Journey to the Highlands: Robbie and Caralyn (Clan Grant Series Book 4) (5 page)

Chapter Eight

A huge storm blew in that night, but Robbie’s crew managed to make it back to camp. When they arrived, Dundonald was there waiting for him, but the fighting hadn’t started yet. They spent most of the day strategizing and sending scouts out, even in the blustery autumn gales.

The following day, tensions were up. More rumors abounded, and his men were ready for battle. The storm had slowed, so the mood in the camp improved. Several scouts left in early light and were back by midday.

Tomas and Angus barged into the captain’s tent without announcing themselves. Robbie and Dundonald stared at the two Highlanders, knowing they brought important news.

“Their ships,” Tomas panted. “Several ships have run aground and there are Norsemen running all over the coastline and the beach. They are trying to salvage what they can from the damaged longboats, but many are battling with the local Scots in the area. Word has it Haakon is coming ashore with more men.”

“Anything you wish to add, Angus?” Robbie asked.

“Aye, get our arses down there before they take over.”

Dundonald nodded and looked at Robbie. “Take half your force and I will send other clans as well. Leave half here in case of an attack from another direction. If you need them, send Tomas back.”

This was it. Robbie couldn’t believe it. The Scots were actually going to fight the Norse. He strode out of the tent and whistled for his men. They planned their attack and he mounted with two flank horsemen each carrying the Clan Grant banner.

He had spoken with his brother, Brodie, a couple of hours ago, but he had headed off in search of a traitor. He said a brief prayer to protect all of his clan in this endeavor, as well as for guidance and wisdom to do what was best.

As soon as they neared the coastline, yelling and screaming rent the air, telling him the battle had already begun. He led his men into the melee, giving direction to his archers and his foot soldiers before he drove his men on horseback forward. He couldn’t believe the number of Norsemen running in the area. The multiple ships run aground were a sight to see, with more Norse boats coming up the firth. He knew the Scots had to drive them back before all their other reinforcements arrived.

There were two main Norse forces, one on the mound not far from the beach and another group on the beach. He directed his warriors to attack the group on the mound, intent on driving them back to their ships.

They fought for hours without gaining much ground. Robbie had sent Tomas back to gather more of his men. He searched for Brodie or Alex in the battle, but there were so many different plaids, he couldn’t find either of them. Finally getting the sense they were making headway, he heard shouts from behind him. He turned around in time to see Alex, a golden helm on his head and atop a mail-clad destrier, join the Scots with another hundred men on horseback, swinging their sword arms with a fury that the Norse were powerless to stop.

He bellowed the Grant war whoop when he noticed some of the Norse retreating to the beach. Alex was too far away to draw his attention, but at least Robbie could tell if he was hurt or not. Robbie continued, driven even more by the sight of his brother fighting down the beach from him. They had to drive the Norse back on their ships.

He swung his sword until he thought his arm would detach from its socket, but he never quit. Closer to nightfall, the Norse finally ran back aboard their ships and sailed away. The ground was littered with the dead, but the fighting was over.

At least for now.

***

The next morning, Robbie noticed the sense of relief permeating the group gathered together after the Battle of Largs had ended, but no more than he after the fierce fighting he had participated in, an experience he would never forget. All the blood and gore, death, the constant worry of whether your comrades survived had framed one of the most difficult days of his life.

The worst of the fight for the Western Isles was over, or so everyone in attendance hoped. Robbie, Tomas, The Boyd, The Mure, and The Campbell all stood inside Alexander of Dundonald’s tent. The Norwegians had been forced back onto their ships at Largs, though not without a long day’s battle and many casualties on both sides.

Dundonald smiled as he recreated part of the fierce battle, his chest puffing out as he spoke. “Grant, your brother on his mailed destrier was pivotal in turning this battle’s favor in our direction. What a sight he was to see with his golden helm. He fought like a crazed warrior, taking down everyone within twenty feet of him.”

The men’s hearty laughter at their commander’s focal point joined the men in a different type of camaraderie, evidence of the amount of stress that needed to be relieved over the prior day’s confrontations.

