Highlander's Reckoning (The Sinclair Brothers #3) (20 page)

Rona blushed but kept her chin up.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a curse,” Daniel said
wryly, then locked eyes with Rona. She blushed further under his penetrating
gaze.

Robert cleared his throat, interrupting the silent,
latent exchange between Daniel and Rona.

“What brought you up here, Rona?” Daniel said,
remembering himself.

“Oh,” she replied, giving herself a little shake. “I
need to talk to you about something. It’s private.” She glanced around at the
others.

“We’d best see to the men’s training in the yard,”
Robert said pointedly to the others.

As the three men shuffled out of the study and
closed the door behind them, Daniel pinned Rona with another look.

“Is all well?”

“Aye,” she said, a slow smile spreading across her
face. “For several reasons.”

“Care to enlighten me?” he replied, slowly stalking
around the desk toward her. She eyed him but didn’t move, letting him come
closer.

“You didn’t hide your plans from me,” she said,
clearly pleased.

He reached her and wrapped his arms around her. God,
he would never get tired of the feel of her lithe body pressed against him. He
lowered his head and brushed her lips with his.

“I trust you,” he said simply. She smiled at his
words, her eyes warm.

“Why else are you happy?” he breathed, nuzzling her
ear. She shivered and leaned into him.

“You assume that my mind runs as wantonly as yours?”
she chided, but she looped her arms around his neck, holding him close.

“Nay, I only wish I were so lucky,” he said, his
teeth grazing her ear. “You looked so excited when you burst into the study,
and, well, a man can hope.”

She playfully rolled her eyes at him.

“Unfortunately for both of us, I have something else
in mind. I want to take Meredith to see Bhreaca.”

He frowned and pulled back so he could look at her.
“That seems…dangerous.”

Her brows came down over her bright blue eyes.
“Surely we can trust our family with my secret. She loves animals. She’ll
understand.”

Daniel let his arms drop and sighed.

“Perhaps. But as with any secret, the more people
who know, the more likely it is to come out.”

He didn’t wish to bring up the fact that he’d
withheld information from her for that very reason, but the thought lingered.

Rona opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a
hand to stay her.

“That’s not what I’m truly concerned about though.
I’m far too busy here to accompany you both to the cottage. It will have to
wait.”

Her face darkened, and he realized that they were
headed toward another fight.

“I know we agreed that you’d always come with me,
but I must be able to visit my friends even when you can’t accompany me?”

Surprisingly, she kept her temper in check. Perhaps
instead of fighting, they could find another compromise, as they had when this
issue had initially come up.

When we are thrown into a new situation,
we can’t keep living as if nothing has changed.

His words to young Will floated back to him. He
couldn’t simply order and control Rona, as he was used to doing with his men.
Things were different now. He had to learn how to compromise—a skill which
would apparently be required often in their marriage.

But when it came to matters of her safety, he didn’t
like negotiating.

Before he could interject with his worries, she
raised her chin and went on.

“What will happen when you are off sieging Dunbraes?
You’ll be gone for weeks, perhaps months. You expect me never to see Bhreaca or
Ian and Mairi that entire time?”

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. She
was right, but he hated to admit it.

“I know that won’t work. But your safety is
paramount to me.”

The tense set of her shoulders eased slightly.

“I know. But I need my freedom too.”

He sighed again and let his eyes scan the ground in
hopes of coming up with a solution.

“What if you send someone else with us? Someone you
trust,” she said hopefully.

Daniel almost rejected the idea out of hand. The
only other men he trusted completely with his wife’s and Meredith’s safety were
Robert, Garrick, and Burke, and they were all needed here at the castle for
training and planning the siege. They’d all been staying up most of the night
this past week just to make the most of what little time they had before they
launched their attack on Dunbraes.

As he stood in stony silence, he watched as Rona’s
face fell. But instead of anger or stubbornness turning her lovely features
down, it was dejected resignation. He was letting her down. He was keeping her
from the thing that made her the most happy. He was crushing her freedom, and
with it her trust in him.

He seized both her hands in his.

“One man won’t do. I’ll send two with you.”

Her bright eyes darted up to his in disbelief.
“Truly?”

