Chapter Twenty-Five
Shane assigned a few of his best archers to stay behind to defend the keep. The rest of his men and a few of the men from the village stood ready. The clanking of weapons and the shifting of horses reminded him of his years fighting in France. But this was much more personal.
The men suiting up for war were his family. His clan. Their blood would be on his hands.
Alec rode up next to him. Their horses were fitted with armor. “I sent two more men to guard your wife,” he said with a frown. “Though, I’m not sure why they were needed inside the gates.” Alec hadn’t agreed with sparing more guards for such a task, but then, he didn’t know what could happen. He’d not choose his men over his wife again. He’d learned that lesson in the most painful way and wouldn’t lose Lindsay as he had Maria.
Lindsay may hate him for his deceit, but he’d see her protected, no matter what. And he’d care for her as a husband does, though they may not ever have a love marriage. That was the chance he took.
The sun was high in the sky as they held on the field to wait for the MacColls to arrive.
“It looks like we’ll have a busy day ahead of us, men. Rest assured, your families are safe in the castle,” Alec said.
Shane had wanted to keep the battle well away from Cluny, where his wife and his people waited for them to return. “We’ll head them off here in the meadow between the border and the river,” Shane said, leading the way.
If any of his men responded with more than a nod, he didn’t hear it. Maybe that was because he could barely hear anything beyond the rushing of blood at his temples. It was always this way when he went into battle. His nerves would rise up as if determined to take him down themselves. But as soon as it began, there was nothing but peace that came around him as he did his work to defeat the enemy.
It seemed they’d go to war with the MacColls alone. The warriors from the other clans had not arrived in time to offer aid.
It was just his clan against the monsters he’d heard tales of since he was a child.
On the opposite hill, he saw them, their weapons gleaming in the sunlight. The mass of men pulsed with anger and anticipation. Shane could already see they were outnumbered.
“We are fighting for our loved ones, our lives, and our home, men. Fight well.”
…
Lindsay paced in the small cottage. While Bess seemed calm, Jenny was a mess with worry for Hal as well as them.
“We don’t even have a blade between the lot of us,” the woman fretted.
“No one will expect us to be here. It’s not like they’ll come looking for us.”
She shared a glance with the older woman. Lindsay wasn’t accustomed to battle, but she knew if the MacColls won, they’d come to the village straightaway to claim their spoils. And here sat the three of them and a little dog, who just then went to the door and barked.
“Shh, ye wee beast. You’ll tell them where we are!” Jenny scolded louder than the dog had barked.
“What is it?” Lindsay asked the dog, not expecting an answer, but she followed Tre to the front of the cottage when she came to sit by the door. Lindsay peeked out the window and saw three men entering the clearing where Bess’s home sat. Their plaids were red and similar to the MacPhersons’ tartan, but she looked closer and noticed the differences.
“MacColls.” Their name passed her lips like a hiss.
Both Jenny and Bess gasped behind her as Lindsay continued to watch through a slit in the curtain. If the MacColls had already set on the village, did that mean the MacPherson soldiers had fallen? But when she peeked out again, she saw it was only those three soldiers. Blood marked their once white shirts. They seemed to lean upon each other as if holding one another up. One held firmly to the banner showing two stars and an arrowhead.
She moved to the other side of the window to see another man leaving on horseback, the MacColl banner waving behind him. The other two men now sat together, holding a white flag of truce.
She looked to the dog next to her, who whined, and then back to the women. “Do they need help, or is this a trick?” she wondered out loud, and once again, the dog offered no help. She just cast her brown eyes on Lindsay as if asking what she should do.
So many questions and no clear answers.
“They are injured, holding a white flag,” she told the others. “I wouldn’t trust them if they told me the sky was blue. But they are in need of help.”
“Let them rot,” Jenny snapped. “It could be a trick.”
Lindsay looked to Bess as if waiting for the woman to break the tie. “I’ve never been one to turn away a person in need. If I’m wrong this time, God will surely see me avenged.”
Lindsay nodded in agreement. She needed to do the right thing, and she knew if she left them to die, it would haunt her the rest of her days.
“If it was a MacPherson bleeding outside of the MacColl holding, they would let us die,” Jenny said. She wasn’t wrong.
Bess answered, “Which is exactly why I am not going to do the same. I hope to say I am better than the MacColls. Don’t you?”
Lindsay nodded, though fear had clogged the words to reply. Instead, she gathered her things into a basket. Bandages, thread, and clean water. She also tucked a carving knife inside, just in case. Which made Jenny roll her eyes. It may not have been a proper blade, but it was better than nothing.
