Grant Clan 06 - My Desperate Highlander (17 page)

Micheil caught her and whispered in her ear. “Remember what the stable lad said to you. ‘Tis a trick. I need you to be strong, and so does your sire.” Then, loud enough for all to hear, he shouted, “You cannot marry her. Our union took place in Edinburgh Castle, presided over by the king’s very own priest. We are husband and wife, and the marriage has been consummated.”

The baron stared down his nose at Diana with beady eyes, fussing with his fine clothing, attempting to use his tall countenance to intimidate. “I will accept these tarnished goods in return for a fee from you for taking advantage of my betrothed. The lass was a slut, but she will soon learn to repent her ways.”

Two swords were pressed to his throat moments later—Micheil’s and Alex’s. “You will speak of
my wife
with respect,” Micheil hissed, pressing the point of his sword against the man’s skin until a thin line of blood slid down his neck. The hall fell silent as Gow’s men and all of Grant’s men immediately unsheathed their swords, but no one moved, awaiting direction from their respective leaders.

The baron wheezed. “Remove your swords, I will control my tongue.”

Alex nodded to Micheil, and they dropped their swords to their sides, the others following their lead.

Diana could not stand the suspense any longer. “Where is my sire? I cannot tolerate waiting any longer. Please. I must see him.”

“I told you, he is dead. He died in his sleep last night. His last request was for you to marry me, and I would expect you to honor his dying words.”

“Nay, he would not. And I do not believe you. He would wait for my return. He promised me.” Tears coursed down her cheeks as she spoke, her hands wringing her skirts. “Please.”

“Anyone here will tell you he is dead. Ask and you shall see. Search the entire keep. Summon the kitchen maids, the serving wenches. They will all tell you he is dead.” He waved his arms, and his guards made their way to the kitchens, ushering the help out. “Ask them and find out for yourself.”

Diana’s gaze searched for a familiar face among the help, but she did not recognize anyone. They all nodded their heads in agreement with the baron, their eyes cast downward in fear. A door burst open, and one of her mother’s maids tore across the room toward Diana.

“Seize her!” Gow shouted. His men moved, but Micheil moved faster, protecting the woman as she made her way to Diana. Alex raised his hand and pointed, sending his guards to offer further protection.

His men held each of Gow’s men at swordpoint until the woman finally made it over to Diana and fell at her feet, sobbing as she crushed her skirts. “He lives yet. The guards took him to Duncan’s cottage, my lady.”

Suddenly, one of Gow’s men swung at one of Alex’s guards, and chaos erupted in the great hall. The ring of swords from scabbards ripped through the hall as the two groups finally clashed.

Diana held fast to the back of Micheil’s tunic, and as soon as she saw her chance, she ran for the kitchens. Her men must have taken her sire out the tunnel used for escape from attack, the entrance hidden in the buttery. She unsheathed her dagger, prepared to fight her way to her father. Two of the baron’s men reached for her, and she swung around with her dagger in hand. “Do not touch me. I go to my sire.” One attempted to grab her and she stabbed his arm. Micheil rushed to protect her and struck a death blow to the other man, causing him to crumple to the ground.

“Go,” Micheil said. “I will protect you. Search for your sire.” He ordered two of the Grant guards to follow her while he guarded the entrance to the kitchens.

Diana whirled and grabbed her skirts, returning her dagger to her pocket while she found her way to the buttery as fast as she could. Screams rang in her ears, and she prayed for her husband and the Grants. Fear shook her like a leaf, but she had to have faith that good would prevail over evil.

Diana instructed the guards to move the chest hiding the door, and managed to tug it open on her own. She flew down the steps and through the tunnel that her father had taken her through many times to prepare her for just this circumstance. By the time she climbed the steps at the end, she threw her shoulder against the rickety old door, stumbling through the opening when it finally gave way.

Once outside, she stood panting, her hands on her hips, staring up at the sky and the beautiful stars, willing them to help her recall which way to go. The guards finally came through the door behind her, but they needn’t worry. They were completely alone.

