“I said ‘stop.’ You can, or you can carry on without me.” Caitlyn looked back, but nothing remained visible from where the gallowglasses attacked them. The men continued to encircle her. “Grant, ride to Dunure. You need tending, and it’s closer than Mangerton or the Hermitage. Which of you is the fastest?” Caitlyn stared at David, Mitcham, and Stephen.
“I am,” Mitcham spoke up.
“Ride for Mangerton. Get Brice and the laird. The rest of us ride to Redheugh.”
“Nay, my lady,” came a rumble of deep voices.
“We go to Dunure,” David decided.
“You may go where you wish then. But I am going to Redheugh. I am not riding farther from my husband, and I don’t trust that there aren’t men along this route waiting for all of us. They are less likely to go after one mon, especially one who poses little threat. Grant can move off the road and hide easier than seven of us. I’m not so foolhardy as to think I can ride to Mangerton Tower or Buccleuch without facing more threats. If not Redheugh, then the Hermitage. Robert Bruce will allow us to rest, and he will send for Angus and his men. Robert will be livid that the Scotts disobeyed his father, and he won’t be thrilled to have another battle so close to his home. He will side with us.”
Caitlyn’s certainty made the men pause. They each knew they could easily overpower her and force her to ride with one of them. They also knew someone needed to ride for Mangerton, and rallying the Elliots and Robert Bruce, the king’s illegitimate son, was a wise plan.
“If you take me to Dunure, my father will make me stay. He’ll do it to protect me, but I’m an Armstrong now. I need to get to Mangerton more than I do Dunure. And it they kill my husband, I—I—need to see him before they bury him. I—I—can’t do that from Dunure. I—” Caitlyn choked as she struggled not to sob as she considered the next time she saw Alex might be when the Scotts dumped his dead body on Armstrong land.
“Two lairds and Alex are likely to kill us.” David frowned as he exchanged glances with the other men. “Grant, can you make it?”
“Aye. It bled like a stuck pig, but it’s not that deep. If I douse it with whisky and try to get it clean, I’ll survive to Dunure.” Grant twisted his arm and grimaced, but he inspected his wound again. Duncan reached over and ripped Grant’s shredded sleeve from his arm and tied it as a tourniquet.
“Thank you,” Caitlyn whispered, her voice rasping as she forced forth the words. She reached her hand to Grant, squeezing it before he backed his horse from the circle and set off toward Dunure.
“Lady Caitlyn?” David shifted uneasily in his saddle. He glanced at Mitcham and Stephen. “Do you think less… Do you believe we…”
“Do I believe you should have tried harder to defend Alex?” Caitlyn guessed the man’s question. The three Armstrong guards nodded. “No. I don’t. I wish you could have, but Alex wouldn’t forgive you if you had. To fight for him meant leaving me unguarded. That’s unacceptable to him. He was more likely to die in that field than to leave it alive even before we rode out.”
“Lady Caitlyn,” Devlin spoke up. “We did the best we—”
“I know. I trust all of you with my life and Alex’s. There was a score to seven. They were going to overwhelm us with me there. If I hadn’t been…” Caitlyn swallowed the lump in her throat. “It would have been different. You could have really fought. You did what Alex wanted and what you’ve been trained to do. For that, I am more grateful than I have the words to express.”
“Mitcham, head home.” David clamped his friend on the shoulder and squeezed. “Keep yourself alive, cousin.”
It surprised Caitlyn to learn the men were family. She’d met all three of Alex’s guards before, but she’d never known their connection.
“Do the same.” Mitcham nodded before he left the group. He intended to travel overland rather than sticking to the roads.
“I don’t know why the gallowglasses aren’t interested in me, but we can’t be sure the mon spoke the truth. None of them will expect me to ride to Redheugh. I won’t believe Alex is dead until I see it for myself. The Elliots are our fastest chance for getting him back.” Caitlyn remained in the center of the four remaining warriors as they continued south.
* * *
Alex feared his teeth cracking as he clenched them, pain blurring his vision with each of Strong’s steps. The gallowglasses allowed him to ride his own horse. Realizing that his left arm posed no threat, they only tied the right to his saddle. He recognized it as silent mockery, not ambivalence. Unable to move it to rest in his lap, it swung lifeless at his side. Each motion tugged at the damaged sinews that barely connected his shoulder and arm.
The battle ended before it began, leaving Alex to listen to his opponents’ goading and gloating. They taunted him for surrendering, but he would have stripped naked and jumped into a pit of asps if it meant Caitlyn got away unharmed. Only the leader of the group seemed to recognize Alex’s reasons. A silent respect passed between them, and Alex wondered if the man had a family at some point. Comments about being a cripple buzzed around him, coupled with insults about his cowardice. He swallowed his tongue and forced his temper to remain in check.
Until Alex learned where they were taking him, and for what purpose, he planned to remain silent. He wondered if they headed to the Scotts’ keep or somewhere else. If they tasked the gallowglasses to murder him, he would already be dead. It meant the Scotts wanted him alive, either to torture or to kill. He’d endured more pain over the past half-year than any man should, so he doubted the Scotts would reap the entertainment they intended by torturing him.
“Armstrong.” The mercenary leader approached Alex as they pulled their horses to a halt near a stream. The man untied Alex’s hand before drawing a dirk and watching Alex climb down. “You fight like a caged animal, even with a wounded arm. If you weren’t an heir, I would hire you.”
Alex swept his gaze over the man, uncertain what to make of the compliment. “What’re you called?”
“Henry.” Both men knew he would give no clan name, so Alex accepted what the man shared.
“I’m curious aboot how much the Scotts spent to have more than a score of warriors chase after one mon.”
“We always travel in packs.” Henry shrugged as he glanced around at his men. “You’re worth a hundred pieces of silver. Five apiece.” Henry jerked his chin toward the men standing close enough.
“Why hire you? The Scotts had men at Stirling while I was there. They attacked me in the keep.”
“And didn’t kill you.” Henry grinned. “One bled to death, apparently. And the other can’t move his arm. Fitting, I would say.”
