Highlander's Reckoning (The Sinclair Brothers #3) (28 page)

Battle lust surged in Daniel’s veins as he pushed
through the postern gate with dozens of other warriors. A wordless bellow of
fury ripped from his throat as he rushed forward, sword raised in both hands.

The already-confused Englishmen on the island’s
shore, many of whom had their backs to the castle to watch their army being set
upon on the other shore, fell into utter chaos at the fierce charge from the
castle. Some had even put away their weapons and now hastily tried to draw
swords and bows as the Scotsmen fell upon them.

Daniel leapt over burned, tallow-covered corpses as
he charged headlong for the English soldiers. The first Englishman to feel the deadly
kiss of Daniel’s blade had only managed to half-unsheathe his sword before he
fell in a lifeless pile.

The second man he faced had his sword at the ready.
The ringing of metal on metal all around told Daniel that now the fight had
begun in earnest.

He swung savagely, fighting with every thread of
himself. English attackers fell before him even as a few of the remaining rafts
landed on the island and more soldiers poured forth. Daniel charged knee-deep
into the water to meet a new batch of attackers. Several soldiers leapt in the
shallows to face off with him.

The Englishmen’s chainmail protected them from all
but the most precise attacks. But the armor also made them slow and ungainly.
Daniel lowered his shoulder at the same moment a soldier jumped toward him from
a raft and knocked the man off balance. The weight of the man’s chainmail sent
him toppling backward into the loch, where he flailed and thrashed, trying to
get his head above water.

Daniel turned his attention back to the men in front
of him just in time to block a sword that would have hamstrung him. He pivoted
out of the block and drove his blade through a chink in his opponent’s mail.
But then he saw the flash of another blade rising over his head. As the blade
descended toward him, he knew he wouldn’t have time to withdraw his sword from
his opponent’s flesh and block the blade angling toward his head.

Just then an arrow whizzed by his ear and sank into
his new attacker’s eye. The man screamed in agony, dropping the sword that
would have ended Daniel’s life. Daniel quickly finished the man off. He risked
a glance over his shoulder and saw Garrick through one of the wall’s crenels.
His brother was already nocking another arrow and taking aim.

Daniel turned back to square off with yet another
Englishman who’d just leapt from one of the rafts. He lost himself in the
fluid, deadly dance of battle again, blocking and striking, thrusting and
spinning, for he didn’t know how long.

As he withdrew his blade from the chest of another
fallen English soldier, he looked up, preparing for the onslaught of yet more
rafts. But instead, the battle around him was dying down. He looked farther out
to the waters between the castle and the shore. A few rafts still approached
the castle, but others drifted aimlessly, the lashed-together tree trunks
strewn with arrow-riddled bodies. Some of the rafts had actually turned back to
shore, with the English paddling frantically to try to aid the rest of their
army.

Daniel cast his gaze around him. Some still fought,
but the battle was winding down. Bodies lay strewn across the rocks, including
some of the castle’s men and a few of Robert’s Highland warriors. But the dull,
still glint of chainmail-clad bodies dominated his vision.

He darted around the other side of the island, where
the battle at the main gate had taken place. The fighting was almost over
there, too. He quickly scanned the men still standing and breathed a sigh of
relief when he picked out first Burke and then Robert among them.

As the last of the Englishmen was dispatched, a roar
of victory swelled among the men. Daniel raised his bloodied blade overhead and
joined them in the thundering triumph. He faced the eastern shoreline, hoping
their voices would be heard by the Bruce’s army. The English and the Scottish
armies were still locked in battle, but from what Daniel could see, the Bruce’s
men surged forward while the Englishmen began to crumple inward. He hoped their
victorious cries would urge on their allies.

As his eyes scanned the battle on shore, he suddenly
caught a flash of red at the back of the churning conflict. He squinted,
disbelieving.

Red hair. Long, wild red hair. A breeze on the shore
whipped the Sinclair plaid around the figure’s shoulders, revealing a feminine
form clad in a simple dress underneath.

No. It couldn’t be.

“Rona!”

He hadn’t realized he’d shouted her name out loud
until Robert and Burke were at his side holding him back by the shoulders.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Robert snapped.

