A Highland Knight's Desire (A Highland Dynasty Book) (41 page)

Duncan swiped a hand across his muddy face. “And break the truce?”

“I doubt even the king would agree the truce applies to that slimy snake.”

Meg shuddered. “I want no more to do with Lord Percy. Leave him to wallow in his own misery, I say.”

After changing into a clean plaid and doublet, Duncan headed to the great hall. As usual, Gyllis had absconded with Lady Meg so they could dress for the feast. Duncan chuckled, wondering what sort of elegant gown Meg would don this eve. If only he would later be able to spirit her up to his chamber and rip it from her deliciously seductive body.

When he rounded the stairwell, it pleased him to see the ladies already upon the dais. Meg looked his way. A radiant smile lit up her face. She stood and moved to the steps—floated, actually. Never in his life would he grow tired of watching her. This eve, she wore a burgundy gown, edged with gold trim. Unfortunately, this one had a high-necked collar. It did make her look regal, though Duncan preferred a lower-cut bodice. Alas, Mother undoubtedly had something to do with the dress selection, especially since her brother was in attendance.

Duncan crossed the floor quickly and took Meg’s hands in his palms. “You look stunning, as always.” She did. Her hair was pulled away from her face by a conical hennin and her tresses had been tamed and brushed down her back. She turned and the fiery red locks swept across her buttocks. Duncan’s loins stirred to life. He glanced at Arthur, who was already seated at the high table beside Lady Margaret. He watched Duncan with hawk-like eyes.

Duncan faced the hall and raised his arms. “Welcome, friends and family. Let us feast and make merry!”

“The entire keep smells divine,” Meg said, walking with him to the chieftain’s chair. “Your mother has outdone herself.”

She sat in the chair beside his, and he regarded her with renewed concern. “Soon it will be your duty to appoint the feasts.”

She grimaced. “I couldn’t displace Lady Margaret, and she enjoys it so.”

“Perhaps she could entertain more of a consulting role.”

Meg gestured toward his seat. “That is something you may consider discussing with her. I’ll stand for no hard feelings in my new home.”

Duncan made a mental note to speak to Mother. The transition of bringing in a new lady of the keep might be difficult for her. She’d overseen the keep for years—even overseen the building of it so long ago. Duncan was about to sit when he stopped dead. Gyllis was sitting beside Sean, batting her damned eyelashes. “What the devil?”

Meg tugged on his hand. “Sit. I made the seating arrangements.”

“You?” Duncan plopped in his chair. “Mayhap I should rethink moving Mother into a conciliatory role.”

She thwacked his shoulder. “Pardon me?”

He held up a finger. “I’ll allow it this
once
.”

Meg grinned like she’d just won a battle with the English.

“But I’ll not allow them to dance.”

Meg reached for the ewer and poured the wine. “No? Come, Duncan. What harm is there in dancing?”

Arthur leaned forward. “Are you a dancer, Glenorchy?”

Duncan glared across the table at Sean. “Not when it comes to sisters.”

The earl chuckled. “I ken exactly what you mean.”

The minstrels climbed upon the balcony and began to play a light assortment of music suitable for dining. Duncan relaxed and passed a trencher of assorted meats to Arthur.

The earl stabbed a lamb shank with his eating knife. “You’ll need this wedding to be over soon so I can head back to North Berwick.”

“My thoughts as well.” Duncan glanced to Meg. “What say you? On the morrow?”

The ram’s horn sounded.

The music stopped.

Everything went silent.

The horn blew twice more.

A lead ball sank to the pit of Duncan’s stomach.

Duncan held his breath and moved to the front of the dais while footsteps clattered from the stairwell. The sentry raced across the floor of the great hall. “The pennant of Northumberland, m’lord.”

“Curses.” He’d been ill at ease ever since Arthur mentioned that Lord Percy hadn’t crossed the border. “God’s teeth, will my every nemesis show his face before the day’s end?” Duncan eyed the guard. “How far out are they?”

“The spy reported four miles, m’lord.”

Arthur hastened beside Duncan. “Their numbers?”

The sentry looked between them. “He estimated fifty cavalry and a hundred foot soldiers armed with pikes and battleaxes.”

“Bloody hell.” Duncan raked his fingers through his hair and frowned at Arthur. “It looks like your men will have their fight after all.”

“How fortuitous.” Arthur ground his fist into his palm. “I’ve had a taste for revenge since the bastard abducted Meg. Better yet, now he’s the one breaking the truce.”

Meg stepped in and grasped his arm. “The cannons are outside our walls.”

Duncan looked to Arthur. “Can your men wheel them within the bailey quickly? We’ve an hour, two at best.”

Arthur marched down the steps. “Consider it done.”

Duncan scanned the faces of the womenfolk at the high table, every one of them in his care. “Haste to the lady’s solar at once and lock yourselves inside.” He grasped Meg’s shoulders. “I mean it this time. This is not your brother come to posture for your virtue. This is a madman who wants nothing but vengeance.”

Meg nodded, her eyes rimming red. “Come with us. Please. I would die if something happened to you.”

He grasped her hands between his palms and kissed her fingers. “You know I cannot. Go now. The battle will soon be over.”

A tear slid down her cheek. Duncan couldn’t help himself. In an open display of affection, he surrounded her in his arms. “It will be all right, lass.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and closed his eyes, inhaling her scent. Her honeyed fragrance calmed his thundering heart. “I’ll fetch you as soon as I can. Now take my mother and sisters and show them the strong Lady Meg I’ve grown to love.”

Her body trembled while she drew in a breath. “Be careful—you have six women relying on you.”

