Border Lord's Bride (11 page)

" 'Tis thankful I am that the Templars taught ye how tae fight," Malcolm said before he engaged a new foe.

Lucius could only grunt in response as another horseman bore down on him.

"I'll have your head!" cried the Englishman, who appeared to be the leader.

Lucius ducked as the man's blade hacked down in an arc across his shoulders. The motion set Lucius off balance and he tumbled from his horse. Lucius threw himself against the earth and came up instantly with his sword at the ready. Two men rushed forward on foot. The first man battered Lucius's broadsword to cut away his defense. But Lucius managed to block each blow as he palmed his dagger and thrust it through the air into one man's chest. The second man charged. Lucius drew a breath and prepared for the impact of sword against sword. The screech and clangor of steel filled the air, as did the noisy inhalations and exhalations as their weapons came together.

Lucius waited for an opening. Seeing it, he slashed the man's arm. His opponent groaned and dropped his weapon a heartbeat before Lucius sent him to his grave. All around him, his kin did the same. They fought with skill and courage, despite the odds, as the conflict turned in their favor.

Beside him, Amos and Lachlan charged forward as a unit, wielding their axes with proficient skill, carving a path through the enemy as efficiently as though they were chopping down trees.

A roar of rage sounded behind Lucius. He turned just as the leader of these men hurled into him, slamming him to the ground. The man's bulk trapped him momentarily until Lucius brought his knee up to connect with the man's privates.

Roaring obscenities and groaning in pain, the man rolled to the side. Yet another Englishman charged Lucius while he was down, carving a glittering arc through the air with his sword.

Lucius rolled to one side with only a sliver of air to spare as the blade missed his throat and thumped into the soil beneath the snow.

Drawing on all his strength and speed, Lucius leaped up and slashed his new opponent in the front of the legs before forcing his blade down into the chest of the fallen leader, feeling the weapon bite through hard flesh. The man hissed, his gaze connecting with Lucius's.

"He said you'd be an easy conquest." The Englishman grimaced.

"Who?" Lucius demanded. The sounds of the battle din faded for Lucius as he listened to the man's labored breathing.

"All we cared about…was killing Scots and…taking his money."

Lucius dropped to his knees beside the man. "You did this for a few miserable coins?"

The man's lips pulled up in a sly grin. "A thousand groats…ain't miserable. 'Tis good sense."

Someone paid these men to attack. Who and why? Lucius moved closer to hear the man's words over his ragged breathing. The Englishman's hands shot up to grip Lucius's neck, but there was no strength left in his fingers to do more than leave a bloody smear as his hands drooped to the snow-covered ground.

"Who paid you?"

The man's breathing stuttered.

"Tell me," Lucius growled, even though he feared he already knew the answer to his own question. He needed confirmation.

The man's smile went lax. His eyes rolled back and his breathing ceased.

Lucius growled his frustration. The sound of horses and shouts of the English filled the air as the remaining English warriors fled at the sight of their fallen leader.

Lucius stood. He released a harsh breath and wiped his sword on his tunic before sheathing the weapon. The battle was over, but he still couldn't shake the chill that snaked down his spine. A thousand groats.

"Something is amiss," Lucius said as he joined the MacKinleys and the Insleys, who'd already gathered their two injured men from the aftermath of the battle.

Lachlan slipped his ax into the leather sheath on his back and hurried to Lucius's side. "We fared better than I expected," the young man boasted.

"These were not English soldiers. At least not the heavily trained and armored ones we are used to confronting."

Malcolm nodded wearily. "Who were they then?"

"Hired mercenaries, if we are to believe their leader." Lucius frowned. "If only he hadn't died before he could say who hired him."

Silas shrugged. "So they were out for a pre-Christmastide plunder."

"It's more than that. Something much darker is at play here." Lucius's gaze drifted back in the direction of Midwick Manor. "God's toes—"

"You don't think this was merely a ploy to…?" Lachlan's face mirrored Lucius's dread.

Lucius's heart faltered. "Aye, I do."

Amos MacKinley's heavily bearded face paled. "You think they waited for us to leave, then marched on Midwick Manor?"

Lucius didn't bother answering. He ran to his horse, mounted, and spurred it toward his home. He knew in the depth of his soul that that's exactly what had happened. His heart pounded as fear took root inside him. He couldn't have allowed this to happen again. He'd failed Peter. Marcus. His father. Now his sisters, and… He gave vent to his emotions with an inhuman sound that was part howl and part cry. He had to get back to Elizabeth and his sisters before it was too late.

For the first time since Peter died, Lucius prayed. He breathed every prayer he remembered as he urged his horse to fly over the snowy terrain. Those prayers caught in his throat as he neared the manor and saw the two MacKinleys he'd left to guard the manor while the girls hid tumbled on the ground near the front of the house. Lucius threw back his head and howled in agony and rage. He jumped from his horse before it stopped, and rushed through the open doorway into his home.

He skidded to a halt inside the great hall to find Marie lying facedown in a pool of her own blood near the hearth. Lucius's stomach clenched as he hastened to her side and turned the old woman over. The flesh at her shoulder had been splayed open, yet she still lived.

Marie drew short shallow breaths. Her pale blue eyes flickered open and filled with agony. "My lord. I tried…"

Lucius grabbed a length of linen from the table behind him and pressed it against the woman's wound.

"Rest easy. You're going to be all right. I'll see to that."

She shook her head. "He took them all. I tried to stop him…" Marie choked on a sob. "He knew where they were hidden."

Only a family member would know about the secret chamber belowstairs. "Horatio," Lucius said, trying desperately to keep his fear and his anger in check.

