Page 20 of The Highlander’s Virgin Nun (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY

“L ady Sinclair?” the soft voice of a young woman called from the door.

Rosaline looked up from her book. “Come in.”

A young maid entered the room. She was shy but had a small smile, simply unsure of her role here and how to conduct herself. Rosaline gave her a reassuring smile.

“The Laird is at the castle gates and asked me to fetch ye. He’s wonderin’ if ye would like to join him for a walk.”

“Thank ye, I’ll be right down.”

The maid nodded once and stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Rosaline marked her book and left it by her bed. She smoothed her hair and skirts in front of the mirror and made her way to the castle gates to meet her husband. Once outside, she spotted him chatting with some of the guards and made her way to him.

“I understand, Me Laird. We will be on watch at all times and make sure that each one of us is well-armed.”

As Rosaline approached, she overheard the end of their conversation and sensed the seriousness in the head guard’s tone. When they noticed her arrival, they switched to a more relaxed posture and turned to greet her.

“Lady Sinclair.” They bowed their heads.

Caelan took her hand and kissed it. “Good mornin’,” he greeted.

“Good mornin’. Is everythin’ all right?” Rosaline asked the head guard as much as she asked Caelan.

“Aye, Me Lady. Laird Sinclair was just ensurin’ that our security measures are up to par as usual and that we have the right equipment to defend the castle.”

“Defend the castle from what? Are ye expectin’ an attack?” This time, she spoke directly to Caelan.

“Nay, Rosaline. But it is best to always be prepared.” Caelan turned to thank the guard and started to lead her away.

Rosaline furrowed her brow. “What is goin’ on, Caelan? Have ye received news from somewhere?”

“Nay, I am expectin’ nothin’. I am simply ensurin’ that measures are put in place. This is somethin’ I do regularly as Laird—ye have nothin’ to worry about.”

Rosaline’s brow remained furrowed despite his reassurances. Still, she tried to let it go for now.

“What did ye call me for?”

“Just for a walk with me wife,” Caelan replied.

But she knew he was busier than that, so she waited in silence for a more honest answer.

“I wanted to discuss yer role as Lady Sinclair.”

“I think that’s a good idea. I am unsure what is expected of me, but I intend to fulfill it, whatever it is.”

“I ken ye do,” Caelan murmured.

He led them to the edge of the village, where the gardens were. There were rows upon rows of vegetables growing in the soil—carrots, onions, potatoes, and turnips. Many had started to sprout, and a few villagers walked through the rows, tending to them.

These vegetables fed the castle and the villagers all year round, and the plants required constant care to stay fruitful. At the end of the vegetable patch were long rows of fruit trees, growing apples, oranges, and lemons.

Caelan led them through the rows of vegetables and towards the trees.

“As ye have seen, this isnae a clan run on fear. I dinnae order and punish me servants into subservience. We are well-managed, and me servants are paid for their time. They should respect ye out of mutual respect. Therefore, ye arenae expected to become a dictator.”

“Exactly how I would prefer it,” Rosaline murmured.

It was the first time she had clarity on why all of the servants were so pleasant with Caelan and the rest of the Moore family. She had always suspected they were instructed to appear that way but had never found proof. They truly were there because they were treated fairly and justly.

“However, I do need yer help on other matters.”

“Of course.”

“Apart from growin’ and carin’ for our child, which will become the priority as yer pregnancy progresses and will come second to nay other duty, I would like ye to be a part of the council.”

Rosaline jerked her head up in surprise. “But only men sit on the council.”

“Nay, me maither always did, and Alexandra could if she wanted to. I appreciate a woman’s viewpoint on trivial clan matters. Men are inclined to attack and defend, whereas women are more likely to slow down, consider, and plan. I need that logic on me council.”

“But I ken very little about clan matters, warfare, or politics.”

“Nay, but ye are clever and careful. Ye are subtle, and ye survived a lot. I would like yer insight on defense strategies.”

Rosaline tried to digest his words. She had never been praised for her personality in such a way before.

She figured her ability to remain silent and invisible by following orders was a weakness. She had always believed that she was taking the coward’s way out. She had never considered it a clever survival strategy, one that got her through the torture at the Abbey and out the other side of it.

“All right,” she agreed after a few moments’ thought. “I dinnae ken if I will be of great use to ye, but I can certainly try.”

