Warrior's Bride (33 page)

  She stepped around Wolf. "I shall go with you, wherever you desire, if you promise to leave this man unharmed."

  Wolf reached for her, trying once again to shield her with his body. But she spun away, moving closer to her father. There was no way he could fight his way out of this one. She would rather sacrifice herself than force him into a futile battle.

  Isobel gasped when Grange snagged her by the hair. He jerked her head back, painfully, so that her neck arched. The room swirled before her eyes. He brought the tip of his sword to flirt with the pale curve of her neck. What had she done?

  "Unwise, my dear. You've left your husband nothing to bargain with."

  "Release her." Wolf lunged forward.

  Grange swung. Wolf swerved to the side, barely escaping the full impact of Grange's blow. The blade sliced through Wolf’s tunic but could not penetrate the mail beneath.

  "Not another step, you Stewart bastard." Grange retreated, pulling a bruised and battered Isobel with him. "Drop your sword or she will die."

  "Since it is my family you so despise, release her and take me instead." Wolf met her gaze, allowed his feelings to show in his eyes. He no longer wanted to shield from her what he felt in his heart.

  Her eyes filled with tears.

  "Why would you feel so strongly about protecting my daughter?"

  Grange's words chilled the nape of his neck. "Your daughter?" His gaze shot to Isobel's. "Is this true?"

  Isobel's bruised face went pale. "I wanted to tell you," she whispered. "I tried to, but—"

  An evil smile creased Grange's face as he jerked her head back so violently that her words turned into a painful moan. "The secret's out."

  Wolf’s body tightened. Grange's child. His father had shackled him to his enemy's offspring. One last ploy for control.

  Isobel twisted toward him, despite her agony. Her gaze filled with sadness, and in that instant she looked older and wiser than he'd ever seen her look before. He wanted to wipe that wisdom from her eyes.

  "My offer stands. Trade her for me."

  "I think not."

  "Then release her, and I shall give you safe passage."

  Grange only laughed, the sound low and ugly. "Did you forget it is I who have you surrounded?"

  There was a sound outside, one that could have been easily mistaken for thunder. "Do you?" Wolf asked with confidence.

  Grange regarded him in stony silence. He dragged Isobel backward and peered out the open doorway. Wolf could not see what was happening below, but he heard the roar of a battle cry. "You have both pieces of the Seer's Stone." Wolf took two steps closer to Isobel.

  Grange's eyes glittered—with madness or the fear of a cornered animal? "I want it all, everything you Stewarts have. I want the throne, the lands, everything you possess." His gaze dropped to Isobel. "Aye, even her. Do you think she means nothing to me?"

  Wolf took another step forward but stopped when Grange jerked Isobel's head back again.

  "I can see how much she means to you by the way you treat her now."

  Grange growled an obscenity and waved his sword in the air. He ranted about his plans to kill Wolf, the king, and all the Stewart heirs until no one stood in the way of the Balliols' return to the throne. Mad ideas. Impossible ideas. But Grange believed them, postulating with such abandon that he forgot about his grasp on Isobel.

  From across the distance, Isobel met Wolf's gaze. Her eyes filled with remorse, then determination.

  Wolf frowned. Grange was too dangerous, too unpredictable for her to try something on her own. But before he could stop her she rammed her elbow into Grange's stomach.

  With a grunt of pain, Grange released her hair, but before she could run, he grasped her. "Betrayer!" he cried as he ruthlessly shook her. "You'd choose him over your own father."

  Grange shuffled backward until he and Isobel were framed by the door. "Just like your mother you are." Grange pushed Isobel through the open doorway and into the nothingness beyond.

  Her scream died beneath Wolf’s roar of outraged pain. He charged, his sword slashing with the violence that pounded in his chest.

  Wolf allowed his grief to fuel blow after blow. With an upswing of his sword, the glass globes that hung down from the ceiling crashed to the floor. Soon the crunch of broken glass mixed with the clang of steel, creating a cacophony of violent sound. Yet none of it dulled the memory of Isobel's death cry.

Chapter Twenty-nine

  Wolf charged his enemy, giving him no time to do more than defend each stroke. He would avenge Isobel's death. Justice would be served.

  Pain and remorse burned in Wolf’s chest, but he forced it deep inside. There would be time for grief later, a whole lifetime. What he needed now was a clear head and a steady sword if he was to put an end to Grange's grasp on all the people he loved—Isobel, Walter, his men.

  What he did now, he did for them. He circled the room, searching for an opening. But Grange skittered like a spider as he dodged and ducked the blade. There was no predicting this madman.

  Grange's sword thrusts darted here and there with no rationality or form. Wolf focused on Grange's eyes. His eyes would signal his next move. But only a terrible emptiness dwelled there, attesting to the madness that had taken over his soul.

  Mad or sane, Grange had taken away the one woman Wolf had ever allowed to touch his heart. Her own father had killed her. With a renewed vigor, Wolf pressed his attack. Steel shrieked down steel as Wolf hooked Grange's sword with his own. With a twist, he tore the pommel from Grange's hand and sent the weapon flying. The sword arched through the air, shattering the glass bulbs suspended above. Wolf raised his sword, prepared to run his enemy through when the madman threw back his head with a keen of anguish.

  Wolf stood rooted in place, watching a dark, malicious stain blossom high on Grange's chest. His eyes rolled upward into his head, then he collapsed forward. A long and lethal shard of green glass protruded from his back.

  Behind him stood Isobel. Her face was ashen and marred with streaks of red. Her hands were covered with blood.

  Sweet, dizzying relief stole through Wolf. "Isobel. How is it possible?" He sheathed his sword, knowing by the roar of victory below that his men had defeated Grange's army.

