Devil in a Kilt (41 page)

"He
is not gone," she insisted, rolling him onto his side. "He is
not."

But
the loll of his head and his blank stare told another tale.

Horror
washed over her, colder and more biting than the chill sea wind tearing at her
hair and whipping the loose folds of her
arisaid.

Her
gaze flew from the dead squire to her husband. He'd retrieved his crossbow and
now leaned heavily against one of the square-toothed stone merlons, struggling
to discharge a quarrel through the open space between.

His
concentration was apparent in the tight set of his jaw, his waning strength in
the way his powerful frame trembled as he cocked the bow with his foot, took
aim, then loosed the deadly weapon.

From
below, a sharp yelp of pain proved he'd hit his target. Duncan sagged against
the merlon and let the cumbersome crossbow slip from his bloodied grasp.
"God willing," he breathed, his normally booming voice, ragged and
weary, "God willing, that was the brigand who took young Ewan's life."

Linnet
swallowed hard, her heart aching at the anguish she saw in his eyes. Pain she
knew came from seeing his young squire meet such an untimely death and not
from the grievous wounds he bore.

Tears
of anger and fear jabbed into the backs of her eyes but she refused to let them
fall. She could weep later, now she must get her husband to safety, see to his
wounds. Pushing to her feet, she ran forward and clutched his uninjured right
arm.

"Have
done with this show of MacKenzie valor and come inside, my lord," she
begged, pulling on him in vain. Though gravely injured, he stood as immovable
as the stone of his castle. "I beseech you."

His
face set in tight, grim lines, he shook her off as if she were naught but a
pesky fly. Ignoring her pleas, he stooped to retrieve his discarded crossbow,
his chest heaving with agony as he slowly straightened. Clenching his teeth, he
made to reload it, but Sir Marmaduke wrested it away from him.

With
a mastery that made the breath catch in her throat, Linnet watched the
Sassunach right the unwieldy weapon, fix his bolt, draw, take aim, and release
the lethal quarrel before she could let out her pent-up breath.

Then
he propped the crossbow against the crenellated wall, boldly placing himself
between the weapon and Duncan. "You will not live to use that crossbow or
any other bloody weapon again lest you remove yourself from here at once."

"Duncan,
please," Linnet pleaded anew. " ‘Tis covered with blood you are.
Ne'er have I seen a—"

A
fierce scowl darkening his blood-smeared face, Duncan suddenly lunged forward,
grabbing Linnet by the elbow and yanking her out of the way as two kitchen boys
hurried past carrying a large vessel of hot, bubbling grease. "Careless
whelps," he called after them, "watch what you're about!"

He
held her tight, his grip no less powerful for his injuries, and kept her out of
harm's way as two of his men took the vat of boiling oil from the kitchen lads
and hurled its contents over the wall.

Screams
pierced the night as the scalding brew rained onto the heads of those unfortunates
who happened to be in its sizzling downward path. Duncan gave the men who'd
tossed the hot oil over the wall a grim nod, then loosened his hold on Linnet.

"See
her back whence you fetched her," he said tersely to Marmaduke, fair
pushing her into the Sassunach's arms. "And do not even think to disobey
me," he added, then limped toward a small cluster of men clashing swords
with two of Kenneth's miscreants who'd gained the wall walk. He drew his own
blade as he went.

"Lady,
come," Sir Marmaduke said, wrapping his arm about her shoulders.
"Allow me to return you safely belowstairs. I should have known it would
do no good to bring you here."

Linnet
held back. At the far end of the battlements, Duncan wrangled with a man
lashing furiously around himself with an ugly-looking battle-ax. And Duncan's
movements were slow, hampered by his injuries.

Yet
he fought on.

Despite
the hail of fire arrows arching overhead, trailing acrid smoke behind them
before clattering on the stone floor of the wall walk in a shower of sparks and
ashes. Pages dashed madly about, their sole task stamping out the flames with
their feet.

