Finding My Highlander (22 page)

* * *

Ushering her into the tent—her prison, he apologized. “I’m sorry you find yourself in the middle of this mess. If I could help you further, I would.”

“Why? Any aid you give me puts you at great risk. Why do you help me?” His kindness baffled her when every other man had treated her with open distain or lechery.

A twinkle glinted in his eye, “I don’t know. Perhaps you remind me of my older sister.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Her mum was a Scot too, God rest their souls.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Surprisingly, she truly did feel sorrow, as much for herself as for him.

He observed her as though he’d just discovered an odd zoo specimen. “Can I trust you, my lady?”

“If you think to ask me to promise that I will not attempt escape at every opportunity, don’t bother. For your previous kindness, I won’t lie to you.”

He tilted his head in observation of her. “You are a most remarkable woman. If I leave these bindings loose would you give me your word not to try an escape until I tell you the moment is right?” She started to respond negatively when he held up his hand.

“It’s anyone’s guess how things might turn in the next few hours or days. I would recommend you wait for your rescuers. Another botched attempt at escape would probably result in serious injury, torture, or death to you. If something should happen to me, then certainly take every opportunity to escape. Otherwise, if you can wait, I am certain your friends will come. If you were mine, I’d move heaven and earth to reach you.”

His words surprised her. “How old are you, Lucas?”

“I am soon one and twenty, my lady.” He smiled sheepishly.

“Are you married yet?” She didn’t know why she asked such a personal question, but his kindness spurred her on. Talking seemed to calm the potent fear that bubbled through her veins.

“Not yet. I must earn my position in her majesty’s army first. When I can provide a proper home for my family I shall seek a wife. I hope she possesses your strength of character.”

A sad smile lit her face.
Chivalry still exists, Dad
. “I hope you are successful in your efforts, Lucas. You are a gentleman and deserve to find a good woman for your wife. Don’t let the likes of these men twist you into the ugliness that possesses and distorts them. They will poison your soul. You must seek some other position as soon as you are able.”

“Thank you for those thoughtful words,” he smiled sheepishly. “I’ll bind your hands in front so you can reach that
dirk
stuck in the side of your vest should you find the need to thwart the less savory men in camp.”

A shocked expression crossed her face.

“Don’t fear. I won’t take it from you. Wait, as I’ve said. You’ll know when the time is right to make a move. In the meantime, I’ll do my best to protect you.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Kendrick came across a place where, despite the recent downpour, a number of horses had recently churned the mud. “Rabbie, Struan, let’s spread out through these trees. These hoof marks indicate a recent skirmish happened here. Keep your eyes on the canopy as well; they may have spotters or archers hidden in the branches.”

Maintaining the point position Kendrick moved cautiously, Rabbie and Struan pulled wide to either side of him. The rest of the men spread out in an inverted v-formation behind them, weaving carefully through the trees.

Another half-hour had passed when Kendrick spotted a lone rider on a hill to their left. With a flick of his wrist, he directed one of his men to pursue the man. Unfortunately, the man escaped, lost in the forest before Kendrick’s man could apprehend him.

He signaled to Rabbie and Struan. “They are waiting for us. I have a bad feeling about the trap being set. ‘Tis certain they ken we are coming.”

One of their fore-guard sentries returned to report that he had spotted suspicious movement in the trees not far ahead. Rabbie pulled out and headed in that direction with Struan flanking him. Kendrick kept moving forward with the rest of the men. “Watch for arrows.” He called after them.

“Rabbie! Rabbie! Oh, thank God you have come.” Isabel dropped out of the tree branches, and Senga followed behind her.

Rabbie couldn’t believe his eyes. How had the girls managed to get here, in a tree in the middle of the forest? He gave a sharp whistle, calling Kendrick and the rest of the men to their location.

Rabbie had never felt such relief in his life as he reached up and pulled the quaking girl into his arms. He held her face and kissed her forehead. “Thank the saints, we’ve found you, sweet Isabel. Are you injured?” He rubbed his hands down her shivering arms.

Struan reached to Senga and pulled her onto his lap just as Kendrick charged out of the trees.

“Isabel! Thank God, we’ve found you. How did you get in that tree? Where is Andra?” Relief over his sister’s return to the safety of her family’s embrace warred with his anxiety that Andra was not with the girls.

“Oh Kendrick, my eyes have never been so happy to see me brother. Andra saved us. One of the Sassenach guards set a horse aside for us and Andra managed our escape. When the men came close to catching us she put us here, gave me her bow and rode away to distract them from our hiding place.” Isabel sobbed and clung to his hand while refusing to release her hold on Rabbie.