Shuffling footsteps sounded behind Lucius. He drew his sword and turned as he came to his feet. Hadwell staggered through the doorway, his face covered in blood from a severe beating. From his injuries, it was apparent the steward had fought valiantly to try to save the girls from abduction.

"Horatio took the girls," the steward sputtered before he collapsed to his knees.

Behind Hadwell, the MacKinleys raced into the hall. Malcolm and Silas gripped the steward beneath his arms and helped him to his feet.

"Bring Hadwell here and sit him in a chair," Lucius directed as he lifted Marie and placed her in a chair. He signaled Amos MacKinley to join him. "Press this against her wound," he told the man, releasing the linen for Amos to take over. "Silas, heat your dagger in the fire and seal the wound on her shoulder when you can."

"The other servants?" Lucius asked. "Where are they?"

"Some fled to the safety of the village. Others are hiding in the chambers abovestairs," Hadwell said, then winced with pain.

"Jayne and the children?" Lucius asked with his heart in his throat.

Jacob Insley hurried into the great hall. At the relief on his face, Lucius drew an easier breath.

"Jayne, Maybel, and the baby are well. They hid in the wardrobe when they heard the commotion."

"Praise the saints," Marie breathed.

"At least there are some blessings in all this chaos." Lucius gave Marie a bittersweet smile.

Her eyes filled with tears. "He left me alive tae tell ye…" Marie said raggedly. "He wants ye tae leave Midwick and return to the Templars. If ye don't, he threatened tae kill the girls."

Silas and Malcolm erupted into curses.

"We have to go after them," Lachlan growled from his location near the chamber door. "I saw wagon tracks in what's left of the snow. We can follow him."

"It's not the girls he wants," Amos MacKinley scoffed. "He wants the estate. He made no secret of that while yer father was alive."

Lachlan gripped his sword. "I'm ready to fight."

"What will ye do, Lord Carrick? Will ye go back tae the Templars and spare the girls?" Silas asked.

"My place is here with my sisters." Lucius's thoughts whirled as he sought a plan. "Marie, was Horatio alone or did he have others with him?"

"He had two men with him when he arrived," she replied.

"He only left with one," Hadwell replied with a bitter laugh. "Why do ye think I look like this? The man landed a few punches, but I got the best of him. He's tied up in the cellar."

"Good man, Hadwell." Lucius patted the man gently on the shoulder. "Two men with six women could not have traveled far, even if Horatio stole our wagon. The land here is flat and open, with very few places to hide."

"With twenty of us, we can overtake the two men easily."

Hadwell staggered to his feet. "I'd be honored to join ye, my lord."

Lucius gently clasped the old man's shoulder once more with gratitude. "I need you here, Hadwell, to make certain Marie and the others are protected. And when all this is over, you and I and the men will build pele towers to protect our people."

He straightened. "Agreed."

"They can't die," Marie said softly from her place near the hearth.

Panic snaked through Lucius at her words, but he forced the emotion away. "They'll be back before nightfall." Lucius held on to that fraying shred of hope as he headed for his horse. He would find them, his sisters and Elizabeth, and he would make their world right.

Uncle Horatio had unsettled his sisters' lives for the very last time. Lucius had been too weighed down with guilt when he'd returned to see his responsibilities clearly. But that mantle of guilt was gone. The earldom was his and he would wear that responsibility with pride. His sisters needed his protection and his love. And Elizabeth… She deserved so much more than he had given her so far.

Lucius mounted his horse. Lachlan started off on foot, following the trail left in the melting snow by the wagon wheels. At Lucius's signal, his kin headed for the tree-lined area near the loch.

He would find Elizabeth and his sisters. He would bring them home, because if he failed he didn't think he could survive such a loss once again.

Chapter Ten

Faint from cold, without the protection of cloaks or wraps, the girls huddled together in the wagon. Their hands were tied together before them, then tied with a lead from one set of hands to another in a chain: Iris, Camellia, Rose, Lily, Heather, then Elizabeth. Only Iris and Elizabeth were not bound on both sides.

A dark stranger drove the wagon while the girls' Uncle Horatio twisted toward them, his sword drawn and poised to strike. Elizabeth positioned herself closest to the man so that if he decided to use the weapon, it would be she, not the girls, who took the man's violence.

With every step, Elizabeth's heartbeat thudded in her ears. Her mind raced with ways they could escape once the wagon stopped. They were tied together so closely that it made walking difficult and running next to impossible.

Back at the manor they'd been wrestled to the ground and bound by Horatio and his accomplice before the men shoved them into the wagon. The vehicle rolled alongside the western tree-lined edge of the loch, heading south toward the border with England.

Their direction sent a ripple of fear across the nape of Elizabeth's neck, as did the large cask Horatio and the driver had lifted into the back of the wagon. An odd scent came from the cask—a scent Elizabeth couldn't quite place.

Elizabeth returned her gaze to the madman who'd abducted them. He planned to use them as bait either to force Lucius back to the Templars or to lure him to his death.

The second option would never come to pass, not while she still drew breath. But for now, she had to find a way to protect the girls. Elizabeth shifted back against the side of the wagon. If only she could stop the wagon by forcing the wheel to come off, or break. Two men trying to maneuver six women over the English border would have a difficult time.

"Once we clear the loch, which way do we go?" the driver asked Horatio.

When Horatio turned his gaze from her to talk to the man, the sword in his hands dipped.

Elizabeth quickly glanced at Heather, hoping the girl would understand and follow her lead. Elizabeth brought her bound hands up and gripped the flat of the blade between her palms and twisted her arms. The sword jerked out of Horatio's grasp and flew over the side of the wagon.