Highlander’s False Betrothal by Alisa Adams

17

“Iam beginning to feel as though I have been threatened to a rather inordinate degree this evening,” Freya commented wryly.

“Oh, a smart mouth to the bitter end, eh, lass?” Bhaltair snarled. “Very well, have it your way! You can tell your silly little jokes to your maker after I—”

Suddenly, a dreadful roar reverberated down the passage, like the sound of a trapped and wounded bear. Bhaltair’s eyes widened, and he turned just in time to see Quinn come barrelling out of the shadows. He was caked with dirt and smeared with blood, and he had a wild and murderous look in his eyes as he charged forward with an ax in his hand. From the look of the weapon, he had plucked it from one of the wall displays.

The two Carnegie guards bringing up the rear barely had time to react to this grisly sight before Quinn caved their chests in with the ax. Bhaltair drew back fearfully, looking as though the hounds of hell were upon him.

“You told me he was dead, you fools!” Bhaltair screeched. “You told me they were all dead! Finish the job, or I’ll see you all hang!”

Quinn’s lips parted in a grin, revealing blood between his teeth. “Come on, then, lads!” he bellowed. “Come on and have a go if you think you’re hard enough!”

Three of the guards kept their weapons trained on Aodh, Freya, and Caroline.

The rest of them took up a tight formation—and they still outnumbered Quinn seven to one.

They advanced, and Quinn became a red-faced whirlwind of rage and steel, twirling and chopping madly and cackling all the while.

Aodh desperately wished that he could stand beside his comrade in this fight. He kept eyeing the poisoned dagger lying next to Ainsley and trying to calculate how likely it would be for him to grab it before the guards used their swords on him or the others.

And after a few moments, he saw his chance.

Because although these three guards had been smart enough to keep their weapons trained while the others fought, they were not smart enough to keep their full attention on their captives. Their eyes kept drifting to the fight to see how their peers were holding up against Quinn’s savagery.

Just a few moments’ distraction. That was all he needed.

He saw his chance, and he took it, lunging for the dagger.

One of the guards caught him at it, but the man’s reflexes were too slow, and Aodh rose from the floor with the blade, jamming it up under the guard’s jaw and into his brain. His eyes rolled up into his head, and he went limp.

Aodh was barely able to pull the knife from the man’s skull in time to parry a sword thrust from the second guard. The sword was heavier, but its weight made it slower to swing, and Aodh came in tight and close, burying the blade in the man’s neck.

The third guard looked as though he might turn and run rather than take his chances with a fighter like Aodh, but in the end, his honor—or at least, what passed for it—seemed to win out. He was armed with a short spear, and he jabbed and thrusted it forward in a series of catlike strikes.

Aodh ducked and darted away from the head of the spear. The shadows of the corridor played tricks on his eyes, and the edge scraped across his forearm, drawing blood.

The guard grew bolder. He advanced slowly, ominously, flipping the hilt of the spear from one hand to the other.

Good,Aodh thought. Thank you for showing off.

His eagle-sharp eyes tracked the movement of the spear, and when it was between hands, he took advantage of that split-second to strike. He batted at it with one hand, knocking it down to the floor, and with the other hand, he brought the dagger up into the guard’s chest. It stabbed between the thin plates of armor and through the layers of worn leather, penetrating the man’s lung.

He fell to the ground, wheezing and sweating.

The poor bastard doesn’t even know he’s been poisoned,Aodh thought. I almost feel sorry for him.

He turned, ready to fight alongside Quinn, but when he saw his friend, his jaw fell and his knees felt like water.

Quinn had fought hard. And lost.

He’d felled four of the guards, but the remaining three had worn him down. Now he was on his knees in the stone passage, covered in fresh slashes, trembling and dying.

And still, improbably, he was smiling.

“I did more than my part, Aodh,” he panted. “Surely you can manage the rest of these tosspots? Along with all the others in the house?”

Aodh smiled back wearily, nodding. “Yes, Quinn. I can manage them all. Thank you. You can go now.”

“Good,” Quinn breathed, his eyelids drooping. “Good…”

He exhaled his last breath and fell, dead.

Bhaltair had regained his dignity, and he leered uneasily at Aodh, Caroline, and Freya.

“Well? Would any of you like to say any last words? Or perhaps take your chances with these brave fellows next to me, Aodh, as you promised your comrade?”

“If you had a man’s courage, Bhaltair,” Aodh growled, “you would face me yourself and settle this man to man.”

“And if you’d had a man’s courage,” Bhaltair retorted senselessly, “it would have been you at the vanguard, dead from British swords, instead of my beloved son!” He turned to the three remaining guards. “Men! Slaughter these swine!”

The guards moved forward, but before they could raise their weapons, there were banging and slamming sounds from the manor upstairs, the cries of men, and the clash of steel.

Aodh wondered what was transpiring. Even if the lad had managed to deliver the message that rapidly, why would the Hamiltons have come here rather than heading directly to the Campbell lands to sound the alarm?

“What in blazes is going on up there now?” Bhaltair screamed, his face turning red as a beet.

