Highlander's Reckoning (The Sinclair Brothers #3) (26 page)

“You really think you can stop us from helping?”
Alwin said, halting and leveling him with a sharp stare.

Bloody hell, they were worse than Rona! Daniel
rubbed the back of his stiff neck with one hand. He didn’t have the strength or
energy to fight them. He needed to get back to the men.

“What did you have in mind?” he said wearily.

“I can see to the wounded,” Jossalyn said.

“And Meredith and I can secure the tower in case the
walls are breached. The household staff is running around madly without any direction.
And the windows could be secured…” Alwin tapped a finger against her lips in
thought.

“None of you can be in harm’s way,” Daniel said
firmly, but he knew he had lost this battle.

“I’ll set up a station for the wounded in the great
hall. If need be, we’ll seal the doors,” Jossalyn offered.

“And we’ll all stay inside the tower,” Alwin said.

Daniel nodded. “Work swiftly and hold fast. This
could last a while.”

“How long can we hold out?” Meredith asked quietly.

Daniel scrubbed a hand over his face, giving himself
a moment to answer.

“We have no shortage of water, which is most
important,” he said. “And the castle’s storeroom is well-stocked.”

The grim faces staring back at him told him that his
words did little to ease their worries.

“Robert the Bruce and his army are on their way,” he
went on, more serious. “The good news is, they are only a few days north of
us.”

“And the bad news?” Alwin said levelly.

“The bad news is, the castle may be breached before
then.”

After the first few hours, Bella refused to be urged
into a gallop, no matter how much Rona coaxed her or let her rest between
stretches. Rona longed to scream in frustration, to dismount and sprint as fast
as she could toward the Bruce, wherever he was. But she knew that Bella’s
steady pace would get her there faster than anything else. So she remained in
the saddle, gritting her teeth impatiently.

The sun sloped toward the hills in the west, but
still she rode on, only stopping to let Bella rest or to see to her own most
basic needs. She allowed herself to sleep for a few hours in the middle of the
night, wrapped tightly in Daniel’s plaid, which still carried the faint trace
of his scent. She forced herself to eat and drink to keep her strength up, but
she was so anxious that she took no joy in it. The night stretched grimly, the
sounds of the forest echoing around her.

It wasn’t until the cool, damp early morning that
she gave serious thought to how she would find Robert the Bruce and his army.
She knew they were approaching from the north, and that they were at least a
two days’ march away. She was traveling much faster than an army could move, so
she suspected she was drawing close to them in the north. But she didn’t know
exactly how she would locate them. They shouldn’t be that hard to find, she
reassured herself. They were a large army, after all.

The fog that had settled in the forest overnight
wasn’t helping matters, though. The mist obscured the sun and created a gloomy,
sourceless light in the trees around her. When she guessed it was close to
midmorning, she slowed Bella to a walk and sharpened her eyes on her
surroundings. Perhaps she would see a trace of the army that would help her
find them.

The forest was quiet and still around her, the fog
dampening the normal sounds of the woods. She glanced at the ground, but no
human or horse tracks were visible. The trees turned hazy a mere dozen yards in
front of her, and beyond that they were completely swallowed by the fog.

A rustle in the underbrush to her right had her
jerking her head around with a start. It was likely just a rabbit or some other
small creature, she told herself, forcibly taking a deep breath. She nudged
Bella with her heels, praying she was still travelling roughly northward.

“Stop there, lass.”

The voice was so close that a cry of surprise rose
in her throat. Bella, spooked by the sound and by Rona’s involuntary tug on the
reins, whinnied and would have bolted forward if a man hadn’t stepped out of
the mist directly in front of her.

Another scream rose in her throat, and she yanked
Bella’s reins hard to the left. Bella would have gladly obliged, but another
man emerged from the fog, flanking them. Rona’s eyes flashed between the two
men. The first one gripped a bow and nocked arrow, though the arrow was lowered
away from her, and the second had an undrawn sword on his hip.

On his
kilted
hip.

Both men wore plaids of blue-green around their
waists, with an extra length thrown over one shoulder, just as Daniel and his
family did.

The panic began to drain from her, but she eyed them
warily, keeping a firm grip on Bella’s reins.

“You’re Highlanders,” she said cautiously.

