Page 24 of Bride takes a Scot (Highland Vows & Vengeance #1)

T he forest was still. Their adversaries were there somewhere. Declan signaled to his men to take cover. His plan was simple: he and his men would ambush the ambushers. They would wait in the forest until the interlopers rode through. Whoever attacked Robbie had to be in the forest. He’d brought Campbell’s men and thirty of his soldiers. Declan hoped Robbie’s clansmen would recognize the men who attacked their laird.

The day dragged by with excruciating slowness. Not one man spoke or made enough movement to alert anyone who traipsed through the woods. Declan grew tired of waiting. He wasn’t known for his patience, but to ferret out his enemy, he would wait until heaven met hell.

But then, noise came from afar. He held up his hand to alert the men and to signal to remain where they were.

Six riders on horses rode through the trees at a slow pace. They didn’t seem concerned for their safety and spoke to each other as they progressed. Declan continued to hold up his hand. They would pick the perfect moment to intercept them. When the progression of men reached the center of the MacKendrick and Campbell soldiers, Declan lowered his hand. At once his men revealed themselves from their hiding places.

The knaves tried to flee, but swords were drawn and pointed at the foes. They sat still on their horses that were apprehended as some of his men took their reins. Several soldiers grabbed the riders from their horses and tossed them to the ground.

Declan made his way through the circle of men. “Who are ye? What clan do ye hail from?”

None of the men answered.

“They are Murray’s men,” one of the Campbells said. “I recognize them. They visited our keep only a fortnight ago, but Robbie would not give them entrance beyond our gates.”

“Murray. Is your laird here in the forest?” Declan couldn’t understand why Dermot’s men rode through his woods without their laird or why he’d visited the Campbell fief recently. His comrade had all but said that Robbie wouldn’t meet with him. But then a dawning struck Declan as he remembered what Dermot had told him.

“Robbie will not meet with you. I tried to persuade him, but the man was adamant and said that he would not meet with a murderer. Even though I swore that ye did not have anything to do with his father’s murder.” Yet none of what his supposed ally told him was true because Robbie told him to come. Why had Dermot told him that Robbie wouldn’t see him? Dermot lied about his trip to act as mediator. What else had he lied about? Had Dermot offered to be the go-between with Robbie to keep them apart? Why the subterfuge? What did his comrade hope to gain?

Micah, the Campbell commander-in-arms, nudged his way through the crowd. “Laird MacKendrick, I need to speak to ye.”

Declan moved aside so the men being held couldn’t hear them. “What goes, Micah?”

“They are the men that attacked us. I recognize the man with the torn tunic because I tried to apprehend him and the slippery skelp got away. They tried to murder my laird.”

He craned his neck to peer back at the men. “It doesn’t make sense, Micah. Why would Murray’s clansmen attack your clan or mine? He is a trusted ally.”

“He is no ally, Laird MacKendrick. That band of men attacked us, I am certain.”

Declan marched back to the men and stood before them. “Where is your laird?”

The men wouldn’t answer. Declan had had enough of their silence. His patience was gone, and he grabbed the nearest man and gripped him closely. “Tell me where your laird is, and I will let you live.”

The man refused to answer him. Declan tossed him behind him where his awaiting soldiers put the man out of his misery—the misery of awaiting his death. A brief scuffle ensued, and the man existed no longer. He grabbed the next man. “Where is your laird?”

Again, no answer. Declan repeated his motions until the second to the last man answered him.

“He told us to await him here in these woods. That he was going to the MacKendrick keep and would return before nightfall.”

Declan tossed the man behind him and moved out of the way of his soldiers. The six men were killed for their involvement in whatever scheme Dermot Murray had planned.

His heart began to pound as it occurred to Declan that Murray was at his keep. This whole thing had been a ruse, and a distraction. While he was down here, waiting to be ambushed, Dermot had probably snuck inside like the polecat he was. And that meant— Isabella was in danger .

“Let us make haste. I need to get back to the keep posthaste.” Declan ran to his horse, not caring if his men followed. He only had Isabella—and Noah, and Gran, and everyone—on his mind. But Isabella’s face was the one he held in his mind’s eye as he rode like hell for the walls of his home. At the gate, he raised his hand and shouted, “Virtue alone ennobles.”