“Good.” Caelan nodded once. “I would also like ye to learn self-defense techniques.”

Rosaline was even more confused now. Women were never trained to fight. She did not even have the words to inquire.

“I am nae suggestin’ a full soldier’s trainin’, and I am nae askin’ ye to kill in cold blood. However, I want ye to ken how to use a shield. I want ye to see how people fight, how they trick, so if anyone ever tries to come at ye or our child, ye would be able to defend yerself. I hope that never happens, but if it does, I will be right by yer side to fight for ye. But we must prepare for everythin’ in order to ward off whatever comes our way.”

“Aye,” Rosaline murmured. “I will learn.”

She was unsure, and all this talk of self-defense was worrying her. She knew that Caelan was always under threat—he had explained that to her. But this seemed like an excessive and sudden amount of preparation. Still, she wanted to be prepared.

Maybe this was just about bringing her up to his level of preparedness, and as his wife, she had to obey.

“Other than that, yer time is yer own. Ye may read as much as ye like, go ridin’, embroider with Alexandra—do anythin’ ye like. This is yer home now; ye are nay longer a guest. Ye should make yerself comfortable here.”

Rosaline considered his words. They were hard to digest.

The concept of home and freedom was foreign to her after so many years under the nuns’ rule. She was just beginning to find out who she was, rediscovering her likes and dislikes. It was a pleasure to be able to do so, but she was still holding back. She knew that at some point, she would have to start trusting that this life really was hers and relax into it.

“Ye willnae have too long until the baby comes. It’ll fly by. So, enjoy yer time to yerself before then.”

“Ye’re right,” Rosaline sighed. “It isnae somethin’ I have ever envisioned for meself. Motherhood, I mean. But now, it seems right.”

They walked through the garden together, now passing the edge of the fruit trees, pondering their future together.

What would their child look like? Would it be a boy or a girl? How would they tell Alexandra? She would be overjoyed.

Suddenly, Caelan placed a hand on Rosaline’s belly, pushing her gently behind him.

“What’s wrong, Caelan?—”

“Hush.”

He stood in front of her and scanned the gaps between the trees. As they were planted deliberately to bear fruit, they were all spaced evenly and in rows. It was easy to see through them. It would be very hard to hide, unless you were doing so very carefully.

Rosaline also scanned the trees but saw nothing and heard nothing.

“What did ye hear, Caelan?” she whispered.

“Just stay very close to me,” he whispered back, pulling her into his back with his arms behind him.

Rosaline pressed herself against him. Her heart was racing, but she could see no sign of movement in the trees. Caelan had been talking about attacks all day long, preparing for every possibility. Maybe he was just being paranoid.

But then she heard the slightest noise—the sound of a twig snapping. And not just one, but multiple. All at the same time.

As Caelan turned in place, keeping her behind him, the shadows moved, trying to stay hidden. But nature had betrayed them. It was rarely silent.

“I ken ye’re there. Show yerselves!” he roared.

Rosaline had never heard such a tone before. It was animalistic, bloodthirsty. It scared her at first, but then she remembered that he was on her side and was glad of his ferocity.

A moment passed, their eyes darting everywhere, trying to judge the distance between them and the assassins. Suddenly, in one swift movement, four bodies emerged from the trees about twenty feet away.

Large armed men, all bearing swords and shields, began to dart through the trees towards them. They did not run straight, but diagonally, jumping from tree to tree so that Caelan had to figure out which one would attack first. They were trying to distract and confuse him.

Rosaline’s heart began to hammer against her ribs. They were coming from all directions. No matter how close she stood to Caelan, he could not possibly be between her and the attackers at all times. And what if they injured him and she was left defenseless? She had absolutely nothing to defend herself, other than her still-weakened body.

She saw the determination in Caelan’s stance, though. His eyes tracked their movements, but his body stayed loose and nimble. His legs were slightly bent, and his sword was already drawn.

Just as the first man was closing in, Caelan reached quickly into his sock and pulled out a small dagger. He placed it in Rosaline’s hand and then readied himself to fight.

“Only if ye absolutely must,” he instructed, before lunging at the first attacker.

He swung his sword high above his head and brought it down with a war cry and the weight of the world. He sliced directly through the first man’s shoulder, completely detaching his arm and with it his sword. The man fell to his knees, and blood sprayed out of his arm like a geyser.