The first man loosened the tension on his bowstring
and stood straighter. Rona hadn’t even realized he’d been slightly crouched and
ready to either attack or defend himself.

“And you’re a Lowlander judging by your voice,” he
said just as guardedly, “though your plaid says otherwise.” He studied her with
dark, sharp eyes.

Her overwhelmed brain registered the thicker brogue
of the man who’d just spoken, and she remembered that she must sound
almost-English to them.

“I…I am a friend. I seek someone we may both know,”
Rona said, thinking fast. What else would a pair of Highlanders be doing in the
Lowland woods just north of Loch Doon? These must be Robert the Bruce’s men.

“Do you know whose colors you wear, lass?” the
second man said. He had dark hair and eyes like the other man, but his raised
eyebrow belied curiosity more than suspicion.

Rona straightened her spine and lifted her chin,
even though she already looked down on the two men from her perch on Bella’s
back.

“I am Rona Kennedy Sinclair. I wear my husband’s
colors.”

The two men exchanged a look, and the second man
actually rolled his eyes at the first.

“The Sinclairs don’t live in the Lowlands, lass,”
the first man said, still cautious. “I think you may be confused—or lying.”

Rona’s stomach pinched with apprehension, and she
swallowed, trying to determine what she could say to these Highlanders to
convince them of the veracity of her words.

“Unless—” The second man’s eyes narrowed and then
widened. “Wasn’t Daniel Sinclair sent by…?”

“Bloody hell,” the first man breathed. He removed
the arrow from his bow and slipped it into the quiver at his back. He considered
her closely for another moment, and she suddenly realized what she must look
like to these men. Her hair was a fiery bird’s nest atop her head, and her face
must still be covered in healing cuts and bruises. They probably thought she
was a beggar who’d managed to steal Daniel’s plaid for warmth rather than his
wife and the daughter of a Laird.

She took a deep breath. She had to tell them
everything. She only prayed that these were the men she was looking for and
that she could trust them.

“I am the daughter of Laird Gilbert Kennedy, who was
appointed by King Robert the Bruce as the keeper of Loch Doon,” she said. She
emphasized the word
King
, hoping they would understand her loyalties.

“I married Daniel Sinclair, brother to Laird Robert
Sinclair, by order of the King. Daniel and I are now keepers of the King’s
ancestral castle. We have been beset by an English army, and Loch Doon and all
those within are in grave danger. I came to beg King Robert to hasten his army
south in hopes of saving the castle.”

She exhaled and slumped slightly in the saddle.
She’d laid her identity and her plan in front of these men. Her fate was now in
their hands.

“Christ, lass,” the second man exclaimed. He shot a
look at his companion, who pinned her with another stare. After a long pause,
the first man nodded to the second grudgingly.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the second man stepped
toward her. Startled, she tugged on Bella’s reins, drawing the animal several
steps backward.

“You have yet to tell me who you are,” she said,
darting her gaze between the two men.

The first man regarded her cautiously, but he spoke.
“I am Finn Sutherland,” he said. “And we are part of the King’s rebel army.”

“And I am Ansel Sutherland,” said the second man,
resting his hand casually on the hilt of his sword. “I believe we may be
family, though distantly.”

Rona blinked back and forth between the two of them.
“You mean you two are related?” she said, trying to understand the one called
Ansel’s words.

Ansel shot a glance at Finn.

“Well, aye, Finn and I are both Sutherlands and
probably have some distant great-uncle in common,” he said, “but I meant that
you
and I
are family.” He turned back to her with a warm smile.

“W-what?”

This was all too much. First she was set upon by
these Highland warriors, and now one was saying they were related?

“Daniel Sinclair has a cousin named Burke, aye?”

She nodded numbly.

“Burke is married to my sister.”

“Meredith?” Rona felt her eyes go wide, and Ansel’s
mirrored hers.

“You know her?”

“She is at Loch Doon!” The brief surprise at her
unusual connection to this strange Highlander evaporated as the gravity of the
situation crashed down on her once more.

“What? I knew that Burke had traveled to the castle,
and Garrick and Robert Sinclair as well, but why is Meredith there?” Ansel
said, his face darkening in worry.

“I’ll explain later,” Rona said. She’d also want an
explanation for how they knew the others were at Loch Doon, but it would have
to wait.

