Chapter Twenty-One
Joey
As soon as Morna hurries away, Rachel and I spring into action, hastily pulling the rest of our clothes on. When we reach the great hall, the others have already grabbed weapons---even the ladies. Alyssa wields a sword, though it's smaller than Kieran's claymore. Rachel and I select weapons as well, with me opting for a dirk which is basically a really big knife, or you could call it a small sword.
What's up with all the weaponry? Is everybody worried the MacLeods might be coming to kidnap Rachel? Honestly, I can't swear I haven't thought of that too. But if that cretin so much as looks at Rachel cross-eyed, I'll kill him.
"You don't think this is because of us, do you?" I ask Rachel in a hushed voice as we rush down the corridor. "Alisdair couldn't know that we've been, ah, enjoying each other's company."
She shakes her head. "I don't know. It seems unlikely, but considering the sinister events of late, I cannae say for certain."
As we rush out of the house and toward the garden doorway, Rachel's entire family follows behind us---with all their weapons, of course. We burst out of the castle into the crisp night air, holding each other's hands tightly. Amid the light fog, I see a single torch held up by...Alisdair's hand, naturally. Damn, I want to beat that jerk until he's nothing but a pile of bloody entrails.
We hurry across the green with Kieran in the lead. The damp grass soaks the hem of Rachel's skirts, but she doesn't seem to notice. There's something eerie about the whole scene, like it's straight out of a Dracula movie or something.
Then it hits me. This is eerily similar to that creepy dream I had, the one that involved An Bodach .
As we approach Alisdair, I can make out his smug expression in the flickering torchlight. The flames break through the mist just enough. My grip on Rachel's hand tightens, and I feel her squeeze back reassuringly. The rest of the MacTaggarts fan out behind us, weapons at the ready. Even Efrica, the oldest person in our group, wields a small sword.
I come up beside Kieran, dirk in hand. He nods his approval.
"Well, well," Alisdair drawls, his gaze raking over Rachel. "What a warm welcome for a late-night visitor."
"State your business, MacLeod," Kieran snarls, stepping forward with his claymore raised.
Alisdair chuckles, a sound that makes me want to crack his spine just for the hell of it. "I've come to claim what's rightfully mine. Rachel, mo ciad-bhean , it's time you fulfilled your duty to our clans."
Rachel stiffens beside me. "I am not your wife and never will be. Not your first, second, third or twenty-seventh wife."
"You were trothed to me at birth."
Kieran jabs his claymore toward Alisdair. "Neither I nor my wife ever pledged our daughter to you, ye baltan ."
My free hand balls into a fist, while I keep my sword hand at the ready. If the bastard doesn't shut up and scurry back to his cave straightaway, I'll make sure he walks away with a limp and no dick. "What the hell is a baltan ?"
"I'll never be yours, Alisdair," Rachel spits. Yeah, she literally spat at him. The spittle is visible on his cheek. "My heart belongs to another." Then she hisses to me, "It's an insult."
Alisdair's eyes narrow, his attention flicking back and forth between Rachel and me. A cruel smile twists his lips. "Ah, I see. The Sassenach thinks he can claim what's mine." The bastard takes one menacing step forward. "Yer meddling in affairs that have nothing to do with ye, laddie."
I bristle at his words, but Rachel's grip on my hand keeps me from lunging at him. I do growl, however. "I'm not claiming anyone, you jackass. Rachel makes her own choices."
"Aye," the woman in question adds, her voice hard as steel. "And I choose Joey Finnegan."
"He's a fucking Irishman?" Alisdair's face contorts with rage, and he spits his words at Rachel. "You dare reject me for this...this outlander?"
"Go home, Alisdair," Kieran snarls. "Ye'll never wed my daughter, so leave before I toss you into the moat with rocks tied to your ankles."
Alisdair studies our little army for a moment, then his shoulders flag. "I'll be back for Rachel, mark my words."
Our entire group follows the jackass as he makes his way through the castle and out the gates, onto the drawbridge. He keeps going, headed back to his own clan I assume.
Kieran invites me to go up the tower steps with him to check things out from a higher vantage point. I'm not ashamed to admit the long staircase leaves me a bit winded by the time we come out of the stairway and onto the walkway.
Kieran chuckles softly, seeing my condition. "Thievery hasn't made your body stronger, eh?"
"Guess not. I'm hardly a wimp, though. Just not as wicked strong as you are."
"That can be remedied---with enough training. I recommend swordplay."
As we prowl the walkway, searching for enemies beyond the gates, Kieran explains the architecture. "These are crenellations---solid blocks between slits in the wall, which allow archers to fire off arrows while hiding behind the blocks."
"That's cool. I never knew castles had features like that."
"Warfare in this time is different than the sort waged in the twenty-first century, or so my wife has told me."
"Yeah, it's very different. You don't even need men to fight for you. Machines do it for us."
Kieran shakes his head slowly. "I ne'er could've imagined such things before I met Alyssa."
As we continue our surveillance along the walkway, I start to hear odd little noises that almost sound like...footsteps crunching on the dirt path that ends at the drawbridge. I halt, smacking Kieran's arm. "Hey, do you hear that?"
He stops and swivels his head side to side. "Aye, I hear it too. Someone is coming this way." He whips his claymore out of its scabbard. "Go, warn the others."
I rush down the walkway to the top of the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. As I burst into the great hall, my heart pounding, I find Rachel and the others huddled around the fireplace. Their heads snap up at my abrupt entrance.
