“Dinna tell me ye wished to marry me?” Saoirse sniped.
“I suppose he’s fucked ye like a cheap tavern whore.”
“Don’t speak—”
“Or what, Englishmon? Ye’re in nay position to issue me threats.”
“Ye shall regret this, Richmond,” Saoirse warned. “I dinna ken how ye’re involved or why ye arenae at Ach Dà Thearnaidh. Do ye ken who fights beside ma husband?”
“Aye, the Sinclairs.”
“Bluidy hell,” Wiley muttered before speaking up. “Do ye really think we came alone? Ma uncle Tristan and great-uncle Hamish came along with Monty Ross. Seamus rode with his brother. We number close to four-hundred-and-fifty men. I’d guess there were, mayhap, two hundred, two-hundred-and-fifty men against us. We will have won. Ye’ll have five clans riding on ye before noon. Uncle Mòr is the best tracker I’ve ever seen. Óg will torture ye for touching ma cousin. Ye bluidy daft bastard.”
They entered the bailey with a clatter of horses’ hooves. Stable hands ran out to gather the horses. Richmond pushed Saoirse from the saddle. Her legs couldn’t hold her, so she landed hard, knocking the wind from her. Wiley was at her side in an instant. Kirk and Ric pulled Richmond from the saddle and alternated landing punches. The sound of steel pulled free from sheaths made them stop. Richmond’s face bled, and Ric landed a kick to his gut for good measure before backing up. Wiley had a dirk in each hand as he kept Saoirse between him and his horse, which didn’t move, even when Saoirse bumped into it as she stood.
“Harold?”
Saoirse turned toward the woman’s voice, her mouth dropping open as she stared. She had loathed all of the surprises this night brought. She hated this one the most.
CHAPTER23
“Istill want to ken why they attacked us. They must have seen us among our army.” Magnus paced as their men regrouped and saw to their dead and wounded. They’d lost more than a hundred men, and nearly the same amount was injured. But they’d prevailed, and their surviving enemies were now bound prisoners. “It makes nay sense that they gathered to defend us, then they tried to kill us.”
“It’s us,” Monty stepped forward. “I believe they did it because they saw us riding with ye, and they believed ye betrayed them.”
“Ye told Siùsan that the Matheson insisted ye nay turn to Uncle Hamish for help after the floods.” Callum glanced at his uncle. “He wanted ye dependent upon his allies and him. Seeing the Sutherlands probably didna help either.”
“Mayhap, but something still feels off.” Magnus stopped pacing and stared in the direction Saoirse rode. It was dark, but he peered into the blackness as if looking hard enough would make her materialize. He’d sent riders to fetch her and the others, but they’d returned fifteen minutes ago without his wife or her protectors. “They have Saoirse. I canna stay here while she’s getting farther and farther away.”
“Ye dinna ken where they’re headed. I canna track them when it’s this dark,” Mòr reasoned.
“They headed east. I’m certain. They couldnae go to any of their territories without riding onto Mackenzie land. They must have head toward the Chisholms.”
“Aye, but they could have turned south once they reached them. The only ones who live northeast are the Macraes.” Seamus watched his brother, and it pained him to see the devastation on Magnus’s face.
“Regardless, we can head east. It’ll be daylight by the time we reach the end of our land. The path should be visible then. We’ll ken at sunrise which way they turned.”
“None of them have said aught.” Tavish pointed to the three lairds sitting with rope around their chests, binding them together, with ten guards surrounding them. “Do we take them or send them with the other prisoners?”
“Take them,” Liam decided. “We can exchange them.”
“Then we ride,” Hamish announced. There was never any dispute about riding through the night to chase Saoirse’s kidnappers. It was merely a debate about their route. “Lachlan and Callen will remain to see to the men. Once the dead have been buried, they’ll lead the army to Eilean Donan.”
Lachlan nodded as he watched his son. He’d fought valiantly and impressed his father and grandfather. But the aftermath of his first battle was taking its toll. He’d checked on Callen twice, but the lad had wished to be alone while he vomited over and over. Now he rested with his head between his thighs. It was the same reaction they’d all had after their first few battles. Lachlan recalled the tremors that ran through him for hours and how Hamish had given him space to work through his thoughts and emotions. He worried for his son, but he would follow his father’s example. They were three peas in a pod, so he trusted he did the right thing.
“Callen can see to the horses when he’s ready.” Lachlan intended to keep his son away from the massive burial plots they would use for the Sutherlands and their allies. Their enemies’ clans could come to claim their slain if they wished. It wasn’t their responsibility. “We’ll be on the road at dawn.”
He knew giving his son a few hours' rest and keeping him away from another potential battle was prudent, but he wished to support his family. However, as the Sutherlands’ tánaiste, he knew guarding the prisoners and keeping his heir from another round of violence was what was best.
“Thank ye,” Alex whispered. “I ken what ye wish isnae what ye must do. But I dinna want Callen to see more, and I dinna think ye do either.”
Lachlan nodded, deciding he’d given his son enough space after all. He went to check on him.
“I’m saddling ma horse and riding out. If ye plan to join me, be ready when I am.” Magnus announced. He fetched his saddle and hefted it onto his mount’s back. But he needed a moment to compose himself. He rested his forehead against his steed’s neck and stroked its head. They’d been a team for a decade, and it soothed his tension to lean against the stoic beast.
“We’ll get her back,” Alex said as he drew his horse beside Magnus’s. “I ken it’s yer right as her husband to slay whoever did this. But I willna hesitate if I get the chance first. She’s still ma lassie, even if she’s yer wife.”
Magnus straightened and looked at Alex. In the moonlight, he could see the tears that brimmed in the man’s eyes. They embraced, and it was the fatherly affection Magnus needed.