Robbie agreed with him. “Aye, Alex was impressive, but so were all our warriors. They fought and pressed together as one unit, forcing the Norse off the mound and to the beach, running tail and cowering back to their galley ships, a sight I won’t soon forget.” He slapped Tomas on the shoulder as they chuckled.

Robbie and his men had been fighting down the beach at the time, but had still been able to see Alex when he arrived, his horse Midnight prancing and rearing on his hind legs in excitement. Robbie had hoped to see his other brother, Brodie, nearby, but had never found him amongst the hundreds of Scots that had descended over the coastal battlefield.

“Och, aye, of course you are correct. Our lads were too much for the Norse. But ‘twas the first time I have ever seen mail-clad horses.” Dundonald shook his head as he stared at the dirt floor. “They were a sight to see.”

The Mure spoke up. “Report on casualties? How many have we lost?”

“I have my men searching the battleground as we speak. We’ll bury our dead on the morrow after we get a count and a listing of their names.” Dundonald’s demeanor changed to a more serious nature.

“And my brother, Alex? Has anyone seen him after the battle?” Robbie held his breath without realizing it.

“Aye,” Dundonald clasped his shoulder. “He survived. Last I saw him he was at the healer’s tent. Your other brother took a leg wound. He was arranging for him to be brought home to your healer.”

“Brodie was hurt?”

“Aye, not a fatal wound, but the healer on the field wanted to amputate. The Grant wouldn’t allow it. Ordered a couple of warriors to escort him to your sister, Brenna. Did she truly save a laird’s leg that had been hanging by a thread?”

Robbie nodded. “Aye, ‘twas more than a thread, but she sewed him up.”

“And she saved your niece and nephew from sure death?”

“Aye, ‘tis true. Brenna is a great healer because she uses her own mind and the beliefs of my mother and grandsire.”

Dundonald shook his head before continuing. “Good to know should I ever become gravely ill. I also told the Grant I was sending you south again, just until we are sure the Norwegians have retreated.”

“’Tis likely we sent the Norsemen running all the way back to Arran.” The Boyd had a grin of victory on his face.

“Aye, they collected their dead, unloaded what they could from their ships run aground and headed back down the firth. Hopefully, they head right past Arran and back to Norway.”

A commotion interrupted their meeting. Two guards stood at the entrance to the tent and were detaining someone that was not happy.

As the voices grew, Dundonald pulled the flap aside. “Problem, lads?”

“Aye, this man, who claims to be a local merchant, is asking for Captain Grant.”

Robbie’s ears perked up as Dundonald continued. “State your purpose.”

“I’m looking for my wife.”

Robbie glanced at Tomas. What would he know of anyone’s wife?

Dundonald looked back over his shoulder at Robbie. “Do you mind talking to the man?”

“Of course not. I’ll help if I am able.” Robbie, Tomas, and Dundonald stepped outside the flap.

A tall dark-haired man stood outside the tent, hands on his hips. He traveled on horseback along with a couple of his own guards. Robbie could tell with just a glance that he was the type not to soil his hands. He said with a smile, “Glad to assist if I may.”

The stranger introduced himself. “Malcolm Murray. I’m here for my wife. Word has it she was at your camp not too long ago.”

Robbie assessed him carefully. “Your wife? I haven’t had anyone’s wife in my camp.”

Murray had a way about him that didn’t strike true, not wanting to maintain eye contact. His eyes darted unnaturally, and he held an air of superiority Robbie didn’t like.

“Listen, Captain. My wife’s house is naught but stone and ashes. We lived in South Ayrshire and the local people tell me the Norse came, burned the houses to the ground and tried to kidnap some women, but Scots warriors carrying the Grant banner chased the Norse back onto their galleys. I want to know where my wife is.”

As Murray spoke, his guards came up on either side of him, whether to protect him or threaten them, Robbie wasn’t sure, but he managed to contain his desire to laugh. Who were the two brutes going to attack in a camp full of Highlanders?

Dundonald said, “Grant, are you sure you didn’t see any women?”

