Page 9 of Bride takes a Scot (Highland Vows & Vengeance #1)

F og rolled over the far-stretched hills in front of Declan. The morning air warmed but the ground remained damp from overnight rain which swathed the land in obscurity. There was something oddly pleasing about riding in the open areas of grassland amongst the thick fog. Declan always appreciated the serenity of it. It was as if he’d died and roamed the land almost unliving. Riding through the mist lightened him because he eased and didn’t give thought to the hefty problems he faced. Soon the sun would rise and chase away the allure.

When he’d left Isabella that morn, he was apprehensive. After the disastrous supper the night before with his family, he didn’t wish to leave her. But he had a foe and murderer to find and gain the vengeance he sought.

The score of men he’d brought with him rode ahead. Anse, Trevor, and Lorcan led the procession toward Campbell land. Declan had left Slone home to look after the clan and Isabella. He intended to meet Robbie Campbell head-on to find out if it was he who had made the accusations that put him in the king’s dungeon.

Leona’s brother wasn’t pleased when Declan married his sister. Robbie had spoken harshly about his objections to their alliance. Yet he didn’t think Robbie would go to such lengths to have him tried for his father’s murder or accuse him of such foulness.

“Laird, I hear the Campbell’s sentry ahead,” Lorcan said as he dropped back to ride next to him.

“Lead on and let us cut them off at the pass.” Declan pressed his horse’s sides and passed the soldiers who rode ahead of him. He rode hard, wanting to meet with the Campbell soldiers. As he reached the pass, a trail that meandered betwixt their lands, he stopped. Before him sat at least thirty Campbell soldiers but he didn’t spot Robbie amongst them.

“Where is Robbie, your laird?”

One of the soldiers rode forth with his sword drawn. “You’re coming close to trespassing on our land, MacKendrick. Tell me why we shouldn’t kill ye now?”

“I want a meeting with Robbie.”

The soldier laughed. “Do ye now? Well, what if he does not want to meet with ye? Go on home afore we send ye back bloodied.”

Declan wasn’t about to stand down. He pulled his sword free and gripped it tightly. Though he wanted badly to use it to wipe the smug look off his foe’s face, he held back. “Tell your laird that I will be here awaiting him in these woods. I wish to meet with him and only want to talk. He has a sennight to come. If he does not come, I will deem him a coward and shall send the word of his fear throughout the land.” There, he’d meant to insult the Campbell laird to entice him to meet with him. Surely his soldier would relate their conversation word for word.

“I’ll give him your message, MacKendrick. Och, I do not think it’ll do any good.” The lead soldier rode off and the other Campbell men followed.

Declan motioned to his comrades to retreat. They turned and rode until they reached a copse of trees where they could take cover and make camp. The rest of the day, Declan surveyed their location and the best route to take should Robbie Campbell actually show himself.

The wait grew tiresome as the days and nights passed, and Declan began to doubt that Robbie would meet them. He took the same path on his walk each day in hopes that his former brother-in-law would take his message to heart. But Robbie still hadn’t come and there hadn’t been any sighting of the Campbell sentry since their encounter days before. It was somewhat disappointing, but Declan wouldn’t give up hope.

Robbie had one last day to show himself and it began with pouring rain and a wee bit of a hefty breeze. Before long, a storm engulfed them and soaked them through. The sound of the rain hitting the newly sprung leaves and ground was deafening at times and everyone was cold and miserable, though at least the winged insects were kept at bay. Midges were such a nuisance this time of year but fortunately the area where they chose to camp was devoid of the nasty pests. He held his hand out and let it fill with the drops.

“Psst, Laird, someone comes,” Trevor said.

Declan hastily returned to his horse and made quick work to ready it. He mounted it and rode in the direction of where the soldiers were said to be. His men rode closely behind him, and they nudged their horses to move faster. At the crossing, they spotted the regimen of Campbell soldiers who were likely out on sentry duty. A shout came from someone amongst their men. Declan took it as a call to arms and so he too called to his men. They raised their swords and rode toward their adversaries with all the fervor of warriors unwilling to back down.

Sword clashes rang in the air. A few fell from their horses into deep puddles made by the heavy rains and trouncing of horse hooves. Declan searched for Robbie among the men, but he didn’t see him. He growled fiercely because he’d only wanted to talk to him. Now, however, he was angry, and if it was the last thing he’d ever do, he’d force the Campbells to accept their fate of defeat—their complete desecration.

