Page 18 of Wolf Heir (Highland Wolves of Old #3)
Aisling's hands trembled with rage as she retrieved her bow and quiver from her pallet in the women’s quarters. She'd heard every word of Morag's order for the soldiers to stand down, claiming that Aodhan and Coinneach would manage any trouble his family was having beyond the castle gates.
Once Morag had barked her command and the soldiers had fallen back like a tide retreating, Aisling stood dumbstruck in the dim corridor, her mouth agape, fists balled at her sides.
Through the half-open door, she’d witnessed Morag’s hard eyes, the clipped, private whisper in which she assured the captain that Aodhan and Coinneach could handle any threat the crofters could possibly be facing.
The words stank of conspiracy. Aisling’s blood surged with a heat that lit her from scalp to toes, and she wanted nothing more than to throttle Morag right then and there, to scream her outrage until the castle’s stones trembled and the banners shuddered from their poles.
But Morag’s authority, for now, was absolute; the men would obey her, not some waifish girl with a wild streak and a bow.
The guards outside the chamber door stood with their faces politely blank, but Aisling caught the glint of amusement in their eyes as she stormed past them, her braid lashing her back like a whip.
She shouldered past a knot of servants cowering in the hallway and skidded on the rushes as she rounded the corner toward the gates.
Without wasting a moment, she’d waved to Niven, the lad who was their messenger boy, urgently telling him to warn Chief Hamish about the trouble at Coinneach’s home.
She couldn’t wait for Hamish to issue orders to send the men, if he even did.
The gates had already been closed, and she had threatened the guards that if they did not open the gate, she would hold them accountable.
Which had brought a smile to their lips as if they thought she was funny to think she could best any of them.
Her mind was a blizzard of curses. How dare Morag? How dare she? The crofters might not live at the castle, but they were still part of the wolf pack.
The gates themselves loomed massive, iron-bound, and shut fast. Two guards flanked the portal, one picking at his teeth with a twig, the other watching her.
They straightened when they saw her, but neither moved to block her way; their orders, she guessed, were to keep the rabble outside, not to restrain a kitchen maid.
She didn’t slow, didn’t blink. “Open the gate,” she ordered, already stringing her bow.
The first guard, young and pale, stammered, “We—Morag said—”
“Do you see she willna be stopped, Everett?” Ruadh and Everett pushed at the gates.
They creaked open a hand’s breadth, then a full span. Aisling slipped through, into the half-wild meadow beyond the walls. The air outside was thick with the scent of bruised grass and distant heather.
She ran, bow in hand, every muscle in her body straining forward, as if she could outrun Morag’s betrayal, outrun the years of being told to hold her tongue and know her place. The meadow grass whipped her shins; nettles stung her calves.
When she reached Aodhan and Coinneach, she couldn’t believe Aodhan would lay out the tactics, and when she took out two of the men he planned to target, he only had one left. Coinneach had to fight two when he was wounded!
She was glad she had taken Aodhan to task and even gladder that Hamish was irritated with Morag for making such a decision and that Hamish had sent men to help. Morag had no business running warfare matters unless she was the only one left in charge at the castle to do so.
As Aisling hugged Coinneach while they rode to the castle, she didn’t scold him for going into battle against an enemy intent on destroying his family’s home, despite her mother telling him not to fight until his wound healed.
She understood his need to protect his loved ones.
She felt the same way about her mother and his family.
“You are much skilled with the bow,” Coinneach said.
His comment pleased her. “I practice every chance I get in case I have to save you again and canna wear my wolf coat.”
“You took down Aodhan’s targets first.” He sounded amused.
“They were about to torch your croft, so aye. I didna know he would continue to believe that the other two men were yours to handle.”
“I’m glad Holgar didna know you had his brother’s bow.”
“He realized you had his sword though.” She snuggled closer to Coinneach. “I canna lose you.”
“Nor I you.”
“Did Morag stop the soldiers from going to our aid because she suspects something about me?”
“I dinna know, but I sent a messenger to speak to the chief at once. I couldna wait for them to aid you. I must tell you that Cook asked me if I had killed the Viking who owned the bow, and I finally said I had. I believe Cook brought it up in front of the kitchen staff so Gormelia would know I wasna one to be trifled with.”
“I’m glad Cook did.”
“Gormelia said I couldna have done so, that you killed the Viking, took his sword and bow, and gave the bow to me.”
