Page 256 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“If I didna’ know better, I would think Lord Lochland had a hand in this,” Rhoslyn muttered.

“Aye,” St. Claire said. “But he would not attack until after he learned I had defied him.” He grasped Rhoslyn’s arms. “I will not see you until the battle is finished.”

“Who is the missive for?” she demanded.

“You need concern yourself with that only if I do not return.”

“Where are these men ye are getting?” she demanded. “Can you no’ command them to come to you? Why are you going after them? It is safer to stay within the castle walls.”

“For you, yes,” he said.

Then she realized his intent. “Ye mean to attack the men from their rear.”

“It is our best chance for success.”

“It is madness,” she said. “What if they beat you and break through the walls?”

“They will not.”

Before she could say more, he kissed her, long, hard and with a hunger that took her breath. He hadn’t touched her since her grandfather had been wounded. Her body flared to life and she suddenly wished they were alone. What would she do if he didn’t return from battle? She thought of his brother and shivered.

Rhoslyn sat with her grandfather until their attackers were spotted from the battlements. His breathing was strong and even, yet guilt washed over her when she left him and sought out Ross. There was no sign of St. Claire or the men he had gone for, and Ross offered no answers as to who the men were. She kept the household busy, until their attackers neared the trees beyond the castle.

When a young squire skidded into the kitchen, Rhoslyn looked up from the vials of herbs she inspected.

“They are coming,” the boy said in a breathless pant.

“Who is coming?” she demanded.

“Sir Talbot and his men. They are riding from the east.”

Rhoslyn exchanged a look with Mistress Muira.

“Who are the men?” the housekeeper asked.

“They are flying the banner of the Earl of Baliman.”

“Baliman?” Mistress Muira said.

A tremor rippled through Rhoslyn. Lady Taresa. Rhoslyn had yet to figure out her connection to St. Claire. Cousin? Aunt? Would a cousin or aunt send two hundred men to save an English relative they had never met? Would a cousin or aunt seek out that relative? Nay. But a mother—or grandmother—would.

“The enemy has demanded we open the gates and surrender,” the boy said. “They say two hundred more men are on their way to aid in Castle Glenbarr’s fall.”

“Dogs,” Muira muttered in unison with Rhoslyn’s gasp.

“I am going to speak with Ross,” she said.

Minutes later, Rhoslyn stood with Ross at the battlements. Her heart leapt into her throat at sight of the torch light that glinted off the early evening sky as if a great bonfire burned. Beyond, St. Claire and his men galloped toward them. The attackers couldn’t hope to breach the castle walls this night, much less before St. Claire arrived.

“They have no idea it is St. Claire who rides to them and not their reinforcements?” she asked Ross.

“No’ yet, but it canna’ be long before they discover the truth.”

A shout went up from one of the men on the battlements and Rhoslyn turned in unison with Ross to see another company of riders approaching from the east.

“Sweet God,” Rhoslyn whispered.

“Laird,” one of the men cried.