Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
Niall stepped out of the council room just in time to see Simon and Charlotte leave the Great Hall. Where were they going and what the hell was Simon thinking of doing? Niall forced himself to keep to a walk rather than stomping after them. He was already angry that Fiona had managed to dupe him into entering the council room on the pretense that her father wanted to talk to him privately about keeping Charlotte at the office. Like an eejit, he’d believed her, only to find the room empty.
Once outside, he caught a glimpse of them rounding the corner toward the hedged garden. He frowned. He knew Simon didn’t believe her account of her past, but why would he be taking her there? Niall had never suspected that his brother had designs on her, although Simon had remarked on more than one occasion that she was quite bonnie. Maybe he thought he could lure her into the folly and seduce her to get the truth out of her. Or intimidate her into talking. He couldn’t let that happen.
Niall burst into a run.
****
Charlotte was thinking hard on how to respond to Simon’s question when she heard thundering footsteps and saw a flurry of movement rounding the corner of the castle.
“Je suis prêt!” a voice roared. “I am ready!”
A heavy thud followed the battle cry as Simon landed on the ground. In the scuffle that pursued, she heard growls and grunts and words in Gaelic that were no doubt curses as the men rolled over and over.
When the two finally disentangled themselves, she recognized Niall, although it took a moment. Everything about him was different. His stance was that of a Roman gladiator, feet wide apart, shoulders hunched, arms spread open. His hair was disheveled, sticking out wildly at all angles, and his eyes glinted like fire in the dim light. Rage rolled off him in waves. He looked like a wild beast…a Highlander unleashed.
Simon was bent over too, but mostly to catch his breath. He wiped his bloody nose as he straightened and glared at his brother. “Have ye gone daft?”
Niall didn’t answer him. Instead, he turned to her. “Are ye all right?”
Charlotte blinked. Niall had attacked his brother because of her? She couldn’t recall any man coming to her defense before, especially not in such a physical way.
Before she could answer, he swung his head around to Simon.
“If ye’ve hurt her, I willna be finished with ye.”
“I havena.” Simon took a wary step back and looked at Charlotte. “Tell him.”
Still somewhat flummoxed, she nodded. “I…I’m fine. Really.”
Niall didn’t look entirely convinced, but at least he’d unclenched his fists and relaxed his shoulders. “Tell me true. I’ll nae have ye besmirched.”
Besmirched? Niall was defending her honor? Sweet Lord in heaven! She wrote about gallant heroes who came to their lady’s defense, but she couldn’t have written a better scenario than the one that just happened. Maybe Niall didn’t have a white horse or shining armor, but she had just dubbed him her knight.
****
Her “knight” bore the remnants of last night’s skirmish the next morning when he appeared at breakfast. He had a welt on his forehead and the knuckles of both hands were scraped. Simon had fared worse. Both of his eyes were blackened, the one nearly shut, and he had a split lip along with a bruise on his jaw.
Greer looked from one of them to the other. “Was there trouble last night that I didna hear about?”
Simon shook his head quickly. “No.”
“Yes.” Niall scowled at his brother.
Greer knit her brows. “Which is it?”
Charlotte studiously kept her eyes on her plate of eggs and sausage, hoping Greer wasn’t going to question her next. After the altercation, Simon had stomped off, giving her a dire look that meant he still wanted an answer to his question. Niall had escorted her back inside without saying much. It didn’t seem like a good time to tell him Simon wasn’t going to back down since she could practically feel the anger still rolling off him. Once they got inside, he’d left her and didn’t return. Since they were both sitting at the table now, the best thing to do was to stay silent and hope one of them would change the subject.
That hope didn’t last long as Greer leaned over to touch her hand. “Do ye ken anything about this, Charlotte?”
“Well, I—”
“Niall and I had a misunderstanding over something,” Simon told Greer. “’Tis nothing to concern yourself about.”
“’Twas nae a misunderstanding,” Niall countered.
Greer’s eyes widened. “The two of ye fought each other?”
Simon glowered. “He attacked me.”
“Ye deserved it.”
“I didna do anything wrong.”
“Ye did and ye ken it.”
