Forget Me Not, My Scottish Love by Allie Palomino

Chapter Thirty-Five

Night had fallen on the second day, illuminated only by the weak moonlight.  They were a half-day’s march away from Haynsworth.  With Cameron’s four hundred or so men, it took longer than with smaller numbers.  Some of his men had horses, and some would remain on foot.  The large numbers slowed them down.  Cameron didn’t want his men tired before they reached their destination.  He also prevented the horses from tiring by not allowing anyone to ride their mounts until they were ready to fight.

He’d messaged Alexander to tell him and only him, of his intent to war with Haynsworth, citing the murder of his father and kidnapping of his wife as sufficient causes.  He’d not asked Alexander for permission, but rather, he told him of his intent.  Cameron was beyond formalities now.  If Alexander had disapproved Cameron’s plan, which he hadn’t, Cameron would have gone anyway.  Alexander had personal gain in the matter, namely retaining the estates on the border he believed should be Scotland’s.

Now, a half day’s ride away from Haynsworth, Cameron’s hands clenched with the urge to kill him.  Haynsworth had taken more from Cameron than any man had a burden to lose.

Cameron instructed his men, in the dark because a fire would have alerted anyone nearby, that they were to move quietly the next day.  He wanted them to rest long this evening, to hoard their strength.  Cameron emphasized the importance of killing Haynsworth’s men, and not women and children.

“He’s come, Cameron,” Aidan said.

“Bring him to me.”

The warrior walked over to Cameron and waited.

“What have ye learned?” Cameron asked, his voice thunder in the sea of darkness surrounding them.

This was Cameron’s most experienced covert warrior.  He was the smallest of his clansmen, even taking into account the women.  The man was older than Cameron but just stopped growing after a time.  He was liked by all, and he proved useful beyond all measure.  Cameron’s father had depended on him, too.  The day his father died, however, he’d been away visiting family, otherwise, Cameron suspected things would’ve ended differently that day. 

Cameron had him sit with them and they brought him food and drink.  He waited with a patience he didn’t have for his man to take a few bites of food.

He wanted to go now.

He wanted to raid now.

He wanted his wife.

Now.

Rory knew his laird waited for him.  He knew that, like Robert, Cameron had no patience.  He appreciated the consideration Cameron showed allowing him a few bites of food and drink to assuage his hunger and thirst.  

Rory looked at Cameron, who sat across from him.  Cameron’s commanders filled the spaces in between.  The men sat around, eating their meager meal, waiting for Rory’s report.

“I counted ten patrolling the grounds.  There were six archers…” Rory said, and they listened to his report with hushed interest.

“Good, Rory,” Cameron said, satisfied with the information he’d received.  “Were ye seen?”

Rory grinned and shook his head.  “Nay, Laird.”   

Cameron nodded, digesting all of the information.  “Well done.”

“‘Twould be best to go in the morn on the morrow.”

Cameron cocked his head and asked, “Why?”  Cameron had anticipated attacking in the morning but he was curious as to why Rory thought the same.

“I hid well and heard soldiers speaking.  There’s a wedding at midday.”

“Wedding?” Keith asked, looking at Cameron and Aidan.  “He has no more daughters to wed off.”

Aidan nodded, thinking on it himself. 

“He has my wife.”

The men didn’t comment on Cameron’s snarled words.

“I heard them refer to the daughter as ‘widow.’”

Keith’s eyebrows raised.  “Widow,” he repeated, squinting into the night.  “Perhaps one of her sisters was widowed?”

“He believes me dead.”

Aidan shook his head.  “He would’ve known ye didna die that day.  Haynsworth is many things, but incompetent isna one of them.  He has his ear to the ground.”

Keith grimaced.  “The bastard weds off a daughter for gain again, no doubt.  ‘Twouldna surprise me if the dead husband was still warm and nay even cold yet.”  Aidan laughed but Cameron, as usual, remained silent.

Cameron stood.  “I’ve a need for a walk and some exertion.  The desire to go now and retrieve my wife is overwhelming.”  He paused and looked at the men surrounding him in the dim fire they’d cautiously started.  Their faces reflected doubt, but Cameron was used to it. 

“So Cameron, what of…” Aidan’s voice trailed off, not wanting to mention Abby’s name.  “What of Haynsworth’s wife?”

Cameron shrugged.

“Will she return with us?  Will she remain there?”  Aidan clarified.

“She has a son, but from what I understand, he’s a bastard just like his father,” Keith answered.

“She’ll have a choice.  She can remain there with her son, or she may return with her daughter and us.”  Cameron turned from them, wanting solitude.

“Sleep well.  We ride early, before the sun rises,” he said over his back.

Keith and Aidan shared a look of concern.

“What are we going to do when she isna there?” Aidan studied his older brother.

Keith rubbed the back of his neck.  “Ye mean when he discovers she’s dead?”

Aidan nodded, his face grave and apprehensive.

“Pray.”