His Bonnie Bride (28 page)

"Like liquid gold."

Clasping Sholto's shoulder, Tavis said, "If ye looked into eyes like that, I cannae see how ye pulled back."

"It wasnae easy," came Sholto's heartfelt reply.

A grin touched Tavis's face, and he said, "Ye could have taken her but ye didnae. 'Tis naught."

"Would it have mattered an I had?" Sholto asked out of curiosity, knowing he had been forgiven.

"Aye. Ye could have taken Katerine right afore my eyes and I wouldnae have cared but"—he shrugged, for he did not understand his feelings—"Storm is mine. 'Tis how I see it."

"Yours until ye tire o' her or she returns to Hagaleah?"

Curtly, Tavis nodded. It was not a subject he liked to dwell upon. Sholto sensed that and asked no more questions.

They were about to mount up to the battlements when Storm dashed over to them. Tavis watched Sholto's eyes flicker with banked hunger, and his arms encircled her with a more evident possessiveness when she flung herself into them.

"Ye tiptoed away without a word," she murmured, trying to hide the tears that threatened.

"Ah, ye would rather I stomp," he said seriously, his eyes alive with laughter.

"Your concept of humor eludes me," Storm said dryly, but then discarded teasing and held him tightly. "Send me to Sir Hugh, Tavis, and put an end to this. 'Tis my battle, not yours."

Resting his chin upon the top of her head, Tavis replied, "Nay, lass. He has raised a sword against Caraidland no matter what the cause, and that makes it our fight. Just as every soul here kens how 'twas ye who saved the laird's life, so do they ken what that bastard means to do with ye. 'Tis not our way to repay a life by giving up one to certain death. Ye have no kin, and Lady Mary gave ye to me. Weel, what is mine stays mine; an I maun lift sword to keep it, so I will."

Her hands gripped his shirt at the back as she fought against speaking the words that crowded into her mouth. It was not right to send a man off to battle with tears and expressions of fears for his life. A woman must be brave, act as if she is certain that her man will return alive. She felt his hands caress her hair and forced her very real fear to recede for the moment. Out of his sight she could weep and wring her hands as much as she wanted to. She looked up at him.

"Oh, well, there is none that can say I did not give it a try. Ye are a stubborn man, MacLagan."

"That I am, Sassanach. So are ye. Stubborn as a summer's day is long, so I will have a promise from ye here and now. Ye'll nay go tripping out to the man. Swear to it, lass." He quirked a brow when she clamped her lips together. "I will tie ye and that tiptoeing cousin o' yours to a keg an I must. Swear that ye will stay within these walls and nay do anything foolish."

"I swear," she muttered. "Ye play unfair. 'Tis no fun to be read so well. I had this plan ..."

"Aye, I kenned that. Tend to the wounded, lass. 'Tis where ye are truly needed, not hurling yourself into the fray like some ancient sacrifice. Now, off with ye. There is a battle that willnae wait on me.

When he touched his mouth to hers her hands delved into his hair, holding his mouth to hers for a kiss that held all her love for him. Finally releasing him, she pressed her cheek to his. Suddenly, it was important that he know how she felt. Pride was an insignificant thing at such a time.

"Ye are the sun of my world, Tavis MacLagan. Without ye all would be cold and dark. I love ye."

She slipped free of his arms, arms grown lax from sheer astonishment. Sholto, who was looking at his brother in obvious puzzlement, had his turn to be surprised when she pressed a brief kiss upon his mouth. She then swiftly disappeared into the keep, not wanting to wait around for any possible discussion over her impulsive admission. That, with luck, would come later.

"What did the lass say to leave ye looking as if ye have been pole-axed?"

"Naught, Sholto," Tavis replied, shaking free of his shock, yet discovering that he did not want to believe his own words. "Only sweet words to make a man fight all the harder so that the battle will end and he can be back with her. They didnae mean more than that."

"Are ye certain?" Sholto had an idea of exactly what Storm had said.

"Aye. She says such things because of what I maun face." He started toward the battlements. "That which we best get to ere it begins without us."

All was tense and quiet upon the walls of Caraidland. The men watched Sir Hugh's forces gather with an eye to guessing his strategy. Each one knew that they were weak, were up against great odds and could well lose the day. Although each knew it, they faced the knowledge bravely, prepared to fight to the last man. The bringing down of Caraidland would cost Sir Hugh dearly indeed.

