The Outcast Highlander (28 page)

Broc nodded. “You go do that. Quinlan, you get the horses saddled and the men ready. If we can’t ride out to meet them, we can at least be ready. And let’s get some of the archers up here to the towers. Tell them to fire away as they can see. Let’s have them hitting as far a distance as we can give them.”

The two ran for their posts and Broc picked up the spyglass. He extended it and looked out onto the moor. They really were a good league away yet, and getting caught up in trying to cross the ravine instead of riding the long way around.

Perhaps they didn’t know there was a way around. But it would slow them up and that would allow for just long enough to get the men together.

Broc clambered down the stairs and found Alec’s horse saddled, so he mounted the poor beast. All the horses looked frightened in the darkness.

He heard the first call of archers above and the loosing of arrows. A few of the men were saddled and ready and Broc led them to the castle gates. A call came from the tower.

“Open the gate! Friendly rider.”

The doors opened and Broccin turned just in time to see Alec riding up to them, a horrified look in his eyes. The gates closed behind him as he approached.

“What is the news, brother?” demanded Broccin, the look on Alec’s face bothering him immensely. This was a man whom he had never seen frightened. A man who looked death in the face and smiled. But something was gnawing at him, Broccin could tell.

“It is Colin Ross,” confirmed Alec, with Gaidel shifting nervously beneath him. His mouth formed a word, but no sound escaped his mouth. Finally, Broccin had taken enough.

“What is wrong, man?” Broccin yelled. “We must know.”

“They have Kensey.”

***

The hallway was dark and completely silent. Through the windows, Fiona could hear the echoes of clashing swords and the moans of battle.

Nualla had just been put down, and now she awaited Duncan’s return in the silence of the house. The other women had moved to the great hall, but Fiona felt safest here. Far above the battle, far from the swords and men.

When she left the confines of the room, certain her baby was fast asleep, she hoped to check on the others, then return quickly. She didn’t want Nua to wake without one of her parents in the room. A new bairn needed sleep, though.

In the quiet, she sensed a presence. Fiona stood at the top of the stairs, waiting for Lydia or Brigid to answer her question. Hearing no answer, she asked again. “Who’s there?”

Again, only the eerie silence filled the hall and she was left staring into near darkness, wondering why they wouldn’t answer her.

“Looking for someone, my pet?” came an oily voice from the dark shadow at the corner of the hallway. Fiona froze. If she led him back toward Duncan’s room, he would find Nualla and make good on his promise.

Please, my baby, stay asleep
.
Stay safe and asleep
.

She picked up the front of her chemise and ran down the stairs, screaming. “Duncan! Duncan!” But her own cries only came back to her. Duncan wouldn’t be able to hear her and come to her rescue. Colin’s boots clomped on the stone. He wasn’t even running, and yet he managed to remain close enough, she could smell the acrid stench of his medicinals

She bolted through the doors and out into the courtyard. Perhaps she might get lost among the fray and Colin would have difficulty finding her. She saw Alec and Fitz fighting nearby and called out to them, but neither could hear.

Before she could reach them, Colin tackled her to the ground and pinned her beneath him. “Thought you could get away from me, did you, my dear?” he sneered, his face curling up into an ugly grin.

Her throat closed and the contents of her stomach threatened to regurgitate. He rained punches on her face over and over, his rage visibly building. She tried to call out for Duncan, but then Colin had his hand on her throat, constricting her breath.

Without thinking, she brought her knee up hard and caught him between the legs. Howling in pain, Colin rolled off her, clutching at the injury. She hurried to her feet and turned to survey the men, looking for Duncan. She couldn’t see him anywhere.

Her eyes finally landed on Broccin, fighting one of the Ross soldiers on foot under the shadow of one of the castle walls. “Broccin!” she yelled, trying to catch his attention. With a brisk stroke, he put his sword through the man’s heart and felled him where he stood. Then, his broad shoulders turned in her direction.

His face contorted in panic as he connected with her searching eyes and he ran for her at top speed. Everything in her body relaxed at the mere sight of him. Even if Duncan couldn’t be found, at least Broccin would save her.

***

As he saw Colin put his sword through Fiona’s side, Broccin let out a fierce yell that turned the heads of many of the men in the near area. The fighting all but stopped when they saw the felled woman in her white chemise.

