Moon Shadows (28 page)

Her father, she thought as she began to scrub the tabletop, wasn't the only one making battle plans this day.

While Brin heated water on the hearth and the women and children washed the utensils and swept the floor, Alana shared
with them her thoughts on the need to prepare for a possible attack.

A short time later the three men returned to the room. All wore grave looks as Laird Lamont asked the women and children to gather around.

“What is it, Father?” Before Alana could ask more, he lifted a hand to silence her.

“We can see the smoke rising across the meadow. Dunhill, it would seem, is under attack. Which means that this fortress will be next, as Rothwick's army marches toward the few remaining villages that are left.” The old man glanced around at the faces of the women and children, lingering longest on the face of his beloved daughter. “It is my desire that you prepare to journey to the Lowlands. There you will find shelter from Rothwick's cruelty.”

Old Brin blinked back tears. “Forgive me, my laird. Ye know I have spent a lifetime following ye'r commands. But this I canna' do.” She looked toward the old warrior who stood so proudly beside his laird. “Lochaber and I have been husband and wife for four score years. I'll not be driven to desert him by the likes of Reginald Rothwick.” Though her lips were quivering, she proudly lifted her head. “I'd rather die here beside my Lochaber than live another score years without him.”

The old man's eyes blazed. “Were you not listening to the Dark Angel? Do you know what they do to women . . .” His gaze roamed the others. “And children?”

One of the women spoke up. “I know not how I survived the attack that took the lives of all I loved, but I know this, my laird. Like Brin, I will accept whatever fate awaits me rather than leave the Highlands.”

Ingram drew an arm around Jeremy, who in turn, clapped a hand on Dudley's shoulder. “I ask your leave to stay and fight, my laird.”

The other two lads nodded.

One by one the others expressed the same opinion, until only Alana was left to speak.

“You know that I love you more than life itself, Father, and have never defied you. But I beg you not to ask me to leave.
Like the others, I would rather suffer my fate here, surrounded by those who matter most to me.”

Alana caught sight of Royce's face, the features so stiff and angry they could have been carved from stone.

The old laird blinked back the sudden moisture that threatened, before straightening his shoulders and giving a slight nod of his head. “As you wish. We stand together, loyal and courageous Highlanders to the end.”

“N
AY
, lad.” Royce patiently closed a hand over Ingram's, showing him the proper way to thrust with his sword. “If your hand is turned thus, your opponent will have the advantage and you'll soon find yourself without a weapon.”

Alana stood with the others, watching and awaiting her turn. In the days since making their wishes known, the others seemed resigned to the fact that they would stand or fall together, man, woman, and child, in this place. All except Royce, who had not spoken to Alana directly since she had made her wishes known along with the others.

Royce was patient with the lads and other women, giving them as much time as they needed to master each weapon. But when it came to Alana, he was like a gruff, wounded bear, ready to sink his claws into her for the slightest infraction.

He ridiculed her clumsy attempts to lift a broadsword, which weighed more than she. And when she managed to fire an arrow from a crossbow, he pointed out that the only wound inflicted was to a poor, unsuspecting chicken that happened to
get in the way. Thankfully, Brin made quick use of the hen for their meal that night.

Alana would stand in the circle and bear the brunt of his cruel words for as long as she could. Then she would seek solace inside the fortress, hoping to hide her pain from the others.

Old Brin's sharp eyes missed none of it.

Finding Alana sulking while she fed wood to the fire, she leaned on her broom. “Sometimes a man finds it necessary to hide his feelings behind anger.”

“His feelings of contempt? On the contrary, he makes them well-known.” Alana tossed the wood with more force than necessary. “I know I am small and thin, but so is Ingram. And that hateful warrior never loses his temper with the lad.”

“Ingram doesn't worry his heart the way you do, my lady.”

“Worry his heart?” Alana tossed yet another log. “What nonsense are you speaking, Brin?”

“I know what I see.”

“As do I. I see a man who takes every opportunity to shame me before the others.”

“Have you asked yourself why?”

Alana nodded. “Aye. Because he sees himself superior to me in every way.”

“Oh, m'lady.” The old woman sighed. “Why is love always wasted on the young?”

“Love?” Alana gave a sound that might have been a laugh or a sneer. “If that be love, I want no part of it, now or ever.”