More clashes sounded and before Declan could put his sword in any of his foes, they called a retreat and absconded. The Campbells disappeared into the mist and rain. Silence abounded except for the heavy breath of his soldiers and the snorting of horses.

He turned and peered at his men, taking note of who was wounded, who was felled, and who bore the attack. Declan sheathed his sword and was about to dismount to give aid to those who needed it. His feet hit the ground and were soddened when he landed in a deep puddle. He was about to leave the field when four men returned and rode at them.

The attackers came swiftly at him, taking aim. They intended to cut him down. Declan was struck on the thigh with the flat side of a man’s broadsword. His leg buckled and he fell to the ground. He groaned and gripped his leg, knowing the wound was severe. When his men saw him lying there, they ran forth. The rest of the men chased after the attackers and forced them back into the mist. Shouts came and more sword strikes and then silence. With a hiss at the pain radiating from his wound, he tried to rise from where he lay.

“Declan, stay still,” Anse instructed. “Do not move.”

“Someone get the healer,” Trevor shouted.

But they hadn’t brought the healer with them and hadn’t anticipated a clash. Declan removed his upper tartan and grimaced as he wrapped his leg to lessen the blood flow from a thin laceration where the blade penetrated his flesh. Anse helped him onto his horse. They rode back to camp and a large fire was erected between the trees, where the leaves protected the ground, and it wasn’t so damp.

Declan lay next to the fire and groaned. “Damnation, I cannot believe I was struck. I was foolish and left myself unprotected. How could I be so inattentive? Was it the Campbells?”

“I am unsure if it was them. You did not have time to defend yourself, Laird,” Anse said. “Let us see what happened to ye.” He unwrapped Declan’s leg and motioned to Trevor, who handed him a cup of water. He poured the water over his leg and Declan drew in a hiss of breath. “Looks horrible, but not grave. ’Tis not deep enough, och it might need a stitch. Your tartan kept the blade from slicing ye too deeply. It will smart though and pain ye for a time. Do ye want a dram of my brew? It’ll help ease the pain.”

Declan swallowed hard at the intense throb in his leg and nodded. He took the flask from his cousin and gulped more than a dram. He eased instantly and lay back. The pain ebbed slightly and wasn’t so excruciating.

“I’ll find something better to wrap your leg. Stay still,” Anse instructed.

Declan peered up into the darkness of the trees. The sky lightened and the rain dissipated. This was the last thing he needed. He had no time to convalesce or be wounded. With that thought, he growled again in disgust at his inattention. He should have been ready to meet any threat, but instead, he had inadvertently turned his back and left himself open to attack.

Anse returned with a torn tunic. He wrapped the thinner material around his leg and tied it tightly. Declan relaxed and the pain subsided and at least his brows didn’t crease so intently. Trevor and a group of men went in hunt for their supper. When they returned, they cooked the hares they had felled, and all were silent. Declan needed to reassure his men that they would defeat their foes, no matter what it took.

“We will defeat our enemy. I vow we will not cease until the attackers are found and dealt with.” His voice pitched with his oath.

“Campbell is a coward,” Anse said.

“Aye, he and all his followers. I do not understand why he would not come. Mayhap I should have ridden to his keep and forced my way inside.” Declan nodded after his spoken thought.

“Are ye maddened?” Anse clipped. “Robbie wouldst have ye killed before ye even breached his gate. Nay, there must be another way to get him to talk with ye.”

A whistle sounded from the men on the other side of the fire. Lorcan sprinted toward them. “Looks to be Laird Murray approaching on foot. His men await yonder, a good distance from us. Do ye want to see him, Laird?”

“Aye, allow him to pass through. He’s an ally.” Declan leaned on his elbow but sat up and used his hands to shift his leg in front of him. He wondered what his comrade was doing, riding in the woods on such a lousy day.

“MacKendrick, what are you doing camped here? ’Tis a long way from your home.” Dermot Murray approached and sat next to him. He took the cup offered by Anse and drank. “Ahhh, ’tis tasty brew, Anse. ’Tis like heaven on my tongue. My thanks.”

“I wanted to meet with Robbie to discuss what the hell is going on, but like a coward, he did not come to meet me. His men attacked us,” Declan explained.

“What ye need is a mediator,” Murray said. “Someone to be the go-between ye.”