His commander knew Robbie had gone to Glasgow with a woman, but Robbie sent him a pointed look, hoping he picked up on Murray’s character and wouldn’t give him away. Aye, he had taken Caralyn to Glasgow, but she wasn’t married to his knowledge, and there had been no mention of children. He should be concerned about his daughters, too, wouldn’t he?

Robbie stared straight ahead at Malcolm Murray, dressed in his finery and his gloves. “Aye, I am certain. I didn’t see any wife of yours. What’s her name?”

“Catriona Crauford. She would have had two girls with her.”

“And their names?”

The man’s face turned dark in an instant. Aye, he must have been looking for Caralyn, but he didn’t know the names of his daughters? Something was not right.

Murray’s dark expression changed to a smug smile. “I think I know my daughters’ names. Now, have you seen them or not? Where did you take them?”

Robbie’s hands settled on his hips. “Sorry, I can’t help you.”

Murray stepped forward until he was a short distance from Robbie’s face. “Can’t help or won’t?”

Robbie stepped closer. “Both. Be on your way.”

Murray spun on his heel and mounted his horse. He used his crop on his horse’s flank and took off, intentionally stirring a cloud of dust behind him.

As soon as the man’s guards departed, Dundonald glanced at him before returning to the inside of the tent. “I don’t understand your reasoning, but I won’t interfere with the Captain of the warriors that just sent the Norse home.”

Tomas’s censure was clear. “I know their first names were different, but you lied about a man’s wife?”

“His wife? Did you not notice how he said my wife’s house instead of our house? Or that he didn’t know the names of his own daughters?”

“Mayhap they aren’t his daughters. Mayhap only Gracie is his.”

Robbie’s gaze narrowed. “Did you notice his wife’s name is Crauford and his is Murray? Och, Tomas. You weren’t paying attention.”

“Still. Their house burned down, the last name is the same and she had two girls. It has to be her.” Tomas’s looked at him as if he was daft.

“I think if it were true, he would have asked about his two daughters straight on instead of last thing. I also recall that Ashlyn told me her father was dead and that Gracie had never known her father.”

Tomas shrugged his shoulders and threw his arms up in the air. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that something about this husband wasn’t right. I don’t know his purpose, but I will find out.”

He hoped he would find out the truth, and that the truth he discovered would not be that Caralyn was lying about everything.

Chapter Nine

She collapsed into Robbie Grant’s arms in relief. How she loved him, and he had finally come back for her. The heat from his touch warmed her body, her desire for him raced through her veins. She wanted more, so much more from him.

His hand caressed her skin, trailing a path across her belly and down her hips. The touch of his tongue ignited a fire in her that she reveled in, bringing her to the edge of the cliff where she waited for more from him so she could plummet into whorls of ecstasy and pleasure.

Robbie, I love you. Only you, no one else. He shook her arm and she wondered what he was doing.

Her eyes flew open, immediately recognizing the same dream she had experienced every night in the priory since Robbie had left, except tonight there was one difference.

A hand was splayed between her legs, teasing her, taunting her, while his other hand shook her arm. She knew who it was by his smell.

He snickered in the darkness. “You thought you could get away from me? But look at how wet you are for me, for my touch. Much as you wish to deny me, you can’t, can you?”

Caralyn locked her legs together and pushed herself away from him. She wanted to scream and run at the same time. He had found her again.

Malcolm grabbed her leg and stilled her. “Do not move, my pretty one. Gus and Sorley are with your wee lasses as we speak and we had to knock out a few guards to get here. You cause so much trouble. Do as I say or you know what will happen…unless you need a reminder?”

Caralyn stared into the cruel gaze of the man who had controlled her life shortly after her husband’s death. All her hope fluttered away. How could she have thought being in a priory would protect her? What could a group of nuns do to send Malcolm away?

His black hair was slicked straight back, as always, and his brown eyes appeared black as coal in the darkness of the night. While some thought him attractive, his nature ruined his good looks. He had naught in common with Captain Grant, even his hands were cold and hard, much like his soul. She had so hoped to protect her girls from him this time. “Please don’t hurt my lassies. Please, Malcolm.”