Tavis's eyes were fixed upon Sir Hugh's men, but his thoughts were with Storm. He wanted her words to be true, wanted her to be bound to him in that way. It was more than the way she could heat his blood with just a look, then cool the fire in the most satisfying way he had ever known. Never had he liked so much about one woman, from the color of her eyes to the extent of her independent nature. Not since Mary had he thought of settling to one woman, of marriage and family. If Storm truly meant what she had said, was not just mouthing sweet words to give him added strength of spirit to face the battle, all that could be possible. He could feel secure in binding himself to her, for he knew that, if Storm truly loved him, he need never worry about another man.

He forced his mind to concentrate upon the battle he faced. Distraction at such a time could prove fatal. More than ever before he was reluctant to die. He had too much to live for, too much left unsaid. There had to be time left to him to speak to Storm, to speak of more than how much his body continually craved hers.

Sir Hugh mounted his destrier as Lady Mary looked on. As the time of battle drew near, her blood ran hot. At times she wished she were a man so that she could join in the fighting. However, she gained more than enough satisfaction from watching the fight and could be content with that. She could stand at a safe distance and savor the sight of men fighting a life and death struggle, revel in the violence and death played out before her eyes. It left her with a voracious carnal appetite and, with her husband now gone, she could be completely free to sate it as she saw fit. The need for some discretion in the past had severely curbed her creativity.

"Slaughter them to a man, Hugh," she said coldly.

Although he had been savoring that very plan, he resented her ordering him to do so. "I was just about to offer them a last chance to surrender. 'Tis customary to do so."

"Then do so. They will say nay. I know it. E'en if they say yea, should that stop you? An I have learned anything in this wretched land, 'tis that the English here feel it their Godly duty to slay the Scots. No one would fault you if that is what you fear."

"I do not care for what others think." He scowled down at her. "There are rules to follow in war, Mary. Whate'er else I may be or have become, I am a knight." He could not bring himself to offer terms of surrender and then, if they were accepted, cut down the unsuspecting.

"They are Scots. 'Tis not necessary to deal honorably with them. It seems to me that you take up or toss aside these rules as suits you. These are MacLagans, border reivers. You do not deal honorably with such scum. If you rid the world of the curse of their presence, you will only be thought a hero. None will question how it was done.

"I want them dead, Hugh. I want that ugly pile of rock razed to the ground. They are naught but a burr in my side. I grow tired of trying to shake free. They have stolen from me, and I mean to take everything from them. 'Tis a fair payment to my mind.

"Do you forget how they have injured you? Do you forget that shameful ride back into Hagaleah, all the laughter at your cost? Do you forget that they stole the fine, costly stallion you had only just gained? They also stole the mare you meant to breed, and I speak not of the four-legged ones but of Storm. Tavis MacLagan rides your mare, mayhaps e'en sets a MacLagan foal in her belly. By holding her, he also holds your fortune, holds the land you crave but have never owned. They, too, laugh at you. How much scorn must you bear before you act as you should and avenge yourself?"

"No more," he snarled. "Cease your speeches, woman. You have won your way. E'en an I must draw them from Caraidland through treachery, I will see them all dead. This day will mark the end of the arrogant, troublesome MacLagans. This land will turn red with their blood."

She smiled as he rode off. Soon the MacLagans would bother her no more. She had no doubts about who would gain the victory today. Hugh was a skilled fighter and the MacLagans were greatly out-numbered. She had spied the women upon the battlements taking the night watch and knew what that meant. What men did remain to fight for Caraidland were a weary lot with no hope of much rest unless they could defeat Sir Hugh. Her forces were well rested and alert. She wondered, as she moved to sit in her shaded cart, if the coming battle would last long enough to stir her passions. It would be disappointing, if convenient, if Caraidland fell too quickly. She hoped she could count upon the MacLagans' fighting skill and obstinacy to provide her with a satisfactory show before she claimed the victory she so craved.

Storm studied the women and small children gathered together in the hall. The tension as they waited for the battle to begin was almost a tangible thing. They all struggled to hide their fears and worries for their loved ones facing the army Sir Hugh drew up before Caraidland. Even the children were quiet. Storm found it a painfully familiar scene. So it was at Hagaleah before a battle. On either side of the border it seemed a woman's place was to wait and hope that her man, be he lover or kin, would return alive.

