“Seana knew I wasna dead,” Gillian replied. “She could have told you anytime she wished.”
“Aye, but she chose not to tell me for reasons of her own. But her scheme didna work out as she wished.”
“You are wearing the king’s colors. Are you really in the king’s service?”
“Aye, my kinsmen and I are mercenaries in the king’s army ”Twas the lesser of two evils.”
“Why are you here?” Gordo asked.
Sinclair’s smirk sent fingers of dread racing down Gillian’s spine. “We are here on the king’s business. Where is the MacKenna? Why is Ravenscraig so poorly defended? We rode through the portcullis without being challenged.”
“Why would we challenge the king’s soldiers?” Gordo replied. “Had we known it was you, you wouldna have been allowed to enter.”
“My husband will return soon,” Gillian asserted.
“Fortune is with me,” Sinclair gloated. “I expected a fight, but for once everything is going my way. Hear me,” he loudly proclaimed. “By the king’s order, I hereby lay claim to Ravenscraig Tower.”
Gillian stepped forwards. “You are a liar, Angus Sinclair. Show me the document bearing the king’s seal and mayhap I will believe you.”
Sinclair made no move to produce such a document. “It makes no difference whether or not such a document exists. Ravenscraig is now in my possession. How convenient for me that MacKenna isna here to challenge me. When he returns, we will be waiting for him. He will ride into our trap and die.”
“How many men were left behind to defend the keep?” Gillian whispered to Gordo.
“Six, including myself. Ross saw no need to leave a large force behind, for we have no enemies.”
“What are you whispering about?” Sinclair barked.
“There are men on the wall walk and others stationed within the keep to stop you from seizing that which is not yours and never will be,” Gordo claimed.
Sinclair laughed. “MacKenna left behind but a handful of men. They have been captured and disarmed and are being led at swordpoint into the hall even as we speak.”
The shuffle of feet brought Gillian spinning around in time to see five men being prodded into the hall. Her gasp of dismay brought another bark of laughter from Sinclair.
“Accept it, Gillian MacKay. I am your new lord and master.”
“Never! You will rot in hell before I will be yours, Angus Sinclair!”
Chapter Twenty
“Doona rile the man, lass,” Gordo warned as Sinclair took a menacing step toward Gillian.
Gillian held her ground. “Look at me, Angus Sinclair.” She pressed the fullness of her gown against her stomach, delineating the swelling beneath. “I carry Ross’s bairn. Do you still want me?”
The rage that had been simmering inside Sinclair burst forth. “Stupid bitch! ”Twas never you I wanted; ’twas Braeburn. I planned and schemed for the day I would claim you and become laird of Braeburn. Then the MacKay sued for peace, wed you to MacKenna, and all was lost to me. I decided to have Ravenscraig instead.”
Gillian and Gordo exchanged puzzled looks. “You’re mad,” Gillian charged. “There is no way you could become laird of Braeburn. I have three living brothers and a father.”
“Had the feud continued they all would have died, one by one, in the same manner in which your two brothers met their Maker,” Sinclair said. “Why do you think I worked feverishly to sabotage the treaty? But naught worked. Without a feud, your father and brothers couldna die fighting MacKennas, and I couldna claim you and Braeburn.”
“I doona ken,” Gillian replied uneasily. She wasn’t sure she wanted to understand.
“I didna expect you would. No one was smart enough to figure it out.”
“Figure what out?” Gordo demanded. “Speak plainly, man.”
Sinclair sneered at Ross’s uncle. “Think you the MacKay lads fell beneath a MacKenna sword?”
Gillian gasped as comprehension dawned. Grief mingled with rage. “Duplicitous bastard! Traitor! You killed my brothers! You planned to slay my entire family and blame their deaths on the feud.”
Sinclair shrugged. “ ’Twas easily accomplished, until your father turned coward and sought peace. I wanted Braeburn—always have. When your father wed you to the enemy, new plans had to be made.”
