“I’ll be quick, Grant,” the baron bellowed back, his voice sickeningly familiar. “I want your niece, Grace. We arranged for our betrothal before the mighty storm hit us. She became frightened and ran away. I want her back.”
“You gave my niece bruises on her face and neck. She’ll go nowhere with you.”
“I’ll not leave until I get her.”
Gracie could almost see the fire in the baron’s eyes. She saw Jamie’s horse prance a bit, and fear clutched her heart, but Jake grabbed the mare’s reins and shot his brother a quieting look.
“You did not hear me, Crichton. You’ll not get her. And you will have to get past my sword to get to her.”
“You have twenty-four hours to send her out. If she’s not here by then, we will attack and kill as many of your clan as we can, including your women and children. I have a priest who willmarry us as soon as she leaves your gate. Think on it, Grant. You may have many men, but I have two hundred more warriors coming.”
“You have no right to the lass, so leave now.”
“Och,” the baron chuckled. “You are wrong about that. I took her maidenhead. She belongs to me. The king will grant my request as soon as my expert examines her. Twenty-four hours.”
Gracie turned around and ran all the way back to the doorway, down the staircase, and into her room. Now what was she to do? The vile man had lied about her. Jamie was the one who’d taken her maidenhead, but if she were examined, the doctor would say it was gone.
She would lose no matter what.
Chapter Twenty-One
Alex goes down in battle…
Jamie rode his horse to the left of his sire, and slightly behind him. The laird was always in the center, flanked by Uncle Robbie on one side, and Uncle Brodie on the other. Uncle Logan had been placed in charge of the warriors in the periphery so was not with them. Alex’s sons rode behind him—Jake on one end, Jamie on the other, and Connor in the center—but their cousins Roddy and Braden rode between them. This was done to ensure that two of the laird’s heirs could not be taken out in one swing. Magnus was behind Jake, and Finlay sat behind Jamie, their primary job to protect the laird’s heirs.
A sea of warriors in the Grant plaid fanned out behind them including Tormod.
Jamie had seen the archers in the curtain wall. He’d bet his cousins Molly and Ashlyn were among them, sickness and allfor Ashlyn, because they were both so powerful and true. Wee Kenzie was perched on the wall with his slinger.
The baron came forward as far as the Grant warriors allowed him, riding side by side with another man, probably Simon de La Porte. He guided his horse to a stop in front of Jamie’s sire. “Where is Gracie?”
“Gracie, who is married to my son, Jamie, is inside where I told her to stay. She’ll not be going anywhere with you.”
“That’s either a lie or they were just married,” the man said, his eyes practically glowing with fury. “I told you I took her maidenhead. You’d allow your pup to marry a wench? She gave it freely to me.”
Anger burned Jamie from the inside out, but he soothed himself with the thought that the baron would pay. It was only a matter of when.
“You have the tongue of a viper, and you disrespect my daughter-in-law,” Alex bellowed. “Take your men from my land or prepare to do battle, Crichton.”
He knew his sire’s tactics. The baron would never make it off their land in one piece. Alex was only acting reticent about the attack because he wanted the baron to believe he’d been right to think the Grants weak.
By the time he realized how wrong he was, it would be too late.
No one moved for several moments. Jamie took the time to size up their opponents. He noted that some looked young, though that meant little enough on a battlefield. He knew wee Kenzie could be deadly with his sling, and he was just a laddie. A moment later, the baron let out his war whoop. He swung his sword arm over his head as he rode straight for Jamie’s sire.
Alex fought him off, giving his own war whoop to signal to the Grant warriors that the battle had begun.
The field erupted into chaos and death.
Jamie moved in next to Uncle Brodie, keeping an eye on his sire as he blocked blows and made them, but Alex did not need anyone’s help—he sent the baron back easily, though two other warriors rode in to take his place. Jake forged ahead as he usually did, mounting his attack from in front of his sire but off to his right.
The sound of swords clashing echoed across the Highlands. The reverberation was so deafening that Jamie could not hear aught else. His knees controlled his steed as his weapon caught one rider in the belly, then another in the arm. Men’s screams rent the air as arrows flew overhead. He fought and fought, fueled by thoughts of the baron and Gracie—he wanted to be the one to kill the man who’d attacked his wife—yet trying to keep his emotions in check.
The baron had backed up after the initial onslaught, showing his true spirit. Jamie decided to make his way in that direction. He would knock that smirk off the baron’s face.
As the battle raged on, he noticed the number of red plaids now outnumbered the number of green plaids. He attempted to search the injured for Grants, but it was almost impossible because warriors were still coming at them from many directions. Bodies were strewn all over the ground, and horses fell and rolled in the skirmish, some getting up and wandering off.
Jamie’s sword arm, aching and tired, continued to strike and defend, but something caught him from the corner of his eye—his sire tumbling off his horse.
