The Bride Chooses a Highlander Page 4

  Hours passed. Resolutely, she shut her eyes, yet sleep was impossible. No matter which way she thought of it, her future looked bleak. And pitying herself over it only made her more frustrated.

  Katherine tugged at the bodice of her gown. The air in the chamber seemed to be closing in on her. Impulsively, she jumped from the bed, grabbed her cloak, and flung it over her shoulders.

  The music had stopped; the celebration was finally over. Deeming it safe to leave the confines of her chamber, Katherine cautiously found her way down the staircase and into the great hall.

  The embers glowed softly from the fireplaces, the snores of the servants asleep on the pallets in front of it echoed through the vast chamber. Slowly, carefully, she crept across the expanse, quietly opening the heavy oak door.

  The bailey was empty as Katherine made her way to the stables. The dark shadows of the night were beginning to fade, the soft light of the dawn appearing on the eastern horizon.

  “Is something amiss, Lady Katherine?” came a deep, male voice from the shadows.

  Katherine reeled in surprise, reaching for the dirk she kept hidden in the depths of her cloak pocket. The speaker stepped from the darkness and she breathed a sigh of relief when she recognized one of the McKenna retainers.

  “My goodness, Brochan, ye nearly frightened the breath out of me,” she said.

  “I beg yer fergivness, milady, and confess to being equally startled. I dinnae expect to find ye here, alone, at this very early hour,” Brochan replied. His eyes narrowed, as though a sudden thought entered his head. “By chance are ye meeting Sir Hamish?”

  Katherine snorted back a most unladylike squeak. “Nay! That indeed is the very last thing I would be doing. I needed someplace to think and be alone.”

  “There’s a fine chapel on the other side of the bailey. I’d be honored to escort ye there, if ye wish.”

  Katherine shook her head. “My mood and temper are not fit company fer such a holy place.”

  The corners of Brochan’s eyes crinkled with compassion. He was a pleasant-looking man, with a bonny wife and three young bairns. “Is there aught I can do to ease yer distress?”

  Take me home!

  The thought brought her the first small slice of comfort since she had discovered Hamish embracing Fenella. If she left now—right now—she could avoid facing the entire Drummond clan, avoid the scene she was convinced Hamish would enact when she insisted their marriage contract be broken.

  “I need to return to McKenna Castle immediately,” Katherine exclaimed. “Will ye gather some of yer most trusted men and lead my escort?”

  She saw the flash of surprise in Brochan’s eyes, followed by puzzlement and uncertainty. “The celebration of yer betrothal will continue fer the next three days. I heard the servants speaking of it last night.”

  Katherine dropped her chin into her palms. “I willnae be marrying Hamish,” she confessed. “I cannae.”

  “Lady Katherine! Has that cur done something—”

  “Please,” she interrupted, grasping Brochan’s arm. “Dinnae ask me fer any details.”

  “Does the McKenna know ye want to leave?”

  “Not yet.” She tightened her grip. “I shall write a letter, explaining all to him and my mother. My maidservant will give it to them several hours after we have departed.”

  “Need I remind ye that the McKenna hold fast and stand sure,” Brochan said, proudly reciting the clan motto.

  “Aye, we have more mettle than to flee in the face of adversity.” Katherine lifted her chin and stared morosely into the empty stall in front of her. “But not always.”

  “Running away will solve nothing,” he said gently.

  “True. ’Tis cowardly to flee and I know I’ll be bringing this problem with me when I leave.” Her disillusioned spirits sank further. “But at least I’ll avoid being subjected to public humiliation when my betrothal is broken.”

  “The McKenna willnae approve,” Brochan said.

  “Aye, his bellows of anger will rattle the rafters of our great hall. But we both know he’ll be more distressed to discover that his daughter made the journey home on her own, without any protection or escort,” Katherine countered, holding his eyes until she was certain he fully understood her meaning.

  Brochan shot Katherine a concerned glance. “I could foil yer plan and send one of the men to rouse yer father right now,” he threatened.

