Bride of Mist (The Warrior Daughters of Rivenloch #3) - Glynnis Campbell Page 0,102
many years ago to kissing the arse of this worthless laird to burning the church at Kirkoswald, they had done what needed to be done.
And so they would now. Even if it meant stealing what resources they could, cutting their losses, and surviving to fight another day.
He wouldn’t give up on Castle Darragh. As long as he kept the laird alive, the keep belonged to Gaufrid. With Gaufrid in tow, Fergus and Morris could lie low for a while, bide their time, wait until Rivenloch left or grew careless, and return in triumph to take back what was rightfully theirs.
There was only one complication. They’d neglected to kill the rival laird. If Gaufrid left now, clan loyalty might swivel to Dougal. And that would be calamitous.
“Morris,” Fergus muttered as they edged along the inside of the courtyard wall, well away from the chaos of clashing swords and bloody savagery. “Go now. Kill the prisoner.”
Morris glanced at Gaufrid in concern. After all, the laird might have something to say about Morris murdering his brother in cold blood.
But the laird was too dumbfounded at the sight of a claymore-wielding Rivenloch warrior hacking the sword hand off one of his mercenaries to notice.
“Dougal?” Morris mouthed.
Fergus nodded.
Morris left to do his bidding, dodging his way across the courtyard to slip unseen through the doors of the keep.
Fergus tugged on Gaufrid’s sleeve. They too had to get to safety. The pair of guards accompanying them had keen eyes and naked blades. They would defend the laird with their lives. But that didn’t mean they were infallible.
Moving Gaufrid, however, wasn’t easy. He seemed stupefied by the battle raging before him. He stood frozen in place—his eyes wide, his jaw slack—as his men fell, one by one, under the swords of the invading army.
“Come on, m’laird,” Fergus snarled, wrenching at Gaufrid’s elbow. “There’s no time to waste.”
Privately, Fergus entertained the idea of throwing Gaufrid into the fray to see how long he’d last, defenseless against the towering warriors and vicious vixens who would love to see the Laird of mac Darragh chopped to bits.
They were halfway around the courtyard, heading toward the keep when Morris burst out of the doors. He was red-faced, sweating, and out of breath.
“He’s gone,” he wheezed.
“What do ye mean?”
“He’s not there.”
“Are ye sure?” Fergus bit out the words as calmly as he could when he felt like screaming. “’Tis a large cave. Did ye look in the shadows and—”
“He’s not there.” His next words made Fergus’s irritation congeal into icy fear. “The door was open. He’s gone.”
Chapter 34
When the wee maidservant came rushing down the steps to unlock the gaol door, Gellir was so glad to see her, he actually grabbed her by her orange-topped head and planted a quick kiss on her surprised brow.
After that, he couldn’t get much out of the tongue-tied lass about what had happened. But as they wound their way back up the stairs, he managed to learn that Feiyan was safe and that the army of Rivenloch was fighting the mercenaries in the courtyard.
As soon as he emerged in the ale cellar, of course, he was eager to join the battle.
“If I only had a weapon,” he despaired.
“Och!” Merraid exclaimed. “I forgot. Dougal left this for ye.” She reached behind a barrel and dragged out a sword, handing it to him hilt-first.
Gellir grinned. “He’s thought of everything.” He swished the blade through the air, testing its balance. “I suppose I won’t mind him marrying into my clan after all.”
Merraid blinked. “Dougal? Marryin’?”
“Shhh,” he whispered with a wink. “You didn’t hear it from me.”
She looked mildly stunned, but he didn’t pay much heed. After all, there was a battle to wage, and if hotheaded Hew had come, his cousin would need all the help he could get.
Still, he took her hand before he rushed off.
“You stay out of danger, aye? A wee lass like you could get hurt.”
She nodded, and he pressed a chivalrous kiss on the back of her hand—one that left her speechless. Then he bowed in salute and turned to exit the ale cellar. Loping across the great hall, he gave the sword one last trial swing, and then burst out of the doors into the thick of battle.
The skirmish raged below while his cousin Jenefer and her archers stood on the wall walk, firing arrows down at the enemy.
In the midst of the courtyard, his mother Deirdre fought back-to-back with his sister Hallie as they fended off two mac Darragh mongrels.