A Highlander's Home (21 page)

             
He slapped her hard on the bottom and spun her around towards the stairs.  “Now, go!”

             
Slapping Robbie on the shoulder, both men headed to
war.

             
Raine ran to her room
, her ladies barely able to keep up,
and slammed the door shut.  Her ladies and Lady MacGregor helped to slide the bolts in place.  Then they all stepped back and stared at it, then looked at each other.

             
“What do we do now?” Raine asked them, almost whispering.

             
It was Lady MacGregor who finally answered.  “Now we wait.”

             
“Wait for what?” she asked.

             
The Lady went to the window and peeked through the heavy material.  “We wait until they have finished the battle.  We wait, and hope and pray to God that my nephew does not kill my sons.”

             
The resounding clash of metal on metal rose from the courtyard below and slithered its way into the room and to Raine’s ear.  She flinched as if she’d been smacked.

             
Her hand covered her mouth.  This could not be happening.  It just couldn’t.  This was too medieval for her.  She was supposed to sit up here and let the men downstairs fight until the last one standing was declared the winner?

             
“Yes, my dear.  If Alisdair takes the keep, we are all
at
his mercy,” the Lady said, reading her thoughts.  “This is the way of things here.”

             
They sat huddled on the bed, holding each other, quiet as mice listening to the clashing of the steel as it got louder, the shouts of the men wafting their way up
to her room.  It
seemed to
go on for hours.

             
“I can’t stand this anymore!” Raine declared, jumping up from the bed, startling the other women and causing
one
to scream in fright.

             
Lady MacGregor clasped her hands in hers.  “There is nothing you can do.  We are women, my child.  We do not fight.  We have not the skills or strength to battle the enemy.”  She sighed and whispered, “Even if that enemy is my own blood.”

             
She sank into a nearby chair and began to sob softly.  Raine wrapped her arms around her and rocked her.  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

             
One of her ladies grabbed her shoulder.  “My lady!” she hissed.  “Listen!”

             
All of them stood, listening.  If sh
e had dropped a pin on the soft woven
rugs they could have heard it.

             
Footsteps.  Footsteps growing louder and nearer.

             
One of the ladies gave a little jump of glee.  “We are saved!  It is the Laird!”

             
The others shushed her, but with happy, hopeful smiles.  Lady MacGregor and Raine grasped each other’s hands and stared. 

             
Then the shouting became more discernable.  Their smiles faded, and their grips tightened.

             
“Find her!  Find that wench and bring her to me!” came the shout.

             
Lady MacGregor gasped and fell to the chair, tears streaming down her soft cheeks.  “My sons!  My sons are dead.”

             
The other ladies began sobbing
, believing their fates were at an end.  Raine looked around the room.  There had to be something in here that could be used as a weapon, something to bash them on the heads with and run out of the room and get to safety.

             
“Shush now!” she ordered them. 

             
She grabbed their hands and pulled them to their feet. 

             
“Stop all that noise!”

             
The women wiped their noses on the backs of their hands, and looked at her.  They looked like little girls playing dress up who were dreading a spanking from their parents.  How could she save them all and get them to safety before Alisdair figured out where they were?  She had to find Leith.  She would not believe he was dead.  He was too skilled, too determined to be overtaken by his wiry mad cousin.

             
She grabbed the knitting needles in the tray by the bed.  Stuffing one into each of her ladies hands, she told them, “Use this on
anyone
who tries to hurt you.”

             
One of them asked, “What do we do with it?”  She held it dubiously between her fingers.

             
Raine took it and made a jabbing motion in the air.  “Stab them.  Repeatedly if you must until they stop moving or you can run past them.”

             
A collective gasp came from the group.  Lady MacGregor composed herself and stood, straightening her spine.  “Yes, you fools!  This is war!  Those men will do much worse to you.  Do as your lady tells you,” she nodded towards Raine, “and maybe you will survive this night, and hopefully with your virginity
intact
.”

             
The ladies paled at that, and strengthened their resolved and clutched their knitting needles.

             
The bolts on the door moved.  Then they were shaken harder.  “My lord!” came the cry.

             
The women huddled together by the end of the bed, white as sheets.

             
Pounding came on the door with such force, it shook the
windows.  “This is Lord Alisdair!  I have taken this keep and am now your lord and master.  Open this door!”

             
Lady MacGregor continued to shed tears, but made no sound.  She stood ramrod straight, holding in a
death grip
behind her back the broken wooden leg of the chair that she had so recently sat upon.  Raine held the other leg that had broken in half when they had smashed it.

             
The door would not hold much more of an assault.  The men must be using a battering ram trying to break the door down. 

             
Raine looked at her ladies, and smiled at them for encouragement.  They nodded and returned their stares to the door.  Suddenly, it came bursting open and brought a couple of men with it.

             
The women screamed but to their credit, maintained their positions, their puny weapons still in their grasp.

             
“Well, well, what have we here?” came the sneer.  It had been months since she heard that voice, but Raine recognized it as if it were just yesterday.