Instinct sent her east toward Duncan’s cottage. A short distance later, she found it, noticing many of her guards scattered in the periphery, some sleeping on the ground, some in place checking the area. She squealed when she recognized her father’s favorite guards protecting the door, tearing up the walkway to hug each of them.

“Papa?”

One guard smiled. “He lives. Go inside, my lady.”

Her heart pounded in anticipation as the guard held the door for her.

Once inside, she closed the door and leaned her back against it, taking everything in before she moved. Her father was asleep in the bed, the rise of his chest barely visible. A table and four chairs sat in the corner, and two cushioned chairs sat in front of the hearth on the far wall. Robbie was busy banking the fire. He jumped up and placed his hand on his sword, only to take it away when he realized who it was.

“Diana, you’re finally here. I heard some commotion and hoped it was you and Micheil, but I did not dare leave your sire’s side. Laird’s orders.”

She ran to the bed. “Robbie, how is he?”

Robbie brought a chair over for her, then returned to the other side of the bed. “He’s not gone yet. I’m sorry to tell you that I do not think he has much longer.”

Diana grabbed her father’s hand. “Papa, Papa. It’s me. Wake up, please. I must talk to you. I have so much to tell you.” She stared at him, finally realizing there was no response. His eyes were closed, his color dusky and pale. “Papa?” She could see he was still breathing, but his breaths were shallow, barely visible from the rise and fall of his chest.

Looking up at her cousin, she shook her head as her tears pricked her eyes. “How long, Robbie? How long since he has spoken?”

“A couple of days. He has barely moved, and he has not opened his eyes in my presence. But I try to keep the room warm for him. The last thing he told me was he was cold. He also gave me a message for you.”

Holding her father’s hand in hers, she stared at her cousin as she settled into the chair. “What was his message? That I’m a horrible daughter for not doing as he asked, that I should have married Baron Gow?”

“Nay, Alex and I told him about our trip. Alex explained about the baron’s cruelty and how he allowed Micheil to take you to Edinburgh.”

Diana prodded Robbie. “Go on, the message?”

“He said to tell you he was sorry for choosing the wrong man for you. Had he known about the truth about the baron, he never would have allowed you to go.”

“Oh, Papa.” She leaned over and kissed his brow. “I know you only wanted what was best for me.”

“His goal was to stay alive until you returned. He was hoping you would find your knight.” He smiled. “He told us of the stories you and your mother loved.”

She leaned her cheek against her sire’s. “Papa, I have. I have found my knight and I married him. Why couldn’t you have waited a bit longer? He’s here. Micheil Ramsay is my husband. His brother is married to Brenna Grant. He is a kind, strong, braw man, and I love him so.” She lifted her head back to Robbie. “Did he say aught else? Did he speak to Baron Gow?”

Robbie nodded. “He did. He told the baron he wanted him gone. Once Alex left with his warriors, he had a large army attack your keep, so we fled here. I knew when the rest of our guards arrived, we would take the castle back. My priority was keeping your sire alive for you. I heard that since we left, the baron has tried to declare him dead, but I stay sentinel by his bedside in case he discovers this place. But you are here now. Why do I not leave you alone for a while? Duncan has moved to another cottage, so I will update him, then I will return to the keep to see if I am needed. If you need anything, just send one of the guards for me.”

Robbie kissed her cheek and stepped out of the chamber.

She turned back to the bed and placed her hand on her sire’s cheek. “Papa, please come back to me. Please, just for a few moments. Micheil will be here soon. He is so strong. He will protect me, just like Mama told me my knight would. Come back to me, please. I will be lost without you.”

Diana climbed on top of the covers and lay down next to her father, holding his hand in hers and resting her other hand on the top of his head. “Papa, you would love Micheil so much. Please tell Mama how right she was about my knight. I fell in love with him in Edinburgh, and we married there, just as she predicted. He is everything she said he would be, except he is Scottish, not English. Our clan will love him, I know they will.” Her tears continued to flow until she could barely speak.