But
the mighty Black Stag of Kintail fought on— just as his guardsmen had told her
he would.

"Lady,
come," Sir Marmaduke urged again, trying to drag her away. "‘Tis not
safe for you here."

"Nay.
I will not go," Linnet argued, stiffening in the Sassunach's iron hold on
her, straining against him.

Her
heart pounded hard within her breast as she watched her husband fend off his
assailant's vicious attack. ‘Twere he hearty and whole, uninjured, he would
have skewered his enemy and sent his corpse sailing over the wall afore the man
had even lifted his ax.

But
he wasn't whole and hearty.

And
he was getting weaker by the moment, she could tell. If naught happened, he'd
soon be felled.

He
must not die.

She'd
sworn he wouldn't, vowed it to herself, and if the saints so deemed it, she'd
perish keeping her vow.

God
willing, neither of them would die.

A
fire arrow whistled past, coming to a sputtering halt near the edge of her
cloak, and Sir Marmaduke loosened his hold on her to stomp on its smoking
shaft. Linnet seized the moment to tear away from him and dash to the wall.

Before
any of the men could stop her, she snatched up Duncan's forgotten crossbow and
heaved the cumbersome weapon into place, aiming it downward through the open
space of a crenel.

"Kenneth
MacKenzie," she called to the men below, "I challenge you to show
yourself!"

"Lady,
cease or you will be killed." Sir Marmaduke slid his arms around her from
behind and began pulling her away from the wall.

Linnet
dropped the crossbow and grabbed hold of a merlon, clinging to it while arrows
whistled through the crenels and over their heads, sailing into the castle wall
behind them with loud thwacks.

"Leave
her be," a deep voice rose up from the rocky shoreline beneath the
battlements. And with the words, all fighting stopped.

A
lone fire arrow clattered to the stone floor near Linnet, then an eerie hush
fell over the men assembled on the ground below as well as those manning the
turret walls. For a long moment, the only sound was the gusty sea wind blowing
over the ramparts and the rhythmic whoosh of waves smacking into the jagged
rocks lining the base of the tower.

"Let
the lady come forth and speak her piece," the voice called again.

"Do
not heed him, ‘tis madness," Marmaduke whispered above her ear. "He
would think naught of seeing you killed."

"God's
teeth!" her husband bellowed, his bloodied fingers curling around her arm
in a viselike grip. "Go inside at once!" he commanded, yanking her
arm with such force, she tumbled away from the merlon and out the Sassunach's
firm hold.

"Leave
me be," she shrieked, unconsciously mimicking Kenneth's words. The blood
on Duncan's hands made them slippery, and she took advantage, squirming nimbly
from his grasp. "I ken what I am about," she breathed, pouncing on
the crossbow where it rested against the crenellated wall.

"Seize
her!" her husband shouted at the men closest to her.

"Stay
back!" Linnet warned as they closed in on her. Then, feigning
acquiescence, she bent down, making as if to adjust the folds of her cloak. She
whipped out her dirk instead. Raising it calmly to her throat, she said,
"Dinna think I will not use it. I would speak with my husband's half brother,
and none shall hinder my doing so."

Muttered
curses and grumbles answered her, but the men, Duncan and Marmaduke included,
remained where they stood.

Keeping
her gaze steady on the circle of fiercely scowling MacKenzie warriors, she
placed the dirk on top of the nearest merlon. Then she swept them with a dark
look of her own. "Those of you who've seen me teaching Robbie to throw a
blade know how fast I am with this dagger. Do not force me to show you
again."

When
they said naught, she nodded and lifted the crossbow. "I have come,"
she called to the tall man standing below, his broad shoulders and arrogantly
cocked head raging high above his men, who still hunkered beneath the shelter
of their upturned boats.

She
peered down at him, wishing fervently she could set him aflame with the heat of
her stare.