Burke followed Daniel’s line of sight. “Christ, is
that…”

Robert looked too, and then added his curse to the
air.

“What…how…”

Daniel fumbled lamely for words as a storm of
emotions broke inside him. She was so close. He longed to leap the distance
between the castle and the shoreline and take her into his arms.

But what was she doing here? He’d left her with Ian
and Mairi, and yet there she was at the back of Robert the Bruce’s army. She
was at the rear, far away from the fighting, but suddenly a surge of anger and
fear for her blinded him. She was in danger. Why was she with the Bruce? He had
to see her, talk to her, touch her, and make sure she was all right.

“Easy, little brother,” Robert said loudly, trying
to break through to him. Daniel hadn’t realized it, but he’d taken several
steps forward and now stood in the loch up to his knees. The only things
keeping him from diving in and swimming to the shore were Robert and Burke’s
hands on his shoulders.

“What the hell is she doing here?” he rasped, his
eyes still locked on her fiery hair.

“We won’t know until the battle on the shore is
decided,” Robert said calmly. “All we can do now is wait.”

Despite the fact that dusk was falling, Rona could
clearly make out the looming shape of Loch Doon in front of her. More
precisely, she could see the solidary figure on top of the curtain wall pacing
like a caged cat—or a poked bear.

She almost shifted nervously, but she froze at the
last moment, remembering where she was. Though the raft seemed steady enough,
she didn’t fully trust the Englishmen’s skill and didn’t want to risk tipping
off into the loch.

The battle on the shore had begun to wind down
earlier in the afternoon and was completely over by evening. The Bruce had been
eager to see what damage had been done to his castle, which had suited Rona
just fine. She too was eager to reach the castle, but she didn’t have a care
for the stone structure. It was Daniel she needed to see.

They’d commandeered one of the abandoned rafts the
English had left on the shoreline and pushed off toward the castle despite the
failing light. The raft was big enough for her, the Bruce, and several of his
men, including Ansel, Finn, Colin, and the old giant Angus. Rona had quickly
realized these men were part of the Bruce’s most trusted inner circle. She
still couldn’t believe that she sat cross-legged on a raft amidst these fierce,
sharp warriors at the center of the Scottish fight for freedom.

Just as the rudimentary raft bumped into the castle’s
docks—which would need serious repair after the battle—the main gate was thrown
open and light spilled out. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that a large fire
burned in the yard. Several backlit figures moved toward them, but she couldn’t
tell who they were.

One of the men on the raft helped her to her feet
and onto the dock. Right as her feet came firmly under her, a male body slammed
into hers, wrapping her up fiercely.

“Rona.”

Daniel’s voice was a ragged whisper in her ear, his
arms like bands of steel around her.

She couldn’t form words as a tight knot suddenly
lodged in her throat. All she could do was throw her arms around him, gripping
him with all her strength.

“You’re all right,” she finally managed to choke
out.

She hadn’t realized it until now, but she’d forced
herself to believe that he had survived the attack on the castle. She couldn’t
let herself entertain even the faintest possibility that he’d been seriously
wounded or killed. But now that they were locked in a rough embrace and she could
feel his strong, whole body herself, she nearly shook with unspent worry and
relief.

“Aye, and so are you,” he rasped, stroking her hair
with one hand. “When I saw you at the back of the Bruce’s army…”

He pulled back and looked down at her in the firelight
spilling from the yard. He traced her cheekbone with one finger, then let it
drift over her trembling lips. His eyes were like liquid fire, riveted to her
face. His features were unguarded, and she saw a clash of disbelief, worry,
relief, and anger cross them.

“There’ll be plenty of time for explanations. But
first I want to see my castle,” Robert the Bruce said a few feet away.

Daniel instantly spun on his heels to face the Bruce
and dropped to one knee in front of him.

“Rise, rise, man!” the Bruce said quickly. “You must
be Daniel Sinclair. I should kneel to
you
, for you saved my castle.”

Daniel began to protest against the King’s praise,
but the Bruce waved him off.

“It is good to finally meet you in person. The
letters we exchanged regarding your arranged marriage and running Loch Doon
were most…entertaining,” the Bruce said, extending his arm to Daniel.

