Page 54 of A Knight To Call My Own
“Nay…not you,” she managed to whisper.
She tried to yell out, but she could not form any words as she began to lose consciousness. His arms stretched out towards her and something heavy was thrown over her head, suffocating the air from her lungs. Lynet had no energy to struggle. Her last thought afore she blacked out was to wonder why on earth this kept happening to her, for ’twas becoming a most annoying occurrence!
~***~
Calum was disgusted that he was reduced to climbing his way up through a garderobe just to gain access to the keep. The stench alone permeating from his clothes would alert the entire MacGillivray clan that something was afoot. The chute was narrow and slick with…well…piss and shite. He knew he needed coin to refill his coffers, but he was beginning to rethink the methods and lengths he would go to get it. He was not entirely sure, at this very moment, if ’twould be worth it.
Perchance, he should have sent Lachlan to achieve this part of his plan, instead of entrusting him to lead their small contingent of men towards the castle. He was unsure Lachlan would have been capable of taking the lady without her screaming her bloody head off and alerting the entire castle, even though they had infiltrated the keep’s defenses with the help of one of its own. But he knew he could not trust his brother, and with good reason, given all their past arguments they had had throughout their entire lifetime.
With one hand after the other, he pulled himself up by clawing at the rocks to ensure a firm grip to get out of the hell he had put himself in. It could not happen soon enough. Looking up, he was satisfied to see for himself he was almost to his goal. His two men, who were below him, grumbled, cursed, and echoed aloud his own thoughts running amuck within his head.
“Shhh, you fools,” Calum scolded with a hiss of displeasure, “lest you wish this travesty to be all for naught and get us captured.”
Their grumbling quieted, and Calum continued upward ’til he reached the top. He knew the rest of his army would be fast approaching the barbican gate of the castle. Time was of the essence, in capturing the laird’s wife to ensure an easy escape from those very same front gates.
Slowly, he lifted the wooden seat to peer into the small closet. There were a few garments hanging from a peg, but that was not what infuriated him. Nay, ’twas the smirking face of Edric that had Calum ready to wipe the amused, annoying look from the obnoxious man’s features. He did not so much as even offer Calum a hand to assist him from the confines of the narrow hole, not that he could entirely blame the man.
As Calum rose from his self-imposed temporary prison, Edric took a cloth from his jacket and held it to his nose.
“Eh gads, man,” Edric gagged as he went to the window to get a breath of fresh air. “Mayhap, this was not the best of suggestions.”
Calum narrowed his gaze at the fool afore him. “You think?” he growled as fiercely as any angered or trapped animal would. Peering down at his clothes that were covered in filth, he yanked at the cape hanging from a peg and began wiping his hands and face, not that it did much good. He would smell the stench of the garderobe for days, and the disgusting odor was only getting stronger whilst the small, confined space of the closet began to fill with the addition of two extra men. They were in much the same condition as Calum. ’Twas horribly revolting.
Squeezing around his co-conspirators trying to avoid contact with the filth of their clothes, Edric made for the exit to peer into a vacant room. “’Tis empty,” he declared, pushing the door wide for everyone to follow.
“Where is she?” Calum asked, reaching for his sword as Edric went to the next door to peer into the passageway.
“She will be in her chamber, as is the standard protocol for the laird’s wife, during a hostile siege. Down the corridor, four doors to the right. ’Tis the very last room at the end of the passageway. You cannot miss it,” Edric replied as he began rubbing his hands together with anticipation. “I can already feel the ransomed coins in the palms of my hands.”
Calum’s brow rose. “Can you now?”
“Aye, I can. You are going to make me a very rich man.” Edric cackled in glee as he peered into the passageway. “The way is clear. You should hurry afore someone gets a whiff of your stench.”
Edric never knew what was coming when Calum pulled a knife from his waist, deftly reached around the unsuspecting man, and proceeded to slit the fool’s throat. ’Twas a clean kill, not that the man deserved such, after what he had put Calum and his group through.
Calum gave no further thought to the gurgling sounds of the dying man who toppled over, grasping at his neck. He smirked at the stupidity of men and stepped over the twitching corpse. Edric had served his purpose. The rest would now lie with him.
Chapter Thirty
Ian raced from the forgeryand made quick work of stowing the dirk the smithy had made for him into the belt at his back. The inner bailey was a beehive of chaos as the clan ran in every imaginable direction. Women rushed to gather their children and usher them into the keep whilst men hurried to their posts. Even the barbican gate was still wide open to allow more villagers to make their way inside the castle walls to safety.
In the midst of all the activity, a merchant quickly dumped a rolled tapestry into his cart, jumped into the driver’s seat, and slapped the leather reins to urge his horse into motion towards the gate. Ian did a double take at the foolishness of the merchant’s choice, but assumed the man’s only concern was to reach whatever safe haven he thought was far from Urquhart’s soon-to-be upheaval.
“Connor,” Ian called out to halt the Highlander, who was helping a crying child from the ground.
Pushing the bairn into the arms of her mother, he closed the distance between them. “Aye, my laird?”
Ian pointed his sword to the cart. “Who is that tradesman?”
“Never seen him, my laird.”
“Well, see if you can catch the fool. Surely, he and his goods will be safer within the castle walls than outside of its gates. Or does he wish to be ransacked for every bolt of cloth he has of any worth? When you’re finished, follow me.”
Intent upon reaching Lynet to ensure she was safe, Ian gave no further thought to the trader, who cursed at Conner, waved his fist in the air, and then proceeded to yell at his horse to “giddy up” whilst narrowly missing the closing of the portcullis on his cart. Seeing Angus, Ian motioned for his kinsmen to join him, as well.
He had just reached the first step leading to the keep whilst Connor ran to catch up, when his name was called by a small, wee voice.
“Laird MacGillivray!” a young lass bellowed as she ran up to him to tug on the edge of his tunic to gain his attention.
