle the baron, Malcolm gave him a thin smile and goaded, “Ye wondered if Lady Anice and I were wed before or after the incident at the croft.”

As he assumed, Fontenot swung blindly out of rage, but Malcolm easily outmaneuvered him, sweeping aside Fontenot’s ineffectual thrusts.  Fontenot struck again, this time Malcolm forcing his sword down.  Malcolm lunged in attack; Fontenot countered but fell back.  Malcolm swung, slicing through Fontenot’s sleeve, the baron lumbering backwards, attempting to regain his footing.  Malcolm directed the battle, and all Fontenot could do was block and retreat, losing ground again and again.