Tarnished Honor (10 page)

“Come by the fire, wife and warm yourself. I will see to our mounts.” She did not r
espond. He spun around in alarm to find an empty doorway
sway
ing in the wind.

Unsheathing his sword, he cautiously exited the small hut. Glancing to his left then his right, he saw no sign of her. The horses were missing as well. Walking the perim
e
ter he came across tracks leading away from the clearing. Ross! It could be no other.

Fear for her safety threatened to choke him. He swa
l
lowed hard to force it back down. How was he to catch up to a mounted man when he was on foot? Noting the tracks directions
south, he remembered a small pass that he would have to go through. Connall set off at a jog, cutting across on a deer path to arrive ahead of him, while he prayed that Stephen did not change course.

* * *

* * *

Brighde was chilled and sore from her earlier fall. Her fingers had gone numb over an hour ago
from the leather binding on her delicate wrists. Stephen rode before her hunched over…having occasional bouts of a wracking cough.

He is ill. That may work in my favor. Perhaps I can e
s
cape during one of his fits. She was certain that Connall would not be able to catch them…he had no horse.

Ross bent over his steed’s neck hacking so hard that he could barely catch his breath. Blast this illness! Will it ne
v
er leave?
At least I managed to be rid of Blacksword and still claim what is mine. I will kill him later when I am well. His voice was raspy as he spoke to his prisoner.

“Do nae think of running away, wench. I will kill your steed and, if ye survive the fall, ye will ride before me.”

She shuddered at the thought. Brighde had no wish to share a mount with him. Hopelessness began to settle in as they continued south. He was headed toward Wick. She was certain of this as she recognized landmarks along the way. They would swing eastward once they
traverse
d
the small mountain pass.
I will miss ye, my love. Do nae blame yourself for losing me. Ye did your best.
A silent tear rolled down her porcelain cheek as she bid her husband good-bye in her thoughts.

Connall breathed a sigh of relief as he spotted the two riders ambling through the pass. His instincts had been right. Ross saw no need to hurry since he left him afoot. His eyes hardened as he spotted fresh blood on Brighde’s lip. He calmed his ire as they drew closer. An effective warrior fought with a cool head. He knew this.
He
hid in the branches
of a huge oak whose limbs spread across most of the pass
,
as he waited for Stephen to approach.

She locked eyes with her husband. Connall! He gave her a warning glance to be silent, fearing any movement would be noticed. Knowing how skittish her mare was, she grabbed a handful of mane and held tightly. He smiled his approval, then he leapt from the tree as Ross passed b
e
neath his position.

Her captor screamed in pain as
his rib
broke from the force of the landing. Brighde’s horse reared up but she managed to keep her seat as she gained control of her mount.

Connall rolled to his feet
,
quickly unsheath
ing
his sword. Stephen rose slowly from the ground, one arm across his aching ribs. He cursed his luck as he spared his opponent a venomous glare.

“Ye would fight with an injured man? Where is the
honor
in that, Blacksword?”

“
Ye seem to keep forgetting
Ross that I am an Earl and ye have broken my laws.
Tis my right to execute ye! To allow ye the chance to fight back
is
honorable.”

He hissed in pain as he drew his weapon. He knew he had no chance against the king’s enforcer but he was not about to simply stand s
till and be executed. The sound
of metal clashing echoed through the pass as he lunged at her husband.

Fearfully, Brighde watched the two warriors in this battle to the death. In her heart she knew it was foolish. Connall was, by far, the better swordsman
and Ross was ill
and
injured. Still, she could not shake her concern over her husband’s safety. Unfounded, true, but never the less, she still feared.

The snow had been falling steadily for more than three hours as it blanketed the frozen pass. Wind began to howl
and swirl large
deposit
s
of
the white
flakes into drifts, threatening to close off the entrance. The air thickened with it as the intensity of the storm increased.

She gasped as Connall slid on the slippery surface b
e
fore gaining his footing once again. Ross saw his advantage and lunged forward. Too late to stop his momentum, he thrust himself on her husband’s sword.
It was done. He crumpled to the ground…dead eyes wide with astonis
h
ment.