Her heart pounded as she opened the door. “You two stay here and bar the door until I return.”
“Nay. I’ll not tell my nephew I stood aside and allowed his wife to face this danger alone.”
“And there is no reason to put us all at risk. I will go. You stay here.”
Rather than give the woman a chance to argue, Lindsay stepped out and shut the door behind her. Snippets of things she’d heard over the years flashed through her mind. The MacColls ate the hearts of their enemies, even the children. But as she moved closer, she realized these men were not monsters. There were no fangs or claws to be seen. Simply ordinary men who needed assistance.
The man on the right set down the white flag and stood to come closer on unsteady legs to help her, as she would expect from any proper gentleman. She paused. Perhaps he planned to pull a dirk and cut her throat. She couldn’t yet be sure. She only knew if these men wished to harm her, she’d be ready. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“Thank ye for yer aid, mistress,” the man said, taking the basket to ease her burden.
“I will see to your wounds if you promise no harm will come from it.”
The other man laughed roughly.
“The lot of us have been trying to find a way out of the MacColl clan for a few weeks now. Our laird has left the clan in shambles, and it wasna all that great to begin with. He took in a demon witch who twisted his heart against his people.”
Shane had told her the same had happened to his father, who had spent the clan’s coin on baubles for his needy wife.
“Aye,” the other man agreed. “I’d wager we’ll all starve this winter anyway, so why not change allegiance to the MacPhersons? At least we might live to see spring.”
Lindsay chose not to tell them the MacPhersons weren’t so well off, either. Instead, she went to work. She stitched and dressed two wounds and gave them water. As they drank and rested, she returned to the cottage to inform the women the men were harmless. The other ladies and Tre returned with her to help the men into the cottage.
They’d all stay there and then go up to the keep as soon as the battle was over. Lindsay wondered how long that might take. How long until she knew the fate of her husband?
…
The battle started with a volley of arrows. The bolts, provided by Shane’s clan, soared through the air and met their marks as if guided by the hopes of his people. Men in the red tartan of the MacColls littered the ground before they’d even engaged.
Lindsay’s father spat on the ground and nodded that he and his dozen men were ready.
But it wasn’t enough. They were still outnumbered. If only another clan had been able to join them… As if Shane had summoned them by thinking of them, the Camerons poured over the hill from the west. Their chief said nothing, just gave a nod as he called out a battle cry and descended onto the field.
When the armies converged against the MacColls, many of their enemy’s warriors dropped their weapons in surrender—whether it was because it was clear they’d now lose or because they didn’t want to fight for the wily bastard they called laird, Shane wasn’t certain. Still, enough others fought that Shane frowned at several MacPherson bodies lying in the grass. They’d be mourned later. Now, Shane needed to fight so there wouldn’t be more of his clansmen’s blood spilled. Shane lost himself in the pulse of battle. His sword swung around as if an extension of his own arm as he slayed any MacColl that engaged him.
He didn’t raise his sword to anyone who’d dropped their weapons. He didn’t understand the reason they chose not to fight. All he knew was that every MacColl who defected meant less of a chance he’d lose someone else today. While he surveyed the battlefield, he spotted two MacColls moving on a smaller man. When he looked closer, he recognized the boy. Doran.
He hadn’t realized he’d come to fight. He was getting better with his moves but was in no way ready for such a battle. And to engage two large warriors would mean instant death for his wife’s young cousin. He couldn’t imagine having to tell her the news.
“Alec!” Shane yelled and pointed.
As if it were no more than a minor inconvenience, Alec stepped behind the men and cast his sword in a long arc, cutting them both down in one swipe.
The boy swayed for a moment but didn’t swoon. Shane was impressed to see the lad shake off his fear and jump right back into the fight, picking lone warriors and using the moves Shane had taught him. Shane might have sent him home if the battle hadn’t slowed to just a few smaller fights between the clans. In the middle of the chaos stood a large man with no fewer than six retainers at his side.
Laird MacColl.
Shane whistled, and Alec looked to him right away. His brother glanced between them but understood well enough. It wasn’t the same as fighting with Ronan, but they were brothers and there was still a bond there. Alec gathered Fitz and a few other men to come with them as they went to meet the other party. The men spread out to a half circle around the laird as Shane grew closer.
“I am Shane MacPherson, laird of Clan MacPherson. You attack us on our lands at your peril.”
“You stole my wife and money, and I’m here to take back what is mine. Give me my wife, or prepare to surrender your own in her stead. Otherwise, we end this with blades.”