Behind him, he heard the echoing shouts of his men, and then the calls of those who remained within. As soon as he passed the threshold of the gate, he slid from his horse’s back, ready to sprint to his home to find his wife.

But then Anse trotted toward him, holding up his hand. “Laird, we had a wee bit of trouble. Och, not to worry, though. All is well now.”

His knees almost buckled. They—she—Isabella—was safe. “Dermot Murray?” he breathed in response.

“Aye, he is in the pit. Milady did him in. Well, och, nay. She rendered him incapacitated.”

Declan scowled at hearing Isabella was involved in apprehending their foe, but then again, knowing his impetuous, bonny, brave wife, he wasn’t surprised. “What happened? Tell me on the way to the keep.”

Anse sidled next to him and said, “The gate watch didn’t know Murray was…our foe. Because of that, Laird, they allowed him through the gate. Once he was through, he fought with the two guards stationed there. The guards called our call to arms and at once the entire keep was put on alert. Not before that damnable man made his way inside the keep. Slone heard the commotion, and he bade Milady to lock the keep doors. She did so, but Murray must have made it inside before she could secure the holding. She says he spoke about your mother and his father. While she kept him talking, she put him out with one of her tonics.”

Declan drew a sharp breath. “She could have been killed. Murray could have killed her.”

“Och, he did not. Nay, Laird, I do not think he intended to harm her. He was after ye, but your lass, she is clever. When she finally opened the door to the keep, he was passed out. She said she gave him the ‘devil’s eyes’, but unfortunately, not enough to kill him.”

“Good, because that privilege belongs to me.” Declan reached the keep and entered. Anse followed him inside. He found his family sitting at the table in the great hall as if nothing had happened. Isabella, Noah, Marian, Rhona, Claude, and Friar Faelan were enjoying a lavish supper. He didn’t know how to react. Relief didn’t come close to the emotions that swarmed him in seeing his wife safe.

“Isabella.”

She jumped up when she spotted him, then ran to him. Once she reached him, she pressed her arms around him. He settled his hands on her hips and set his head next to hers. “God, how relieved I am to see ye.”

“Och, aye? I was never in danger, Declan. All is well. Your enemy is in the pit behind the garrison, or at least that is what Anse told me. I thought you would like to question him before…”

“Before what, Wife?” He wondered if she’d realized she’d begun spouting Scots a bit. It endeared her to him all the more. Maybe he’d be able to get her to say more, later, when in the throes of passion. He blinked and forced himself to focus on her words. How he loved her…

“I don’t imagine you will allow him to live since he confessed to murdering Laird Campbell and that he accused you… He said many things before I got him to drink the tincture,” she said, unaware of his thoughts and intentions. But all that was about to change, here and now, in front of his clan and everyone who mattered to him.

“My bonny clever wife. Have I told ye how pleased I am that I married ye?”

“Not recently,” she said and giggled. She blinked up at him with her beautiful eyes and her pretty pink lips curved into a smile. “Come, Laird, have some supper.”

He shook his head with reluctance. How much he wanted to put his cares aside and focus on her instead of matters of the clan. But her calling him “Laird” like that had reminded him… “There are things I must see to before I can enjoy my supper.”

She waved her hand as if brushing his concerns aside. “Robbie is doing well. He was awake for most of the afternoon, but I gave him some more pain medicinal. He will be asleep until morning. I suppose then he will want to talk to you.”

“I will wait then to see him until the morrow. Is there anything else, Wife?” Declan grinned. His sweet wife had everything in order, and she didn’t appear to have suffered the slightest difficulty.

She pressed her finger to her chin in thought. Then she shook her head. “Nay, Husband. There is nothing else.”

He pulled her against him and kissed her hard. “Oh, there is much else, I’m sure ye know,” he said in a lowered voice. “I will find my way to our bed this night. Ye can be sure of that.”

“I’ll take that as a promise.” She released him then, and sashayed back to the table in an enticing way that he would find hard to forget. Perhaps that was her intent for Declan found himself smiling as he left the keep.

His men looked at him oddly, but they didn’t know that his bonny bride pleased him more than he’d realized she could. Still, it wasn’t befitting a laird to be so lovestruck, so he tried to replace his joyful mien with a harsher manner. It didn’t take him long to remember that Dermot Murray had invaded his home and might have done in his wife.

That made him fume with ire. Declan motioned to his men to bring up his foe.