Declan stared at his friend and could have smacked his forehead in disbelief that he hadn’t thought of a mediator. “Aye, that is a fair idea, Murray. So, when can ye leave?”

Murray shook his head. “I did not mean me.”

“Why not ye?” Declan nodded at his friend and didn’t relent. “Who better? If ye go to Robbie, tell him I only wish to speak to him. He has to agree to meet me. We cannot have this hostility betwixt us. Our lands are too close and there will be many skirmishes if we do not come to some accord. Tell him that Leona wouldst be displeased by our discord and that I am not his enemy.”

“Very well, but if I come out of this unscathed, ye will owe me.”

Declan chuckled. “Aye, I will. Let me know when he wishes to meet. Tell him I shall come alone if that’s what he wishes.”

“I will and after I speak to him, I’ll come and see ye. I want to meet yer bonny wife. She cannot be as unsightly as you described.” Murray guffawed with laughter, drawing the gazes of the soldiers who sat nearby.

Anse spit out the gulp of brew he’d taken. “What did ye say? Laird, you told Murray that Milady Isabella is unsightly?” His cousin shook his head and scoffed. “’Tis the truth, Murray, there be no fairer lass in the land. I vow I have not seen a bonnier woman. Declan is a fortunate man.”

“Damn me, och is she as fortunate I wonder? Aye, so he is. Does she have a sister?”

Declan bellowed a laugh. “Nay, unfortunately, for ye, Murray, she does not. At least I do not think she does.” When he’d been at the king’s residence the morning of the combat, he had taken time to ask questions about her family, her, and their connections. The Forresters were wealthy and somewhat troublesome from what he’d heard, but he appreciated their vigor. He hadn’t asked, though, if she’d had any siblings.

Murray grinned. “I cannot wait to meet her then. I shall hasten my travel to the Campbells. Och, before I go, I meant to tell ye… A friar is roaming these parts, his name is Faelan. He is searching for a home, a place to preach.”

“Why do ye not take him in?” Declan asked Murray.

“I have no chapel and there is no room for him. You built that chapel, did ye not? Are ye in need of him? He’s a Blackfriar clergyman and devout by all accounts. ’Tis the truth he has condemned me for my sins since I will not make my confession.” Murray finished his drink and set the cup down next to him. “If ye wish for me to send him on his way, just say so.”

Declan didn’t want a clergyman on his land because once a friar ingrained himself, he was hard to be rid of. But it wouldn’t do harm and he could use all the prayers he could get. Besides that, and probably more importantly, Isabella would welcome a man of the cloth. He nodded to his friend and breathed deeply. “Aye, if ye run across him, send him my way. We will be glad to take him in.”

“I shall and am gladdened he’ll be gone.” Murray stood and bowed to them. “I should get going if I want to find my bed before nightfall.” He waved and walked away from the camp into the woods where his mount was probably held by his followers.

Declan tried to stand but his head spun when he got to his knees. He sat back on the ground and held his head. His wound had shaken him more than he thought it had. Anse moved to stand before him and held his hand out to him. He didn’t want to take his cousin’s hand, but he needed to if he was to get up. Declan gripped it and huffed at the pain that shot through his thigh.

“We got ye, Laird. Lean on me, and we will get ye to your horse.”

He appreciated his cousin’s help but detested the fact that he had to rely on anyone. A laird should not have to depend on the support of his soldiers. But he was in no condition to argue. By the time he reached his horse, his breath was labored. He used his good leg to help shift him into the saddle. That, and Anse’s shove up.

The intense pain wracked every part of him. “I hope I make it home before I…” Declan couldn’t get the words out before he pitched forward and retched. He heard the yells of his men and Anse caught him before he fell from his mount. His cousin shifted him back with his forearm and held on to his arm.

“Whoa, steady there, Declan. Do ye need me to tie ye to your horse?” His cousin hooted with laughter and the rest of his men smiled widely. “Or ye can ride with me.” He patted the space in front of him and chuckled.

Declan scoffed loudly. “To hell with that. Och, if I fall ye better pick me up.”

Anse was in a jesting mood. “Oho, I deem ye have already fallen, Laird. Very hard for a bonny lass, who as we speak, is probably warming your bed.”

“A warm bed sounds good to me about now. Let us make haste.” Declan clipped the last, but he couldn’t help but envision Isabella lying naked in his bed, awaiting him. That was, if he could make it home.