“There are three,” she said. His eyes scanned the forest, which was thick as an emerald blanket with foliage, but she pointed toward the left. “The first is settled behind a boulder closest to the far side of the stream. The second is upon your right, Callum, nearest the waterfall’s edge, high on that ridge. He has the best angle and will shoot the kingfirstwith his arrow. Sorley is the one you spied, my knight, beyond across stream with his aim second for the king, who stands in the distance beyond, within the meadow, with a falconer at his side.”
If not for the circumstances, Aonghus would have taken better notice of the pure shock on both faces flanking him from the sheer power she harnessed.Time to slay.His brother was the best archer, even wounded. Aonghus raised his palm pointing toward the falls, indicating for Callum to travel –There, brother,and intercept the gravest threat.His older brother nodded, his face a mixture of death with determination.Good.Aonghus then pivoted toward Sir Brayden, who nudged his horse south, headed for the enemy closest to him, after Aonghus tilted his brow in that direction.
“Keirah,” he breathed the words solemnly, “close your eyes, my Cluaran; I donotwish for you to see death twice when I slay Sorley.”
The brush from her lips pressed against his tunic-covered shoulder before she pulled herself tighter while burying her face against the muscles upon his back. Good, he could at least spare her some fragment of peace. His fist loosened on the reins. Laoch took the slack while he squeezed his heels onto the stallion’s ribs as he unleashed a Gaelic cry, which matched his older brother, who had taken his aim up on the ridge andreleased the arrow on the first warrior – impaling him, from the wail the enemy gave.
The stallion will clear those raging waters!Charging over the terrain, the stallion hit the banks of the rapids, and Aonghus leaned closer toward the beast’s neck, taking Keirah with him, as the creature fit for a giant soared through the air, jumping the full stretch. As they landed on the far side, Sorley turned their way; his face blanched at the newfound sight.
The arrow Sorley had nocked for the king, who was now in his viewpoint upon the meadow below with Sir James at his side, became aimed at him and Keirah instead!No way, traitor!
Time. Distance. Angle. He had all three. A vicious roar tore his lips as he sent the sword soaring the air toward the chainmail-clad warrior’s weakest spot. Sorley’s neck appeared chopped the same as a tree limb from Sorley’s body.Thud. The lifeless traitor dropped onto forest floor, and the legacy from three Scottish brothers turned traitors to the crown collapsed.
Sir Brayden’s aim was true when his opponent cried out before annihilation, and the knight’s words rang the trees proclaiming, “Victory! To the King of Scots!”
Aonghus and Callum yelled in unison from their flanks declaring, “VICTORY! TO THE KING OF SCOTS!”
Chapter 26
Royal Castle
Mouth of River Ayr
Ayr, Scotland
They’d made it this far!
King Alexander had presented the first olive branch by sending barefoot friars on the initial assembly to King Håkonsson, but not to be outdone, Norway’s king sent his own delegation to meet the King of Scots at his royal castle where Keirah now found herself. The sprinkle from salty sea air tickled her nose at twilight as they rode into the castle’s bailey. It really was a castle fit for a king; the outer curtain wall’s height was complemented by the goliath-sized keep directly in the center.
The King of Scots, determined not to appear weak before King Håkonsson by having a shade cast over him from his own subjects threatening his life three days ago, gave the command the attack wasneverto be acknowledged.
Three days. Was it really only three days? Hell! It felt more like a fortnight.Tension. Tension was to blame; it hadbeen as heavy as the scent from those pines in the forest as guards to tasters were tripled around the king.
Don’t forget Sir James.She rubbed her eyes. Ugh! The forever hater had unleashed a steady stream of complementary anguish on her knight, all under the guise Aonghus’s talents were stellar. They were, of course, but that vindictive rooster-tailed arse! He had demanded her Aonghus stand guard on the treacherous all-night watch for the whole journey in pouring rains.
Two nights, no sleep. She glanced up when Aonghus handed Laoch’s reins into a stable lad’s care. A trace of plum beneath his cobalt eyes – aye, he looked tired. Hell, she most likely appeared no better. Her waking hours had consisted of staying by the king’s side at all times in case any unseen threats tore free on the journey here. Quest accomplished – all arrived safely!
Her fingers yanked slightly on the linen covering over her fading bruised jaw from Seumas as they entered the keep. At least the ugly wound was hidden beneath her wimple while she stood, finishing the introductions toward the mass of Scotsmen clad in furs and grins beside their ladies in embroidered surcoats and smiles who were the gracious Clan Stewart. Once done, would she be released to her chambers for a rest prior to the feast and meeting the delegation yet to arrive from King Håkonsson as promised? Hopefully. But rest? Never-ever. Her gaze flickered skyward:Saints please forgive!Two nights and one whole day traveling, there was a single thought: MacCade. Time alone with MacCade…and kisses and touches and needs to be savored!
Where had her knight in full chainmail tunic disappeared to? The High Steward of Scotland called Dundonald, also rumored to be the chosen one to lead the royal forces, vanishedwith the king down the north passageway, most likely toward the solar, but Aonghus had gone down the other passageway with a servant.
A warm drip hit her knuckle. She looked skyward at the towering ceiling in the enormous great hall where the feast would be held later. Wax from one of those candles, it must have been. Had she ever seen such a colossal iron chandelier with candles glimmering the same as sunlight on loch’s surface? No. This castle was fit for a king’s presence.
A tiny tug pulled at her gown’s back skirt. She glimpsed over her shoulder – huh, empty. Her gaze dropped lower.Oh my, look at the wee greeter!A shy expression covered the wee lassie’s face as much as the freckles she wore.Absolutely adorable.
“Would you be the Lady Keirah?”
Eye level. Shemustbe eye to eye with this tiny treasure. She dropped onto a knee, meeting the blue gaze surrounded by the longest lashes she had ever seen on one so little. “Aye, and who might you be?”
A blush deepened under the freckles.Oh, she is captivating. “Edina Stewart,” a voice peeped. “You truly saved the king in his hall, my lady?”Word had traveled in haste regarding the treasonous taster.
“Aye, Edina.” A grin missing a front tooth met her; so did a hand bearing a full-bloomed primrose. “Such a grand find surely cannot be for me.”
“’Tis, my lady.” The chubby fingers thrust the flower into Keirah’s hand, before she plopped forward slightly to kiss Keirah’s cheek, then bolted, resembling more a fairy in flight than a girl, to vanish about the corner with a fit of giggles.
She looked down at the flower for a long moment while remaining on her knee. This…this would never be her. She would never feel her own daughter bestowing such a loving gesture. If only the emptiness filling her spirit at knowing she would never possibly have a child of her own would halt. Her free hand rubbed her eyes again when her vision turned blurry. Wasn’t this the reason she had fought so hard to be here? To secure Scotland’s future? Her fingers drew heavier on the flower’s stem. Mother or fate-seer. An impossible choice.
A warm hand grasped her arm. She looked up. Aonghus. He stood with a solemn expression, worn most likely at seeing the exchange with Edina. What could they say? The circumstance was cast at her own fate needing to remain without hope of a child.
