Chapter Twenty-One #4
“That’s either a lie or they were just married,” the man said, his eyes practically glowing with fury. “I told you I took her maidenhead. You’d allow your pup to marry a wench? She gave it freely to me.”
Anger burned Jamie from the inside out, but he soothed himself with the thought that the baron would pay. It was only a matter of when.
“You have the tongue of a viper, and you disrespect my daughter-in-law,” Alex bellowed. “Take your men from my land or prepare to do battle, Crichton.”
He knew his sire’s tactics. The baron would never make it off their land in one piece. Alex was only acting reticent about the attack because he wanted the baron to believe he’d been right to think the Grants weak.
By the time he realized how wrong he was, it would be too late.
No one moved for several moments. Jamie took the time to size up their opponents.
He noted that some looked young, though that meant little enough on a battlefield.
He knew wee Kenzie could be deadly with his sling, and he was just a laddie.
A moment later, the baron let out his war whoop.
He swung his sword arm over his head as he rode straight for Jamie’s sire.
Alex fought him off, giving his own war whoop to signal to the Grant warriors that the battle had begun.
The field erupted into chaos and death.
Jamie moved in next to Uncle Brodie, keeping an eye on his sire as he blocked blows and made them, but Alex did not need anyone’s help—he sent the baron back easily, though two other warriors rode in to take his place.
Jake forged ahead as he usually did, mounting his attack from in front of his sire but off to his right.
The sound of swords clashing echoed across the Highlands.
The reverberation was so deafening that Jamie could not hear aught else.
His knees controlled his steed as his weapon caught one rider in the belly, then another in the arm.
Men’s screams rent the air as arrows flew overhead.
He fought and fought, fueled by thoughts of the baron and Gracie—he wanted to be the one to kill the man who’d attacked his wife—yet trying to keep his emotions in check.
The baron had backed up after the initial onslaught, showing his true spirit. Jamie decided to make his way in that direction. He would knock that smirk off the baron’s face.
As the battle raged on, he noticed the number of red plaids now outnumbered the number of green plaids.
He attempted to search the injured for Grants, but it was almost impossible because warriors were still coming at them from many directions.
Bodies were strewn all over the ground, and horses fell and rolled in the skirmish, some getting up and wandering off.
Jamie’s sword arm, aching and tired, continued to strike and defend, but something caught him from the corner of his eye—his sire tumbling off his horse.
The man who’d dealt Alex a blow was preparing to strike him again, but Jamie rode hard toward them and took the man out. His war whoop came next, followed by the words they’d always dreaded to hear, “Protect your laird!”
Immediately men on horseback surrounded his sire, who still lay on the ground, blood darkening his plaid.
His eyes were open, but he appeared dazed.
He’d never thought to see the time his sire would be beaten on the battlefield, the man had appeared invincible to all.
Yet here he was flat on the ground, unable to protect himself.
He prayed his eyes deceived him and his sire would get up soon.
There was no sign of Jake either. Magnus, Connor, Braden, and Roddy had all joined him in the circle around his sire, but where the hell was Jake? When he finally set eyes on his brother, he saw he was far ahead of them, still fighting like a fierce warrior. He had no idea their sire was down.
Jamie yelled again, “Protect your laird!” Two more rode in hard to join them, and the weight on Jamie’s shoulders eased a slight bit.
He could protect his sire from further damage until the conflict ended.
The number of green plaids were dwindling, so the battle would end sooner rather than later.
Then he saw something that took his breath away and stole what was left of his composure.
Gracie on horseback. Gracie was riding hard off into the forest, far away from the battle. But why? What had possessed her to leave the safety of the keep?
Jamie’s composure left him. Did he chase after Gracie and leave his sire undefended?
There was no one around to take his place in the circle.
He swung his sword again and took two more bastards down.
From his position, he could see a sea of red plaids streaming toward the baron’s men from behind—Uncle Logan’s warriors.
They would help end this.
“Gracie! What are you doing?” Frantic, he called out to Finlay, “Finlay, cover my sire. I must go after Gracie.”
Finlay answered his call immediately.