"Someone's coming," I gasp, gripping the doorframe. "Kieran's on the walkway. He sent me to warn you."
Rachel's eyes widen, and she's at my side in an instant. "How many? Did you see them?"
I shake my head. "Just heard footsteps. Sounded like one person, so it could be Alisdair again."
Alyssa's expression hardens as she hefts her dirk. "That dirtbag never knows when to quit."
"We need to prepare," Rachel says. "Morna, Efrica, start preparing for a confrontation. You ladies know how to handle an invasion. Use magic if necessary."
The two older women nod grimly and hurry off, their skirts swishing as they move with surprising speed for their age. Lachina has stayed behind.
Rachel turns to me. "Joey, we need to get back up there with my father. If it is Alisdair, he won't be alone this time. Warriors know how to be stealthy, and they could easily trick us into believing there's only one man."
"Good point." I grip my dirk tightly. "I'm right behind you."
"I'm coming too," says Dale Vescovi, Alyssa's dad. "Maybe I'm old, but I'm not incapable. Traveling back to medieval days has forced me to get buff. Who says senior citizens can't be badasses?"
Norma Vescovi, Alyssa's mom, expresses her desire to help too. "I was an Olympic archer back in the day. That means I can help too."
After I hand out the weapons, we're ready to go.
We all race back up the tower steps, our footfalls echoing in the narrow stairwell. As we emerge onto the walkway, I see Kieran crouched behind one of the crenellations, his massive frame barely concealed by the stone block.
"What do you see, Father?" Rachel whispers as we approach.
"A group of men, at least a dozen. They're trying to be stealthy, but I can hear them crunching twigs under their feet---softly, but aye. The sound is audible."
My heart races as I peer over the crenellation. Sure enough, dark shapes move through the woods, their outlines barely visible in the misty night.
"Alisdair, that riatach ," Rachel hisses. "He's brought reinforcements."
I grip my dirk tighter as adrenaline burns through my veins. Don't need a translation to understand what Rachel said. Her nasty tone tells me that Scot must be a real bastard. "What's the plan?"
Kieran's face is grim as he surveys the approaching threat. "We need to bottleneck them at the gate. Rachel, go with your great-aunts and your mother, Norma too. Hide as best you can. Joey, you and I will take the lead at the gates. Fight only as a last resort---and no magics. These are mundane men, not monsters."
Alyssa gives her husband a quick kiss, then dashes down the stairs while issuing orders to the other women.
Rachel hesitates, and there's worry in her eyes. "Be careful, Joey, please."
I pull her close for a quick, fierce kiss. "You be careful too."
She squeezes my hand and rushes after the other women.
Kieran and I take up positions on either side of the gate, our weapons at the ready.
"Remember," Kieran says, "aim for the weak spots---neck, groin, behind the knees. And dinnae hesitate."
I nod grimly, tightening my grip on the dirk.
We wait, every muscle coiled and ready to spring into action. The crunching of twigs and leaves grows louder, and I can make out hushed whispers carried on the breeze. My pulse pounds in my ears, but I force myself to breathe slowly, steadying my nerves. Alyssa's dad has joined us in our fight, and whatever I'd assumed about him previously has just flown out the window. Dale Vescovi is way tougher than I expected.
Movement catches my eye and, like a ghostly specter, Alisdair emerges from the mist followed closely by several others. His smug face comes into view, illuminated by the torchlight that casts flickering shadows across his face. He's flanked by burly men.
"MacTaggart!" Alisdair bellows. "I've come to claim what's mine. Send the lass out, and we'll leave peacefully."
Kieran's voice booms across the courtyard. "Ye'll never have her, ye spineless cacan . Leave now or face the consequences."
Alisdair's laughter echoes through the night. "Consequences? You're outnumbered, old man. I'll give you one last chance to surrender the lass."
I glance at Kieran, whose jaw is set. He gives me a subtle nod, and I know it's time to act.
"Hey, dickwad!" I shout, stepping out from behind the gate. "Rachel's not a prize to be claimed. She's made her choice, and it's not your sorry ass."
Alisdair's gaze zeroes in on me like a sniper targeting his quarry. "So, the Sassenach speaks. Tell me, laddie, do you think you can protect her from me and my men?"
"Don't need to," I retort, feeling braver than I probably should. "Rachel can protect herself. And she's got a whole clan behind her."
A deafening war cry erupts from behind us. I whirl around to see Rachel leading a charge of MacTaggart clanswomen brandishing swords, dirks, axes, and even flaming torches. The sight is both terrifying and awe-inspiring. They've taken up positions at either side of the gates.
Seeing Rachel this way makes me so horny.
Alisdair's smug expression falters for a moment before he regains his composure, sneering at me. "Ye think your ragtag bunch can stand against my trained warriors?"
Rachel steps forward, her eyes blazing with fury. "We are MacTaggarts, ye numpty. We've defended this land for generations against far worse than the likes of you. And Kieran MacTaggart is the most powerful warrior in all of Scotland."
Kieran's brow lifts faintly, his lip twitching upward into an almost-smile. Yeah, Rachel is a badass in disguise
Big Daddy raises his claymore, the blade glinting in the torchlight. "This is your last warning, MacLeod."
For a moment, no one moves or speaks. We all simply glower at each other, wearing various types of angry expressions. Alisdair's smug grin falters as he takes in the determined faces of the MacTaggart clan.
But then Alisdair's jaw clenches, and he bellows, "Take them!"
The battle has begun.