“Well, now everyone will know you took down two Viking warriors with your bow. Only you, not Aodhan or me, were equipped with a bow.”
“And you truly have taken down two Vikings on your own, though you shouldna have had to, wounded as you are.” She was glad Coinneach wasn’t killed during the encounter.
Some of the men who had come to their aid howled in their human form, telling the crofters the Vikings were gone, and they could safely return to their homes.
Once Coinneach and Aisling reached the castle, several pack members lingered to see that everyone was returning safe and sound. They would have to wait a bit longer for the others to return.
Blair also waited to see if anyone needed medical attention. Blair hurried forth when she observed only Coinneach and Aisling riding in together. She must have seen the fresh red stains on his shirt and smelled his blood.
Before Aisling could dismount, one man helped her off the horse. Two men aided Coinneach before he fell off the horse.
“Take him into the barracks,” Blair ordered, sounding annoyed.
The men helped Coinneach into the barracks, despite his objections. “I’m fine. The stitches just broke loose.”
“Because you were no’ supposed to be fighting. Didna I say that?” Blair glanced at Aisling. “And what were you thinking? Going after Aodhan and Coinneach with just a bow and arrow?”
“She killed two of the five Vikings,” Coinneach said. “Drustan will want to add you to his staff as well.”
“Nay,” Blair said.
“He is only jesting,” Aisling said, scolding him. She helped him out of his shirt, and then her mother cleaned the wound again, repeatedly tsking.
Aisling retrieved fresh bandages and waited while her mother stitched the wound closed again. Then she helped her mother bandage him.
Drustan stalked into the barracks and shook his head. “Aodhan told me what the three of you had done.” He smiled at Aisling. “I will have to have you join my archers.”
Blair said, “Nay, you willna.”
Drustan laughed.
Aodhan and the other men returned and joined them. “How bad is it?”
“It will heal.” Coinneach was brusque with his response.
Aisling suspected he didn’t like the warriors fussing over him.
“To bed with you,” Blair said, with authority.
“Aye, do it,” Drustan said, confirming that’s where he needed to be. “I was sending a force to aid you, but learned afterward my order had been countermanded.”
“We heard,” Coinneach said.
Aodhan grabbed the bed next to him and removed his weapons and boots. “We both need sleep.”
Aisling removed Coinneach’s weapons and his boots. “Do you need anything? If Cook allows, I can go to the kitchen and get it for you.”
“Nay, lass. All I need is sleep and you.”
Aisling’s cheeks grew hot. She wished he wouldn’t say such a thing around her mother and others. To her privately, she welcomed his words.
“All right then.” She leaned over and kissed him. “Sweet dreams, my hero.”
He kissed her back. “Thanks for aiding us. I will see you in the morn.”
Aisling and her mother left the barracks to return to the keep and retire to their beds. “Coinneach had to go to his family’s aid,” Aisling said.
“The other men should have gone in his place. And you shouldna have gone at all.”
“He will be my mate.” Aisling frowned at her mother. “We’re serious about it and we’ll mate with or without your approval before long.”
“Aye, I know. It’s inevitable.”
“Then will you approve of our marriage?” Aisling hoped her mother was coming around.
“We are all tied together in this terrible mess. Aye, I give you my blessing.”
Aisling hugged her mother. “I love you.”
Her mother sighed. “We just have to be careful.”
Aisling said, “Morag stopped the men from going to aid Coinneach and Aodhan.”
“And you sent a messenger to inform Hamish.”
Aisling had hoped no one would know she had done that. Morag would be angry with her if she were to learn of it.
“Niven only told me about what had happened.”
The lad of nearly eleven was small for his age, but he held himself tall to make up for his small stature. Aisling had told him not to tell anyone who had sent him to see the Chief with the news. But Hamish might have asked him to verify the news's reliability.
From the far side of the bailey, Niven spotted Aisling with Blair, and his face split with a lopsided grin made for trouble.
Niven was as much a fixture of the castle as the well-worn parapets or the echoing din of morning bells.
His hair, dense and springing, seemed to have its own opinion about the wind that perpetually battered the keep.
He was ten, or nearly eleven—he asserted it was "ten and a third," but only when asked in front of others—and his brisk, self-important stride cut through the dirt floor of the inner bailey with the assurance of a grown man.