He nodded, a little smile creeping to his lips at
the look of unbridled joy on her face.

“Och, lass. You have more power over me than you
know.”

She flung herself into his arms and buried her face
in his neck.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her breath tickling his
skin.

“But you are to be back before dark,” he said
sternly. “And don’t give my men a hard time.”

She pulled back and pinned him with a radiant smile,
and he felt his heart lurch and squeeze.

“We’d better be off then,” she said, shooting a
glance out the study’s window. She planted a kiss on his mouth, then nearly
sprinted to the study’s door. Another swish of her simple woolen skirts and she
was gone.

He leaned back onto the edge of his desk, as dazed
and happy as a lad after his first kiss. How did she do that to him? He smiled
to himself and shook his head, trying to return his attention to the work in
front of him. No matter what daunting tasks lay ahead, Rona would be at his
side. The thought made his heart lurch again, in an entirely pleasurable way.

Rona had to force herself not to run ahead of
Meredith and their two guards as they traveled on foot past the outskirts of
the village.

“And you really won’t tell me where we’re going and
what we’re doing?” Meredith asked for the dozenth time. She had tucked a few
pieces of parchment, a corked ink pot, and a quill into a small bag, as Rona
had instructed. Both women wore heavy cloaks and boots to ward off the chill,
but the clouds had thinned enough to let several rays of weak early spring sun
through.

It might as well have been midsummer’s day for all
Rona noticed the chill and the bare trees among the evergreens.

“Nay, you’ll just have to wait,” she said cheerily.

The little group trudged along in silence as they
moved southward through the Galloway woods. Patrick, one of the men Daniel had
selected for their guard, put on an air of expert calmness that his youth
didn’t support. He was likely modeling himself after their other guard, Harold,
who had actually earned the mantle of experienced composure he wore.

Patrick was young—perhaps only a few years older
than Rona—but he was distinguishing himself in training as a quick learner and
a skilled fighter. Harold was at least a decade and a half more advanced in
years than Patrick, and Rona had seen the two practicing in the yard together.
Daniel had begun forming teams in their training sessions, trying to build
strong bonds of trust between the men. No doubt Daniel was also trying to honor
Patrick and Harold by publicly tasking them with accompanying Rona and Meredith
into the woods.

It must have worked, for Patrick had puffed up with
pride, and Harold, normally so stoic, actually cracked a smile.

But now the men were working. They flanked the two
women so that they could have an eye on both sides of the woods at all times.
At first Rona had thought the men were even more overly cautious than Daniel,
but she had to admire their dedication.

A low groan from Meredith tugged Rona out of her
thoughts.

“What’s wrong?” she said, taking Meredith’s hand.

Meredith clapped her other hand over her mouth and
blinked a few times.

“It’s morning sickness again,” she said, lowering
her hand. “Though the babe doesn’t seem to care that it’s not morning. It will
pass in a moment, I’m sure of it.”

Rona looped Meredith’s arm in hers and they
continued to walk.

“We’re more than halfway there,” she said, hoping to
ease Meredith’s discomfort.

Meredith halted and groaned again, this time
clutching her stomach.

“I should have brought some of Jossalyn’s tea with
me,” she said lowly.

“There’ll be tea when we arrive,” Rona said
reassuringly, but she noticed that Meredith had grown pale.

“I don’t think I’ll make it before I—” Meredith
covered her mouth with her hand again, and her dark eyes went wide. Then she
bolted to the nearest clump of bushes and emptied her stomach.

Rona approached cautiously.

“Would you like some water?”

Meredith moaned then heaved again before answering.

“I think I may be a few more minutes. You should go
on without me.”

“We’ll not leave you here, my lady,” Harold said
sternly behind Rona.

“I don’t mean leave me,” Meredith said, still bent
over the bushes. “I just mean…could I have some privacy?”

“Of course!” Rona said quickly.

Patrick and Harold exchanged a look, but Meredith
started retching again, and Rona backed away. Though she wanted to ease
Meredith’s discomfort, in truth, the sound of her retching was making Rona feel
a bit queasy.

