Chapter 17
For a moment, Clara could not remove herself from the window despite the blast of icy air sweeping her hair back and threatening to tear the sheet from her hands.
Was it true?
Had her grandda really come to help?
Aye, as unbelievable as it seemed, it was him. She recognized the large steed he rode and the red-and-black tunic of the Ross clan. “I must meet him,” she said, spinning away from the window.
She was ready to run out into the hall when she recalled she was not properly dressed. Quickly she washed and put on her kirtle with Reid’s help. As much as she wished she could be wholly excited, apprehension twisted in her stomach.
Reid regarded her with concern. “Ye dinna appear as overjoyed as I would have expected.”
Clara issued a long exhale. “My grandda seldom does anything out of the kindness of his heart. Unless there is something he wants.” She plaited her hair with shaking fingers. “I worry over what he’ll ask for in return.”
“What do ye think it will be?” Reid asked.
“That’s the thing…” She looked at her husband without bothering to mask her concern. “One never knows when it comes to my grandda. At least I’m already wed.” She offered a reassuring smile.
Her relief was genuinely palpable. Faye had been lucky to have a handsome husband of the same age, one she was able to connect with and find love. Clara had no desire to be married off to a man who she might never come to care for. Especially after having discovered such happiness herself.
Reid embraced her. “No one will take ye from me, my love.” Despite his tender touch, his face was hard with determination. “And heaven help them if they try.”
They made their way downstairs together to find the Chieftain of the Ross clan. He was easy to identify before he could even be seen. His boisterous voice rose from the Great Hall on the first floor and reverberated off the cold stone walls.
“’Tis a fine thing ye’ve called the other clans,” Ross said. “Ye’ll have need of them. We saw the army on our way, and it wasna a small force.”
Reid put his hand to Clara’s lower back, the movement one of love and support as they entered the open hall.
Ross looked to Clara and then to Reid, his focus going to the intimate caress of Reid’s hand at her back. “There’s another dowry.” Though Ross muttered the statement low and more to himself, his booming voice still carried.
“Ye owe me nothing,” Reid said. “I’ve everything I want already.”
Ross put his attention to Clara once more. “Ye married a fool.”
“I married a man who loves me.”
Her grandda scoffed. “Then ye’re the fool.”
There were so many arguments to be made against such a declaration but now was not for altering her grandda’s view on love.
“Ye came.” Clara smiled at him.
Her grandda rolled his eyes with an exasperated look. “Ach, ye’re too damn good, Clara,” he groused. “Ye made me feel bad.”
“I made ye feel bad?” she asked, her words heavy with her skepticism.
“Aye, we were on our way to raid, and I kept thinking about what ye said.” He sighed. “Yer sisters are both pains in my arse, but ye’ve always been a sweet lass. I know I upset ye…” He shrugged, a short, aggravated motion. “I dinna want to do that.”
Clara watched her grandda, wanting desperately to believe him. But he didn’t stare at her with the same stubborn challenge as he did all others. The way he gazed cautiously at her, he appeared almost uncomfortable. As if for once, he might genuinely be sincere.
She went to him and put her arms about his massive shoulders. His scent was unfamiliar yet pleasant, his damp clothes smoky with the smell of campfire. He stiffened when she first embraced him but then relaxed and hugged one large arm around her.
“Ye’re a good lass, Clara,” he said, nodding. “Thank ye for giving me a chance to prove myself.”
She looked up at him. “Thank ye for being the man I hoped ye would be.”
He beamed at her then, a broad grin she’d never thought to see cross his weathered face. “Mayhap ye could tell yer mum I’m no’ as bad as she thinks?”
Ah, so there it was, the ulterior motive. However, it was one of sentiment rather than greed, and Clara would not deny him such a request.
“I can speak with Mum for ye,” she agreed. “Though, I’d like to know…what happened between the two of ye?”
He considered Clara for a moment. “’Tis yer mum’s story to tell, I think.”
Clara nodded. “I’ll speak with her for ye. But I need a favor from ye as well.”
His eyes narrowed, and he released his snug hold on her, suddenly radiating distrust. “Aye?”
“Reid, my husband—”
“Aye, I know—a dowry.” Her grandda muttered something under his breath about expensive granddaughters.
Clara shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, and we can discuss that later, but ’tis not the favor I need. Reid is injured and shouldn’t be going into battle. If he’s struck in the back…” She couldn’t finish the statement aloud.