Kendrick dismounted. “Hold your wheesht, Isabel. You are safe now. We have you, but you must tell us everything you can about your captors and their location.”

The men conferred over various strategies to confront their nemesis and retrieve Andra. They had placed the girls under an oiled tarp by the tree, given them ale and dried meat to revive their strength, and placed two men to guard them.

“Saints alive, that woman will surely be the death of me.” Kendrick clenched and unclenched his fists while pacing a path through the forest’s carpet of debris. “If any of those bastards have harmed her, they will suffer in ways they cannae imagine.”

“The lass is as brave as any of our warriors. She’ll survive and we’ll get her back, cousin.” Rabbie offered assurances to Kendrick. How he wished his cousin’s veiled optimism would come to fruition. Knowing the men who held her, unimaginable images filtered through his thoughts even as he strategized over the best course of action to pursue.

Rabbie’s fleeting, worried expression conveyed he shared his concerns. Despite an urgent desire to surge ahead, a show of control directed Kendrick’s actions as they planned for the coming battle. This was why his men trusted him completely; he would not allow his emotions to interfere in battle. He presented them with a cool, self-possessed leader, fierce in the face of adversity. His men would follow him into any skirmish without reservation.

Struan had remained quiet, his bulky arms clamped across his chest. “We need to send the lasses back to the castle first. They cannae be put in further danger.”

“Aye, Struan, you will stay with me. Rabbie, I want you to escort the girls. Take six men with you. If you encounter any allies who you would trust with your life, release the lasses to their protection for the remainder of their journey to the castle, and then return here with whomever they can spare. Once a scout returns with information on the enemy’s camp, I’ll leave one man at this point who can direct you to our location. I ken we are in for quite a battle, and I do not want to go in blind.” Unfortunately, Kendrick could barely restrain the urge to rush headlong into the trap he knew awaited them.

“One of the scouts should be returning shortly with information. You have the right of it. Those bastards are laying a trap.” Struan looked toward the road expectantly.

Kendrick nodded, “That is the way of both Richardson and Cormag—set the trap, reel them in, and then slaughter everyone. They are ruthless to the core, and they both bear me a grudge, however unfounded their grievances. We cannot expect any quarter from them, and I’ll give them none in return.”

Pacing across the clearing while carefully observing the surrounding hills and trees, Kendrick continued. “Cormag grows increasingly unstable in his hatred after Kirstin’s death, and Richardson will never forgive the scar I dealt him, even if I gave it in battle, and he would have done the same to me if he’d had the chance. Besides, I am certain they are the men who burned out those crofters where Andra found the bairns.”

Rabbie interjected, “No doubt they had hoped those poor souls could provide information about our cave. That hidden refuge would provide one more shelter for their incursions into the Highlands. You ken that Cormag has long coveted Ruadhstone castle, and Richardson probably imagines he’ll claim it for an army outpost. Its strategic location in the Highlands would provide a boon from which to engage in their nefarious activities.”

“Aye,” Kendrick nodded, “but our allies are strong, and we will not allow them to take our lands under any circumstances.”

Struan rubbed at his scruffy jaw and paced about, his usual posture while sorting through all possible battle contingencies. “They ken where we are positioned, and it will be full dark soon. Will we bed here for the night?”

“No, a heavy fog is settling that will muffle our movement. As soon as we know their location, we will advance to them. I’ll not leave Andra in their grasp for a moment longer than necessary. We ken this land as well as they do, perhaps better, and Highlanders are not afraid of a bit of fog and dark. Before morning I plan to be in their midst and will take back what is mine.”

The words were out of his mouth before he considered their significance. He had just verbally claimed Andra as his. Of course, he suspected it came as no surprise to his closest friends and family. Nevertheless, he did not miss the smirk on Rabbie’s face, nor Struan’s sham of a scowl.

Shortly after Rabbie departed with the girls, one of the scouts returned with information on the location of the enemy’s camp. He reported their numbers at perhaps a dozen or more than the number of men currently with Kendrick.

“No doubt Richardson will set a score of men along the ridge above the camp. They can easily shoot down warriors approaching from almost any direction. If we can get a few archers behind the men on that ridge, it will be to our advantage.”

He called to several of his archers giving them instructions. “Once you reach the edge of the forest, flank the ridge. Don’t head in on the main path. Leave the horses under the cover of trees and climb the remaining distance on foot, staying close to the boulders that are scattered over the hillside. If possible, do not announce your arrival until you hear us engage them in battle in the camp. Then move swiftly, and take out as many as you can. We’ll give you a half-hour advance to get into position.”