Rona moved off into the forest, Harold and Patrick
trailing her, until the sound of Meredith’s heaves was faint. Then she stopped
and waited, hoping her friend would feel well enough to enjoy a visit with
Bhreaca.

She glanced up at the sky through the trees. They
would still have more than an hour at the cottage before they’d need to return
to the castle. She couldn’t decide which she was more excited for: seeing
Bhreaca herself, or watching Meredith’s response to the speckled peregrine
falcon. She could only imagine how Meredith would react to Fionna, the regal
white gyrfalcon.

Suddenly Harold, who stood on her left, tensed. His
eyes darted around the quiet forest, sensing something that Rona couldn’t.

“Patrick, go back and fetch—”

A whirring noise sliced through the forest a moment
before the sickening thunk of an arrow as it landed in Patrick’s shoulder.

Just as Rona screamed, Harold tackled her, bringing
her to the forest floor with his weight on top of her. Patrick groaned in pain
and sank to the ground next to them. Another arrow whizzed by, then Rona felt
the reverberation of hooves through the forest floor.

The pounding of hooves grew louder and louder until
Rona was sure they would be ridden over in their position on the ground.

Suddenly Harold jerked to his feet and yanked Rona
up with him.

“Shield her!” Harold shouted to Patrick. The lad,
whose boyish face was transformed into a mask of pain, dragged himself to his
feet and drew his sword with his good arm. The arrow bristled from his left
shoulder. Harold pushed Rona behind Patrick and quickly drew his sword as well.

It was then that Rona saw the band of armored men on
horseback barreling toward them. Like a nightmare, the group of nearly ten men
unsheathed their swords as they drew nearer. Their helms gleamed dully in the
weak light, and the sound of their clanging chainmail mingled with the pounding
hooves.

The mounted attackers slowed their horses and began
fanning out to surround them. Just then, Rona noticed an unhelmed man at the
rear of the group. His eyes locked on her, and a shiver of terror snaked
through her.

The attackers completed their circle around them. Harold
and Patrick inched their backs together, squeezing her between them.

“You must be Rona Sinclair, née Kennedy,” the
bare-headed man said as he pushed his horse into the circle. “What a shame that
your Sinclair husband isn’t with you today.”

The man frowned as he passed a glance over Harold
and Patrick. Though he could have been considered handsome, his hazel eyes held
a cold light and his mouth was turned down cruelly.

“And you must be Raef Warren, the tyrant and
murderer,” Rona said, her voice shockingly steady.

The man bowed his sandy blond head in a show of mock
gallantry. “At your service.”

Then Warren turned to one of his men. “Dispose of
them, but don’t harm the girl. Leave her to me.”

Rona’s throat was so tight she felt like she could
hardly breathe as several of the men dismounted and moved in.

“Stay between us, my lady,” Harold rasped,
tightening his grip on his sword.

One of their attackers swung, and suddenly the
circle exploded into battle. Rona screamed again, but she couldn’t hear herself
above the clanging metal.

Harold and Patrick blocked and swung fiercely. Each
managed to dispatch one of their attackers, finding the gaps in the chainmail,
just as they had practiced in the yard. But as they shifted to defend against
more blows, Rona was left exposed on one side.

With her attention transfixed on the two men
fighting for her life, she didn’t notice Warren approach from behind her. He
wrapped an arm around her waist and yanked her out of the circle of flashing
blades. She thrashed against him, kicking his shins and elbowing him, but he
only held her tighter, so that she could barely inhale.

Just then, Patrick lost his grip on his sword with
his left hand. He tried to block a blow one-handed, but the attack was strong
enough to send his blade flying. Two men set upon him, one slicing low along
the backside of his legs and the other cutting high along his shoulder. Patrick
crumpled to the ground, and one of the attackers sank his blade into the young
man’s heart.

“Nay!” Rona screamed as she watched the light fade
from Patrick’s light brown eyes.

Warren’s remaining men fell on Harold, quickly
bringing him to his knees. Just as one of them was about to run his blade
across Harold’s throat, Warren held up a hand. His men froze, waiting.

Harold panted on his knees as blood streamed freely
from several wounds. He met Warren’s gaze calmly.

“Shall we send you back to your Sinclair dog of a
master so you can tell him we have his woman?” Warren said quietly to Harold.

