Chapter 22
Despite Reid's exhaustion, he forced himself to remain awake through the night as Clara slept with her head on his shoulder, the three bairns leaning on her and snuggled in her arms. If anyone came, he wanted to be aware, to ensure they all were protected.
If he allowed himself to sleep, he feared he might do so too deeply and not hear the approaching danger.
In that stretch of time where night filtered into the soft, dove gray of dawn, he reveled in what he had with an appreciation for what he had almost lost. Clara, still beautiful even with the soot streaking her skin and clothes, remained nestled against him, her chest rising and falling with each breath.
An entire life together awaited them. A cottage, mayhap a few animals, a future Reid had never thought possible. Yet now, he realized how badly he wanted it. With Clara.
A home. Bairns.
He smiled to think of her as she lay thus, with the little ones she’d saved curled against her. She would be a perfect mother: loving, caring, and kind.
A sound broke through Reid’s musings, or rather the absence of sounds. Gone were the cries and roars and clangs. In its place, silence descended, followed by the cheer of a victorious army.
But which army?
Reid’s heart caught in his throat.
Clara’s head shifted on his shoulder. When he turned to her, he found her awake, her concerned gaze fixed on him.
“I need to see who won,” he whispered.
She lifted her head from him and nodded.
“I’ll be quick,” he said.
Again, she nodded, but worry creased her otherwise smooth brow.
He dashed through the trees as silently as possible, pausing only to see the clans gathered together as they celebrated over the defeat of the English.
They had won.
It had all been worth it. Being tasked as a messenger rather than a warrior, the journey to Dumbarton. Meeting Clara. Accepting a life he lived for himself rather than being burdened by the fear of loss.
It wasn’t only the people of Dumbarton who were saved by his mission but also himself.
Reid retraced his steps back, his feet nearly tripping over themselves with his exhaustion. Finally, this would all be done.
Even his search for Lord Rottry had come to an end, a nightmare defeated.
He entered the cave, and Clara stiffened.
“We won,” he said.
She beamed up at him.
“We won?” Ian opened his eyes and gazed sleepily at Reid.
“Aye, we did,” Reid replied.
At his side, Fia woke. “Come, we must find our mum.”
Clara and Reid exchanged looks. If their mother was in the village, it was doubtful she was still alive.
Clara held little Mairi as she got to her feet. The sleeping girl stirred in her arms with a slight whimper. Reid held out his arms to carry the bairn, but Clara shook her head. “I don’t want her to wake.”
Reid backed away in understanding. “Come, my love. Let us return to Dumbarton, aye?”
Clara nodded at him, looking equal parts relieved and exhausted.
The five of them staggered through the forest, taking special care to avoid the village.
The remnants of war would be nothing the bairns needed to see.
If their mother had managed to survive, she would doubtless look for them at the castle.
Although, such a miracle was not likely.
Reid marveled at the little hands holding tightly to his, at the smallness of them, how tender and rewarding it was to have a child’s whole trust in such a way. The unmistakable feeling of being watched brought Reid’s attention to Clara to find her regarding him with a sweet smile on her face.
No doubt she was seeing him as he saw her with a babe in her arms—as a parent.
The idea glowed in Reid’s chest and kept him from being cold in the early dawn chill that had not yet warmed with the rising sun.
In the distance, smoke billowed up from the village, the odor of fire still heavy in the air.
The wind kicked up and sent loose flakes of ash floating around them, as if it were a lightly sifting snowfall.
A rustle sounded from the right. A prickle of alarm jolted up the back of Reid’s neck.
He released the children and put himself in front of the four of them while drawing his sword. No sooner had it hissed free of its scabbard, than an Englishman flew at them, screaming like a madman with his mace whipping in the air.
Reid cut him down in one hearty blow. The man fell, and Reid nearly did as well, his body pushed beyond its limits.
His arm shook as he slid his sword back in its scabbard and returned to the children, keeping the dead man blocked from their view.
The five of them hastened toward the castle, where the gates were thrown open in victory.
The rest of the journey was thankfully uneventful, though the keep's steep incline was nearly unbearable on Reid’s tired body.