“Aye, my laird, we will nae fail you or your lady.” It was Michael, the lad who had sparred with Andra in the bailey, who addressed him. He was one of their finest archers and Kendrick knew the man’s skill would provide an advantage in this skirmish.

As he walked away, Struan could not hide his chuckle, a rare sound from his lips. “They are all besotted with your lass. ‘Tis a good thing you’ve decided to claim her properly. That is your plan?”

He could not take back the words he’d spoken, nor did he wish to. Still, Kendrick could hardly believe his ears to hear Struan once again championing her. “What are you blathering aboot? I’m just getting the lass out of the clutches of two of the worst whoresons this land has ever seen.”

“Och, to be sure of that.” Struan scowled. “Yet, did you not just say you were claiming what belongs to you? And if not, well then, it seems more than one of the men may have aspirations toward claiming the lass.” Struan grumbled and tugged on the straps securing his weapons. “Though if you ask me, she’s a bit too feisty for most of them, don’t you ken?”

“If you keep needling me, Struan, I’ll knock you on your arse again.” He could not deny the fact that Andra had charmed her way into the hearts of many of his clan, despite being a Cameron. Moreover, the crushing fury he felt at the thought of her in the hands of his enemies, or any other man for that matter convinced him he must reach her swiftly.

Kendrick’s men busied themselves checking their weapons, strapping on claymores, mace, dirks, and
sgian dubhs
. Some had donned mail under their plaids; others donned hardened-leather jerkins. As they readied for the coming battle, they grunted encouraging banter to each other. His men were outspoken against the Camerons’ continued reiving, plundering, raping, stealing of women, and the murder of their clansmen and allies. This latest kidnapping was the final insult. Settling the score should be swift and final, and to a man, they agreed with him that the coming battle was long overdue.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Though Andra had fought against falling asleep again, tension and exhaustion won out, and she drifted into nightmare realms while leaning against the pole to which she was tethered. The clash of metal on metal, warrior cries, and the harsh neighing and screeching of horses in battle drifted into her nightmare.

Only it wasn’t a nightmare. She woke to the sounds of battle emanating from everywhere at once. Grabbing hold of the pole, she sprang to her feet, shaking the last vestiges of sleep from her brain. She pressed her body against her bound hands, and managed to retrieve her
sgian dubh
. Holding the hilt with her teeth, she furiously worked the blade against the ropes. She nicked her wrist several times, but ignored the pain and trickles of blood. A few more scratches under the present circumstances held no significance. The blade was quite sharp and quickly severed the binding.

Clutching the dirk in her hand, she entered the fray. Fog swirled under her feet and through the trees where the first shimmers of light created a ghostly scene of horror. The noise was deafening, yet strangely muffled. Fear froze her to stone as bile rose in her throat.

Then, Kendrick charged through the trees on a huge, dapple-gray horse, rushing the enemy like an avenging angel. The beast reared and instantly killed the man charging them. Her eyes locked on his for a brief moment, his mouth opened in a scream or command, but she could not make out his words.

Suddenly, Cormag’s filthy breath filled her nose and he twisted the
sgian dubh
held in her hand, deftly turning it against her throat. “I’ve got you now, m’lady, and your hero will not be taking you from me. You’re my retribution, and I intend for Kendrick to witness your degradation and demise. It is me due for all he took from me.”

Sliding the blade along her collarbone and under her shift at the shoulder, he slit the fabric cutting her in the process. She felt a sharp sting and the warm rush of blood but the pain didn’t fully register in her mind. The material of her gown slipped down her arm and exposed one breast.

Had he cut her throat?

All feeling had fled, replaced with a scalding fury. Her thoughts drifted, and she seemed to separate from her body, barely cognizant of the heinous, clutching bastard dragging her across the compacted dirt.

She looked to where she’d last seen Kendrick, but he was no longer on his charger, and the animal had moved from the center of the melee. Then she saw him—engaged in violent battle with the colonel some yards away from where she stood. Their swords slashed and clanged, sparking the misted air. The smell of churned mud and blood mingled to become a coppery tang that permeated everything. The whoosh of arrows whizzed through the air from the ridge above, finding their targets on occasion, but just as often hitting a horse causing the beast to rear and scream in agony, or hitting a tree with a dull thud. Shouts of Gaelic rose as a group of warriors accosted the men on the ridge from behind.

Cormag mumbled something incoherent in her ear while attempting to push her toward the heart of the battling men. Then he screamed in frustration trying to gain Kendrick’s attention. “Look at me, ye bastard, I have your woman, and she’ll be mine for the rest of her days, however long I decide to allow her to service me. Think on that as you breathe your last.” The colonel reacted to Kendrick’s momentary distraction to the taunt and managed a slice against Kendrick’s thigh. The wound did not stop him.