Daniel took the King’s proffered arm.

“I suppose I didn’t know just how great a gift you
were giving me, sire,” he said wryly.

The King turned and walked through the open main
gate, with Rona, Daniel, and the other men following. As Rona crossed the rocky
expanse of island outside the gate, she caught a dull glint of metal in the
corner of her eye. She turned her head, but Daniel captured her chin with one
hand.

“Don’t look over there, love,” he said quietly.

“What is it?”

“Bodies,” he replied grimly. She shuddered and
turned away, grateful that the island and castle were not still strewn with
corpses in the aftermath of the battle.

As they strode into the yard, she realized that the
others were gathered around the large fire. In unison, they lowered themselves
in bows or curtsies to Robert the Bruce.

“Rise,” the Bruce commanded calmly. “I am grateful
to you all for defending Loch Doon. Let us all be at ease in this, our home,
and celebrate our victory together!”

As those gathered rose and cheered their assent,
Robert stepped forward and shared a firm arm shake with the Bruce. To Rona’s
surprise, the two began talking like old friends.

Her eyes were pulled away from them when Meredith
moved forward, her eyes locked on one of the men near Rona.

“Ansel?” she cried and bolted forward. She launched
herself into Ansel’s arms, laughing and crying at the same time.

“I’m so glad you’re all right, little sister,” Ansel
said into her hair.

“I’m more than all right. I’ll explain later,” she
said mysteriously as she pulled back from him, though Rona didn’t miss the hand
she unconsciously placed over her stomach.

Burke moved toward them and shared a comparatively
subdued arm clasp with Ansel.

Then Garrick was barreling into the group, his arms
extended toward the men surrounding her.

“Colin!” he said, giving the blond young man a
hearty slap on the back. He exchanged a shake with Finn, who was reserved as
usual, then turned to Angus, the red-haired giant.

“Sinclair, you wee bastard!” Angus bellowed, and
actually lifted Garrick, a lithe giant himself, off his feet in a bear hug.

“Where’s that bonny wife of yours?”

“Jossalyn is in the hall tending to the wounded,”
Garrick said, sobering.

“Were there many?” the Bruce said, his attention
suddenly fully on Garrick.

“Nay, blessedly. There are some arrow wounds, and
some cuts and slices that need stitching. But some men were beyond help…”

A somber silence fell over the group.

“Aye, we lost some good men today,” the Bruce
eventually said quietly. “Let us honor their sacrifice as we celebrate the
victory they helped us secure.”

“I’m sure we could all do with some food and drink,”
Alwin said, stepping to Robert’s side. “The great hall is currently in use. But
we could share a simple meal here in the yard.”

“Thank you, Lady Sinclair,” the Bruce responded.

The group dispersed, with some entering the hall to
move a few of the wooden benches into the yard while Meredith and Alwin set
about arranging for a meal with Elspeth.

Agnes, weary-looking but spry, suddenly appeared in
front of Rona.

“I’ll have a bath prepared for you, my lady,” Agnes
said with a quick bob.

Rona began to protest, but Agnes was already pulling
her away from Daniel and toward the tower keep. She looked back over her
shoulder at him, longing to keep him near. But the Bruce spoke to him, drawing
his attention.

“Perhaps a dunk in the loch is in order,” the Bruce
said. “I’d like to be rid of the stench of battle. Then you can show me how the
castle fared.”

Daniel nodded to the Bruce but shot her one last
look that was filled with unspoken questions.

Rona bathed quickly, but it was hard to resist the
desire to sink into the warm water and never come out again. The only thing
that brought her out of the tub was the thought of Daniel. She had so much to
tell him, and he was clearly interested in learning what had transpired after
he left her with the Fergusons. She didn’t want anything to go unsaid between
them ever again.

In the light of the fire burning in the brazier—for
there was not a single candle left in the castle—she noticed the bruises on her
torso and the fact that her ribs stood out more than usual. They were reminders
of all she’d been through, and she feared that long after the bruises had faded
and she returned to eating and sleeping normally, she would carry marks on the
inside.