It was those wee hands in his, however, that kept him climbing upward until at last they were passing through the tall entryway of the keep and into the Great Hall. All around, men were drinking ale and clapping one another on the back, their faces bright with their win.
Clara scanned the crowd at Reid’s side, but he knew it wasn’t men she sought but a woman. The children’s mother.
If she were indeed dead, the bairns would be orphans. Like Reid had been.
His heart clenched at the thought.
“If we canna—” he stopped himself, but Clara nodded at him in understanding. “They will come with us,” he mouthed.
She nodded again, as he knew she would. These children would not end up on the streets as Reid had. They would be welcomed into a home where they would be loved and well cared for.
“Mum,” Fia shrieked. She pulled away from Reid and raced across the room to embrace a woman who wore a dun-colored kirtle, her dark hair messy and her face as layered with soot as the lass who ran to her.
The woman blinked in surprise. “Fia?” she gasped. “Fia!” The repeat of her child’s name was said with a cry of joy. Her eyes filled with tears as she embraced her daughter fiercely.
“Mum.” Ian released Reid’s other hand and followed his sister, practically knocking his mother and sister down with the force of his affection.
Little Mairi wriggled from Clara’s hold, the carved fox still in her fist, and toddled to her family, joining the happy reunion.
Their mother looked up with tears streaming down her face. “How?”
“We happened upon them,” Clara said. “Then escaped to the forest to wait out the rest of battle.”
It was a simple explanation for the horrendous events that had transpired, ones Reid was certain would be recounted to their mother over the next few days in greater detail.
“I dinna know it would be so awful.” The woman shook her head in shocked awe. “I wouldna ever have left them alone if I’d known. Were it no’ for a man helping me to safety, I’d be dead myself.” She made the sign of the cross. “Thanks be to God for Finlay.”
Only then did Reid recognize the warrior standing at her side as Finlay. His copper-red hair was so covered in soot that it appeared black at first glance. He flashed a smile from behind his thick beard. “I was glad to ensure yer safety. And yer bairns were in excellent care.”
The woman smiled up at him with adoration.
Clara lifted her brows and grinned up at Reid, no doubt having seen the same connection between the two as he did.
“Clara.” A boisterous voice rose above all the others, making them both turn.
Ross strode toward them, the handle of his battle-axe visible on his back where it angled over his left shoulder.
Dirt and mud were spattered on his face and clothes, but he paid it no mind.
“And here ye tried to keep her tucked safely in the keep,” he said to Reid, then laughed and shook his head.
“’Tis that Ross blood in her veins. She couldna help it. ”
Several people around them joined in the laughter, and Clara flushed.
He reached out and clasped her shoulder.
“Ye fought for what ye believe in, and ye did it with skill. Ye even convinced this stubborn old warrior to join ye in helping defeat the English and saving all these damn fine people.” He leaned closer to her, but not so far that Reid couldn’t hear what he said. “I’m proud of ye, lass.”
She smiled up at her grandfather.
“Ye dinna fight so bad yerself.” He winked at Reid. “Thank ye for keeping her safe.”
“I would die for her if need be,” Reid said.
“And thank ye for no’ doing that either,” Ross replied. “It wouldna have done any of us any good. Off with ye two now. Ye look like ye’re about to fall asleep where ye stand.”
In truth, Reid did feel as though he might fall asleep where he stood. By some miracle, he managed to make it up the stairs to the chamber they shared. But as soon as the door behind them closed, he turned to Clara, and any thoughts of sleep fled his mind.
All the horrible moments of war they had shared in those few hours rushed back at him, those fears at what might have been lost and the elation of finding one another. They were both safe.
Clara approached him. “Let me see to yer back.”
He stared down at her, his blood hot with the lust of war and survival and the taste of victory. “’Tis no’ my back that needs tending first.”
“Reid…” She bit her lip.
He put his thumb to her chin and applied a little pressure, so her lower lip was released from the pinch of her teeth. “I love ye.” His voice caught with the power of his emotion.
Clara blinked slowly, and a tear ran down her cheek. “And I love ye.”
He went to her then. He needed her. More than sleep. More than this damn back being seen to. More than breathing.
He closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms, desire and affection pounding in his veins. She met him halfway as he lowered his mouth to hers in a passionate kiss that said everything at once.