The colonel, quick footed, maneuvered away from Kendrick’s thrusts while still brandishing his sword, and yelled, “Dammit, Cormag, draw your sword, and enter this battle. Leave the woman for now.”

In her peripheral vision a flurry of motion moved swiftly toward them. Lucas slammed into Cormag knocking all three of them off their feet. She hit her head on a rock about the size of a football, briefly knocking her senseless. When she looked up, Lucas and Cormag engaged in hand-to-hand combat with long dirks. She couldn’t find her dirk in the dirt around her. Attempting to stand, she became woozy and lost her balance, falling and rolling from beneath the men’s scrabbling feet and through the front of the colonel’s tent.

Her head pounded, and she found it difficult to catch her breath, but she would not let them take her unarmed again. Rolling to her side, she rose to her knees and reached a hand to touch the warm wetness on her face.

“Damn and double damn, if this keeps up, I’ll end up addlebrained for life,” she hissed. Her hand came away covered in blood. She wiped it across her bodice and pressed against the knot on her head in an attempt to staunch the flow.

After a moment, she looked around for weapons. A bow and quiver leaned against the side of the tent wall. Rising on shaky legs, she gulped in air and steadied herself as she lifted the weapon. Though larger than the ones she’d recently practiced with, she could manage it; she had often used her father’s bow.

“Dad, if ever you are with me, be here now, I need your strength.” Andra strapped on the quiver, notched an arrow, and slipped out of the tent. Lucas lay in the dirt not far away, bleeding profusely from a wound on his side; Cormag was gone. The young man’s wide eyes took in her appearance.

“Oh my God, you are bleeding, my lady. I am so sorry I did not get to you sooner,” he rasped. “Run to the horses by the river; get away from here.”

“Lay still, Lucas. My thanks once again for your aid, but do not worry. I believe I shall live.” Why she thought that she could not say.

While searching the battle scene for Kendrick, she moved quickly toward the stream to provide enough distance for accuracy with her shots. Finally, she located him. He and the colonel were still engaged in combat. Each man managed to match the other’s thrusts, blocks, and lunges with a corresponding move. Sweat coursed over their faces. Then she saw Cormag rushing forward behind Kendrick. He raised his sword to deliver a fatal blow.

“Bastard!” she spit through gritted teeth. A hot rage tore through her; she would not allow him to kill her man.

Without hesitation, she raised the bow, aimed, and released. The arrow flew true and thudded into Cormag’s chest, throwing him back against a tree where his sword slid from his hand. She turned to her side and vomited, whether because she had just killed a man or because of another head injury, she had no clue, and didn’t take a second to examine that thought.

The colonel saw Andra shoot Cormag, and failed to repress his shocked expression. The momentary distraction allowed Kendrick to lunge a fatal thrust and twist it into the man’s belly. The colonel fell, dead before his face hit the ground. Unfortunately, two of Cormag’s men moved in to challenge Kendrick just when Struan maneuvered to his side.

She notched another arrow and looked up. Following Kendrick and Struan as they fought back to back against three men, she waited for her shot. The battle began to slow as men succumbed to their wounds. Blood soaked Struan’s left arm slowing his sword swings in that direction.

One of the men moved to his injured side. Andra took aim and managed to bring down that dragoon. This time she held down the bile and firmed her resolve. If they survived, she could contemplate her actions later; meanwhile, she must fight. She couldn’t get another clean shot because their battle had moved too close to her position, and she feared hitting one of her own men.

“One of my own? My man?”

She absorbed these thoughts through the haze of her brain. Yes! They were her own fierce Highlanders; whether or not they claimed her, she claimed them.

Several of MacLean’s men battled around her. Her woozy head caused difficulty concentrating. Her arms ached and her ears rang. She felt as though she stood outside of herself watching the skirmish and her own movements in slow motion.

Notching another arrow, she looked to the ridge from where a clash of weapons cracked above her and saw Michael engaged in hand-to-hand combat with one of the colonel’s archers. Brushing the blood and muck out of her eyes with her forearm, she raised her bow, took aim, and held her breath. Michael fell and she loosed her final arrow along with her breath, striking the other man under his arm as he raised his sword. She didn’t know whether her shot struck too late to save young Michael, but she prayed it was not. Turning back toward Kendrick, her arrows spent, she could no longer hold onto the bow and dropped it at her bloodied feet.