There was a noise like someone stumbling and tumbling down the steps to the underground passages, and Scott staggered forward, his face pale and clammy, his eyes glassy.

“Father,” he croaked, “I fear…we are…undone…”

His voice trailed off, and he fell forward on his face, dead, a dagger sticking out of his back.

“No!” Bhaltair shrieked, his eyes filled with tears. He went to his son’s body and crouched next to it, cradling it in his arms. “Not you as well, Scott! Please, dear God, no! Do not leave your father all alone! Come back to me, boy, I beg you! I beg you!” He sobbed and brayed, his shoulders heaving.

Laird Marcus Hamilton came down the steps, followed by a dozen of his bannermen. The Carnegie guards glanced down at their weeping laird and relented instantly, their dropped weapons clanging against the stone floor.

“Marcus, what have you done?” Aodh demanded.

“I have saved your life,” Marcus answered dryly. “But please, restrain yourself. Your unfettered gratitude embarrasses me.”

“You were supposed to go to the castle!” Aodh insisted. “You were supposed to warn them of the Carnegie army!”

“It’s far worse than just them, I’m afraid,” Caroline said miserably. “Bhaltair forced me to write to my father, to lie and tell him that you coerced me into this false marriage. To tell him to join forces with the Carnegies against the Campbells.”

Marcus’s eyebrows shot up. “Your marriage is false?”

Aodh laughed humorlessly. “Aye, not much sense keeping it a secret anymore, now is it? But there will be time enough for that later. For now, if the Carnegies have Lord George’s men on their side, I fear nothing can stop them from razing our castle and lands.”

“I only brought a handful of men with me, Aodh,” Marcus reassured him, “knowing that the bulk of my forces would have to be committed to riding to your lands and defending them. Worry not, for my men will be more than capable of holding the Carnegies and those British mercenaries until your soldiers are able to ready themselves.”

Aodh’s expression softened. “Thank you, Marcus. For that, and for rescuing us. I am not always good at showing my appreciation.”

“Aye, well, if we all manage to survive this, we can find someone to tutor you in proper etiquette,” Marcus quipped. “For now, we’d better ride to join the others. If we hurry, there’s still a chance we might be able to stop this war before it begins.”

“And what is to be done with him?” Freya asked, gesturing at Bhaltair. He was still holding his dead son and weeping loudly.

“I shall order him placed in shackles,” Marcus declared, “and bring him along as well.”

“That seems like a sound plan,” Aodh agreed. “May I make use of one of your horses?”

“Certainly,” Marcus said. “I will furnish one for Lady Caroline as well.”

“And for me!” Freya spoke up. “I have no intention of being left behind.”

“It will not be safe for you there,” Aodh protested. “We can leave some men behind with you.”

“It will hardly be much safer for me here, in the house of the Carnegie clan, surrounded by the homes and farms of their kinsmen! If you are riding homeward, then I will do likewise!”

Aodh was about to continue to object, but Caroline put a hand on his arm, shaking her head. He understood precisely what she meant; there was no point in arguing with Freya once she had set her mind to something. Caroline had come to know Freya almost as well as Aodh did, it seemed.

He was glad of it. He hoped their friendship would have every opportunity to flourish.

If they all somehow managed to make it out of this predicament alive.

Marcus and his soldiers tromped back upstairs, with Bhaltair and his remaining guards in tow. As they did, Marcus noticed Quinn’s body on the floor. He gave Aodh a look of understanding and sympathy, then withdrew. Freya followed them, leaving Aodh and Caroline alone in the passage.

“Bhaltair was so certain that you would come back for me,” she breathed, looking into his solemn eyes.

“Aye? Well, he was right.”

Caroline licked her lips. Suddenly, it seemed as though they had drawn closer together, though she could not be certain which of them had moved forward or if the force of their feelings had simply caused the corridor to contract, pushing them toward each other.

“He said that it was because you truly cared for me,” she went on. “He said that…that although our marriage may be false, your feelings for me are real.”

“And what do you think?” Aodh prompted quietly.

“I think…if I had known that I might fall in love with you so deeply and completely… I would have simply agreed to marry you properly the first time around,” she whispered. She realized that her fingers were interlaced with his, though she could not remember how they’d gotten that way. “And…I think…you feel the same…way…”

Their lips met like two elements of nature meant to meet for eternity, like waves crashing against a sandy shore or a strong wind blowing through a valley of tall grass. Powerful and gentle all at once, a sweeping force that seemed to carry them both away at once. Their breath mingled, a warm and heady perfume they passed back and forth until both were dizzy from its ecstasy.

Then, just as the room began to spin around Caroline, Aodh released her. “We must go at once if we are to prevent bloodshed.”

“Wait!” Caroline spoke up. “Should we do something with Ainsley?”

Aodh looked down at his former lover and saw that the poisoned dagger had been removed from where she’d dropped it. “It seems that one of Marcus’s men has confiscated the scorpion’s stinger,” Aodh commented smugly. “Now that she can do no more harm, we may as well leave her down here in the dark with the rest of the loathsome insects.”