Duncan swallowed hard and forced himself to step back. Gyllis, Helen, Marion, Alice and Mother all stared at him with fear in their eyes. “Go with Lady Meg. Hurry, now.”

He gazed out over the stunned crowd. “To arms!”

After again donning his coat of armor, Duncan met Arthur upon the battlements. He figured it was close to midnight when Lord Percy’s torches flickered between the forest trees.

“You think he’ll wait until first light?” Arthur asked.

“If he has any sense, he’ll rest his men before launching an attack.”

Eoin stepped beside Duncan. “They’ll not stop. Mark me.”

Duncan climbed up on the wall and spread his arms to address the men. “We will not light the battlement cauldrons until they are upon us. Archers, lie in wait behind the merlon notches. Once they are in formation, we shall fire and show no mercy!”

True to Eoin’s word, the Earl of Northumberland’s troops marched up the path to Kilchurn. Surrounded by water on three sides, Duncan had the advantage.
What tricks does the bastard have up his sleeve?

Ominous clouds sailed overhead as Percy’s men filed into formation.

“Light the fires!” Duncan bellowed. “Archers ready!” He glanced at Arthur—the earl gave a sharp nod. “Fire!”

The battle was on. By the shrieks of pain wailing from below, several archers had hit their marks. “Give no quarter! Reload!” Duncan bellowed. “Fire at will!”

The entire fortress shuddered with a booming thud.

“The battering ram,” Arthur said.

“Is the tar ready?” Duncan hollered.

James gave a thumbs-up from the kettle. “Nearly there.”

Duncan turned to Arthur. “Can you line up a cannon with the portcullis?”

“And blast a hole through the gate? That would only invite them inside.”

“Nay. The gate may be three foot thick, but it will not last forever. Once the bastards break through, I aim to blast them to hell.”

Arthur clapped Duncan’s shoulder. “I like the way you think.” He beckoned his man-at-arms. “Take a crew to the bailey and line the cannon up with the portcullis. When the gate is breeched, send them to Satan.”

“Right away, m’lord.”

Duncan leaned close to Arthur and kept his voice low. “When the time comes, it would do me a great honor if you would remain on the battlements and lead the archers, m’lord.” In no way could Duncan allow the Earl of Angus, Meg’s brother, to take up a sword.

Arthur looked at him with narrowed eyes, but then nodded. “If that is your wish.”

Meg walked to the window embrasure and pulled away the furs. “’Tis nearly light.” Another blasting thud came from the battering ram. Meg nearly jumped out of her skin every time it hit the portcullis.

The only one still awake, Lady Margaret joined her. “I cannot believe we haven’t stopped them yet. Duncan is every bit the knight his father was.”

“Aye. But we’re wearing them down. Can you not tell from the shrieks outside our walls?”

Lady Margaret ran her fingers along the stone. “I built this keep with my own hands. Colin was away fighting in the Crusades, and all the while I worked with the master mason to see this castle to completion. I do not take lightly the evil forces down below trying to breech our walls.”

Meg fingered the eating knife in her pocket. “Nor do I.” She looked back to Gyllis and the others, all huddled together in the corner. They’d probably worried themselves into a stupor. Meg hated being locked inside where she couldn’t see what was happening. Listening to the battle rage had to be worse than watching it from the wall-walk.

A tap came at the door.

Lady Margaret gasped. “Who is it?”

“Sir Isaac.”

Meg gaped at Duncan’s mother. “How did he slip inside?”

Who?
she mouthed.

Meg headed to the door. “He’s the one who came to Tantallon to tell me about Duncan.” She grasped the latch. “Are you alone?”

“Yes. Hurry.”

Meg hesitated. “How did you slip inside?”

“The water intake. Please.” His English accent sounded strained. “Open the door.”

Lady Margaret grimaced, her brows pinched together. “Can you trust him?”

“He risked everything to warn me.” Meg bit her lip.
But he was standing beside Lord Percy when I approached the king with Sir Eoin and the others
. Could she risk opening the door?

Not long after dawn, the great portcullis splintered. Swords drawn, Duncan and his men raced down the tower stairs. “No one will attack Kilchurn and live! This is what we’ve been trained for. Fight for your kin and your lives!”

After two more savage blows with the battering ram, the gate gave way. Duncan barreled into the guardhouse. “What are you waiting for? Fire the cannon now!”

The bumbling sentry held the torch to the slow match. With an earsplitting blast, the cannon shot its black powder and hurled a lead ball through the gaping hole in the gate. The enormous black gun recoiled all the way to the edge of the courtyard.

Duncan marched forward, peering through the foul, sulfur-tasting smoke, and surveyed the carnage. At least a dozen men lay dead or writhing on the ground. Behind them, Lord Percy’s troops rallied. Braying their battle cry, the pikemen advanced.

Duncan’s men were already in formation. “They have only one small gap in which to enter. Do not let a one past you.” He pointed. “Robert, send your best men up to guard the solar door.”

Northumberland’s pikemen shoved their weapons through the gatehouse. With a swing of his blade, Duncan hacked the nearest spear in half, lunged in, and pulled the soldier into the courtyard. The man reached for his dagger. Grinding his teeth, Duncan struck with lightning speed, plunging his sword into the swine’s belly.

On and on, the men fought, clashing iron with iron until blood made the ground slick and red. Duncan circled with a brute of a man brandishing a short sword. The bastard laughed and beckoned him forward, but Duncan was too well practiced to fall for his ploy. He eyed the weak spot in the man’s armor: he wore only a leather collar—a deadly mistake. When the soldier lunged, Duncan darted aside, aiming his blade at the man’s neck. Hitting his mark, the sword sliced off the collar, but the blow wasn’t enough to kill the beast.