“You scoff, my lady. But when the man looks at you, I see love in his eyes. Can you not see what is so obvious to the rest of us? The Dark Angel is so smitten, so bedazzled by you, it has him feeling confused and helpless. So he does whatever he can to make you hate him enough to keep him from acting on his feelings.”

Alana's head came up sharply. Before she could argue, the old woman walked away.

Alana picked up an armload of wood and headed toward the next room. Was old Brin going daft? Aye, it seemed the only answer. How could there possibly be a glimmer of truth
in what she'd just said? It simply wasn't possible that the dark, angry warrior, who took such delight in humiliating her in front of the entire company of her family and friends, could be hiding feelings of another kind. Especially feelings of love.

 

T
HOSE
women and children who felt incapable of wielding a weapon were getting instructions from Brin on the many ways they could impede the progress of an advancing army. They had dragged kettles of water to the highest chambers of the fortress, ready to heat them over fires and toss on unsuspecting warriors below. The youngest children were directed to go to their assigned hiding places as soon as the approaching army was spotted.

Young Dudley, considered the fastest runner among them, had been given the honor of standing watch from a nearby hillside. Each day the lad went there as soon as his morning meal was finished and remained there throughout the afternoon. At dusk Ingram and Jeremy took turns replacing him so that he could sleep.

But as the days grew shorter, and the time of the harvest was upon the land, there was a new fear among the lads who would take the night watch. No Highlander was willing to be out and about on All Hallows Eve, for it was well-known that the souls of the dead came back that night to walk the earth and seek justice from those who had offended them.

When Ingram, Jeremy and Dudley began arguing about who would take the night watch, even Laird Malcolm Lamont refused to mediate.

“I agree with the lads,” he said to the others. “On the night of All Hallows Eve, there is no reason to stand watch. If you thought Rothwick's men feared the Dark Angel in the forest, their fear of the risen dead will be even greater. All will refuse to leave the safety of their fortress and not even their laird's wrath will change their minds.”

Royce frowned. “Are you saying that the attack will come before All Hallows Eve?”

The old man turned to him. “If you were Reginald
Rothwick, would you not desire the safety of your fortress on such a night?”

The others nodded their agreement, and Royce fell into a brooding silence.

 

N
OW
, after watching the smoldering fires and drifting clouds of smoke from the direction of Dunhill, and finding no survivors, and aware that All Hallows Eve was but a day away, all those living within the walls of the fortress seemed even more united in their determination to stand and fight. But the anticipation of the coming carnage had everyone on edge.

Meara paused in the doorway and banged a spoon against the bottom of a blackened pot for attention, as a signal that they were to assemble in the refectory for their nighttime meal. The others looked up in surprise to see that the evening shadows were already upon them. After working since sunrise, they needed no coaxing to put aside their weapons and return to the comfort of the refectory, and then, hopefully, to their pallets to sleep. All except Royce, who seemed to never sleep. His days were spent teaching the ways of war, his nights walking the perimeter of the fortress, alert to the slightest sound that might signal anything amiss.

When their meal was finished, Brin handed Alana a linen-wrapped parcel and a tankard. “Take this to the Dark Angel.”

“Let one of the others take it.”

The old woman gave a sad, knowing smile. “They are as weary as you, m'lady. It will take you but a moment.”

With a sigh, Alana stepped out the door and into the darkness. It took several turns around the fortress before she spotted Royce beside the wall, staring off into the distance with a look of such sadness, it tore at her heart.

Hearing her footfall he looked over. His face tightened with a scowl. “What is this?”

“Brin sent you sustenance.”

“I have no need of it.”

Ignoring his protest she set the parcel and tankard on a rock and turned away.

As she started back, Royce fell into step beside her. “The time grows short.”

“The time for what?” She refused to look at him. She was still smarting from the latest incident of the day when he'd singled her out, making her feel small and foolish for losing her sword to Lochaber's first thrust with his weapon.

“For taking your leave of this place.”

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face him. “I thought I'd made my decision clear. I will not leave.”

“Little fool.” Because they were alone he let down his guard, allowing his simmering anger to burst forth. “What we are about to face is not child's play.”

“Nor have I ever suggested it would be.” She started to flounce away.

Strong fingers closed around her wrist with such force, she cried out. At once he released her, but there was no remorse in his voice. His words were spoken in a hiss of fury. “You haven't the least idea what war will be like.”

“I'm sure you'll take great joy in telling me.” She stared up into his eyes. “In the hope of adding to the fear already in my heart.”