Shane shook his head. “I do not have your wife or your money. I’m afraid you’ve fallen victim to Deirdre’s tricks. She did the same to my father. What money she didn’t squander, she stole when she fled our keep to go to yours. Now she did the same to ye.”
“Lies. I think I’d know my own wife.”
“You mean our stepmother? I’ve known her since I was twelve summers and know her better than ye think,” Shane said.
The retainers blinked and looked to one another. Finally, the laird shook his head. “She said marrying her would align the MacColls and the Grants because her son was the laird of the Grants.”
“That he may be, but his mother is no one to speak for my stepbrother. The Grants would side with the MacPhersons if they’d had time to arrive. Of that, you can be sure.”
“Uncle, we are alone against the Camerons and the MacPhersons. We’re outnumbered. We must retreat.”
The laird glared at the younger man. “Don’t be a coward, Bacchius. MacColls do not retreat. So long as there is breath in my body, I will fight.”
“Bloody hell,” Alec said, sounding almost bored as he stepped closer and drew the sword from his back. “Let’s get on with it, then, so we can have our supper.”
Shane and Fitz did the same, and the fight began. Shane faced off with the other laird. At the first cross of their blades, Shane knew his opponent was weak with age and laziness. But the fire in his eyes was still strong. He’d not give up even if he knew he’d lose.
Shane hoped his own pride would never be his downfall, like it was to be for this man. Shane would not play with the man. Defeating him would likely lead to a quick surrender and fewer lives lost.
A feign to his left and a strike to his right, and the man dropped to his knees. Shane lifted his sword to finish his enemy, but he gasped at the sharp pain in his back. He turned to see the laird’s nephew staring at him with wide eyes of surprise, his skin as pale as milk.
Shane watched as Alec bore down on the man, severing his head from his lanky neck. Turning back to the laird, Shane tried to raise his sword again, but the pain stole his breath, and he stumbled back. Fitz moved in and ended the laird in one slash of his claymore.
Shane saw the remaining men drop their swords as soon as their chief fell. The war was over. No one else would be harmed today. As he gasped for air and gave in to the fire spreading through his back, he thought of Lindsay and then Maria. He would be with one of his wives today; he wasn’t yet sure which one.
He hadn’t wanted to say goodbye to Lindsay for fear it would bring ill luck. He wished now he had said more to her. He should have told her he was sorry. That he hadn’t wanted to leave her but was only doing what he thought was best in that moment.
“Ye have grown lazy,” Alec said.
Fitz reached out and smacked Alec. “What is wrong with ye? You don’t speak to a man who might die like that.” Shane wanted to thank Fitz for his loyalty but needed to focus on moving air in and out of his burning chest.
“He isna gonna die. It’s but a scratch. And look at his mouth. He’s not bringing up blood from the lungs. If we get him to a healer so he doesn’t keep flooding the field, he should be fine by morning.”
Alec’s words—harsh as they seemed—put Shane’s mind to ease. The war chief had certainly seen his share of mortal wounds and knew if Shane’s was serious or not. Shane hoped he wasn’t wrong.
The men loaded him into a cart and began the bumpy ride back to the castle. The sky swirled above him, going in and out of focus. Light sparkled at the edge of his vision. He didn’t have much time left before he succumbed to sleep. And he wasn’t sure if or when he would wake up again.
“Alec?”
“Aye? I’m here.”
“Take me to Bess’s cottage.”
“She will be at the castle. We must take ye there.”
Shane shook his head and hoped he could hold on long enough to speak clearly so his wishes were heard. “Take me to her cottage and bring her to me. If ye are wrong and I die, I don’t want to do it at the castle in front of my people.” In front of Lindsay.
“Aye, laird. If that’s where ye wish to go, I’ll see you there.”
He remembered something else he needed to tell his men. “Send word to Ronan that we have prevailed so he doesn’t worry.”
“I will see it done, brother.”
Shane must have faded, for Alec leaned over to pat his cheek painfully.
“But know this—you will not be leaving any of us. I have no wish to be laird. Do ye hear me?”
Shane attempted to nod, but his head felt too heavy to move. He had no desire to leave anyone, especially Lindsay. But he couldn’t fight the need to close his eyes and let the quiet darkness draw him in.
…
Lindsay had known no greater fear than seeing the war chief jump off the back of a wagon at Bess’s cottage. Another man close to his size stood with him, but there was no sign of her husband. That must mean… Were they coming to tell her he’d…
Nay. They didn’t know she was there. As they got closer, she picked up on part of their conversation through the open window.
