Highlander’s False Betrothal by Alisa Adams
18
They rode through the rest of the night, and as the first rays of morning light began to shimmer across the valleys and hillsides, they began to spy Campbell Castle on the horizon.
When they ascended to the top of a hill overlooking the castle and its grounds, Aodh’s eyes widened. “Dear God,” he breathed. “There are so many of them.”
It was true. The grass was dotted with hundreds of soldiers on horseback. Half of them marched beneath Carnegie banners, while the other half bore the weapons and insignia of Lord George Lloyd’s hired army.
Between them and the Campbell lands, there was a wall of Hamilton soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder with Campbell warriors.
It seemed as though one side or the other would make a move at any moment. The smallest cough, the tiniest gesture, and all would be plunged into battle and bloodshed.
“How can we keep them from attacking one another?” Freya asked.
“I am not sure,” Marcus confessed. “If we even ride down, they might mistake that for an assault from the rear.”
“And then we will be dodging arrows and axes all the way down,” Aodh remarked grimly. He turned to Bhaltair, who had been tied into his saddle with his wrists manacled. “I do not suppose you would be so good as to call off your kinsmen, appeal to Lord George, and prevent unnecessary violence?”
Bhaltair sneered. “I’d sooner roast in hell, whelp.”
“I believe I have a solution,” Caroline offered. “If you trust me, Laird Marcus.”
“I do not feel qualified to judge your trustworthiness,” Marcus replied honestly, turning to Aodh. “Aodh, my friend, you seem to know her well enough. Shall we perish in following her lead?”
Aodh looked at Caroline and smiled. “I trust her implicitly.”
“Fair enough.” Marcus looked to Caroline again. “What is your solution, then?”
Caroline peered down at the foot of the hill and shielded her eyes, looking at the men on horseback. When she found the one she was seeking, she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out: “Father! I must speak with you at once!”
Lord George Lloyd looked up at the summit of the hill, and his eyes widened. “Caroline? Are you all right? Have those men you are with made you their captor?”
“No, these men have saved my life!” she replied. “I would very much like for you to hear the whole story, but in order for that to happen, we must be allowed to peacefully descend this hill! Do I have your word, Father, that the men I have with me will not be harmed while in your custody?”
“Yes, I give my word that if they surrender themselves along with you, no harm will come to them!” he told her.
“I must be going mad,” Marcus grumbled, “trusting the word of an Englishman.”
“If it makes you feel any better,” Caroline said, “you are trusting the word of an Englishwoman. Now follow me, and prepare to hand over your weapons if asked to do so.”
“Certainly not all of us!” Marcus balked. “Not my men as well!”
“If you want to convince my father that battle is unnecessary and that you are truly petitioning for peace,” she insisted, “then you must demonstrate it accordingly.”
“Aodh and I are lairds! We could be ransomed!”
“Yes, and you have me, and you could ransom me, so you have to show my father that this isn’t the sort of business any of us will be engaging in today,” she snapped. “You do not understand the British mentality as I do. Believe me, this is the only way.”
Before Marcus could voice any further concerns, she coaxed her horse down the side of the hill, forcing the rest of them to follow.
As they approached the ranks of Lord George’s fighters, many of the mercenaries leveled crossbows at them. Every muscle in Caroline’s body was tense, waiting for one of them to trigger a bolt by accident and carelessly murder her or one of the others.
At last, they reached Lord George and his personal cadre of guards. When he saw Bhaltair, he frowned, stymied. “Laird Bhaltair? What on earth is going on here? Why are you in shackles when you were the one who sent your men along to supplement my own?”
“Never mind him, Father,” Caroline said before Bhaltair could get a word out. “He is a scoundrel and a fiend who forced me to write that message to you before throwing me into a dungeon! He has his own grudge against the Campbells, and he is using you as his pawn in avenging it!”
“I do beg your pardon!” George replied indignantly. “Using me? As a pawn? The very idea! And what of all those things you wrote about, eh? This ‘false marriage’ between the two of you? The one this devil coerced you into?”
“Laird Aodh did no such damn thing!” she shot back. “In fact, I was the one who came up with the idea and pressed him relentlessly until he agreed to it! If anyone is at fault here, it is me!”
“Oh, what balderdash!” her father retorted dismissively. “I do not believe you for a moment! No, it was this Scottish dog who forced you into such an arrangement…and now, he must pay the price!” He turned to his guards. “Men, execute this blackguard at once, and take all these others with him into custody!”