He leaned over and pressed his face between her legs, teasing her nub with his tongue. “Come for me and I will leave your girls alone.” He continued his ministrations until she convulsed beneath him.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, anger at this man and at herself. She had been betrayed by her own body again.
You must learn to be strong for your daughters. Fight him!
She dug her fingernails into the tender skin of her opposite wrist, delighting in the pain. She deserved it. How could she find pleasure, even if it was against her will, when her sweet lassies were being held by two brutes?

He jerked her out of bed. “Come, do you remember who controls you now?”

She hung her head, unable to speak.

“I didn’t hear you.” His grip tightened on her arm.

“Aye,” she whispered, frustration, despair and guilt weaving a familiar thread through her.

“You thought you could get away from me but never. I will never part with you, my Cat.” He licked the side of her cheek and chuckled.

She cringed at the use of the name with which he’d christened her. Catriona. How she hated it. She hated the way it rolled off his tongue in the bedroom. She hated
him
.

“Come along. You are coming with me to Glasgow. That little cottage I found for you before no longer stands. We’ll find another that is closer to the firth in Glasgow, where I spend most of my time. I need more of you.”

“Anything, just promise not to hurt my daughters, Malcolm.”

“As long as you are agreeable, the girls will be fine. Otherwise, I am sure we can find a switch somewhere along the road. But you know I mean what I say, don’t you? Here,” he tossed her gown to her. “Get dressed so we can leave now, princess.” A few minutes later, he yanked her out the door.

There weren’t many nuns around in the middle of the night. One man at the end of the passageway lay in a heap, though he still breathed. Gus and Sorley were already in the passageway, each holding one of her daughters. Caralyn’s heart wrenched when she saw the fear in their eyes. How could she have thought an escape possible? The prioress had promised they could stay even after Caralyn had shared her fears. The kind nun had promised they would protect her. But there was no protecting her.

As they exited through one of the side gates, she noticed two of the guards were sprawled on the ground. Muttering a silent thanks that they were alive, she closed her eyes to block out the cold reality of her situation, even for an instant.

Malcolm was back. Again. And she would never, ever be free of him.

***

The Norse were gone, all their galleys headed back down the Firth of Clyde, and Robbie hoped they would never return again. Tomas and Robbie had just come from the Grant camp and were leaving the royal castle in Ayr, Tomas aiming directly for the nearest pub. Dundonald had advised Robbie to keep a few guards on hand for at least a sennight, so he ordered around fifty to stay at camp with Angus in charge, though they were allowed to travel to the royal burgh in Ayr. He had sent the rest of the Grant clan warriors back to the Highlands with news. There was to be a celebration the next day in Glasgow, but he had convinced Tomas that he needed to do one thing before he could celebrate with the rest.

“Please don’t tell me you are daft enough to go chasing after the married woman.” Tomas hopped off his horse and handed the reins to the stable lads near the local inn, where he intended to stay the night. “Finally, I get to sleep in a real bed and you wish to drag me back to the priory near Glasgow?”

Robbie remained on his horse as he spoke to his friend. “Just because you received some compensation from the king doesn’t mean you have to spend it now. Besides, I tell you she isn’t married.”

“Only in your foolish mind is she not married. You looked her husband in the eye. And I need a restful sleep for a change. Mayhap I can find a sweet lass in the local pub to ease my aching bones.”

“Then go find her. I’ll go to the priory on my own. I’ll be back in plenty of time for the celebration tomorrow.” Robbie spurred his horse and headed down the village path, not wanting to bother his friend anymore. He could do this on his own. He just knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night until he was certain the lass and her daughters were safe. He didn’t trust Malcolm Murray and his louts. Not one bit.

Robbie smiled to himself when he heard a horse following him on the path out of town. Tomas. “And what are you planning to do when you arrive there?” his friend bellowed at him from his place on the path. “What is your ultimate plan?”

“I am going to make sure she is safe there and the fool didn’t abduct her or something worse. ‘Twill not take long to talk to a lass for a few moments. And if you don’t wish to sleep under the stars again, I am sure the abbess will put the two of us up for one night.”