“…that blighter nicked Shane in the back like a coward,” the large war chief was saying.
“Aye, but the bastard got what he should. His body missing his head,” the other man responded with a grin as if something was amusing. “Did ye see how I did it, Alec?”
She’d known the war chief’s name was Alec—her husband’s younger brother—but somehow hearing it said while he was there made him less intimidating. A man instead of the monster she’d thought him before. And when his lips tipped up in a smile, she was almost shocked he was capable of such a thing.
Certainly, they wouldn’t speak like this with smiles on their faces if Shane had been mortally wounded. “Where is he?” She looked between the men and the wagon as she rushed out to meet them.
Alec glared at her, and she remembered why she’d thought him frightening.
“What the bloody hell are ye doing here? You’re to be up at the castle. Where are your guards?”
“We were left behind as we were gathering supplies to tend to any wounds. We are fine, and I have two injured MacColls inside that will need to be taken up to the castle.”
“Bloody hell,” the man repeated. “Shane told us to bring him here and fetch Bess to stitch him up.”
“Bring him inside,” she said, though her voice sounded far away as they lifted Shane from the wagon. Dizziness caused her to sway and blink. Alec grasped her upper arms and gave her a tiny shake to drive it away.
“Don’t worry, lass. He’s one for dramatics when he’s injured. He’ll not die today. I’ve seen the way a man looks when death comes for him, and Shane will live. I swear it.”
She shook off the lightheadedness and nodded. “Quickly. It’s not that I don’t believe you, but I need to see him myself.”
He nodded. “Aye.”
The dog followed him as Alec carried her husband into the cottage. His legs dragged behind them in the dirt. Alec held a bundle of bloody rags to his back.
“He’s bleeding like a stuck pig,” he said matter-of-factly, as if it was a common thing. Perhaps for men of war it was. Would Shane have acted as casually had it been one of the other men bleeding?
She thought of Maria and wondered if the woman had been as cavalier, having seen the efforts of war every day. Lindsay said a little prayer to the other woman. Please, help me save him.
“He’ll be fine,” Alec said again.
Lindsay knew a man only had so much blood to let before there was no more. But a man could also die without a drop spent if the bleeding occurred beneath the skin. She set to work with Bess at her side, while the other men argued about the severity of her husband’s wound and what to do with the sleeping MacColls.
She cleaned the wound and began stitching up the gash so the bleeding would stop. She paused a moment when her hands trembled.
“Do you want me to do it?” Bess asked. “My eyesight isn’t what it once was, but I can shut a wound.”
“Nay. I can do this,” Lindsay said quietly, more to herself than in answer to Bess.
“Do ye need a dram of whisky to settle your hands, mistress?” Fitz asked while holding out a flask.
She considered for a moment but then shook her head. Plying whisky wouldn’t help her in the long run. She needed her wits about her to help Shane. She focused on one stitch and then the next and next. God, there were so many needed to seal up the large wound. She could only hope he hadn’t lost too much blood. There was no way to know for sure. His body was cool to the touch, but he didn’t shake, which was a good sign. The bleeding slowed to a trickle and then a stop. Bess coated the whole mess with honey to help with the seal.
When Lindsay finished bandaging the wound, she placed a kiss to her fingers and lightly touched it over the tied cloth. It was a silly thing. She didn’t know what would come next. There was still much unsettled between them, but she wanted him to wake up that instant.
Alec and Fitz were speaking quietly but urgently out on the porch. She guessed they were in a disagreement over what was to be done next. With a deep breath to steady herself, she went out to face the men.
“How is he?” Alec asked anxiously. For all his bluster before, it was clear he’d actually been worried.
“The bleeding has stopped. I don’t think anything vital was damaged. He is resting now, and he’s cool but not shaking, so while he’s lost a good bit of blood, I’m not sure yet if it was too much. It’s up to him now.”
She stood to the side as the men discussed traveling to the MacColl stronghold to take the castle while it was weakened. Lindsay thought it was a good strategy, though she couldn’t care when all she saw when she closed her eyes was her husband lying inside.
Once the men agreed on a plan, they turned to her as she stood there numbly. Her hands shook.
“Did ye hear me, mistress?” Alec asked, closer to her now.
She startled and shook her head.
“Ye are in charge of the clan until he wakes. There’s much to be done.”
She could only nod as Alec and Fitz loaded the injured MacColls into the cart and came back for Shane to take them all up to the castle, where she would be in charge of the clan.