“There is no such thing.” Roderick frowned. He didn’t believe in curses. Glancing down, he saw nothing wrong with the girl other than she’d been abused. Her long, black hair fell away from a petite face . . . or it would be once the swelling went down. He feared for her safety if she stayed here.
He leveled his gaze back on the men and women and waited until all eyes were directed his way. Some looked annoyed, others slightly frightened. “Hear me and hear me well . . . I am Laird Roderick Scott, Warlord of Kirkurd. I proclaim this castle is now mine!” He paused and waited for his words to sink in. He heard the murmur ofThe Devil’s Laird. A name he’d been often called.
The rest of Fidach’s men lowered their weapons. He saw the fright in their eyes that his reputation always produced. “I’ll leave a few of my men with you. If ye canna pledge allegiance to me, then ye’er free to walk out the gate by sundown. After that, my men will show ye no mercy.”
It only took seconds before shouts went out, “Laird Scott! Laird Scott!” echoed through the crowd.
Roderick heard his name on everyone’s lips as they backed away to give him plenty of room. He wasn’t sure how he felt. It had been over a year since he had sworn vengeance against Fidach. Now justice had been done; yet he felt no satisfaction. Perhaps, it was because he’d not been the one to end the miserable cur’s life. He owed that deed to the girl. And that made one more reason he’d not leave her here to die.
Roderick made his way to the stone steps of the great hall. There he instructed his men what he wanted done. From the looks of disrepair around him, there was much work ahead of them. He’d take five of his best men back with him to his holding, they would be enough to provide a safe journey, but the rest would remain here. His army would grow with the capture of Berwick, which was on the English border but now his. It would take time to shape these men into what he wanted, after all, he was known for training the best men in Scotland.
Duncan pulled his mount up next to Roderick and asked, “What of the woman?”
Roderick jerked his head toward his first in command, but before he could answer, an older woman, heavyset and square-jawed, with gray-streaked, brown hair rushed through the door, and down the steps of the great hall.
“Is she alive?” The woman cried out as she scuttled over to his horse, where she placed a hand upon the girl. He got the impression the woman didn’t care if he was here to kill everyone in the castle as long as he protected the one he held. He also noticed her face showed bruises like those of her mistress.
“Aye, but barely,” he finally said. “I take it ye know this woman?”
She nodded but didn’t look up at him. “I am Lady Siena’s maid, sire.” The servant answered hastily, then continued, “I have been with Siena since the day she was born, and I can tell you she is not safe here.”
“Why is that?”
The woman placed both her hands on her ample hips. “Her good-for-nothing brother convinced everyone in the holding that Siena is possessed. It’s because of Fidach that they do not trust her.” She waved a hand in the air. “Can they not see how she has been mistreated? Her brother should have been killed long before now,” she finished, and then muttered under her breath. “We’d all have been better off.”
He nodded toward the girl. “So Fidach did this to her?”
“Aye.”
Roderick took a deep breath. He wished the son of a bitch were still alive so he could beat him to a bloody pulp before killing him again. Finally, he asked, “Yer name?”
At last, Agatha managed to look at the warrior on the great beast and she had to catch her breath. Good Lord Almighty, the man was huge with broad shoulders and his eyes were dark and cold, so that she felt like he was looking through her. He wasn’t bad to gaze upon if she could only stop shaking. “M--my name is Agatha, sire.” She curtsied, clumsily. “I beg you, protect Lady Siena and take her away with you.”
“You and I agree on one thing . . . Fidach should have died sooner,” Roderick said with a nod. Agatha smiled, and he knew right away he liked something about her. She had an honest face and he saw kindness also. He studied her for a moment, then commanded, “Go and pack for yer lady and yourself. You will be returnin’ with us.”
Once Agatha had scurried off to do his bidding, Roderick told Duncan, “Give me something to wrap around the lass’s arm, or she’ll be dead by the time we camp tonight.”
Duncan produced a long strip of clean cloth to wrap the woman’s arm. He agreed. The cut was a nasty wound indeed, so he poured whisky over it, then wrapped the cloth around her arm. Duncan wondered at the odd behavior of his leader. Why hadn’t Roderick handed the girl to one of his men, so his hands would be free? It was almost like he was protecting her. The woman was definitely in bad shape, and Duncan couldn’t call her pretty with her swollen eye and a fat lip, but it was the first time in a long while that Roderick had shown any interest in a woman. Nonetheless, Duncan would not question his leader. He knew of Roderick’s temper. He wasn’t one to be crossed.
Roderick turned his horse, so he was facing the crowd. He waited as one by one the people approached him and pledged their allegiance to him. When all had finished, Duncan reported that five soldiers had left the castle.
“That is their choice,” Roderick said. “Bring three horses from the stables around here.”
“Three?”
“Is it not what I said?” Roderick asked with a frown. He wasn’t used to explaining his actions, but to get Duncan moving he added, “Lady Siena and her lady’s maid plus an extra horse for their belongs. They will be accompanying us back to our holding.”
He saw Duncan raise his brow to question bringing the lasses with them; however, he knew better and once again held his tongue. Roderick couldn’t explain why he’d chosen to take this woman with him, other than he wanted to protect her, which made no sense at all.
He picked five of his most stalwart men to ride with him, and a short time later they were ready to leave. He instructed Gareth and Maclean to strap the bags, which Agatha had packed onto the extra horse. After giving final instructions to Gordon for securing the castle, Roderick and his men began their journey back to Black Dawn.
“Fergus take the lead,” Roderick commanded as they crossed the drawbridge.
The weather was brisk, but their speed was good as they traveled across the rolling countryside. He didn’t much like riding out in the open and would feel better once they passed over the Cheviot Hills up to higher ground. They had ridden only a few hours, when Duncan rode up beside Roderick. “Are ye certain the lass is alive?” Duncan asked.
Roderick glanced down at the warm body held next to his chest. “Aye.”
“What are ye going to do with her?”