Broccin, as he reached Colin, took a broad swipe at the man’s right arm, cleaving it from his body entirely. As Broc stood over Colin, watching the monster roil on the ground in his own blood, he raised his sword again to take the monster’s head off.

Then, he heard it. It was a sound he’d not heard a human being make in his entire life. A sound of grief and terror so intense that it almost clawed out your heart to listen to it. Duncan came running up behind him, his sword drawn, and beheaded Colin with one final swoop of his sword.

Duncan sank to his knees next to Fiona. His sword dropped from his hand and he gathered her in his arms, weeping and praying that she be spared. Broccin had to drag him away so they could get Fiona to safety.

Broccin and Alec took Fiona inside the castle, being as careful as possible.

“Don’t touch the wound.” Duncan’s red eyes blinked as he stood at Fiona’s side. He pointed to the stairs. “Take her to my bed.”

Broc stopped their progress but shook his head. “Her wound. We can’t move her too much, Duncan.”

Duncan’s cry, while not the inhuman wail from earlier, nonetheless stopped all conversation in its wordless agony.

“Take her to my bed.”

Broc and Alec obeyed, but Alec called for Brigid along the way. Broccin replayed the moment of Fiona’s wounding in his head over and over. The sight of him, the relief, then the surprise of Colin’s blow. Had there been a moment? Even a moment? Could he have saved her?

Not a man had been around her for yards, except him. If he could have thrown his sword or called to one of the archers? But no, it had been too fast. Almost as though Ross had been waiting for someone to see her before he slew her.

Broccin and Alec laid Fiona on the bed and looked around for help. Where was Brigid? And Lydia? Where was Kensey?

If anyone could help Fiona right now, it was Kensey.
      

Duncan said as much when he entered, but they all looked stupidly at each other.

“We did not see her,” Alec explained. He tried to help Brigid lift the cloth from Fiona’s side, but the poor girl finally came awake and screamed in her pain. “Not since they approached the battlements.”

“Someone go and find her!” Duncan punched at the door. “Where the devil is the lass? She needs to be here!” Broccin placed a shaky hand on his brother’s shoulder which Duncan quickly jerked away.

Broccin stood with an empty hand and tried to ignore the tears that threatened. “Fiona will be all right.”

“She will, she will, she will,” Duncan chanted, holding her hand. He kissed it over and over.

“Duncan.” Fiona’s voice came in a dull croak from her sweating face. “I love you, Duncan.”

Duncan rose from his kneeling position and sat on the bed next to her. He took her hand gently and smoothed the hair out of her eye, shushing her.

“You’ll be alright, love,” he cooed.

“Duncan, I love you,” she repeated.

Holding back tears, Duncan said, “Say that again, lass.” When she didn’t reply, he his body shook with sobs. “Say that again, lass.”

The room began to slow as the breath didn’t return to her body. Duncan bent over her, his own body convulsing with grief. In the dull room, with the warm life leaving her body, his voice husky with emotion, he chanted, “Please, no. Please. Please, no. No. No.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Kensey could feel the cool air on her face before she opened her eyes. That, and the uncomfortable swelling in the back of her head and numbness in her extremities. The pain almost prevented her from seeing anything.

The first clear shapes she could make out were moving. She heard the sounds of metal clashing and the grunting of men beating on each other.
There must be a battle
, she thought.
Where am I
?

“Aah, you’re awake now, lass,” came a slimy voice next to her. Suddenly, she felt a hand grope her and she tried to slap it away, but her hands were bound. Now the numbness in her hands and wrists made sense to her.

She tried to talk, but there was a dirty piece of cloth shoved into her mouth. She wriggled her tongue to get the cloth out of her mouth, but it was held there by a muddy and bloody hand.

Kensey could feel the bile rising in her throat as she smelled blood on the man. She couldn’t stop thinking of Broccin. Where he was, what he was doing… some part deep inside still wished he would come for her, but she would have to find her own way out.

If she could manage to keep from vomiting.

“Now, now.” The man moved his hand. “Do not fight me, woman. I’ll do you no harm if you do as I order.”

Kensey tried her hardest to scream, but the muffled sound she did manage to make at last was barely even audible in her own ears, let alone over the small hill she was being held behind. Hot, angry tears streamed down her cheeks and the man holding onto her began to squirm.