  “Aye,” Katherine agreed. “But ye willnae. Ye’ve too kind a heart. Please, Brochan, take pity on me and grant me aid in my hour of greatest need.”

  Brochan threw his head back and groaned. “Och, Lady Katherine, it saddens me to see ye in such distress. And I know the McKenna will skin me alive if I allowed ye to leave on yer own.”

  “Then yer path is clear. Ye must ensure that I am properly guarded.” Sensing a weakening, Katherine pressed further. “I shall bear the brunt of my father’s anger, I promise.”

  Brochan groaned again and Katherine knew she had found the means to escape. “Ye’d best hurry, before my senses return and I change my mind,” he finally replied.

  Katherine sighed with relief and hugged the retainer. “Thank ye. I shall forever be in yer debt.”

  “I’ll try to remember that when I’m staring into the darkness from the curtain wall, shivering in the cold night air instead of lying in my warm bed next to my wife,” Brochan grumbled. “Fer once my part in this is discovered, I will most certainly be assigned the worst hours of guard duty for the rest of the winter.”

  “Och, Brochan.”

  His lips quirked. “Aye, I’m addled to agree, but ’tis my choice. Dawn is breaking. Hurry now.”

  Katherine hastened to her bedchamber. Without waking her maid, she prepared for the journey, changing into her warmest traveling gown and leather boots. Then she swiftly scribbled a brief note to her parents, praying they would understand her need to remove herself from here with all due haste.

  Shaking her maid’s arm, Katherine gently woke her. “Ye must put this letter in my mother’s hand when the castle gathers fer the morning meal. Can ye do that fer me, Mary?”

  “What has happened, Lady Katherine?” Mary asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

  “I’m going home,” Katherine admitted. “And I dinnae want my parents to know of my departure fer at least a few hours.”

  “But Lady Katherine—”

  “I’ve no time to explain,” Katherine insisted. “My escort awaits.”

  “I should accompany ye,” Mary exclaimed, rising from her pallet.

  “Nay.” Katherine squeezed the maid’s hand. “Delivering my missive is far more important.”

  Looking uncomfortable, Mary accepted the parchment. “If that is what ye wish.”

  “It is.” Katherine leaned down and gave Mary a brief hug. “Thank ye.”

  Brochan and four other McKenna retainers were gathered in the stables when Katherine arrived. She nodded her thanks to each man before mounting her horse. The Drummond soldiers milling around the bailey gave them only a cursory glance as they approached the front gate.

  “Open the portcullis fer the McKenna guard,” Brochan commanded.

  His tone of confidence and authority produced immediate results. The iron gates were lifted without question or challenge. Katherine kept her head down and the hood of her cloak up as they rode over the drawbridge.

  She was surprised that none of the Drummond guard questioned their identities or business until she realized they were leaving the castle, not trying to gain entrance.

  They rode through the quiet village streets, spurring their horses when they reached the open fields. A sense of freedom enveloped Katherine and some of the distress that weighed so heavily on her heart began to lift.

  It had been cowardly to sneak away, leaving only a brief message for her parents. After their initial annoyance, she hoped they would understand and forgive her rash actions. Hoped, too, they would forgive Brochan and the men who accompanied her, as they all kn
ew how obstinate she could be when her mind was set.

  ’Twas too foolish by half for a young woman to travel such a distance alone, even though it could be accomplished in a day. Katherine was relieved she did not have to test her courage and undertake the journey on her own. She glanced at the men of her escort, grateful for their help.

  They were far younger than most of her father’s retainers, but fierce, honorable, and loyal to a fault. She felt a sharp pang of guilt; her father would be angry with them when he learned the truth. Yet her need to remove herself from Hamish and his clan was too strong to do anything else.

  McKenna Castle would afford her the privacy she so desperately needed to decide on her future. She sincerely hoped that in time, her parents would understand and forgive her rash actions. Only then would she be fully able to find the strength to forget and put this unhappy nightmare behind her.

  Chapter Four

  “They say the McKenna is not here,” the young MacTavish soldier reported as he rejoined the group of MacTavish men gathered in the village square. “And he willnae be returning fer at least a week.”