In this instance she knew the fears ran deeper than usual. This battle was at the very threshold of their home. It threatened the children, the innocent and the weak. They must now view at first hand the horror of battle, hear every sound as men tried to kill each other.

"I cannot bear it. I must stop this," she whispered, starting to rise.

Maggie grasped her by the arm and kept her seated upon the bench they shared. "Ye cannae stop this. The swords hae already been drawn and blood spilled."

"I cannot sit here and allow blood to be spilled because of me. I am not worth dying for."

"Weel, I suspicion there be a few what would argue that but, wheesht, lass, 'tis nay longer for ye alone. I am thinking it ne'er was. Oh, aye, ye are a part of it. I cannae say ye arenae. 'Tis also a battle for Caraidland, a fight agin a man who deserves tae be destroyed."

"But Caraidland could fall," she whispered. "All this could be destroyed."

"Aye. We all ken it. We hae but half our men and they are weary. We hae faced that foe afore and God has left us live. Mayhaps he'll look kindly upon us agin. We can but pray 'tis so."

"I have been praying, but it does little to still my fears."

"Lass, that man tirling at the pin doesnae mean tae stop if we let ye go. Ye ken it as weel as any o' us. We hae all heard our men talk. With sae much agin us, they would trade ye if they thought it would save us, save our bairns and women. They ken it willnae. We will still be slain if 'tis possible and so will ye, just not so quickly."

Storm shivered and closed her eyes. She knew all that Maggie had said was true. Giving her to Sir Hugh would not end the fight. She had tried to find an easy solution, a quick end to what she knew was going to happen and a way to stop any pain or loss of life. Although she was still a bone of contention, she was no longer the whole of the reason for the battle, maybe never had been.

"He will offer a chance for surrender," she said desperately, clutching at one last hope.

"Aye, he will. 'Tis the way of it."

"But it will be refused." She sighed, for she knew that was how it would be.

"It will be. There be no honor in surrender."

"There is life."

"Do ye really think so?"

After only a moment of meeting Maggie's gaze Storm looked away. She could not bear to read the truth in the woman's eyes, could not bear to see what she already knew. It was a truth she wanted to vigorously deny but could not.

"Nay," she finally whispered. "Nay, I do not really believe that."

"Guid. Tis nay guid tae try and deceive yourself, lass. Not now. Facing the truth will gie ye the strength tae go on."

"I suppose 'tis truth that has my innards so twisted up that I fear to be ill."

"I ken the feeling weel, lassie. I e'er feel it when my Angus gies tae fight and 'tis worse now, for me bairns face the sword." She shook her head when Storm paled. "Nay, lass, 'tis not your doing. Ken this, I'll nay blame ye, ne'er blame ye, for whate'er happens. 'Tis Sir Hugh Sedgeway I will be cursing an a sword cuts down any o' mine. Him and him alane.

"Lass, we both ken that he wants all we MacLagans deid. Whate'er he offers, unless 'tis death, he'll nay mean tae keep his bargain. He but tries tae make us set down our weapons sae that he can slaughter us like sheep. We'll nay let that happen. If God means tae see us deid, we'll gie down fighting to the last unweaned bairn. Sir Hugh will find victory o'er us one hard fought for. I pray tae God that that beast is the first to die."

"There would be a blessing. I am so torn, Maggie. I have friends on either side of these walls. Some of my father's old guard follow Hugh, though they like it little. They are fighting men and must go when ordered whether they like it or not."

"I ken it. Our laird is a guid man, but he could hae been ane like Sir Hugh. My Angus would hae had tae follow e'en so. He is bound tae Caraidland. He kens naught else. I dinnae either. Ah, lassie, how I wish 'twas your father out there, and I ne'er thought tae e'er be saying that."

A weak smile curved Storm's lips. "I think more than one MacLagan has said the same."

"Aye. Lord Eldon be a man ye can trust, his word be his bond and he would ne'er kill the innocent, the unarmed. This man cares only for his ain skin and doesnae honor his word. Och, weel, what will be, will be. Ye cannae fret o'er God's will."