The proud warrior didn’t blink. He only stared back
at Warren.

“Or shall we keep you alive long enough to have you
watch us use your lady?”

The armored men chuckled and exchanged eager looks.
Rona’s head spun, and she prayed that she could find a way to fend off so many
men.

Harold didn’t respond, which seemed to tweak
Warren’s anger. His cool demeanor slipped as he released his other arm from
around Rona’s waist and came around to face her.

He let his gaze slide over her body, a sneer of
disgust twisting his features.

“I think perhaps we should not soil ourselves inside
her used body after all, men,” he said. There were a few mutters of
dissatisfaction, and Warren whipped his head around. The men fell instantly
silent.

“You see, as the wife of a Sinclair, she is dirty.
She has been plowed by a Highland barbarian who is little more than an animal.
Perhaps even now the savage’s filthy offspring festers inside her.”

All of a sudden, Warren drove his fist into Rona’s
stomach. All her air left her, and she doubled over at the force of the blow.

Harold bit out an oath and tried to stand, but one
of the attacker’s blades was pressed against his throat. Through blurry eyes,
Rona saw Warren smile.

“You don’t like us hurting your lady, do you?” he
said to Harold.

Quick as lightning, he pulled Rona upright and sent
another punch into her stomach.

“But how else can we rid her of the filthy spawn she
may be carrying? We can’t allow you animals to breed and spread and infest what
is rightfully England’s.”

Warren jerked Rona upright again, preparing to deliver
another blow. Mustering her strength, she inhaled.

“You are a pathetic excuse for a man,” she managed
to grunt. “Daniel will hunt you down and kill you like the vermin you are.”

Warren raised a sardonic eyebrow at her, and a snide
smile actually began to spread across his face.

“Daniel, is it? How charming. But I very much doubt
that—”

She didn’t know if it was Warren’s sickly-sweet
smile or the sound of Daniel’s name on his tongue, but something snapped inside
her. She lunged forward and sank her teeth into Warren’s smooth, smile-curved
cheek. She bit as hard as she could, tasting metallic blood as a piece of flesh
came off in her mouth.

Warren screamed in surprise and agony. He shoved her
back hard and cupped his face in his hands.

“You bitch! What have you done?” he shouted through
his hands.

She stumbled back at the force of his push but
managed to stay on her feet. She spat, trying to get his filth out of her
mouth.

“Kill him!” He gestured toward Harold with one
elbow.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Harold said, locking eyes with
Rona. Before she could reply, one of Warren’s men dragged a blade across
Harold’s throat and he slumped backward, his lifeblood pouring from him.

Rona shrieked again, staggering backward. She bumped
into one of the warhorses and stumbled.

Warren turned and bore down on her. He kept his left
hand pressed against his cheek, which bled freely, but he raised his right hand
as he approached. She tried to block his strike with her arms, but he rained
blows down on her head and face.

She staggered under his attack and fell to her
knees, but his strikes kept coming. Time stretched, and she was sure he would
beat her to death right there in the woods. All she could concentrate on was
protecting herself from his strikes and kicks, though her shock was beginning
to fade and the injuries he inflicted ached and bled.

“We’d better get back to the castle, my lord,” one
of Warren’s men eventually said pointedly at his side. The man’s words seemed
to break through the haze of rage that encased Warren, and he finally ceased
his attack on her.

“Get my horse,” Warren said stiffly. “And find me
something to stop all this blood.”

The remaining men began to slowly mount their
horses. The one who had spoken a moment before brought a horse over and handed
Warren a slightly dirty rag for his face. Warren mounted, holding the rag to
his left cheek.

“Take her,” he said disdainfully to the man, nodding
toward where Rona lay crumpled on the ground.

“What about these men, my lord?” the soldier asked
as he dragged Rona to her feet. She couldn’t resist him. She could barely even
stand without the soldier’s grip on her arm.

Rona cast a glance at the carnage and instantly
wished she hadn’t. Sweet young Patrick and noble Harold lay in an unceremonious
heap along with a few of Warren’s men. Several pairs of lifeless eyes stared up
into the trees. There was blood everywhere.