  Aiden let loose a string of curses. His horse pranced excitedly and he had to pull hard on the reins to keep the animal from rearing.

  “What of his son Malcolm?” Aiden asked. “Did ye request an audience with him?”

  The soldier shook his head. “He’s not here either and they dinnae tell me when he’ll return.”

  “Is there anyone in authority that I can speak with?” Aiden’s voice was getting louder, but he couldn’t control it. To have come this far to be denied was maddening.

  “Nay. I asked three different men and they each told me there’s no one in the castle who is able to negotiate the release of any prisoners.”

  Aiden’s next string of curses was louder and more colorful than the first. This unexpected, unwanted news made him want to pound his fists in frustration. The rage pulsed through him, but when he noticed that his men were looking at him expectantly, he sought to control his temper.

  “Both the laird and his eldest son are away,” one of the MacTavish men muttered. “It could work to our advantage having such a plum property left unguarded.”

  Aiden’s arm swung wide and he cuffed the man on the head. “Dinnae be daft, Jamie. Look up at the ramparts and the curtain wall. There are nearly sixty men on patrol. And that’s only those we can easily see.”

  Jamie shot Aiden a resentful look as he rubbed his bruised scalp. “I dinnae mean the castle. I was speaking of the quarry where Robbie is being held.”

  “’Tis equally well guarded,” Aiden replied dryly. “Rest assured, we willnae be storming the quarry. Any attempt to free my brother would fail.”

  The men’s indistinguishable grumbling let Aiden know they were not in accord with his decision, but his opinion was not swayed. He had formulated a plan for his brother’s release—a good plan—and he had no intention of deviating from it.

  “If our business here is done, shall we start fer home?” one of the men asked. “Or wait until morning?”

  Aiden gritted his teeth. He would brave the fiery pits of hell before returning to the MacTavish Keep without Robbie. Nay, he had promised his mother, had an obligation to his imprisoned brother and reasons of his own for sticking to this plan.

  Freeing his brother and pleasing his mother were only two of the benefits Aiden planned to achieve. The best reward of all would be the looks of awe and admiration on the faces of every clansman and woman when he entered the great hall with Robbie at his side. Their mother would weep tears of joy and Lachlan, aye, Lachlan would be proved wrong.

  That alone made any risk Aiden took worth it. He would do whatever was needed to show everyone that he was the worthier brother, the man who should have been named laird upon their father’s death.

  Aiden was convinced that Lachlan had been chosen merely because he was the eldest son, a tradition that was not always upheld in the Highland clans. Younger sons had been named laird ahead of their older siblings. ’Twas what Aiden had expected since he was the better known man among his people, and he had been sorely disappointed when it did not come to pass.

  He was the one who had struggled and suffered alongside them while Lachlan had spent the last few years in the Lowlands, a hired sword to any clan that could pay him and his men.

  True, the coin Lachlan and his men had earned had been used to keep the clan from starving during the long, bleak, cold winters. That, along with the legends of Lachlan’s prowess as a fighter and unmatched skill with a sword, had influenced their clansmen enough to agree that Lachlan should be laird.

  However, Aiden too was a fine swordsman and he intended to use his talents to free Robbie—and gain the position he had long coveted. The McKennas were a bloodthirsty lot. He fully expected when he issued his challenge to fight any McKenna warrior for Robbie’s freedom, it would be accepted.

  “We are not leaving McKenna land until my brother rides at our side,” Aiden announced, chafing at the delay in executing his plan.

  “If we’re not to return home, what shall we do, Aiden?” Jamie asked.

  “We wait fer the McKenna to return,” Aiden replied, pushing his disappointment aside.

  “Here?” Jamie exclaimed, glancing around the square.

  “Nay.” Aiden frowned. “The McKenna guard will be asking questions if we linger fer more than an hour in their village. We’ll retreat into the woods and stay out of sight.”

  Jamie squeezed the cloth pouch hanging from his saddle. “We dinnae have enough food to last more than a day or two.”

