Chapter 20
The sky was still dark when Aleck rose from the bed and quickly dressed, his stomach in knots. Today was the day that he would go to battle against Fennella’s brother, and while he would want a peaceful ending, he felt as if much blood was going to be shed today.
“Aleck?”
Strapping on his dagger, Aleck moved back to the bed where Fennella lay, her hair splayed on his pillow. “Love,” he said gruffly, touching her cheek. “Ye should be asleep.”
Her eyes shone in the moonlight. “Yer leaving.”
“Aye,” he forced out, wanting nothing more than to climb back into the bed with her. “’Tis time, love.”
She shivered before pressing her forehead against his forearm. “Please, come back to me.”
Aleck forced her to meet his gaze, seeing the wariness in her depths. “I will lass. I will come back tae ye.”
Fennella sat up in bed, her breasts brushing up against his body as she hugged him close. “I have so much to say.”
He held her close, breathing in her scent. “And ye shall tell me all of it when I get back Fennella. ’Tis will give ye a reason tae talk with me.”
She choked out a laugh at his feeble attempt at a jest, burying her face in his shirt. “Alright. I shall wait.”
Aleck hugged her close a moment longer, his own throat clogged with emotion.
He wanted to return to his wife, to the future that they still had to live, but he could not hide in this keep and allow her brother to come knocking on the keep’s doors.
He had to stop the madman and hopefully live to tell the tale.
If not, he didn’t want to think about it.
Drawing back, he forced her to look into his eyes. “I love ye lass,” he said softly. “Ye have brought happiness back into mah life and I hope that I can continue tae have that. Ye will stay safe won’t ye? I need tae hear it from yer lips.”
“Oh Aleck,” she breathed.
“The keep is in yer hands,” he continued, rushing through his words now. “If I do not come back, then it’s yer responsibility as mah wife tae continue on.”
“Aleck,” she whispered, as he took off his brother’s ring, pressing it in her palm.
“I know this ring is tainted but Isla was right. It was passed down for generations and as laird, I am tae wear it.”
“Then wear it,” Fennella sobbed, attempting to press it back into his palm.
He ignored her motions, curling her hand around the ring before standing. She fell against the bed, her silent sobs breaking his heart. He didn’t want to leave her in such a state but he could not tarry any longer. “I love ye,” he repeated, hoping that she believed him. “Mah wife, mah love.”
“Please come back,” she said weakly as he strode to the door. “Aleck please come back to me.”
He gripped the door in his hand, giving her a silent nod before striding away.
He had said his piece and if something did happen to him, then she would know how he felt.
He had tried to show her through his actions last night, when he loved her body until she had been begging for release, then curling her against his side until it was time for him to leave.
It would be the memory he would hold close to him throughout this battle.
Aleck walked down the stairs and stopped before the great fireplace, lifting his da’s sword from its resting place.
The steel was polished to a high sheen, the point sharp from his sharpening the day prior.
The handle had their family’s crest etched into it, along with words of bravery and strength to bless the laird that swung the blade.
It was the most important piece of his family’s history.
Aleck drew in a breath, closing his eyes as he held it in his palms, whispering a prayer of strength and of protection that his da had taught all his sons, urging them to remember that no matter how strong they were, they were still easily cut down like the lowest man on the battlefield.
He wished to not be that man this day.
After strapping it on his back, Aleck gave himself one more glance in the direction of his bedchamber, whispering a prayer for his wife as well. She would be fine, he knew that, but it still pained him to leave her like this.
Malcom was waiting for him outside the keep, a line of warriors awaiting for their laird to arrive and lead them into battle. Duncan sat on the horse to his right, giving Aleck a nod as he walked past. “Brother.”
“Brother.” Aleck returned the nod before swinging up on his horse, his sword pressing into his back.
He maneuvered his horse in front of the rows of warriors that would defend their clan today, swallowing the emotion that welled up in his chest. Addressing the warriors was never easy, knowing that any of them would gladly lay down their life and their sword for their clan and their laird.
It was a humbling thing to acknowledge. “Today we fight for our clan,” he began, his voice ringing in the quiet, foggy morning. “Today we fight tae protect our fellow men, our women, the bairns that will one day take over. Remember who ye fight for. We cannae allow them tae come close to the keep.”
“Aye!” they shouted, breaking their silence and pressing their fists to their chests.
Aleck did the same before turning his horse toward the entrance of the gates, leading the warriors out of the keep and onto the road that would take them to the battlefield.
There was never a moment that he already felt the biting sting of success, knowing that he could come across a formidable enemy too strong to take down.
Or be felled by an arrow as he rode into battle.
