Page 15 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance (Highland Revenge Trilogy #3)

T he heavy doors slammed against the stone walls with a thunderous crash and in poured Torrance’s warriors like a raging storm. Their roars echoed off the stone walls as steel clashed and bodies slammed into each other. The hall erupted into chaos.

Torrance kept Esme pressed against the wall, his broad frame shielding her from every angle.

A warrior lunged toward them and Torrance pivoted and drove a blade into his gut before the man even raised his arm. Another came from the side, but one of Torrance’s men intercepted him, the clash of swords sparking just feet away.

Esme barely breathed, her heart pounding wildly, her head pressed against the stone wall, and the sounds of battle echoing in her ears. Cries of pain, grunts of effort, the dull thud of bodies falling, all blurred together. And then, as swiftly as it had started, it ended.

Silence settled like smoke in the aftermath.

Torrance's men stood victorious, their weapons slick with blood, the few remaining enemy warriors disarmed and forced to their knees.

Only then did Torrance turn to Esme. “Are you harmed?”

“Nay,” she said, shaking her head and quickly reached to take hold of his arm.

Before she could, he pulled her into his arms, tucking her tightly against his side.

“You tremble,” he whispered. “Are you sure you are all right?”

“I have never been in the midst of battle before, seen so many men fall, or heard the cries of pain and death. It is quite unsettling.”

“Battle is no place for a woman. You did well,” he said, anger burning in his eyes for what she went through. “You will remain strong and by my side while I see to this.”

Stunned that he complimented her for doing well, being strong, rather than berate her for being weak, she barely managed to say, “Aye, my lord.”

Silent and with fierce anger in his eyes, Torrance led her across the hall to the high table on the dais. He helped her into a chair, then took the seat beside her, his presence commanding the room.

“Bring Stuart to me,” he bellowed, his voice hard as steel.

The disgraced chieftain was dragged forward, bloodied but alive, shoulders hunched as he was forced to kneel before the dais, before Torrance.

A heavy silence fell over the Great Hall, everyone waiting, yet knowing that Stuart would be drawn and quartered today, Torrance’s favorite punishment.

Torrance leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “If this had been done to you, an ambush in your hall, your wife threatened, what punishment would you demand?”

Stuart opened his mouth.

“A lie better not slip from your lips,” Torrance thundered in warning.

Stuart began to tremble as he got ready to speak.

A voice cut through the silence.

“My lord,” Roland, Stuart’s son, stepped forward, bruised and bloody but unbowed. “Please, my lord, I beg of you to spare my father. He made a foolish and grave mistake. I swear the loyalty of Clan Rennoch to you. Let me lead, and I will prove our allegiance.”

The hall fell into breathless silence once again, all eyes on Torrance, a man not known to spare his enemies, suffering was more to his liking.

Torrance remained silent. His gaze swept the crowd slowly, then lingered on Roland, before it dropped to Stuart, who still trembled where he knelt. At last, he spoke.

“Your father did not think to spare me. Why should I spare him from dying?”

A gasp rushed around the room, knowing Stuart was doomed.

“The clan will be loyal to you. You can count on us. We will serve you well,” Roland said. “I pledge my word to you on it. My warriors pledge their word.”

The surviving warriors nodded, agreeing with Roland.

Torrance scoffed. “You will be loyal to me whether you do or don’t, since I will have a mercenary group take control of your clan.”

A fearful gasp circled the room, all knowing the danger that could bring.

Roland raised his chin and kept his voice strong. “Forgive me, my lord, but that would only turn the clan against you. Would you not rather us be loyal servants than those who seek revenge?”

“You speak truthfully, unlike your father,” Torrance said, though suspicion lingered in his eyes.

“I will always speak truthfully to you, my lord, for the sake of my clan and my father’s life.”

Torrance leaned back in his chair and turned silent once again.

Breathes were held, tears fell silently, and prayers were mumbled.

Torrance turned to Esme. “What say you, wife?”

All eyes turned on Esme.

She surprised herself, her response spilling fast from her lips. “I think there has been enough suffering, bloodshed, and death today.”

Torrance leaned forward. “You are lucky I have a kind wife, Stuart, for I would have chosen to have you drawn and quartered in front of your clan along with your son and warriors. But it doesn’t mean you won’t suffer for daring to try to kill me and mine.”