She dressed and did her best to drag a comb through
her tangled hair. Her reflection in the polished silver plate revealed that her
face still bore evidence of her traumatic experiences. But she had Daniel to
hold her, kiss her, and remind her that she was still alive and filled with
fire. And she had Bhreaca, and Ian and Mairi, and Daniel’s family, who felt
like her own now.

Even without them, though, she had herself. She’d
survived a madman’s attack, captivity in a dungeon, a harrowing journey in
search of the Bruce’s army, and a battle. She was strong. She was alive. And
she was still herself.

She didn’t bother trying to tame her hair into a
braid, and instead left it to dry around her shoulders. The great hall was
relatively quiet as she walked through. The wounded men had been tucked under
blankets, and many rested calmly. She spotted Jossalyn stirring something in a
caldron over the hearth and approached. She squeezed one of her arms as a
greeting.

“Can I help?” Rona asked.

“No, but thank you,” Jossalyn replied, though her
voice belied her weariness. “Actually, once I finish steeping this comfrey, I’ll
join you all in the yard.”

Rona nodded and gave Jossalyn another squeeze. Then
she turned to the doors leading to the yard.

The large fire illuminated the faces of those
gathered around it. They’d formed a rough circle with the benches, and quiet voices
and chuckles rose from the group.

A figure stood, and Rona realized it was Daniel. He
approached and extended his arm to her. She took it, letting him guide her to a
spot on a bench between him and the Bruce. She wanted to speak to him, but
there were so many people surrounding them.

As she sat down, she shot him a questioning look,
but at that moment Alwin appeared and handed her a slab of bread topped with
butter and slices of dried pear. It was simple fare, but as Rona’s teeth sank
into the soft bread, she doubted she’d ever eaten anything as delicious.

Someone handed Daniel a waterskin, and he took a
long swig from it. He passed it to her, one eyebrow raised. She took a sip and
immediately fell into a fit of coughing.

“Why didn’t you say it was whisky?” she croaked at
him as soon as she could speak.

He didn’t seem to hear her, for his eyes were
riveted to her mouth. He brushed his thumb across her lower lip, where
apparently a stray drop of the fiery brew lingered. He slowly brought his thumb
to his mouth and sucked, keeping his eyes locked with hers.

Suddenly she felt a familiar stirring deep in her
belly, yet one that had lain dormant through the tribulations of the previous
week. Her eyes flickered to his mouth, and she felt a flush spread across her
skin.

“What’s the holdup?” the Bruce said next to her. She
jumped, realizing that she still held the skin of whisky. A chuckle traveled
around the circle, and her cheeks heated at their knowing looks at her and
Daniel. She quickly passed the skin to the Bruce, who took a long pull and sent
it to his right.

Daniel cleared his throat.

“I have been begging the King all night to explain
how you came to be with him and his army,” he said to Rona. “But he refuses to
tell me. He says
you
must tell your story.”

For a moment she was grateful for the change of
subject, but then her stomach tightened as all those around the circle fell
silent and turned to her.

She swallowed and glanced around the circle. Garrick
sat on the other side of the Bruce, and Jossalyn had just joined them, settling
herself next to him. Meredith was between Burke and her brother Ansel. Finn,
Angus, Colin, and the other men were on the far side of the circle, and Robert
and Alwin sat on Daniel’s other side.

“When you left me in the woods,” she began
carefully, “I knew I couldn’t simply stand by and do nothing as you fought to
save the castle and all those within.”

Daniel frowned but remained silent, so she went on.

“I took Bella, Ian and Mairi’s old mare, and headed
north. I’d overheard you say that the King’s army was on its way from the
north, but that they were several days away and didn’t know the castle was in
peril.”

She shrugged uncomfortably under so many sets of
eyes. “So I went to find them and tell them to hurry up.”

An astounded silence held the group for a moment.
Daniel was the first to recover his ability to speak.

“And you simply…found them?”

Rona’s eyes shot to Finn and Ansel, who looked like
they were trying not to smile.

Daniel must have followed her line of sight, for he
turned his attention on the two men across from him.

“Do either of you have something to add?” he said
tightly.

“Nay, I think the lass is doing just fine,” Finn
said smoothly. Ansel coughed.