Ross scowled. “He’s a man. Of course, he should. Wounded or no’, a man doesna miss a battle.”
“He’s of the same mind.” Clara didn’t bother to hide her exasperation. “I worry for him.”
Her grandda smirked. “I’ll no’ tell him ye said that.”
“Will ye look out for him?” Clara asked.
Her grandda’s chin jutted forward as he considered her request. “Aye, I can do that.”
She embraced him again. “Thank ye, Grandda. No’ only for yer help with Reid, but also for coming to the aid of the people of Dumbarton.”
“They’re already in the castle as I understand it,” he said.
“Aye,” Clara said with gratitude. “The women and children are.”
And it was true, most of the women and children from the village were already in the cellar of the castle, where a small army guarded the stairwell leading down to them.
The men of the village had traded the tools of their everyday professions in for swords.
With an army the size of the one heading toward them, every man would need to fight, regardless of his training.
But saving the people wouldn’t save all the homes that would doubtless be stripped of their goods and razed.
For peasants such as those gathered in the cellars and awkwardly mingling among trained soldiers, those possessions were their entire life and might take years to recoup.
Not to mention the livestock that would be lost in such an attack.
And even seemingly impenetrable castles like Dumbarton could be overrun by so large an opponent—if not overrun, then laid siege to. With so many people hiding in the castle’s depths, a siege would be over quickly with the strain on food supplies.
“Ye look worried, lass.” Her grandda put a hand to her shoulder and squeezed. “That isna necessary. I’ll ensure yer man stays safe.” He winked at her and left her side to join several of his men.
She followed him with her gaze, hoping he was correct but not entirely able to trust he would remember to see to Reid. From what she understood of battle, it could be terribly confusing. They could become separated.
Reid could—
Nay. She should appeal to Reid first and ask him to reconsider going to battle.
And if he declined to remain back as she suspected he would, she would stick with her original plan despite her grandda’s claim that he would keep Reid safe.
She would sneak into the battle with him to ensure he did not get reinjured.
Even if her grandda did make good on his promise, then Reid would have double the protection.
And he would be guaranteed to return home to her, so they could truly begin their life together.
A messenger ran into the room and bellowed, “Approaching army.”
Again, it was not the English approaching, but yet another ally. Nevertheless, Reid rushed to Clara’s side. She had stayed away from the cellars for far too long, and every second that passed rankled his nerves.
“Come, Clara,” he said. “I want ye downstairs.”
“’Tis not the English,” she insisted.
At that moment, the doors to the Great Hall were thrown open, and an older man wearing a mantle of bristling gray wolf hair strode in. “Ross,” he bellowed. “Where are ye, ye sour wee bastard?”
“Montgomerie, ye auld cur,” Clara’s grandda cried back in return and rushed forward.
Clara tensed, apparently expecting one to land a blow on the other, but instead, their forearms clasped, and the men exchanged greetings instead.
“I dinna expect to see ye here,” Ross said, clapping the other man on the shoulder.
Montgomerie chuckled. “I couldna let ye have all the fun. We want to kill some English too.”
This was all wasting time. At any moment, the army could attack, and Clara would be in danger. He needed her to be safe, so Reid could set aside the fear of losing her from his mind. He put his back to the two men and curled an arm around Clara’s shoulders to guide her away. “Please, ye must go.”
She nodded and allowed him to lead her from the Great Hall but slowed her pace once they were out in the corridor. Her hand gripped his, and she pulled him to a stop.
“Please don’t go into battle,” she said in a whisper. “Stay here with me.”
He gaped at her. Was she jesting? “Ye want me to go to the cellars with the women and bairns?” he asked, appalled.
Her eyes searched his with genuine desperation. “Ye’re injured.”
“I’m a warrior,” he corrected. “Fighting is what I do, whether I’m injured or no’.”
She drew in a shaky inhale. “But yer back…”
He shook his head to prevent her from saying more. He knew his back was still vulnerable, the wounds barely healed. One solid hit as he had before with the mace, and he would be laid out on the ground.
And he was well aware of what happened to soldiers who fell in battle. If they weren’t slain by the enemy, they were crushed by the trampling feet or drowned in puddles of mud. Seldom did they survive.
Regardless of that very likely concern, he would not cower in the cellar of the keep with the innocent lives he should be protecting.
“Nay,” he said with finality. “I willna discuss this further. I willna hide behind lasses and bairns when I should be fighting with the men.”