The worst of all happened. The baron had also seen Gracie leave and charged after her.
Jamie tried again to get his brother back, but he was too far away to see or hear what was happening.
Two Grant warriors came up from the back of the field, so he bellowed.
“Here. Protect your laird.” Three had filled the spaces, so he galloped after Gracie as fast as he could.
Gracie was still ahead of both of them, but the melee slowed her.
She stopped once to cover her head with her arms, screaming for them to end the battle.
Jamie knew the precise moment when the baron realized he would catch her because an evil grin crossed the man’s face.
He moved toward Gracie at about the same pace Jamie was moving—slow but persistent.
There were too many warriors between him and Gracie and the baron.
Jamie yelled again. “Kill him. Take the baron out.” No one could hear him over all the screams. He glanced back at his sire again. The blood stain at his midsection continued to grow and his eyes were now squeezed shut. “Da, fight, do you hear me? Fight, stay alert.”
What the hell was he to do? All of a sudden, all the faces around him seemed to blend together.
Dirt and sweat and spit and blood flew everywhere.
He was losing the ability to distinguish between the enemy and his brethren.
A shock of bright hair popped out against the others, and he saw the baron was now only a short distance from his bride.
Jamie lost all control. He kneed his horse and headed straight for the baron, swinging his sword arm over his head. The strike did not land, which threw Jamie’s balance off and gave the baron a chance to flee toward Gracie. Horror overtook Jamie as he watched the baron ride hard in her direction.
His sire’s words rang out in his mind. Take your emotions out of it, Jamie. You’ll not best your enemy if you allow your emotions to overtake your reason.
Then, a miracle happened. A horse appeared out of the dust, cutting the baron off from behind, forcing him to slow enough for Jamie to catch him. Tormod. His friend had given him the chance he needed.
Forcing Gracie out of his mind, Jamie slashed his sword at the baron again. The bastard locked gazes with him, smiling that hideous grin.
Jamie swung at him, but the baron easily blocked his blow. They parried a few more times before the baron struck at his lowest point with words.
“She’s a whore, Grant. You married a whore, and I liked her.”
Jamie ignored him, knowing the feint for what it was.
He would not be distracted. He faked a swing at the man, who immediately raised his sword to block it, then changed his direction at the last instant and buried his sword in the baron’s belly, a death blow for sure.
Tormod struck him with another blow from behind.
The baron dropped his sword and grabbed his belly, and Jamie pulled his sword out, wiping his blade across the man’s legs just before he fell to the ground.
Jamie took a moment to gather his strength, searching his immediate area for any more warriors in green.
Mayhap they’d leave now that their baron was dead.
But it wasn’t to be. The man who’d rode in with the baron, probably Simon de La Porte, barked orders at the remaining guards.
Four warriors came toward Jamie and Tormod, but they managed to fight them off together.
Tormod did battle from one side while Jamie attacked from the other, slicing bellies and flesh everywhere they could.
Men fell to their right and to their left.
A voice came from atop of one of the towers. “Kill them all, Tormod! That’s my brother.”
Lyall. His brother was standing watch on the parapets, and he’d seen Tormod fighting like a man set on fire.
Uncle Logan and four more Grant warriors joined them, and together they fought off the last few green-clad warriors around them. When Jamie glanced at his brother in the front lines, he saw that Jake was still holding strong, fighting two of the green-clad men at once.
Moments later, the few remaining enemy warriors fled the scene, Simon de La Porte with them.
Jamie immediately searched the area for any sign of Gracie. There was none. He’d lost sight of her when he’d met with the baron, but she could not have gone far. Perhaps she was hiding in the trees.
His breathing still ragged, Jamie rode back to the circle of protectors surrounding his sire.
“Where’s Gracie?” he asked.
No one answered.
“She was just here on horseback.” He searched the grounds for light hair, but there was no sign of her.
Jake came up behind him. “Nice battle with the baron. Great way to put an end to this ruckus. Why is everyone in a circle?” He pointed toward the spot where their sire lay, clearly still unaware of what had happened.
“Da took a sword to his belly,” Jamie said bluntly, wiping his sleeve across his face to get the blood off.