He couldn’t stop thinking about how the prioress had advised him to come back after a while to try and see Caralyn again. Slud, but every night he woke up with a stiff shaft thinking about the lass. Add to that the guilt he felt about leaving little Gracie to the potential torment of three brutes, and he wasn’t sleeping at all. Still, he wasn’t about to admit any of it to Tomas.

“Och, aye,” Tomas growled, sending his horse into a full gallop.

After a mostly silent ride, the pair arrived at the abbey around dusk. Robbie dismounted and strode up to the gate. The guard asked him his business, then left to speak to the prioress. When he returned, he ushered the two inside and they waited in the same hall where Robbie had sat with Caralyn. Robbie paced the chamber while Tomas sat in a chair, crossed his arms, and stared at his friend. “Say what you need to say, Tomas. Get it out so you can put away that wicked grin you’re always wearing.”

Tomas crossed his arms and pushed back in the chair so it balanced on two legs only. “You’re besotted. You won’t listen to reason about this lass. Can you not get it through your thick skull that you made a mistake? I can’t wait for the lass to walk in the room with a smile on her face so we can take our leave.”

After several minutes, the prioress entered, a serious expression on her face.

“Good evening, Captain Grant. Please sit.” She motioned him over to the table where Tomas was sitting. “How may I assist you?”

Robbie didn’t like the look on her face. “Your Grace, I came to check on the young woman I brought here a fortnight ago, the one with two daughters. She had been beaten and had a swollen ankle, do you remember her?”

“Aye, of course I do. She was a lovely young lady, as were her daughters.”

“Was?” Robbie’s gut clenched as he held his breath, awaiting her response.

“Aye, I am afraid the man she lived with before the attack by the Norse came and stole her away in the middle of the night.”

“Her husband?” Robbie’s worst fear had come true. Malcolm Murray had abducted her.

“Och, I don’t think they were married, but she did fear him. She had shared with me some of the problems she was having in Ayr. He was not the father of her daughters. He came in the middle of the night and knocked our guards out before going into her room and taking her with them.”

“And the lassies?”

“Aye, they were taken, too. Though the guards swear he said he was her husband. They didn’t give in, but that’s what he claimed.”

“Any idea where he may have taken them?” Even though she was a member of the church, Robbie wanted to reach over and shake the woman. What kind of protection had she offered the three lasses?

“Nay, I have no idea. I am sorry, Captain. I know you are fond of the lass.”

Robbie jumped out of his chair and paced, but not before giving Tomas a glare. “Thank you, Your Grace. I know you did the best you could.” Robbie walked out the door and headed down the passageway. The clicking of Tomas’s boots on the stone let him know his friend wasn’t far behind.

“Grant, we’ll find them. They must be in Glasgow and it isn’t that big a town. It only has four main roads in it. She’s here somewhere.” Tomas shouted, “Grant, wait.”

Robbie ignored him and continued. He was almost to the end of the passageway, when he heard the prioress’s footsteps behind them.

“Captain Grant?”

“Aye, Your Grace?” Robbie stopped and waited for the abbess to catch up with him.

“I know you are interested in her. I feel I need to say something.”

“Aye, Abbess. Please speak your mind.”

“I told you before I didn’t know all the demons and the wounds she had suffered.”

“Aye.” Robbie had no idea what she was about to tell him.

“Now I do. After a long discussion with Caralyn, I wish to tell you that she is indeed a lovely young lady, but she will need a patient man at her side.”

Robbie nodded, unsure of what to say.

She continued. “But you will have no regrets if you pursue her. She is special and has a warm heart. You are just what she needs, a kind and patient man. I think God wouldn’t want you to give up on your quest for the lass. Something is indeed amiss.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Robbie cleared his throat and went back in the direction he’d come from. He didn’t know what to say to that statement either. He glanced over at Tomas, whose smug look had been scrubbed off his face.

At the present, all he wanted to do was to locate Caralyn and her lassies. But he had absolutely no idea where to start.