             
Lady MacGregor spoke first. “Alisdair, have you any idea of what you are doing?  We are family!”

             
He snorted.  “We are only family when it is suitable.  And yes, dear Aunt, I know exactly what I have done.”  He laughed and took pleasure as
he enunciated, “I have taken
Hell’s Gate!
  I have grown weary of petitioning the Queen and being at the mercy of my dear cousin.  I own the water, I own the keep, and now I own his
wife
.
”

             
The two men on either side of him joined his laughter.  Raine saw how there gazes lingered on her ladies
, looking them over as if they were children gazing upon a piece of candy
, imagining all the horrible things that they would take pleasure in at their expense.  The ladies noticed it too because their knuckles were turning white so hard were they holding their knitting needles.

             
Alisdair’s eyes moved to Raine, narrowing when his gaze fell upon her. 

             
“What a pretty dress.  Did your husband give it to you?” he asked venomously.

             
She met his gaze, her stomach flipping over from fear at the mention of Leith.  She nodded.

             
His gaze narrowed further.  “Tell me, do you wear it willingly or at his request?  I only ask because I thought you were more inclined to breaches than skirts.”

             
“Both,” she answered c
oldly.

             
He smiled cynically at her.  “
I still expect payment for the clothing you stole from my servant.  I have not yet forgotten – or forgiven – that.”

             
He made his way toward her.  Instinctively she took a step back and threw her gaze towards the door.

             
He followed her gaze.  “Still hoping that my cousin will come to your rescue?”  He laughed.  “
Perhaps I did not make my earlier claim clear to you
?” 

He spun to face his aunt, smacking his hand against his forehead.  “Ugh! 
You seem confused.
F
orgive me, ladies.  The battle has made me lax in my manners.”

             
Straightening to his full height, he grandly made his announcement, the glee in his eyes unmistakable.  “Ladies, Aunt, I am the new lord of Hell’s Gate.  My men have won the battle and are the last ones standing while the men of your husband – and your son
s
, Aunt – are dead or will be soon.” 

He turned to Raine, leaning into her.  “And your hu
sband, the great and wonderful L
aird, is dead.
”  He met her cold gaze while his voice dripped with satisfaction.
 
“
And I
can gladly say that I
am responsible for his death.”

             
Lady MacGregor exhaled a sigh, swooning slightly and grabbed the wall to steady herself.  No one else moved.  Alisdair continued staring at Raine, hopeful that his
taunt
had hit its mark. 

His hatred for his cousin ran deep and extended to
his woman, not only because she had stolen from his
servant
, but just because she belonged to Leith and not him.  The thought occurred to him that maybe he would keep her for himself instead of killing her as he had originally planned.

             
It felt as if someone had kicked Raine in the stomach.  Her breathing stopped and her grip loosened on the piece of wood she had so fiercely gripped a few
moments before.  Leith was dead?  Dead.  The K
eep had fallen
,
and they were all at the merc
y of this madman and his men?
  She would never see Leith again.  Never feel his touch or look into those wonderfully blue eyes, never hear his laughter
again.
Her vision started to blur.  She blinked, returning her gaze to the blonde angelic looking man before her who seemed so abundantly pleased with himself for accomplishing such a horrific feat.

             
He tilted his head.  “Aww, tears, my sweet?”

             
She blinked again.  A second passed, and then another.  Without thinking she closed the gap between them.  His smile grew larger, thinking she would beg for his mercy.  She tightened her grip on the broken piece of wood, quickly brought her arm up, and before she could think otherwise, drove it into his neck.

             
Alisdair sputtered, trying to speak, his hands and arms flailing as he tried to grab the object imbedded in his neck
but unable to dislodge Raine’s grip on it
as she fought to push it deeper
. 

             
Her ladies all gasped in unison, cringing as the blood spurted onto their skirts.  The two men were momentarily stunned, thinking that
a room full of women was
no threat to them.  Lady MacGregor, fueled by her anger at her son’s death and her nephew’s betrayal, grabbed her
own
chair leg and charged at the man closest to her, taking him off guard.  The ladies took heart and raised their knitting needles to attack the other man. 

             
Raine stood over Alisdair, his lifeless body in a crumpled heap at her feet, his beautiful face twisted in pain and disbelief and blood.  The yelling and screaming of her ladies jolted her back to the present situation.  Skirts and ribbons were splayed everywhere as the
women attacked and stabbed Alisdair’s
man, overpowering him.  He swatted and kicked and tried to crawl out of the door, yelping in pain every time a knitting needle met its mark.  Lady MacGregor on the other side of the room loomed over the unmoving body of the other man, bringing her chair leg down in a sickening thud over and over, mindless of the drops of blood that covered her and the surrounding walls.

             
Raine called to her to stop
,
but she continued her assault.  She came up behind her and grabbed the chair leg.  Lady MacGregor tried to push her and had a tug of war with the chair leg, needing to continue the beating on this man who had helped to take her son
s
away from her.