Rosaline clamped a hand over her mouth in horror, but Caelan simply nudged her behind him as he turned again, using the first attacker’s body as a barrier at her back.

“Come on, ye bastards!” he yelled as the second attacker closed in.

This man looked slightly daunted by the gruesome death of his comrade, but he hurried onward, regardless. He took a swing at Caelan, which almost cost him his arm, but Caelan ducked at the last moment and slashed the man’s knees. The man howled in pain as he fell and dropped his weapon immediately. Caelan kicked his sword backward, far out of his reach, and searched for the next attacker.

Rosaline turned with him this time, understanding his movements. She was doing everything in her power to keep her composure. She did not want to distract or slow him down, so she held her breath and kept herself small.

But this time, she saw the third attacker approach slowly. Immediately, she and Caelan looked around for the fourth attacker and found him behind them, coming at the same slow speed.

“What are ye goin’ to do now, Sinclair?” the third attacker asked, an evil grin on his face. It reminded Rosaline of Sister Maude instantly. A face that adored inflicting pain. “Ye’re goin’ to have to pick between yer life and the life of yer bonnie wee wife.”

The men closed in on them, timing their movements so they would come within fighting distance at exactly the same time.

Rosaline gripped the dagger in her hand, prepared to use it to at least buy Caelan some time. She doubted that she could kill either of these men, but if she could at least dodge their swords, she could perhaps stab somewhere painful enough to make them pause for just long enough.

“When I tap yer side, I want ye to duck down and slide between me legs,” Caelan muttered under his breath, without even moving his lips.

His voice was so quiet that Rosaline was barely able to decipher the words. But once she had, she bent her knees beneath her dress, pretending to cower in fear, lowering herself so she could move as swiftly as possible.

“It’s all over now, Sinclair. We told ye we would get ye one day. The day has finally come,” the third attacker snarled.

“Come and get it then, ye heathen,” Caelan growled.

The man advanced quickly, his sword rising above his head, ready to strike.

Rosaline heard the fourth attacker’s footsteps pounding into the ground behind them, approaching as quickly as his large body allowed. She was desperate to duck out of sight. Her skin burned in areas she thought might take the first hit, but she trusted that Caelan wanted her to wait for the right moment. It felt like an eternity, waiting for the tap.

Just as she heard the fourth attacker’s footsteps get within five feet of her and the other arrive within swinging distance of Caelan, she felt a tap on her side.

She ducked down and dived between Caelan’s legs. The one in front swung at Caelan and nicked his neck, but Caelan drove his sword straight through his chest, burying it deep between his ribs.

Just as the man fell, Caelan snatched up his sword, leaving his own in the man’s chest.

The fourth attacker swung his sword directly where Rosaline’s head had been only moments ago and pierced through the air in which she had stood. Caelan twisted his torso without moving his legs and used all of his strength to catch the man from behind, right in the side, cutting through flesh and muscle.

Blood poured down the man’s kilt as he fell to the ground and landed on his belly, his face directly across from Rosaline’s. She saw the blood drain from his face and the life leave his eyes.

Eventually, the noises of nature returned, accompanied by the whimpers of dying men and the spray of blood.

Rosaline was suddenly lifted from the ground; she could feel Caelan’s hands under her arms. He placed her on her feet, took her hand, and dragged her out of the trees.

She felt her body move, but her mind had gone blank. She was in total shock, her mouth hanging open, her eyes filled with tears that would not even fall.

Once out of the trees and in plain sight, Caelan finally slowed their pace.

“Send guards to the forest; we have been attacked!” Caelan yelled to the farmhands, who sprang into action and ran for the castle gates.

Caelan lowered Rosaline to the ground and knelt before her. She saw blood on his neck and arm where the enemy’s blade had caught him, and the spray of the attackers’ blood on his face and clothes, just like the first time she had laid eyes on him.

“Are ye all right? Did they hurt ye?” he asked, a hint of panic in his voice. He lifted her arms and checked her legs.

“Nay, I wasnae hurt,” Rosaline managed, wanting him to stop his frantic movements.

“Rosaline,” Caelan exhaled, his shoulders slumping. “I am so sorry.”

“It isnae yer fault. Ye couldnae have?—”

“It is. It is me fault for bringin’ ye into such a dangerous world.”

Rosaline shook her head, but Caelan’s eyes had dropped to the ground.

“Ye have to leave. I am sendin’ ye back to yer braither.”