Murray reached the surface and was dragged a few feet from the hole. He didn’t stand but lay on the ground, still half unconscious from whatever Isabella had drugged him with and waiting for his death.

“Get up, ye miscreant piece of cosh,” Declan muttered. He kicked him and commanded him to rise again. “Ye will look me in the eye and tell me to my face that ye planned to do away with me. I want to hear it from your mouth.”

Murray groaned and refused to move so Declan grabbed him and forced him to a standing position, but he staggered on his feet. “Why? I considered ye to be my comrade.”

“Vengeance is mine,” Murray said.

“I did nothing to ye to cause ye to seek vengeance. None of my clansmen affronted ye. Your villainous deeds were misplaced, Dermot.”

“Your mother did. She ruined my life.”

Declan shoved him back. “My mother?”

“Aye, your harlot of a mother lured my da into a sordid affair. She ruined my family. My mother suffered and killed herself when she learned that my da was with your ma. The guilt of murdering your mother was too much and my mother took her life. For this, you’ll all pay.”

Declan’s stomach tensed. He had heard of such a rumor and the fact that alluded to such an affair, but he wasn’t aware that it was between his mother and Dermot’s father. That his mother was killed by Dermot’s caused him to tighten his grip on the hilt of his sword. Yet he supposed Dermot’s mother sought retaliation and couldn’t hold the contempt of it. “Ye speak possible truths, but none of that has anything to do with me or Campbell. If indeed my mother was involved with your da, we should not bear the consequences of that.”

“Aye, she was. Ask your gran. Ask the elders. There was a time when my clan would have nothing to do with yours because of it. Och, I tried not to hold hatred for the MacKendricks. Alas, I cannot do that now that I know the truth. I hope ye all rot in hell.”

Declan’s arm shot out and he struck Murray square in the face. His foe fell back but he quickly regained his feet. “Ye are the one going to hell. Even if our parents met and had relations that had nothing to do with me or you. Ye allowed what they did to sully our friendship,” his voice beheld a low timbre. Though he wanted to shout and release his ire at the situation, he was more crestfallen that their friendship meant nothing to the man.

“Friendship, bah. There was no comradery betwixt us, perhaps only in your mind,” Dermot scoffed. “Ye fell for my ruse. Aye, I befriended ye all to bring ye low.” He spread his arms and taunted him, motioning with his fingers for Declan to advance. “I was making progress until ye went and married that woman. If the king had not called ye for the marriage, ye would have perished in that dungeon, or they would have hanged ye.”

Declan’s face heated with his anger brimming to his eyes. Heat crept around his neck and he fisted his hands. “What then? Once I was killed, what then?” He’d get his answers and would see to the vengeance that had long plagued him.

“Then I would have thwarted the Campbells and used them to overtake your clan. I could not allow Robbie to live. He would have sought revenge for the murder of his father.”

“You are the lowest of miscreants, Dermot. Ye tried to besmirch my good name and have no remorse. I am appalled that ye call yourself a Scot.” Declan pulled his sword free. He gripped it tightly knowing exactly where he intended to put it. Though he didn’t need the approval of his clansmen, he sought their eyes. There, in the loyal faces of the people of his clan, was all the approval he needed. He swung his sword with all the might he possessed, and practically severed Murray in two.

The soldiers shouted, ‘ Virtue alone ennobles .’

He peered at the ground, darkened from the blood of his foe. Declan had never suspected Murray was behind the foul deeds. How had he been so duped by him? He had been far too trusting and took this as a lesson. The MacKendricks would no longer leave their gates open to supposed allies.

“Laird,” Anse called.

He turned and frowned at his cousin. “Aye.”

“It is over.”

“Why do I not feel vindicated then?” Declan’s breath rasped from the exertion of his strike and the strain of the day. His heart raced, and his chest rose and fell heavily.

“No one knows what madness induced him to take ye on. He caused his death, not ye. Ye had to seek vengeance for all the pain that he caused you and Robbie. Be appeased by that.”

“Mayhap in time I will be solaced with his death.”

Anse took his sword from his hand and jammed it into the center of Murray’s chest, or what was left of it. Then he purposely shifted his gaze to all the soldiers who stood by. “No one touches this sword. It shall stay there until we are ready to remove it. Let it remain there as a reminder that no one crosses our laird or any MacKendrick.”

The soldiers again shouted, ‘ Virtue alone ennobles .’