“I need to speak to the Bruce—now.”

With Ansel and Finn flanking Bella, Rona rode into
Robert the Bruce’s teeming camp nestled in the middle of the woods. Finn sent
up a loud, trilling whistle, and the camp’s men erupted into a flurry of
action. Within moments, several of the simple canvas tents surrounding them
collapsed as the men began breaking camp.

Just as they approached the largest tent in sight,
the tent’s flap was thrown back and a tall, bearded man emerged.

“What is the meaning of this?” he shouted to no one
in particular.

The man caught sight of Finn and strode toward them.
As he drew nearer, Rona saw that he was only a few years older than Daniel, and
his beard belied faint traces of red that his brown hair did not. Though he was
dressed simply like the rest of the men, his cloak was fastened with an ornate
and finely made brooch.

“Why did you give the signal to break camp?” the man
said as he came to a halt in front of Finn. “And without asking or even
informing me.”

The man’s gaze flickered to her, and his brow
furrowed. “Explain yourself,” he said to Finn, though his eyes remained on
Rona.

“King Robert?” Rona breathed, feeling as if she were
waking from a dream. Despite the fact that this man had guided the direction of
her life in fundamental ways, from sending her family to Loch Doon to ordering
her to marry Daniel, she had never laid eyes on him before.

She threw her leg over Bella’s neck and slid to the
ground. When her feet hit the forest floor, she wobbled unsteadily, suddenly
feeling the long hours she’d spent in the saddle and the meager food she’d eaten
in the last week.

The King was instantly at her side, steadying her by
the arms.

“And who are you, lass?” he said, a frown still
creasing his brow.

“This is Rona Sinclair, sire, née Kennedy,” Finn
said pointedly.

Comprehension flitted over the Bruce’s features, but
then his grip tightened on her arms and his face stiffened.

“What has happened?” he said, dread and urgency
mingling in his voice.

“Tell him what you told us,” Ansel said gently from
her side. Then he turned to the Bruce.

“We’ll see to the men. We’ll take responsibility for
mobilizing the camp if you disagree with us once you’ve heard the lass out, but
for now, haste is of the essence.”

The Bruce nodded quickly to Finn and Ansel, which
was all the permission they needed. They both shot off into the camp shouting
orders and organizing the rebel army.

“Come,” he said, guiding her toward the large tent
from which he had emerged.

As he held the tent flap back for her, he turned to
the guard that stood outside and spoke quietly. “Some spiced wine and food for
my guest.”

Once they were inside, he guided her to a chair to
sit. “How is your father,” the King said levelly.

She sank down into the cushioned chair gratefully.

“He is…well, your Majesty,” she said simply, unsure
of how to address her King.

He rubbed his beard for a moment and considered her.

“You are here to deliver dire news,” he said,
scanning her disheveled appearance. “Please dispense with formalities and
niceties in favor of the blunt truth.”

Her jaw slackened slightly, but he gave her a kind,
worried look in response.

“You have clearly survived something terrible and
have traveled alone to reach me. What has happened?”

She launched into the events that had brought her
here, only sparing details when it would slow her down. She explained that her
father had left Loch Doon peacefully, and that Daniel had brought the castle
into smooth working order quickly. She told him of Daniel’s suspicions that
someone within the castle was scheming against them, and of the arrival of
Robert, Garrick, Burke, and their wives. Planning the siege against Dunbraes
had gone smoothly enough, but then she’d been captured by Raef Warren in the
Galloway woods.

She didn’t mention what she’d been doing in the
woods, for it wasn’t pressing. A small part of her feared the consequences her
King would level against her if he found out that she had trained and flown a
falcon above her station. She would face his punishment if it came to that, but
she couldn’t think about it now.

She told him of her captivity with Warren, and how
Daniel and the others had come for her, but that Warren had sent his army to
Loch Doon while it stood vulnerable in their absence. She explained that Daniel
had left her safely with friends in the woods near the castle and that he and
the others had gone on to try to aid in the castle’s defense. They were hoping
against hope that the King’s army would reach them in time, but they didn’t
know how long they could hold off Warren’s men. So she’d taken matters into her
own hands and came looking for the rebel army, hoping that if they rushed
southward, they’d make it to the castle in time before all was lost.