Page 71 of His Secret Highland Bride

“MacColls.” Their name passed her lips like a hiss.

Both Jenny and Bess gasped behind her as Lindsay continued to watch through a slit in the curtain. If the MacColls had already set on the village, did that mean the MacPherson soldiers had fallen? But when she peeked out again, she saw it was only those three soldiers. Blood marked their once white shirts. They seemed to lean upon each other as if holding one another up. One held firmly to the banner showing two stars and an arrowhead.

She moved to the other side of the window to see another man leaving on horseback, the MacColl banner waving behind him. The other two men now sat together, holding a white flag of truce.

She looked to the dog next to her, who whined, and then back to the women. “Do they need help, or is this a trick?” she wondered out loud, and once again, the dog offered no help. She just cast her brown eyes on Lindsay as if asking what she should do.

So many questions and no clear answers.

“They are injured, holding a white flag,” she told the others. “I wouldn’t trust them if they told me the sky was blue. But they are in need of help.”

“Let them rot,” Jenny snapped. “It could be a trick.”

Lindsay looked to Bess as if waiting for the woman to break the tie. “I’ve never been one to turn away a person in need. If I’m wrong this time, God will surely see me avenged.”

Lindsay nodded in agreement. She needed to do the right thing, and she knew if she left them to die, it would haunt her the rest of her days.

“If it was a MacPherson bleeding outside of the MacColl holding, they would let us die,” Jenny said. She wasn’t wrong.

Bess answered, “Which is exactly why I am not going to do the same. I hope to say I am better than the MacColls. Don’t you?”

Lindsay nodded, though fear had clogged the words to reply. Instead, she gathered her things into a basket. Bandages, thread, and clean water. She also tucked a carving knife inside, just in case. Which made Jenny roll her eyes. It may not have been a proper blade, but it was better than nothing.

Her heart pounded as she opened the door. “You two stay here and bar the door until I return.”

“Nay. I’ll not tell my nephew I stood aside and allowed his wife to face this danger alone.”

“And there is no reason to put us all at risk. I will go. You stay here.”

Rather than give the woman a chance to argue, Lindsay stepped out and shut the door behind her. Snippets of things she’d heard over the years flashed through her mind. The MacColls ate the hearts of their enemies, even the children. But as she moved closer, she realized these men were not monsters. There were no fangs or claws to be seen. Simply ordinary men who needed assistance.

The man on the right set down the white flag and stood to come closer on unsteady legs to help her, as she would expect from any proper gentleman. She paused. Perhaps he planned to pull a dirk and cut her throat. She couldn’t yet be sure. She only knew if these men wished to harm her, she’d be ready. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“Thank ye for yer aid, mistress,” the man said, taking the basket to ease her burden.

“I will see to your wounds if you promise no harm will come from it.”

The other man laughed roughly.

“The lot of us have been trying to find a way out of the MacColl clan for a few weeks now. Our laird has left the clan in shambles, and it wasna all that great to begin with. He took in a demon witch who twisted his heart against his people.”

Shane had told her the same had happened to his father, who had spent the clan’s coin on baubles for his needy wife.

“Aye,” the other man agreed. “I’d wager we’ll all starve this winter anyway, so why not change allegiance to the MacPhersons? At least we might live to see spring.”

Lindsay chose not to tell them the MacPhersons weren’t so well off, either. Instead, she went to work. She stitched and dressed two wounds and gave them water. As they drank and rested, she returned to the cottage to inform the women the men were harmless. The other ladies and Tre returned with her to help the men into the cottage.

They’d all stay there and then go up to the keep as soon as the battle was over. Lindsay wondered how long that might take. How long until she knew the fate of her husband?

…

The battle started with a volley of arrows. The bolts, provided by Shane’s clan, soared through the air and met their marks as if guided by the hopes of his people. Men in the red tartan of the MacColls littered the ground before they’d even engaged.

Lindsay’s father spat on the ground and nodded that he and his dozen men were ready.

But it wasn’t enough. They were still outnumbered. If only another clan had been able to join them… As if Shane had summoned them by thinking of them, the Camerons poured over the hill from the west. Their chief said nothing, just gave a nod as he called out a battle cry and descended onto the field.

When the armies converged against the MacColls, many of their enemy’s warriors dropped their weapons in surrender—whether it was because it was clear they’d now lose or because they didn’t want to fight for the wily bastard they called laird, Shane wasn’t certain. Still, enough others fought that Shane frowned at several MacPherson bodies lying in the grass. They’d be mourned later. Now, Shane needed to fight so there wouldn’t be more of his clansmen’s blood spilled. Shane lost himself in the pulse of battle. His sword swung around as if an extension of his own arm as he slayed any MacColl that engaged him.