Simon shoved his chair away from the table. “Do ye want to finish it, then, brother?”
“If it will finish the matter, aye.” Niall pushed back his chair too.
“Enough. Both of you.” Greer landed a fist on the table for emphasis and then glanced at Charlotte. “I suspect they had a disagreement about ye, nae?”
She felt her cheeks flame. “It really—”
“—is nae your business, sister,” Simon cut in. “Niall and I will handle it.”
Greer was not about to be deterred. “Handle what?”
Neither Niall nor Simon answered. Instead, they glared at each other, each looking ready to spring at the other. Charlotte sighed.
“Simon does not believe I am who I say I am. He took me outside last night to talk.”
Greer frowned at Simon. “We agreed to ask nae more questions.”
“Ye and Niall agreed. I didna.” Simon stared at Charlotte with his good eye. “I still want answers.”
“Ye will just have to wait then,” Greer said, “for we’ve more pressing matters.”
“Like what?”
“A messenger arrived late last night. Da looked for both of ye, but couldn’t find either of ye.” She looked from one to the other. “Ye’d better come up with a good excuse for your bruises because Da is nae happy. His temper will worsen if he finds out ye were acting like lads in a schoolyard.”
“Never mind that,” Niall said. “What was so important about the message?”
“He didna let me read it.” Greer grimaced in exasperation. “But he said the Duke of Cumberland is moving his troops to Aberdeen.”
Charlotte looked down at her food once more, although she could feel Niall’s penetrating look. She dared not return it in Simon’s presence.
So far, the history books had been correct. It was not a positive thought.
****
Even though Charlotte had “predicted” it, Niall was surprised at how quickly Fort Augustus surrendered. A messenger from Colonel Stapleton’s regiment had arrived a short time ago, and his father had summoned Simon and himself to the council room.
Their bruises had healed, although anger still lingered. It wasn’t because they’d fought—they’d tussled often enough as boys and even young men—but this went deeper than physical assault. He sensed Simon no longer trusted him because he’d defended Charlotte. He could even understand that to a degree, but he could hardly tell Simon the truth. If it was the truth. His logical mind still had problems accepting travelling through Time, even if everything Charlotte had told him so far had come to fruition.
“What do ye think?” his father asked.
Thinking? His father wanted to know his thoughts? The notion quickly passed when he realized everyone was looking at him, waiting for an answer to some question he hadn’t heard. “I guess I was woolgathering.”
Simon gave him a sideways smirk, which Niall understood was an accusation that his woolgathering had been about Charlotte. True in its own way, but wrong implication. He hadn’t been lusting after her. At least, not right now.
“Please repeat the question.”
“It was more of an opinion we were asking for,” the messenger said. “What do ye think of Major Wentworth being accused of surrendering too early and facing court- martial?”
He really hadn’t been paying attention. “Too early? Hadn’t the fort been under attack for a week?”
“Aye,” the man answered. “It could have been destroyed earlier, what with the walls being weak and the bastions not square on the corners, but the colonel didna want to kill any more Englishmen than necessary since he was commanding French troops.”
Considering that the French and English had been squabbling over claiming colonies in the New World, a situation that could easily escalate into open war at any time, the decision was probably wise. “It sounds to me like Colonel Stapleton was being lenient and Major Wentworth wise enough to see that.”
“Wise?” Simon snorted. “Surrendering is what got him a court-martial.”
“Under the circumstance, ye would have preferred to fight?” Niall asked.
“Aye. I do. Under the circumstances.”
Niall was pretty sure the circumstances his brother was referring to weren’t in regard to an English commander’s decision but rather that their own in-house fighting hadn’t ended with the brawl in the courtyard. He suppressed a sigh.
“Well,” the messenger said, “we willna have to worry about who will be replacing Wentworth.”
“Why is that?”
The man grinned. “As I was leaving, Scots were already setting fire to the place. There won’t be any fort left to command.”
Simon nodded. “Good news, that.”
Niall didn’t respond. So Charlotte had been right again. Fort Augustus was being burnt down. And if she were right about Fort William…
Well. Maybe then he could be more forthright with his brother about who Charlotte really was.