Torn Between Two Highlanders (Sword and Thistle 2)

“Gods blood, you’re a wee bit dramatic!” Davy snorted. “What do you think, lass?”

He was asking her? He trusted her, she realized. Maybe they both did. And that made all the difference. Arabella took a deep breath and reached inside her for the wild girl who had dwelled there all along. “It sounds like we have an adventure in front of us…and I could scarcely say no to that.”

Davy smiled, proudly. “It’s decided, then. Bundle up, lass. It’s still chilly out there.”

It was.

Venturing out of the warm cottage, the world seemed bleak and cold. She didn’t want to leave their charmed idyll, but she didn’t want any of them to die, either. “Ride with Malcolm,” Davy said low, near her ear. “He needs your warmth and you can keep him steady.”

He made her feel as if she was a partner; another warrior, albeit one without a sword. And she thought she might love him for it…

~~~

Malcolm was in pain. Arabella knew he was. She could feel the strain of his body against her back as the horse beneath them struggled through the melting snows. He didn’t complain; of course he didn’t. Though he did grunt every now and again as they passed beneath snow-covered branches, and trampled the leaves that did little to hide their tracks.

At one point, when the dark stallion stumbled, Malcolm actually cried out and nearly lost his hold on her. Arabella swiftly grasped at his hands, using all her strength to keep him from falling. But she feared that if it happened again, she wouldn’t be able to keep hold of him. And when she looked down, over her shoulder, she thought she saw more blood seeping into his bandage.

But there was nothing to be done.

Hour after hour, they made their way across Macrae clan lands, skirting away from the main paths, using little known routes so as not to be seen. Arabella was cold, and sore, and miserable. But she dared not complain. Instead, she kept her eyes peeled for green plaid; the kind the Donalds sometimes wore. Listened attentively for the sound of men laughing, of warriors sharpening swords. Anything that might betray enemies nearby.

But it might be that the Donalds feared the melting snows and floodwaters more than they did. With luck, they had a head start on the war bands. With luck…but as they neared the castle, it was clear luck was not to be theirs.

Having scouted ahead, Davy returned, a wry tilt to his lips. “The bad news is the castle is under siege. Not just the Donalds, who we could slaughter to a man in a fair fight. But the MacDonalds too. We’ll never get in by the main road.”

The castle was on the sea, where three lochs met. It was an island—approachable only by a bridge. It made it highly defensible against just such an attack. And it made it impossible to reach.

“What is the good news?” Malcolm asked, his voice shaky and weak; the journey had taxed him nearly beyond his endurance.

Davy mounted his horse again and clapped Malcolm on the shoulder. “The good news is that the enemy is as cold and shivering as we are, and night is soon to fall.”

“Is that supposed to cheer us?” Arabella asked.

“Aye,” Davy said. “Because it means they’ll be huddled around their fires in the darkness. And they’d never dare venture out onto the loch.”

“Venture out onto the loch?” Malcolm snapped. “Only a madman would risk it!”

Davy nodded, like just that kind of madman. “Aye. But it’s the only way to reach the sea gate. It’s guarded, but if they don’t shoot us full of arrows and we don’t fall out of the boat and drown, they’ll let us in.”

“What boat is this?” Malcolm asked, his eyes widening.

“Our fishing boat,” Davy said, with an inane grin.

And his madness seemed to infect Arabella, because she heard herself say, “The one we’re going to steal.”

At that very moment, Davy bent to kiss her full on the mouth. “You’re magnificent.”

“Aye,” Malcolm agreed. “She is at that. So let’s keep her alive.”

Two things occurred to Arabella in the course of their desperate theft from a village fisherman. The first thing that occurred to her was that Davy loved danger; he was nearly giddy slipping past a sleepy watchdog and making off with a boat that Arabella helped him drag to the shore. The second thing that occurred to her was that she loved the danger, too.

At least a little bit.

And then, a third thing occurred to her.

Malcolm didn’t like danger at all.

He didn’t shirk from it. But he never liked to leave things to chance. “I’ll go across the water first and if I don’t make it, you take the lass and find another way.”