A stunned silence descended in the hall. Even Sinclair’s kinsmen stared at their chieftain in dawning horror and disbelief. It was obvious from their reaction that Sinclair hadn’t taken his kinsmen into his confidence. Highlanders were a proud lot. Attacking one’s allies was unheard-of. Sinclair’s actions broke the strict code of honor by which they lived.
Gillian was filled with a rage so intense, it could not be controlled. Angus Sinclair had cold-bloodedly killed two of her brothers and planned to kill her father and surviving brothers. Then he intended to wed her and claim Braeburn. Vengeance burned deep in her soul. Just seeing Angus’s smirking face in front of her demanded retribution. She reached for her clay- more, biting back a curse when she realized she hadn’t carried a blade in months.
“The king will hear of your betrayal and punish you for your foul deeds,” Gillian cried.
Sinclair laughed. “The king doesna care what happens in the Highlands. He has his hands full protecting his borders. Feuds are the least of his worries.”
Something snapped inside Gillian. Beyond rage, she reached for her eating knife and launched herself at Sinclair. In the red haze that surrounded her, she heard Gordo call her name and felt his hand brush her gown in an effort to stop her. But Gillian was in no mood to be stopped. She moved swiftly and surely, scarcely aware of what she did as she plunged the knife into Sinclair’s chest.
Sinclair fell to the floor, writhing in pain. “Kill her!” he screamed to his men. “Kill everyone. Let no MacKenna live.”
To a man, the entire cadre stepped away from their fallen chieftain, as if distancing themselves from a traitor to the Highland code of honor. Gordo sprinted forward, seized Sinclair’s sword, and prepared to defend Gillian. But it wasn’t necessary. None of Sinclair’s kinsmen raised his sword to Gillian. In fact, the five MacKennas who had been held at swordpoint broke free with little effort.
“Cowards!” Sinclair screamed. “I’m dead. She’s killed me!”
“You’ll live, much to my regret,” Gillian said with icy disdain. “Had I a sword or a dirk instead of an eating knife, you
would
be dead. A well-deserved death, I might add. Even your own kinsmen hold you in contempt.”
Gordo knelt beside Sinclair, holding him down as he examined his wound. “Aye, you’ll live.” He glanced up at Sinclair’s kinsmen, who were milling around him. “Which one of you is Sinclair’s lieutenant?”
A man stepped forward. “I am Robert Sinclair, Angus’s lieutenant.”
“Your chieftain is a traitor to his kinsmen and his allies, Robert Sinclair. He deserves to die. If you wish to return to Edinburgh, you and your kinsmen may leave.”
“We are nae returning to Edinburgh,” Robert said. “We doona like being mercenaries. We miss the Highlands.”
“We want to return to our families,” a warrior called out.
“Aye, we left them behind to follow Angus,” Robert explained. “ ’Twas wrong of us. We want to return to our homes, though they may be no more than hovels.” He shook his head. “Angus convinced us that the king gave him Ravenscraig Tower, and that our lives would be better here.”
Slowly Gillian emerged from the rage that had caused her to attack Angus Sinclair. Seeing that she still held the bloody eating knife she had plunged into Angus’s chest, she dropped it and stepped away from the fallen man, wiping her hand on her gown.
“I doona ken what has become of your homes or families, for my husband and father left several days ago to lay siege to the keep. But I’m sure if you swear fealty to my father, you will be forgiven and allowed to dwell on your land in peace.”
Two of Sinclair’s kinsmen helped him to his feet.
“Leave him,” Gordo cried. “Angus Sinclair must die!”
“Have mercy!” Angus begged. “If you let me return to Edinburgh, I promise to remain there until the end of my days.”
“You dare beg for mercy?” Gillian spat. “Did you show my dead brothers mercy? Nay, you killed them in cold blood. Had my eating knife been an inch longer, you would be dead.”
“At least treat my wound,” Sinclair begged. “I am in pain.”
“Why? You’re going to die anyway,” Gordo said coldly.
“Make way,” Gizela said, pushing through the crowd. She stopped before Gillian, holding her basket of medicines in front of her. “Leave Angus Sinclair to me, lady. I will take care of him.”