  Her bloody fingers curled around what remained of her shredded skirt. "My gown caught on the tree. It gave me a moment to cling to a branch." The fabric of her gown sifted through her fingers. "I pulled myself up, and then I..."

  He drew her into his arms. He gently trailed his finger over the purple welt on her cheek and closed his eyes, gathering her close enough to feel her heart beating against his own. "It's over."

  "I was so frightened." She buried her head into the curve of his shoulder.

  "Aye, Grange can be a terrifying enemy."

  "Nay." She drew back but would not look him in the eye. "I was so frightened of what would happen once you learned the truth about me. That you wouldn't want me."

  He angled her face toward his. Tears slipped down her cheeks and he brushed them away with his thumbs. "You are my wife." Cupping her cheeks with strong, secure hands, he pressed his lips to hers for a brief, heartfelt kiss.

  "What happens now?" she asked, her voice tremulous. They both turned to look at the sprawled form of Lord Henry Grange.

  Wolf stepped away from her to retrieve Grange's fallen sword, then handed it to Isobel. "The battle is not yet won against Grange's men."

  Isobel accepted the weapon, her grasp firm on the hilt. "I shall do all I can to help."

  He nodded his approval and guided her to the stairs. "I'll go first to cover your descent" A moment later he leaped to the ground, prepared to fight. But the battle had ended. What remained of Grange's men had been rounded up as prisoners. Their weapons lay in a pile at the base of the tree.

  "Stay here," Wolf instructed Isobel. He climbed back up into the tree house, then appeared a moment later with Grange's body slung over his shoulder. He deposited his enemy's corpse at the feet of his men and drew his sword. "Grange is dead."

  A ripple of shocked disbelief spread through the men. "Grange's lands and all his possessions now belong to me as a spoil of war and by virtue of my marriage to his only child," Wolf declared.

  All eyes turned to Isobel. Wolf’s breath caught in his chest at the sight of her. She was magnificent, despite being covered in blood and her gown in tatters. A fire in her eyes said she would never be defeated. She was every inch the avenging queen. Wolf had to force his gaze away from the awe-inspiring sight of her in order to deal with what was yet undone.

  "I offer you a choice for your future. You may either disband and go your own ways with a promise to never attack me or my people again, swear fealty to your king and follow me back to my castle, or if you continue your hostilities, you will die."

  Murmurs spread through the troops as they broke up into smaller units to discuss their options. After several moments, two men, most likely the lieutenants of the groups, came forward.

  "We choose to disband," one man said.

  "Then go, but vow to me that you will travel far beyond these hills and vales."

  "Agreed," they both said in unison before they turned away from the crowd and, taking six other men with them, walked into the woods.

  The others remained. Three other men stepped forward. "If you agree to provide us with shelter and food, we will serve you, my lord," the elder of the three men said.

  Wolf sheathed his weapon, grateful that no more blood would be spilt this day. "Then swear fealty to your king and help me tend the wounded and bury the dead."

  One by one the men stepped forward and knelt before him before swearing their obedience. When they had all pledged their vow, they got to work. As the men worked, Isobel stepped beside him. "How did you know your men would come?"

  Wolf reached into the folds of his tartan, producing Isobel's half of the Stone as well as the piece his father had given him. He held them out to her on the flat of his palm. "You and Brahan are not the only ones who can see into the future."

  Isobel's gaze clung to his face, searching. "Your hair—" With a gasp she reached up, and with trembling fingers, brushed a lock at his temple. "A streak of white in a sea of midnight."

  "A battle mark. Nothing more." He shrugged as he curled his fingers around hers.

  She turned her gaze to his, and Wolf saw the pain in her eyes. "I am sorry."

  "For what?"

  "For endangering you and your men all because of... him." She swallowed roughly, and it took an almost physical effort not to try to ease her hurt with his hands, or silence her with a kiss. She needed this moment to say these things if she were ever to be free of Grange's hold on her life. He understood that need since he'd experienced the same himself with his own father. "The death and destruction he caused can never be repaid," she finally said.

  Wolf reached up and laid his hand against her cheek. "Then do what you can to repair and rebuild by staying with me always as my wife and mistress to my people."

  She turned her face into his hand and kissed his palm. "I'll stay."

  He had just heard pledges from twenty men. Yet this vow from Isobel meant more to him than any other. The sincerity in her eyes reflected what was in her heart. "The others can finish here. Let's get you home." He led her to his horse and placed her on the animal's back before he swung up behind her. He rearranged the folds of his tartan around her bare legs so that they were both wrapped with the warmth his body offered.

  As they set off for home, she settled back against his chest. He folded his arms around her. For a brief, blissful moment, he indulged in their newfound happiness. But in the span of a heartbeat reality returned. "I shall hold you to another promise you made, Isobel."

  She gazed up at him, a spark of challenge in her eyes. "What promise is that?"

  "That you will stay at the castle, no matter what."

  The teasing vanished from her gaze, replaced by fear. "What do you mean?"

  She would know what he meant soon enough. For now, he wanted to live in the moment. "What kind of husband would I be if I didn't want to keep you safe?" He pressed a kiss to her lips, then pulled back to see the fear vanish from her gaze. An urgent hunger took its place.

  Wolf smiled and set his heels against his horse's sides, spurring the animal into greater speed.

  "Are we in a hurry?" she teased.

  "We are if you don't want me to seduce you right here on the back of this horse."

  As soon as they entered the inner courtyard of Duthus Castle, Wolf dismounted, scooped his wife into his arms, and carried her inside.

  Upon their return to the castle, Wolf had stopped by Walter's bedside and been informed that his brother would survive his injuries. Relieved by the news, and encouraged by his staff to see to his own needs, Wolf had escorted Isobel upstairs to the solar.