Highland Persuasion (The MacLomain Series- Early Years) (6 page)

In fact, the more she thought about it the more Iosbail couldn’t help but wonder if that’s the very reason Edgar had sent them on so quickly. Aye, it was no secret the king felt threatened by Alexander, but would he purposefully send him to his death? It seemed more and more likely.

Iosbail had traveled the whole of Europe and Scotland alone. She knew now, even without magic, her wiles would see her through. What astonished her most was that she was concerned not for herself but those around her. Unable to quite pinpoint from where the sensation had derived, she shifted uncomfortably and eyed the darkening forest. When her eyes drifted to Alexander she felt the nervous sensation sharpen.

Disgruntled and frustrated, Iosbail focused on her vengeance.

To have her heart soften even a fraction toward the Sinclair chieftain would be her ruin. She could already hear Adlin’s words had he been here.
“You always were weak when it came to the kindness shown a wee one. You could seduce every man in Scotland then walk away. It will be the lad who’s kind and noble when you never thought he would be…when you never thought he could be…who will grab your attention. God help him that he knows what to do with your heart once he has it.”

The very thought of a Sinclair holding her heart made Iosbail nauseous. Nay, ‘twould
never
happen!

Low clouds further darkened the path ahead and a light drizzle started to fall. Even though she barely knew the lasses assigned her by the king, she glanced back to check on them. Like her, they’d pulled their plaids over their heads. When she glanced forward, Iosbail felt rather than saw a shift in Alexander’s posture.

The laird was discomforted, uneasy.

Iosbail leaned forward slightly and whispered soft words of reassurance in her horse’s ear. The beautiful beastie had turned nervous as well, felt only in the miniscule switch of her pace, the slight back and forth motion of her head. Even though the mist turned to a steady rain and the wind shifted, Iosbail still heard the low whistles and clicks that most would think the sound of a forest when wet.

Oh, but to be wearing trousers and not a skirt. She was ill prepared for what she knew was coming. Hand on dagger, she watched the trees closely. Within the shadows lay more shadows. Her horse grew more uneasy.

Suddenly, Alexander lifted his blade and roared, “Commit thy work to God!”

The Sinclair war cry.

The woodland exploded with raging activity.

Iosbail slid from her horse. Before she could reach the first lady, an arrow pierced the poor lass’s chest. Silent, determined, she ran and pulled the second lady down. When the girl made to scream she covered her mouth and pulled her into the nearby brush. “Silence,” she whispered.

Thank the gods, she listened. With a finger to the girl’s lips she leaned close and locked eyes with pure terror. “You must stay silent and motionless. Do you ken?”

With a jerk like motion the girl nodded.

“I will be right back.”

Though the girl shook her head, Iosbail crouched and made her way around the brush. Swords clashed and blood spilled. It was hard to tell friend from foe as horses fell and ran, as rain fell harder.

Shamus came into sight first. He fought like an Irishman, not by blade but by fist. Two men lay motionless; a third was taking a heavy pounding.

A stranger appeared. “Aye, what’s a wee bit like you doing out here?”

Iosbail didn’t hesitate but turned and plunged her blade into the man’s chest, right up to where she knew the tip would hit the horrid beat of his heart. Without hesitation, she ran to a fallen clansman and grabbed his sword. She might be petite but she was made of muscle.

When an arrow thumped the ground beside her she grinned. Eyes wild she ran in the direction from which it’d come. Too late, her target was already running in her direction. With a wild cry she swiped her blade. He evaded. She spun and ducked as his blade cut the air over her head. It was hard to remember the last time she’d battled like this. Alive, thrilled, she stabbed forward but missed. He cut low but missed.

Time slowed. Life became a living, breathing thing.

No magic would save her now.

Only her wits and blade.

Iosbail threw off her fur cloak. With a come hither motion of her head, she held the blade high and true. Then, as if she realized it too heavy for her frail body, her expression wavered and her arms shook. Thinking her weak, the enemy rushed forward. Then, with a mighty show of muscle, he swung. She dropped to her knees and thrust. Her blade sliced through the man’s midsection.

As his body crumbled over hers, Iosbail smiled, triumphant.

Lord, it felt good to have no magic!

With a grunt, she shoved aside his lifeless body and stood. Cries of pain rang out from every direction. She had but a split second to lock eyes with an approving Shamus before the next warrior rushed her way. He’d made it halfway before a blade sailed through the air and took him through the back. Fur cloak bloodied, Alexander ran her way.

“We flee.
Now!”

“Why?” She asked breathless.

“Hundreds more coming.”
He made a motion to Shamus and grabbed her hand.

“Wait, there’s a lass!”

Alexander followed her to the nearby brush. Though tears streaked down her face the lass still lived. Blessed be. Even as the Sinclair crossed blades with oncoming warriors, Iosbail crouched, took the girl’s face in her hands and leaned close. Eyes locked she said, “’Tis time for you to be the bravest you ever have. You will follow me straight out of this hell. You will follow me until the day I tell you that you are free. Do ye ken, lass?”