Gillian looked into Gizela’s eyes, understood what the healer was saying, and nodded. “Aye, I ken that you will, Gizela.”
Gillian began shaking in the aftermath of all the violence, as if suddenly aware of what she had done. But she regretted naught. She would do it again, but the next time her aim would be true.
Alice rushed over to her and led her to a bench. “Mama is fetching something to calm you. Look at you; you are shaking like a leaf. Are you unwell?”
“Nay, I am well enough, albeit angrier than I have ever been in my life. My brothers are gone; naught will bring them back. But knowing that Angus Sinclair will pay for his crimes eases the hurt.”
“Your father willna go easy on him,” Alice predicted.
Gillian slid a knowing glance at Gizela. “Angus will die this day,” she predicted. “Has Gizela finished treating him yet?”
Alice left Gillian briefly to check on Gizela’s progress. “I saw Gizela sprinkle a white powder on Sinclair’s wound. She is sewing him up as we speak,” she reported when she returned.
“See that the rushes are changed. I want none of Angus Sinclair’s blood in my keep,” Gillian said weakly.
As the tension ebbed from her body, her stomach roiled and her head began to ache. She wanted Ross. She wanted her husband. She wanted to lie in his arms and feel his comfort surround her.
Hanna appeared with a mug of something hot and steaming. “You were verra brave, lass. ’Twas a great shock you just received. Drink this—it will calm you and soothe your bairn.”
Gizela sidled up to Gillian as she sipped the potion. “ ’Tis done, lass. Angus Sinclair willna harm you or those you love again. He will breathe his last this day.”
Gillian stared at Gizela. “Are you sure, verra sure? My eating knife did little damage.”
Gizela’s wise old eyes held a wealth of knowledge. “Trust me, lady; Angus Sinclair is a dead man.”
“Thank you, Gizela.”
Gillian turned away as Sinclair’s kinsmen dragged him to his feet. They stood there, awaiting orders. Gordo strode toward her, his expression fiercely determined.
“I told Sinclair’s kinsmen they may leave, Gillian, but their chieftain is to remain in our dungeon to await punishment.”
“Let his kinsmen take him away,” Gillian said tiredly.
“What? Nay! The man killed your brothers. Your father willna be pleased if I free him. The man deserves to die.”
“Angus Sinclair will die, Gordo; doona doubt it. I doona want him to die in my keep. As for his kinsmen, they are innocent. They knew naught of Angus’s duplicity. Their wives and children need them. If my father and Ross decide a different fate is in order, let them dole it out.”
“Ross will skin me alive if I let Sinclair leave without the punishment he deserves,” Gordo argued.
Gillian stared off into space. “Gizela has taken care of Angus in her own way.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I amna sure. Gizela said he is a dead man, and I believe her.”
His mouth agape, Gordo stared at Gillian a full minute before turning on his heel and barking out an order. Moments later Sinclair’s kinsmen dragged him out the door.
“Let me help you to bed, Gillian,” Alice said. “You’ve had enough excitement for one day. I will bring a tray up to you later.”
“I amna hungry.”
“Mama will fix you something to tempt your appetite.”
Though Gillian didn’t want to appear weak, she was in shock and grieving as Alice helped her to the solar and settled her in bed.
Once Ross saw that Ramsey MacKay had everything under control at Wickhaven, he and his men left the keep and headed home. When they reached a cross-road, they spied riders approaching from the direction of Ravenscraig.
“Can you identify them?” Ross asked Niall.
Shading his eyes against the sun, Niall peered at the riders. “They’re wearing the king’s colors.”
Ross raised his hand, halting his army “We’ll stop here and wait for them. If they’re coming from Ravenscraig, I want to know the nature of their visit.”
It took a good fifteen minutes for the riders to reach them. “They have the look of the Sinclairs about them,” Donald muttered as he joined Ross and Niall. “Look there!” Niall cried, pointing to a horse bearing a body lying limply across its withers. “Who do you suppose that is?”