Noting the intensity of the storm, Blacksword hurried to her side, quickly loosening her bindings. He helped her down from her mount as he shouted to be heard above the winds.

“Are ye alright, my love?” She nodded. “We must get back to the hut. I do nae ken if the horses can make it the way I came, but we must try.” Connall tied the mare’s reins to his destriar’s tail then took hold of her arm. They set off up the steep embankment slipping and sliding most of the way
. It was treacherous…but they made it. He mounted his stallion then pulled her up before him.

They needed to get out of this storm! It had taken more than two hours for him to jog the distance but the snow was deeper now. Glancing at his wife’s blue lips, he knew he had to hurry. Reaching behind the saddle he pulled out his spare plaid wrapping it about the both of them
t
o share their body heat. Putting his spurs to his horse, he urged him fo
r
ward as fast as they dare travel.

* * *

She was warm…too warm
, she thought as she stru
g
gled to kick off the blankets. Sweat trickled through the valley between her breasts.

“Cease love, ye must n
ae
lose the blankets.”

“Connall? Are ye attempt
ing to cook me? I am hot!” she protested. Her eyes flew open as her stomach roiled. “And I am going to spew!” She rolled to her side where he held a bucket ready for her. Holding her hair out of the way, he realized that her fever had finally broken.

“Praise God! Ye are finally on the mend.” He wiped the sweat from her brow with a cool cloth
,
then her mouth as she lay back down.
“Ye have given me quite a scare these past few days. I feared ye might die without me tel
l
ing ye just how much I love ye, Brighde.” His voice choked.

He does love me!
She stroked his brow, tenderly era
s
ing the furrows creased there. “Nay, husband. I could nae die before hearing ye speak the words that have lain across my heart unspoken. I was nae certain ye would wish to hear them. Now I am.” Her eyes misted as she recognized the love shining through his own.
“I love ye, Connall Canmore…husband…Earl of Cai
t
h
ness…Enforcer…Blacksword. All that makes ye who ye are…I love.” Her eyes widened. “Did ye say ‘
days
’? How long have I been ill?”

Connall’s heart was near bursting as he heard her avowal. He could see her sincerity in her aqua gaze as she spoke the words. His wife loved him! His elation new no bounds as he grinned widely. “Ye have been feverish for three days, my love. Ye must be thirsty for certain. I was nae able to get much water down your throat.”

She nodded weakly and drank her fill of the snowmelt he offered. After drinking some broth he had simmering near the hearth, she drifted back to sleep…contented.

For the next sennight, Connall saw to her every need as he nursed her back to health
, leaving her only long enough to hunt some hare and grouse. When she was well enough, they traveled back to Halkirk.

The entire castle turned out to greet them as they e
n
tered the gates to the inner bailey.

“My God, Connall! I thought ye dead! We searched high and low for ye two. Where have ye been? The little mistress is beside herself with grief.” Robbie bellowed in his
excitement
.

“I will tell all once I get my lady out of this cold.
Fetch Amy!” He dismounted then carried Brighde into the great hall. “And food! We have nae had a decent meal in a se
n
night or more.”

Connall fussed over his wife like a mother hen once the food was before them, making certain that she ate her fill. Desire filled his eyes as he watched her chew slowly. He had not touched her during her illness. This eve he would.

“Mama! Da! Where have ye been?” Amy pouted with her hands on her wee hips. “Ye had Lassie worried sick!”

Connall raised a brow in question. Who was Lassie? “Who is this ‘Lassie’ ye speak of Poppit?”

“My puppy, Da. Did ye forget her already?”

He chuckled. This was the fifth time she had changed its name. It must be thoroughly confused by now. “Nay, Amy. I just was nae aware of the name of the day.”

“Ye would be if ye would quit running off. I missed ye both so very much,” she cried as she ran to them
,
giving them
numerous
tiny
kisses
.

As Connall wrapped his arms about his family he knew that his honor
was not dented. Only a wee bit tarnished. And what is a little tarnish co
mpared to a castle full of love.

* * *