“Papa, don’t leave me yet. I am sorry I left.”

She sobbed her heart out as she held her father, telling him how much she loved him, eventually tiring. It did not matter, she would sleep right here with her father. “I won’t leave you again, Papa. I promise.”

She could swear he squeezed her hand.

***

Micheil stood in front of the entrance to the kitchens, guarding his wife’s search for her sire. He prayed she would find him before it was too late. The door pushed against him, and he jumped, only to see Robbie Grant come through the door.

“She’s with him. I thought you could use my help. Go to her soon, follow the tunnel in the buttery and head east.”

His gaze took in the chaos all around him, and he watched as Alex and Robbie Grant fought Gow’s men in a fury, cutting them down with a vengeance. Chairs flew along with blood, but the Grants’ energy never waned. They fought on, eventually causing some of Gow’s men to run out of the hall, grasping their wounds in fear for their lives.

Micheil was only occasionally called upon to use his sword. Few dared to try to gain access to the kitchens. He had checked inside only to find a few timid servants hiding, just waiting for Diana to be reinstated. He swung his sword in front of him a couple of times, catching a Gow fighter by surprise so that a Grant aggressor could finish the job. Mostly, he just watched the Grant men in all their glory, every bit as powerful as they were reputed to be. Alex Grant fought like a man possessed. Micheil had heard about his fight at Largs against the Norse atop his mighty steed, Midnight, who had actually been clad in chainmail. The stories were clearly not exaggerated. Naught stood a chance against the mighty warrior, whose focus and strength were unparalleled.

Suddenly, two of Gow’s guards leapt from beside the stairwell, Gow close behind. The two guards swung at him at the same time. He flung his dagger into the heart of one, ending his attack instantly. The other came at him while the baron stood behind him, armed with a small sword.

Micheil swung his sword in an arc, coming down hard on his opponent’s, but the guard was quick and he parlayed Micheil’s thrusts, forcing him toward the stairs to maintain his balance. The battle carried on for a few moments, blade striking blade, swords shrieking in ear-splitting fury as the fight continued.

“He’s my best swordsman, Ramsay. You will not beat him,” Gow bellowed.

Micheil ignored the distraction and continued his onslaught against his enemy. No one would get past him. He would protect Diana to his death if needed. He neared the staircase, so he stepped up two steps to give himself better leverage. Sweat dripped down his brow, threatening to blur his vision. He caught his opponent’s gaze and could see he was weakening. His death blow was not far away; Micheil only had to stay strong.

Apparently, the baron sensed the weakness as well. Out of the corner of his eye, Micheil saw him raise his sword, ready to use it against him, too—two against one. Micheil brought his sword directly across his body for a full swing, hoping to take them out together. Just then, another man came near the staircase and stabbed his opponent from behind before shoving him out of the way.

At the same exact moment, Micheil’s sword was at the bottom of its arc, and meeting only air, it continued on with a powerful thrust, catching the baron vigorously across his side and into his ribcage. Gow dropped his sword and stared at Micheil, his hands clutching his ribs after Micheil pulled the weapon out.

“She was supposed to be mine.” He stared at Micheil in shock, then glanced at the blood dripping through his fingers, his eyes beginning to glaze over. His voice came out in a whisper. “You bastard.” He crumpled, landing in a heap at the base of the stairs.

Robbie Grant stood at the bottom of the steps with a grin on his face as the rest of the great hall quieted. Still panting from exertion, Micheil swept the room with his gaze, a smile creeping across his features as he realized Gow’s men were gone. The baron had been one of the last men standing, apparently.

Micheil made his way down the staircase and over the bodies, pausing to clean his blade on the clothes of the dead Baron before he returned it to his scabbard. Alex stood opposite him and they made their way toward each other, finally meeting in the center of the hall and grasping each other in a hug, a celebration of the combined strength of the Grant and Ramsay clans. Robbie stood behind them, raising his sword and releasing a resounding Grant whoop for all to hear. The Grant warriors, grouped all around them, took a moment to catch their breath and congratulate each other.