“Aye, mistress,” she whispered. Iosbail looked even closer. The girl had spirit in her. She was well worth saving for she had a life ahead of her still.

“Aye, then.”
Iosbail tied the cloak tighter around the girl’s neck. “When I say run, you run.”

She nodded.

No time like the present. Iosbail swung and raised her blade. “Run!”

As if they’d timed it, she and Alexander ran and fought, ever the protective wall around the fleeing woman. They were within feet of a new path when Shamus joined them.

“Go!” he cried and fell in to protect the three of them.

Alexander shoved Iosbail after the lass. Defiant she turned to see over twenty fresh men erupt from the woodline. “Nay, I stay and fight.”

Shamus ran his dagger across one man’s throat and punched another before turning. “Nay, we all flee. This is a fight lost!”

When an Irishman declared the battle lost, Iosbail listened. She ran for dear life. As she did she paid attention to details. The path was a steep decline. Where there was a steep decline there was likely to be running water.

“Lass!”

The girl stopped running. When she did, Iosbail grabbed her hand and pulled her off the path down an even steeper hill. Half the time they slid on the muddy ground, using the trees to guide. The other part of the time they near fell. When the trees began to thin, she slowed them.

The girl said nothing but kept sturdy pace and followed as Iosbail banked left and stopped. While they’d been busy battling the enemy a Scottish storm had whipped up. Howling and ambitious, its wind bent the trees, its thunder a loud roar across an angry, tempestuous sky.

“Oh no, mistress, ye dinnae mean to…”

Iosbail looked over the cliff to the raging river beneath. Aye, she meant to. Without further thought, she squeezed the girl’s hand. “You made me a promise, lass. Have trust in this.”

“But ‘twill
be
our death!”

Iosbail pointed back the way they came. “Nay, lass,
that
will be our death. ‘Tis time for you to release the last of your fear and jump with me.”

Fully aware of the gravity of their situation, the girl shook her head then nodded.

“Alright then. ‘Tis time!”

More courageous than Iosbail anticipated, the girl didn’t let go of her hand but ran and jumped alongside. Thunder roared and lightening streaked across the sky as they fell hundreds of feet. When they hit the water their hands ripped apart.

The rushing river pushed Iosbail beneath the water. Instead of fighting it, she relaxed and moved with the water. Only when an arrow sliced the frigid water beside her did she stick up her head in alarm. The next thing she knew she was being dragged into what seemed more of a tunnel than a cave.

“Come on then, lass.”

Iosbail sputtered water and stumbled after Alexander.

“Stay right then bank a sharp left, there will be a smaller tunnel,” Shamus said from behind.

When she glanced back it was with relief. The Irishman pulled the girl after him. Within minutes they found the other tunnel, one in which they had to crawl through. Though her knees were skinned on the rigid stone and her elbows scraped against the walls, Iosbail thrilled in the adventure.

Her life was in mortal peril. To make matters worse, she was with a Sinclair.

But Iosbail had never been happier.

They crawled for an awful long time before Alexander vanished through a hole. When she crawled out behind him, she realized that they’d arrived in an enormous cave. Hundreds of feet long, stalactites dripped from the ceiling, equally as tall from the ground up, stalagmites reached nearly to the ceiling. The effect was much like what she’d seen when visiting the glorious cathedrals of Italy and Spain.

Magestic.
Humbling.
Awe-inspiring.

The lass came after her then Shamus. With a finger to his lips he urged that they all crouch and remain silent. For several long minutes the men listened, as did Iosbail. But it was not easy. To listen well was to hear through the drips and echoes natural to a cave.

“All is well,” Alexander finally said. He glanced around the cave. “How did you know this was here?”

Shamus grinned. “’Tis always been my way to discover new things.”

“We need to find shelter,” Iosbail said and looked at Shamus. “Then I need to tend to your wound.”

“Nay.”
Shamus leaned against the wall. He’d been hit in the shoulder with an arrow. One in which he’d already torn half away. 
“’Tis but a scratch, lassie.”

Alexander moved closer and inspected the wound. “The Broun is right. We’ll find a spot, dry off then see to you, lad.”

“Her name is Iosbail, my laird.”

Surprised, Alexander met Shamus’s eyes. Whatever he saw there made him nod. “Fine then, Iosbail.”

“About five hundred yards further in we’ll find a dry spot but ‘twill be cold as a witches teet,” Shamus said.

“I’ll find a way to light a fire.” Iosbail stood and looked at Alexander. “You get them to the spot and I’ll find you.”

Alexander stood as well. “Now how do you think you’ll find sticks and the means to light a fire from here?”

“With my wits,” she replied and pulled the girl to her feet. “I’d say it’s time we get your name, lass.”

Mousey and withdrawn, the lass made to lower her head.

“Nay, there’ll be none of that. We’re all equals now,” Iosbail said. “Raise your head and know your new place.”

Though her eyes skirted nervously between Alexander and Iosbail, she held her head a bit taller. “Aye, mistress… I mean, Iosbail. My name is
Caitriona
.”