Page 79 of The Highlander's Alluring Spy
There was no time to enjoy the scenery now. They barely spoke, merely keeping pace with each other where they could. At night, when they rested, Magnolia filled her father in on little bits and pieces of how life had been for her among the Scots.
Daniel’s surprise at his daughter’s affections for the Scotsman soon faded as he listened to her describe Nathair. It brought back memories of a visit he’d once paid to the MacFoihl Clan and a small boy with wild red hair and bright green eyes.
Is it the same boy? And what does this mean for my daughter’s future?
He knew not, nor did he know much of anything other than their duties. It felt like every time they lay to sleep, it was time to open their eyes and be on the road once more, only occasionally stopping for a mouthful of food and a sip of water.
The army had close to thirty hours on them, and it was a lot of ground to make up. No matter how quickly he and Magnolia hurried to the Scottish Highlands, he knew Peter Kole. The Viscount would be hurrying too, eager to get his men to the MacFoihl Castle, anxious to lay siege on innocent people to promote his own name.
His betrayal disgusted Daniel beyond words. Bad enough that he would lie to the Crown, to the Country. Bad enough that he would put the lives of innocents in danger for his own agenda.
But the Order was supposed to be a group of brothers-in-arms, men–and Magnolia–who served a common purpose. They were supposed to be able to trust one another, even when they could trust nobody else.
Lord Kole had betrayed all that. He had turned traitor and used Daniel’s daughter to do it. The Viscount had written slander most foul and was willingly risking the lives of young soldiers by filling their heads with lies.
He had betrayed everything for which the Order of the Red Blossom stood.
And Daniel wasn’t likely to let it go so quickly.
A forest loomed in the foreground not long after, and it seemed to wipe the exhaustion from Magnolia’s face. “There’s not much further to go, Father,” she assured him. “Two more hills and down the glen. We’ll soon be able to see Loch MacFoihl, right next to the castle walls.”
Daniel could not help but let out a breath of relief at this. He wasn’t old, as old men went, but he wasn’t young enough to be riding all these miles on horseback either. And yet here they were, in the Highlands of Scotland, with no help except themselves.
For justice, I’d do much more. For Magnolia, I would fly to Scotland on my own power if that was what it took.
Ahead of him, Magnolia dug her heels into her horse’s flank. The fine Clydesdale they’d picked up in the last town complied with a sudden burst of speech. Without so much as a pause, Daniel spurred his own mount forward, keeping pace.
Don’t you worry, Magnolia. We have time. We can solve all of this, God willing.
* * *
Nathair had tried to send Elaine away. The moment he’d heard the word of the imminent attack, he’d sent a letter out to Lady Taylor, begging Eilidh to take the child.
He knew that it would have been more prudent to simply send her with a letter of apology rather than asking for permission first, especially since their time was limited. But the idea of being apart from Elaine, probably never to see her again, was too much for his heart to bear.
The messenger must have been waylaid, for he never received any word nor notice back from Eilidh. He feared that, were there highwaymen on the hills, sending a four-year-old girl alone would sign her death warrant as surely as allowing her to stay in the castle.
So he’d sent her to stay with Abbie and the Candlish children, hoping they could all be some comfort to each other before the end came. Their fathers were certain to die this day, but Abbie was a strong woman. She would care for them.
Aye, if they dinnae raze the village too.
If Nathair was honest, he didn’t hold out much hope.
I’m sorry, me wee chook. We’ll be with yer Mamaidh soon.
A hand clapped on his shoulder and brought him out of his reverie. He turned and saw William there, clad in full MacFoihl tartan, his massive two-handed claymore strapped to his back.
His friend was much less a traditional Scotsman in appearance than Nathair himself, the Laird reflected. Still, at this moment, with the fierce look in his gray eyes, he embodied the true spirit ofAlba.
“Fine day to die,” William said in an echo of his usual cheer. “Dae ye think God is smilin’ down on us wi’ this shinin’ sunlight?”
Nathair chuckled dryly. “Aye, tha’ must be it,” he said. He looked behind where they stood, seeing his men gathered behind him, each as determined as their commander. There were some so old that their beards were white, and some so young that they barely had a beard at all.
And each and every one of them was likely to die.
A small segment of their soldiers waited down in the village, ready to protect the women and children and the elderly and infirm.
Here at the castle, they had maybe one hundred men to face the attack of an entire English regiment. If they even had that many.