  “Then we shall live off the land,” Aiden proclaimed, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth. “Or have ye all gone soft on me?”

  Jamie scratched his head. “The McKennas willnae like us hunting in their forest.”

  “Aye, that’s why we shall make certain we are not caught,” Aiden replied with false cheer. “We’ll retreat to the edges of their borders where we are less likely to be found.”

  Aiden waited while a few of his men grumbled amongst themselves, wondering if any would challenge his decision. He almost wished one of them would test his resolve, as the excuse to fight would alleviate some of his pent-up tension and anger. However, none were so rash.

  When they quieted, Aiden slowly turned his horse and they obediently fell in line behind him.

  * * *

  Katherine urged her mount forward as they galloped toward the McKenna/Drummond border. The air was dry and crisp with cold, the wind biting, the horses still fresh and primed for exercise. She wryly observed that when they rode this exact route a few days ago, she had thought the land rich with beauty and promise. Now as she left, it seemed barren and stark, a reflection of her mood and future.

  Katherine drew in a breath and mentally shook herself. With considerable effort, she cleared her mind of the distressing events of last night, focusing instead on the safety—and warmth—awaiting her at McKenna Castle.

  She glanced over and found Brochan’s gaze fixed upon her, his brow furrowed. “If we keep to this pace, we should arrive home well before darkness,” he said.

  “I’ll not slow us down,” Katherine assured him.

  “I’m not questioning yer horsemanship,” he replied. “Or yer stamina. However, when nature calls . . .” Brochan’s voice trailed off, revealing his discomfort.

  “I’ll be sure to tell ye when I need to take a respite,” Katherine answered, wondering if that was truly a blush she saw on his face or a result of the howling wind.

  Brochan was a good man. Loyal, considerate, and kind. The guilt Katherine harbored over the way she had all but blackmailed him into leading her escort rose to the surface. They both knew that no matter what she said to the McKenna to defend her actions, her father’s anger would be fierce and spread among all those who aided her.

  ’Twould not be easy to make amends to these gallant men who risked much for her. Yet Katherine vowed that she would find a way.

  A di
stant rumbling drew her from her thoughts. Rain? Nay, the sky was cloudless and blue. Katherine turned to Brochan and immediately noticed his shoulders tensing as he stared intently at the horizon.

  Concerned, Katherine followed his gaze. The sight made the fine hairs on the back of her neck rise. Ahead were a dozen men on horseback, swords drawn, riding hard and fast—directly toward them.

  “How far are we from McKenna land?” Katherine asked.

  “Too far,” Brochan muttered. “And much too far from the castle to cry out fer help.”

  “Should we take shelter in the forest?” she suggested.

  A taut line of worry settled between Brochan’s brows. He shook his head. “They will be upon us before we reach the tree line. If we run, they can separate us. We’ve a better chance if we make a stand together, here in the open.”

  Katherine’s throat tightened. “Forgive me, Brochan,” she whispered. “If I had not insisted on such a small escort, our chances would be much improved.”

  “We are not defeated yet,” Brochan replied heartily. “Stay close to yer guard, milady.”

  Katherine nodded. The alarming sound of crashing hooves and panting beasts grew louder. The breaths of the charging men and their horses mingled together, creating a frosty, eerie mist surrounding them as they drew closer.

  ’Tis what it must look like in hell, she thought with a shudder, unable to tear her eyes away from the charging horde.

  “McKenna, to arms!” Brochan shouted.

  His deep roar vibrated through the air, followed closely by the ringing sound of steel being pulled from leather sheaths. The five men drew their swords and formed a tight circle around her. Katherine reached for the dirk she carried in her cloak. It looked puny and ineffective compared to the warriors’ weapons, but it could inflict some damage to her enemies.

  Time seemed to hold still as they waited, and then suddenly the attack began. There was a brutal clash of swords as the two groups met. Outnumbered nearly three to one, the McKenna warriors fought bravely, their brows thick with sweat, their breaths puffing clouds of steam into the cold air.