* * *

Kendrick, with Struan’s help, dispatched the last of the men they were fighting. He turned toward Andra, who stood several yards away. Her hair hung in damp tangles, tears streaked white tracks down her cheeks. Blood covered her face and one shoulder, streaks of dirt and blood lashed across her bodice. One shoulder and breast was exposed, also covered in blood, but saints be praised, she was standing. To him, she looked like the most glorious warrior goddess ever regaled in myth or legend. It was as if he had come out of the pouring rain and darkness for the first time in his life, and she was the sun that warmed him, body and soul.

The battle near over, shouts of “MacLean” filled the morning air. Kendrick moved purposefully toward her, this bloodied, wild version of the Huntress Diana. Nothing else filtered through his vision. He burned to hold her in his arms, to claim her as his. She took a tentative step toward him, then another, then sprinted forward with her arms flung wide.

He swung her into his arms and crushed her against his chest. His lips touched her hair, her ear, and he whispered breathlessly, “Andra,
a chuisle mo chroi
.” “
Pulse of my heart.”
“
Mo chuisle, mo muirnin,
Andra,” he continued while kissing her damp cheek, lips, and neck. “
My love, my darling Andra.”

Andra lifted her face to his, gripped his thickly muscled arms tight, and pushed away, “
Mo chuisle
,” she said in response. She opened her mouth to say more when a movement at their side caught her attention. One of the warriors stood above Lucas, about to deliver a final deathblow.

She wrenched out of Kendrick’s embrace. “Nooo,” she screamed, dashing forward, “Hold!” Her hand splayed in the air as if she could thrust it across the distance and stop his action with her force of will.

“Do not strike that man!” It was not a subtle plea, but a full-throated ferocious command, issued like the warrior she had become.

Her vehemence startled Kendrick and a flash of jealousy tore through him. What did she know of this man? What was he to her that she should rush to save his life? A Sassenach lover? No, it occurred to him this might be the Sassenach Isabel had mentioned, the one who had assisted in their escape. He raised his hand, “Step back John, we will see to this dragoon.”

She dropped into the dirt beside Lucas and took his cold hand in hers. “Please,” she cried, “please, don’t die.” Brushing damp hair off his forehead her fingers slid down below his jaw searching for a pulse. A whisper escaped her lips. “He lives.”

Kendrick knelt beside her and moved the lad’s hand from his side. The blood still flowed, albeit slowly. Cutting away the jacket, he saw a puncture wound between two ribs. He called to one of the men for a wad of linen to staunch the wound.

“Will he survive?” Andra pleaded, her eyes brimming with tears.

“I don’t know. He is young. If the lung wasn’t punctured and there is no damage to his organs, he might survive. Is he the one who helped you, lass?”

“Yes.” She swiped at the tears streaming down her face. “Yes, and at great risk to himself, he managed to keep me safe from that miscreant, Cormag.” The mention of that name made her shake and gasp with great heaving sobs. She turned her face into Kendrick’s neck, desperately clinging to his shoulders.

“Shush,
mo chroi
, ‘tis over now, you were verra braw,
mo chuisle
, verra brave.” He ran his fingers through the tangles of her hair, pressing her to him, aware that his own heart thudded in his chest like a
bodhrán
. She had captured him, mind, heart, and soul; she was everything he’d never known he needed. Lifting her into his arms, he ordered John to tend the young soldier as if he were one of their own.

The sound of thundering hooves drew their attention to the trees and ridge above. He quickly set her down, pushing her behind and removed his sword in one swift motion. A contingent of men led by Rabbie tore into the center of the camp and another led by The McDuff rode over the ridge above them dispatching the last of their enemies.

“‘Tis aboot time you showed your ugly face, now that we’ve won the battle.” Struan rumbled loudly. Another warrior was tending the wound on his arm.

“I didn’t want to spoil your sport, you old mangy dog,” Rabbie laughed and swung off his horse to check Struan’s arm.

“‘Tis but a scratch. Check on your cousin and Lady Andra, she’s looking sorely injured if you judge by the mire covering her.” His eyes gleamed with respect as he nodded toward the couple.

A gust of air and a soft thud sounded on the ground behind Kendrick. When he turned, Andra was sprawled unconscious in the dirt. He had a half-second of panic before he swooped down and lifted her against his chest. Calling for whisky, water, and bandages, he carried her into the tent behind them and laid her on the table.

“Andra! Andra, open your eyes.” Gently tapping her cheeks, he kept calling to her, but she didn’t respond. Dousing some strips of linen with water and whisky, he started to clean away the debris while checking the many wounds marring her delicate flesh. Rabbie did the same standing on the opposite side of the table. They spoke no words for a few moments while they attempted to assess the damage.