Even
at this distance, he looked so much like her husband, ‘twas only the strength
of her will that kept her from glancing over her shoulder to make certain
Duncan stood yet behind her and hadn't somehow found his way belowstairs and
outside.

But
she knew beyond a doubt her husband hadn't left the wall walk. She could feel
his fury burning holes into her back.

As
she could feel the bemused smile his loathsome half brother bestowed upon her.
Linnet shuddered, steeling herself against his unsettling resemblance to
Duncan. Briefly, the greenish black glow she'd seen around him that long-ago
day in the yew grove, flared, reminding her of the kind of man he truly was.

She
shuddered again and willed her hands steady on the bow.

"I
am come, Kenneth MacKenzie," she repeated, "to bid you and your men
begone from this place." She paused to cock the crossbow with her foot.
"If you willna, I shall fire a bolt from this bow into your bonnie knee,
and your men can carry you away."

Kenneth
inclined his head and deepened his smile. A gust of briny air carried his men's
snickers up to Linnet and those standing upon the battlements.

"Tell
your men to cease their laughing—or have you brought different brigands with
you than those present when we first met?" she challenged.

Kenneth
raised a hand and his men fell silent. "‘Tis not you they find amusing,
fair lady," he called up to her, his rich, deep voice so like Duncan's her
blood nigh curdled. "They—
we
—find it humorous that my brother
would hide behind your skirts."

Behind
her, Duncan fairly roared his outrage. Linnet heard his struggles and knew his
men were holding him fast. The Sassunach admonished him in a low voice,
"Be still, you fool. ‘Tis to rile you he speaks thusly. He would that you
storm forward so one of his assailant's can take you down before you could draw
your bow."

"My
husband is not here," Linnet returned, her voice firm and steady though
her heart beat wildly at the lie. She heard Duncan swear, then the black oath
was cut off sharply as if someone had clapped a silencing hand over his mouth.

"He
is gravely wounded, and his men have taken him below," she barged on,
afraid she'd expose herself as a liar if she didn't speak the untruth swiftly.

"What
a shame," Kenneth crooned, the timbre of his voice smooth as thick cream.
Once more, he inclined his head.

"Kenneth
MacKenzie," she rushed on, "you claim to be a chivalrous man. Will
you prove your words by granting that, as lady of this castle and with my lord
husband fallen, ‘tis my duty to oversee these walls?"

His
displeasure floated upward like a dark cloud, coming at her in great,
undulating waves. He stared up at her, hands braced on his hips, then finally
made her a low bow. "I concede, lady. Under one condition."

"I
will not bargain with you," Linnet countered, fixing and drawing an arrow
as she spoke. "Go forth from here and dinna return."

Without
taking his gaze off her, Kenneth placed his right foot upon a nearby boulder.
"And if I do not, you think to shatter my knee?"

"So
I have said."

"Your
courage impresses me, milady, but I do not believe a mere lass,
any
lass,
can wield a crossbow." He patted his knee and smiled again. "Most
assuredly not with the accuracy you profess to master."

Linnet
said naught and took aim.

"Throwing
a dagger is a gypsy's trick," he taunted. "As a healer and seeress,
‘tis not surprising you are possessed of such talent. Handling a man's
weapon..." his voice trailed off and he chuckled. "Nay, I dinna
believe it."

Linnet
kept her silence, her fingers inching toward the lever under the bow's
crosspiece.

"Send
down my son, and I will leave you in peace." All mirth now gone from his
voice. "My claim to this castle can wait for another day."

Angry
rumblings issued from the men crowded around Linnet, jeers from those below.

"You
have claim to neither," Linnet shouted, her fingers finding the lever.
"Not the boy nor these walls. I bid you once more to be gone."

"I
think not," came Kenneth's reply.

"Then
I shall send you," Linnet said under her breath and released the quarrel.

A
sharp cry of pain rent the night. As her husband's men cheered, Linnet propped
the bow against the wall, satisfied even though the bolt had missed its mark.