“Let’s not have any tears. You’ll be no use to me if your masters think I’ve been at you somehow.”

As her vision returned, she saw men fighting near her. Someone in a long, red tunic and then another man with black trews. The English? What were they doing here? They must be with Colin Ross, and after Fiona.

Her anger bubbled up until she thought she might not be able to control it. Fiona had been through enough. She would get free and personally murder every one of those English bastards, and the Rosses along with them. She started to squirm, trying to get away from him, and kept trying to scream as loud as she could.

Now he was fully on top of her, both hands over her mouth, and then one trying to pull the bonds around her hands tighter, and then both on her mouth again as she opened wider and screamed louder.

Flashes went through Kensey’s mind. Flashes of the night Malcolm had pinned her to the wall and tried to force himself on her. Flashes of Colin beating Fiona, of her father being slain in a dirty dungeon. She writhed like a wild thing. She wasn’t going to be a victim of the will of others any more. She would kill them all.

Suddenly, as if it weren’t really happening, the man atop her was gone. She immediately curled up into a ball, hugging her legs as close to her as she could. Faintly, she could make out the sounds of two men fighting and one cursing at the other, but she was too concentrated on protecting herself to take much notice of the circumstances surrounding her.

“Kensey,” a voice called. She faintly recognized it, but then didn’t. “Kensey, are you all right, lass?”

She couldn’t respond. Instead, she whimpered softly, trying to show some signs of life, but unwilling to unfetter her defenses as of yet. Her eyes remained tightly closed as she hugged her legs close to her, and she tried not to think.

“Kensey,” a hand tugged at her sleeve gently. Opening her eyes, she saw Quinlan standing over her. She unfettered her protective stance and tried to cry out. Quinlan picked her up and held her steadily. “Do not worry yourself, lass. I’ll have you back inside in no time at all.”

He began to carry her back toward the castle, but before she knew what was happening, she was falling out of Quinlan’s arms. She felt her head strike something hard and everything went suddenly black. Her last thought was of Broccin, the last time she’d seen him, sitting over her in their bedroom, saying goodbye. And she couldn’t help but wish she could say goodbye just one more time, in case that would be her last.

***

Duncan had been inconsolable as he’d realized Fiona was gone. It was all Broccin could do to keep him from going mad. He could not accept the fact that she was gone. He kept holding her hand and telling her she would recover, telling her how much he loved her, begging her to open her eyes.

Broccin had a difficult time watching his brother in this time. He couldn’t help but worry. Alec had gone back to the battle and brought news that the men began to scatter when they saw Colin’s beheaded body in the courtyard.

But every now and then, Broc heard a clash of swords through the window and walked to it to survey the damage. He hadn’t yet heard if there would be casualties other than Fiona, and that news worried him. He worried if Kensey would be among them.

When they couldn’t find her with the soldiers after Alec swore he’d seen her, Broc couldn’t help but assume Alec had been mistaken. Kensey must have managed to slip out before the fight and had gone… where? After him to Avoch? Or back to Assynt? For a jaunt on the mountainside?

Once Duncan finally went into a fitful sleep, Broc decided it was safe to let him be alone. He needed to decide what he should do about Kensey. Alec and Quinlan were supposed to be seeing to the burial of the dead and tending of the wounded.

He was about to walk away from Duncan’s room when he saw, wedged into the seat of the chair, a folded piece of paper. It had Fiona’s name on it and bore Kensey’s handwriting. Thoughts flushed his mind and he fairly ran to it, his hands trembling as he opened the sealed note with shaky fingers.

Dear Fiona
,
I cannot tell you how much you mean to me. Even as I am about to leave this place, the memories of you here are almost enough to keep me. But there is too much of Broccin in this place. I cannot stay here a moment longer, feeling his presence and not being near him. Of all the times I’ve wanted to tell you all about this and didn’t, I apologize. It is a difficult thing to wrestle with a love that is not returned, with a heart that will never know its mate. I know you will never know this pain, not in your entire life, for you have Duncan. You have someone who loves you without condition and someone who is content to watch you lie sleeping in his arms rather than finding his glory on the battlefield. I want that. I need that. Unfortunately, I cannot find that with a man who does not love me and who stays away from me, even after his reason for leaving is gone.