Lion's Legacy. Suzanne Barclay

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СКАЧАТЬ doubt they were hoping to draw you out,” Kieran said.

      “Aye. So we thought, but the laird had already given the order to bring everyone into the valley, so no lives were lost.”

      Kieran frowned. “You didn’t ride out and attack them?”

      “We are farmers, not fighters,” Ellis said without shame or regret. “Duncan feared we’d be bested and the valley overrun.”

      Cowards, Kieran thought. Clearly his services were desperately needed, for these people had little concept of warfare and no more spine than a flock of sheep. Deep in thought, he hadn’t realized they’d reached the stream until Rhys spoke.

      “All this babbling water’s reminded my bladder ’tis been awhile since we stepped down.”

      Kieran nodded, acknowledging his own need, and gave the order to stop in the shelter of a copse of trees. Normally his men took their ease in shifts, the rest standing watch, but the peacefulness of their surroundings lulled him into allowing the whole party to dismount. When he’d finished his business, Kieran walked over and knelt to wash his hands in the clear, cold water.

      “To arms!” someone shouted.

      Cursing his stupidity, Kieran surged to his feet and drew his sword in one swift movement. “Close ranks,” he roared as a wave of mounted men encircled them. He heard a soft whoosh as an arrow pierced his sleeve, pinning his sword arm to the tree behind him. “Rhys! To me!” He grabbed the arrow and tried to jerk it free. But it was firmly caught in the links of his mail.

      “Drop your weapons,” called a high, clear voice.

      Kieran slewed his head around, found the brush bristling with drawn arrows. “Ellis. Call for your men,” he shouted.

      “B-but these are my men,” the poor man replied, looking dazed and confused.

      “Then what are they about?”

      “We’re about capturing you,” said that same youthful voice. The circle of dark-lad men parted and a shaggy pony walked forward, bearing a slender figure. In the shifting shadows cast by the overhanging branches, it was impossible to make out the rider’s features, except that he was young. Kieran had a swift impression of a pale face dominated by wide eyes and surrounded by a close-fitting mail coif in the instant before he realized that the youth had an arrow notched and aimed at his throat.

      “I don’t know who you are,” Kieran growled. “But you will pay for this day’s work.” He vented his frustration by breaking the arrow shaft and wrenching his arm free.

      “Hold,” the cheeky youth cried. “If you don’t value your own life, what of this lad?” He trained his arrow on Jamie. Kieran’s young squire made an inarticulate noise and looked to his master for succor.

      There was no help for it. Kieran couldn’t endanger the lad. Cursing ripely, he dropped his sword.

      “Geordie. Disarm them and bind them. We’ll take them back to Edin Tower. Wait till Grandda sees this,” the youth added softly.

      So, Duncan had sought to trap him. Burning with impotent fury, Kieran locked his gaze on his adversary and let his hatred blaze forth. Across the few feet separating them, the youth’s eyes widened with fear. Good. Because when he got the chance, he’d—What the devil? Kieran was stunned to see the youth’s beardless chin rise to meet his silent challenge.

      It was the last straw. Heedless of the consequences, Kieran leapt forward, dragged his would-be captor from the saddle and held him at eye level. “Betray me, will you! I’ll burn Edin Tower to the ground for this foul piece of business!”

      “I knew it! I knew it!” the lad screamed.

      “Bloody hell! If you were a man, I’d challenge you to—” Something crashed into the back of Kieran’s head, and the world went dark.

      Chapter Two

      “Ye what?” Duncan demanded, eyes bugging out.

      “I captured Sir Kieran, and tomorrow we’ll send him on his way,” Laurel said for the third time in as many minutes.

      Her grandfather’s bushy white brows slammed together. “I hired him to protect Edin.”

      “And I’ve proven what a poor choice he was. If I could take him captive, how can you expect him to save—?”

      “Ye came on him unawares. Ellis said so himself. ’Tis dishonest, catching a man with his hose down,” he grumbled.

      “I didn’t.” She had been lurking in the woods, trying to decide how best to approach Sutherland and persuade him to leave, when he’d stepped into her lair...so to speak. Realizing what the men were about, she’d turned her back. But whilst waiting for Geordie to tell her they’d finished, a plan had formed. An inspired plan, if she did say so herself. No one had been hurt. She winced as she recalled the bloody bump on Kieran’s head. No one had been badly hurt, she amended. And there was Grandda’s prize mercenary trussed up in the granary.

      Though likely there’d be hell to pay when he regained consciousness, she thought, recalling his angry outburst just before Geordie had hit him over the head. Neither her vision nor her aunt’s conjuring had done justice to the man’s size. Or his looks. Not handsome, exactly, for his features were too rugged for that—broad forehead, high, prominent cheekbones and an arrogant jaw outthrust as though daring the world to take a swipe at it. Aye, his face had the unrelenting angles of carved stone, and his dark violet eyes haunted her still.

      Laurel drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. Beneath Kieran’s fury she’d glimpsed something startling. A loneliness that touched her very soul, for she knew all about loneliness.

      “’Tis a bad bit of work ye’ve been about this morn. ’Twill take more glibness than I’ve got just now to soothe his pride.”

      “We don’t need him, Grandda. If I could catch Sir Kieran and his men preoccupied, then I shouldn’t have any trouble outwitting the reivers should they come again.”

      “They will.” His head sagged into the pillow. “Then what’ll become of us?” He looked so frail that Laurel flew to his side.

      “Grandda.” Mindful of his wounded chest, she grabbed his gnarled hand where it lay clenched in the blankets. “I—”

      “Here, now, don’t fash yourself. I’m not dead yet. Still I’d rest a mite easier in my bed if I knew there was someone to protect ye and the lands I’ll be leaving to young Malcolm.”

      ’Twas exactly what she’d been worried about. Merciful heavens, she’d barely managed to thwart Aulay. She’d stand no chance against someone as large and strong as Sutherland if he tried to take Edin from within. “We don’t need help,” she cried. “With you to plan what must be done and Ellis and me to carry out your or—”

      “Ah, lass.” He pulled his hand from her grasp and reached up to smooth the curls from her face. “Though our people have the heart to defend what’s theirs, they lack the skills. We’ve lived so peaceably here behind the mountains that I didn’t think any knew we existed or cared. But now those men have drawn our blood, they’ll not leave us be.”

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