Highlanders: The Warrior and the Rose / The Forbidden Highlander / Rescued by the Highland Warrior. Michelle Willingham

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СКАЧАТЬ involved in the vast preparations necessary for their departure. Juliana took her steward, Walter, aside to go over her many lists. Winter was a quiet time, and she hoped to be back in the spring, when the usual repairs would have to be made to her castle and her galleys, when the cellars, depleted during the winter, would have to be filled, and when cattle and sheep began birthing, and when she would be needed for dozens of baptisms—there were so many children born in the spring.

      “Lady!” One of her Highland soldiers rushed into the great room. “Two dozen ships are approaching.”

      Juliana leapt to her feet with her steward. “Fergus—is it my brother?”

      “They are too far to remark, but they come from the west.”

      Juliana froze. Ardtornish Castle was to the west.

      As she stood there, her heart racing, Mary hurried into the hall. “What is it?” she cried. “I heard that a fleet approaches us!”

      Juliana did not answer. She rushed past Mary, going up to the tower, Fergus, the steward, and Mary behind her.

      The watch was outside the tower, on the ramparts, both men peering out to sea. A number of her archers had gathered, as had women and children. Juliana rushed through the tower and outside.

      It was a gray wintry day, with poor visibility, the sky and the sound very much the same dreary color. Shadows were slowly, inexorably approaching, their shapes distinct enough to know she was watching a fleet of galleys.

      And then the fog suddenly shifted, a part of it lifting, a ray of sun pouring through the clouds. The fleet was suddenly illuminated.

      More than two dozen ships approached. And then she saw the huge blue-and-red flags of Clan Donald blazing like fire into the gray skies.

      Alasdair Og was bent on reprisal—and he meant to attack her.

      “Ring the bells,” Mary ordered. One of the men rushed inside to obey, and instantly, the bells began to toll.

      “Can we defend ourselves?” Juliana heard herself ask. Her heart slammed as she watched the fleet, sailing ever closer.

      “We will defend ye, Lady Juliana, I vow it,” Fergus cried.

      Mary confronted the soldier. “That is not what she has asked. Can we thwart Alasdair Og and his army? Do we have enough men, enough arms, enough munitions?”

      Fergus flushed. “The truth, lady?”

      “Yes, of course we want the truth!” Mary cried.

      “We can defend Coeffin Castle, I think, but not Coeffin Castle and Achanduin at once!”

      Achanduin Castle had been the seat of Bishop Alan. Juliana must decide between defending her home, or that of the now deceased bishop. But if that were the case, there was no choice to make. She looked at her pale sister. “Maybe he does not want Achanduin Castle.”

      “If he is here to strike at us, we will soon know it, and we must prepare.”

      Juliana nodded. “Fergus, if he attacks Achanduin Castle, we will let it fall. But we cannot allow Coeffin Castle to fall.” She could barely breathe.

      “Summon every archer to the ramparts,” Mary said. “Make sure our catapults are ready, and we must start fires. We must also send word to Alexander.”

      “I am prepared to defend the castle, Lady Mary,” Fergus said. He signaled to several men and hurried away.

      Juliana inhaled. Her sister had endured several sieges in her life. Fergus was an experienced soldier—one of her best men. But, dear God, she had lost her five best soldiers already. What if they could not defend themselves?

      Alexander would come, even if he had already left for Lochaber, but what if he was too late?

      What did Alasdair Og intend? To seize her home—or to destroy it?

      Juliana was frightened. He had murdered Bishop Alan without remorse, as if he did not have a conscience. But surely, she and her sister were not in danger—they were noblewomen.

      “There is no point in standing here, freezing,” Mary said. She took Juliana’s arm and they hurried back inside.

      In the hall, Juliana grabbed her hand. “You should disguise the boys—dress them as village children—and warn them not to tell anyone who they are.”

      Mary turned white. “You think he will take my sons hostage?”

      “I don’t know what to think!” Juliana cried. “But we should prepare for even the worst possibility.”

      Mary nodded and ran off. Juliana blinked back tears. If there was one thing she must do, she thought, it was protect her sister and her children.

      CHAPTER THREE

      AS NIGHT FELL, THE castle was prepared for an attack. Fire burned atop the ramparts so boiling oil could be thrown on any invaders, Piles of rock and stone sat beside the catapults, and archers and soldiers stood upon the walls. The sisters waited as the moon rose, but no attack came.

      In the great hall, Juliana stood up. “He isn’t coming.”

      “No,” Mary said, “not tonight.”

      Juliana wondered as her sister did—had he taken Achanduin Castle? She imagined Alasdair there, his men celebrating the easy victory in the great hall, mugs raised in laughter, in triumph.

      Would he come tomorrow? Or would Achanduin Castle be enough?

      Mary stood. “I am going to get some rest. You should, too.”

      Juliana somehow smiled. She would never sleep that night, not when she was afraid of what the dawn would bring.

      But Mary paused. “There is one thing I cannot comprehend. It was our brother who attacked Ardtornish Castle. Not you. So why is he here?”

      Juliana stiffened. “I don’t know.”

      Mary gave her an odd look and left.

      Juliana sank back down onto the bench, staring across the great room, where many of her soldiers slept upon pallets. A huge hearth was on the opposite wall, and a fire raged there.

      I am sorry ye were here.

      She suddenly recalled Alasdair’s parting words, and felt frozen. She did not even want to try to comprehend what he had meant, or if he had been truly remorseful.

      She laid her cheek on her arms on the table. He was at Lismore not because of Alexander, but because of her—she somehow sensed it.

      Tears burned her closed eyelids. She wished she had never asked her brother for an army, she wished she had never dreamed of revenge!

      But mostly, she wished that she and her sister had left for Dunstaffnage that morning—that she had insisted they depart immediately. For then Mary and her three children would be safe.

      And to make matters СКАЧАТЬ