“Is that what you think? That I merely want to add to your burden?” His voice lowered. Softened. “I've seen the horrors of war, my lady. It was beyond my wildest dreams of hell. I can't bear the thought of seeing you suffer such a cruel fate.”

“I should think it would be sweet vindication. It will prove your opinion of me as weak and useless.”

He wanted to shake her. Before he realized what he was doing his hands were at her upper arms. But the moment he touched her, all the anger seemed to drain away. In its place was another, stronger emotion. One that rocked him to his very soul.

“You are the finest, bravest woman I've ever known. But it is your beauty that frightens me most, Alana Lamont.”

“My . . . beauty?” Confused, she could only stare at him.

“Surely you must know how beautiful you are?”

When she didn't speak, his eyes softened, and then his voice. “Aye. How could you know, when you spend all your
time caring for the needs of the others? If you took the time to peer into a looking glass, you would see the beauty I see. And it frightens me beyond all other fear. For when Rothwick's warriors see you, they will be as dazzled by you as I am.”

“I . . . dazzle you?” She couldn't seem to follow the direction of his words.

“So much so, that when I look at you, I can't see anything or anyone else. Only you. Only this. This glorious tangle of hair around a face so lovely, it tears at my heart.” He twisted a fiery strand around his finger before releasing it and watching as it curled around her cheek. “And these eyes, as deep and cool and green as a Highland loch.” He touched a finger to her mouth. “And these lips. How I yearn to kiss them.”

“You . . .” She had to pause to clear her throat. “If you yearn to kiss them, why do you hold back?” She wondered that she could say a word. Her throat was so tight, she couldn't swallow.

“I haven't the right.” He released his hold on her and took a step back.

She reached out and clutched at his arm. “What if I were to give my consent?”

He shook his head. “I have no right, my lady.” As if to prove his point he lifted his hands, palms up. “There is blood on these hands.”

“Do you think I mind that you're a warrior?”

“I am much more than a warrior. I have killed so many men I have lost count and have no doubt that I will kill again.”

“Royce.” Her own voice lowered. “If I had your skill, I would do the same. What you do here is noble and right.”

“It doesn't change what I've become. After my years in the forest, I am more animal than human. And you . . .” He closed his eyes against the pain of the chasm looming between them. “You are the proper daughter of a great laird. And the finest person I know.”

“I am a woman, Royce.” She caught his hand between both of hers and shocked them both by lifting it to her mouth. Pressing a kiss to his palm, she stared into eyes that were narrowed on her with such intensity, she gave an involuntary
shudder. “And you are a man. The man I desire above all others.”

He caught her roughly by the shoulders and held her a little away. “Have you heard nothing I've said? I know everything a man can learn about killing, and violence, and bloodshed. But I've never held a woman in my arms. I've never kissed a woman's lips, or known the pleasures of a woman's body.”

“Nor I a man, Royce. But if this be our last night before facing Rothwick's army, I want to lie with you and warm your body with mine. I want to taste your lips and learn all the pleasures that until now I've only imagined.”

“Alana.” He cupped her face in his hands and stared down into her eyes with such intensity, it had her heart pounding. “My sweet, beautiful Alana. The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you. And I would, for I don't know how to be gentle. All I know is cruelty and killing. And now, because I want, more than anything, to do the noble thing, you must leave me and go inside, quickly, before the storm within me breaks and I lose all control.”

She experienced a rush of hope, of excitement, so great she could hardly contain herself. “I will not go, Royce.” She raised herself on tiptoe to press a soft kiss over his mouth. “Even if you order it, I will refuse to listen. For my heart is so filled with joy and wonder, I fear it will surely explode.”

He put his hands on her shoulders to push her away, but of their own volition his fingers curled into her flesh and he dragged her close. Her body fit so perfectly against his, as though made for him alone. All soft curves and silken skin pressed to sharp angles and planes, and rock-hard muscle and sinew, causing the most amazing rush of heat to his loins.

He wanted to do the right thing. Had fully intended to. But when her arms wrapped around his waist, and she pressed her mouth to his throat, he knew he was lost.

With passion glazing his eyes he drove her back against the rough wall that surrounded the fortress, his mouth seeking hers. “I can't promise I won't hurt you.”

She offered her lips with a hunger that matched his. There
was no fear in her now. No hesitation. Only the wild, joyous knowledge that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.