Or fall from his horse as it was cut out under him, crushing his legs and forcing him to end his own life.
All those things could happen as nothing was promised on the battlefield.
When he reached the section in the road, he held up his fist, breaking off a section of warriors that would be the third line of defense.
Some had already ridden ahead, waiting for them at the mouth of the battlefield, but the warriors he led right now were the ones that would protect the keep and the road leading to it.
Three waves. That was all he had.
If he could not contain the battle to the battlefield, then it would be up to the warriors amongst the trees to keep his clan safe.
He rode on, sending two more waves into the trees until it was just he, Duncan, and Malcolm left on the road. “The rest of the warriors are up ahead,” Malcolm stated, his voice low. “Everyone else is in place.”
Aleck drew his sword, resting it on his thighs. “If I’m not to make it.”
“Don’t say that,” Duncan answered harshly. “Ye are Aleck, from Clan Campbell. Ye are a fierce warrior who will prove tae the entire country of Scotland that ye can cut down any enemy that threatens yer clan.”
Aleck grinned as he looked at his brother. “Shall I let ye go ahead and spout mah accolades, Brother?”
Duncan shook his head, a grin playing on his lips. “Only ye could jest at a time like this.”
“All the more reason tae,” Malcolm said, clearing his throat. “Shall we?”
Aleck set his jaw, his humor fading as he spurred his horse forward. At the end of the turn in the road that led to his keep was an army waiting for his arrival. His tartan colors flew in the morning breeze.
One of the warriors rode to him, a grim look on his face. “The army awaits over the hill. They are requesting a word.”
Aleck looked at Duncan. “Shall we greet them Brother?”
Duncan nodded and together the brothers rode through the army and into the green meadow they had chosen for their battle.
Flat land with no trees allowed for better visibility of their enemy, and it was easy to see the army that had amassed the moment they crested the hill. “Bloody hell,” Duncan muttered.
It was a large army, but Aleck had seen bigger, had faced bigger in his lifetime.
A lone rider awaited them in the front of the army, his hands resting on his saddle. “Laird Campbell,” he called out.
“Laird McPherson,” Aleck acknowledged.
He looked around, a sly grin on his face. “’Tis a good morning for death. I’ve been waiting some time tae have yer head on a pike.”
“Ye will have tae wait a bit longer I’m afraid,” Aleck said casually, tapping his sword against his thigh. “Is there any need tae ask ye if ye will surrender without any bloodshed?”
The other laird laughed, eyeing the army that surrounded Aleck. “Ye would be wasting yer breath. Come, let’s get this over with.”
And so it began. Aleck let out a roar and his army charged, the swords clashing and ringing through the open battlefield in rapid succession. McPherson disappeared in the confusion and Aleck swore as he cut down those that charged him before hopping down off his horse to join in the ground fight.
He was not the type of laird not to be part of the fight.
The moment he cut down part of the attacking clan, Aleck forgot about the warriors waiting in the wings, or where his brother was on the battlefield.
Parry.
Strike.
The words repeated over in his mind, the faces blurring together as the number of bodies grew around him. He wanted to give them a chance to flee, but with each strike of their sword against his, Aleck knew he couldn’t let them live, for they wouldn’t let him in return.
Sweat trickled down his back and his forearms, his muscles pulling as he swung his heavy sword at the enemy, all the while looking for McPherson.
His da used to tell him that cutting off the head of the snake would make the entire body whither and die, and that was what he considered McPherson to be.
McPherson was the end to all ends.
A flash of red caught his eye and Aleck shoved the Scot in front of him with his boot, nearly dropping his sword in the process.
It couldn’t be.
His wife was mere feet from him, her own sword in her hand as she fought the enemy before her. Beside her, a man he did not recognize was wearing his clan’s tartan, swinging an axe at an opponent’s shield.
What in God’s teeth was she doing here?
Aleck took off toward her, his heart hammering in his chest like the sword he was swinging. Fennella had put herself in the utmost danger and if anything happened to her, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.
She turned and for a moment, the battlefield disappeared around him. Seeing her whole and uninjured sent relief flooding through his limbs, and all he wanted to do was whisk her away from the danger and hold her until he could finally breathe again.
Fennella’s eyes widened and she grabbed her bow, threading an arrow in rapid succession.
Was she going to shoot him? Was this the end of his marriage to the woman that he loved?
The arrow sailed past Aleck and he heard a grunt behind him, turning to find McPherson laying on the ground, Fennella’s arrow sticking out of his arm. His sword lay nearby and the angered expression on the laird’s face told Aleck all he needed to know.
His wife had just saved his life.