Stuart spoke up. “I am a foolish man?—”

Torrance bolted to his feet and brought his fist down on the table with a hard blow.

“You are an ignorant man who will pay for his stupidity and foolishness. You will be taken to your own dungeon where you will remain until I decide to release you—if ever. You,” he turned to Roland, “will lead in his stead. But know this, I will leave men here. Should you falter, should your loyalty fail me, they will send word, and I will return… and you and your father will die, and your clan left to starve.”

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the room that Torrance had spared Stuart, his son, and the clan.

“See to your wounded, your dead, and keep in mind what future betrayal will cost you and your clan,” Torrance said. “And, Roland, you will take your father to his dungeon and see that he remains there until I say otherwise.”

“Aye, my lord. He will not see freedom without your word,” Roland assured him.

Torrance remained standing and silent, his hand resting briefly on the hilt of his sword, thinking that the lot of them were not to be trusted. But also thinking that Clan Rennoch might not be in this alone.

“Fresh drink for my men,” Torrance called out. “And you shall have first taste, Stuart, to make sure it is not poisoned.”

“The drink and food are not poisoned, my lord, that I can assure you,” Roland said. “My father would never waste good food and drink.”

“I’ll drink,” Stuart said, and his son helped him to his feet.

He drank two tankards full, his son keeping him from drinking a third and forcing him from the room, two of Torrance’s warriors assisting him.

“Drink and eat,” Torrance called out to his men, “while Clan Rennoch sees to their wounded and dead.

He went to Esme, leaning over her chair. “I need to speak with my men about those who will remain here. While I do, eat, if you can. We leave as soon as I am done.”

She was relieved to hear that, her heart finally slowing after all the tension and uncertainty.

“Are you sure you are all right?” he asked, his jaw clenching and his gaze scanning the hall once more. “I should have seen it sooner. The moment we were led to that cursed table.”

The concern in his voice and that he continued to ask how she was, had her resting her hand on his arm and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I am good, unharmed, because of you, and I am grateful.”

He met her eyes then. They were intense, unreadable. “I will always protect you, Esme. Always.” He ran his hand gently over her cheek. “Rest with ease. A warrior will remain by your side until I return.”

He barely stepped away from her when one of his warriors took a stand to her side, his eyes steady on all around him.

A servant lass approached cautiously with fresh food and drink, the warrior stopping her and looking over the serving board.

“It is a chamomile brew and the best of our meat and cheese,” the lass said with a gentle smile. “We are grateful you stopped more blood from being shed today, my lady, and grateful for the allegiance we now have with Clan Glencairn.”

“Hopefully, you will do well under Roland’s leadership,” Esme said as the warrior allowed her to place the board on the table.

“Roland seems more reasonable than his da. There is hope he will make a good chieftain.” She bobbed her head. “Much thanks again, my lady.”

“Before you go,” Esme said, stopping the lass. “Do you know of an elderly woman with long silver hair and draped in dark wool that was here?”

The lass shook her head. “Nay, my lady, I saw no such person, nor do I know of one. She may have been passing through and thought to join the celebration.”

“There was never a betrothal celebration for Roland, was there?” Esme asked.

The servant looked puzzled. “Nay, my lady, Roland is not betrothed. Chieftain Stuart claimed a day of celebration, that is all. It is something he does now and again.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” Esme said with a tender smile.

The servant lass nodded, returning the smile and hurried off at her name being called out.

Esme wondered over the elderly woman who spoke with her. Who was she? What was she doing here? And what did she know about Torrance? She would mention it to Torrance as soon as she could. In the meantime, she discovered she was hungry and ate, though there was too much there for her to eat.

It looked like she barely touched the food when she finished. So, she turned to the warrior left to protect her and held the board out to him, keeping her half-finished tankard.

“I cannot eat another bite. Please help yourself.”

His surprise showed in the widening of his eyes and his hesitation to respond, as if unsure what to do.

“Your fellow warriors are stuffing their faces,” she said with a chuckle. “It is only fair you eat as well. You can continue to keep watch on me while you do.”

He took the board. “I am grateful, my lady.”

He remained standing as he ate, his eyes ever watchful.

Esme saw that he got a tankard of ale and that actually brought a smile to the warrior’s face.

A yawn escaped her, at ease now after having eaten and calm being restored. She rested her head back against the high-top chair and closed her eyes to rest.