Once Upon a Highland Moon (The Highland Moon Series) Page 20

  Cinead raised a brow and crossed his arms. "Able to swing a broadsword, are you now?"

  He glared at his friend, who at that moment looked every bit the Viking his ancestors had been. "Aye. The bastard has my wife, and I intend to take her back." Galen grabbed the bed post and slowly pulled himself to his feet. His legs trembled, and for a moment he was afraid he might slide to the floor. Then they'd never allow him to come along.

  Elis put her hands on her broad hips and grunted. "Ye'll undo all m' handiwork, then ye'll bleed to death for certain."

  Galen looked at the woman who'd birthed most of the residents of the castle—including himself, Elizabeth and Ewan—plus a good deal of the children in the village. "Don't fash yourself, Elis; I'll be careful."

  She handed him a cup. "Drink this, 'twill lessen the pain a great deal."

  He took the concoction from her and drank it down, grimacing at its bitter taste. Then let go of the bed and took a couple steps. "If someone would kindly help me finish dressing, we can be on our way. We have to hurry. They can't be much more than half an hour ahead of us."

  "Galen, you should stay here. You're in no shape to travel."

  "Do you think I could remain here, knowing Campbell has my wife?" He shook his head. "Nay. I'm going, and don't anyone try to stop me."

  His father blew out a long breath and helped him on with his shirt. Every movement sent stabbing pains through Galen's body, but he clenched his teeth and fought it until he was dressed—except for his boots.

  Duncan grabbed them. "Go ahead and sit down then. I'll put them on you, lad," he said, getting on his knees in front of the settle where Galen sat. "Just remember this the next time you think about putting vermin in my boots."

  Galen couldn't help but grin. "I'll remember." He glanced around the room. "Where's Cin?"

  "He's gone on ahead to ready the galley for our departure," his father said, before opening the door and barking orders to several of the guards gathered in the corridor, who disappeared down the stairs.

  After securing two dirks and his broadsword to his belt, he strapped his sgian dubh to his left forearm. With Duncan carrying his targe, Galen managed to make it outside, down the embankment and to the shore, where the galley waited. His chest burned, as if a hot iron was being held against it, and every step was excruciatingly painful. Once they reached open waters, he hoped there would be enough wind to use the sails. Then they could travel much faster. On board, Galen carefully sat down and leaned against the side of the vessel to preserve what strength he had left, for he would need all of it—and more—once they caught up to Campbell.

  The look in Sorcha's eyes, as the guard dragged her away, haunted him. Did she believe him dead? Had Campbell already forced her to marry him? No matter. It wouldn't be binding, since Galen still lived. What part of Sorcha's dowry was it he wanted so badly? Was it the money, the jewels, or the land her brother had so graciously included in the bargain?

  The potion Elis gave Galen began to take effect, and with each passing moment the pain lessened. Galen closed his eyes. Sorcha's smiling face rose to the surface. Where are you?

  ***

  Sorcha gazed up at the wooden cross positioned against the wall behind the altar. She closed her eyes and prayed to God that Galen hadn't died, and the marriage about to take place was for naught.

  "We are in need of a witness to the blessed event," the minister said. "The lass who works in the bakery assists me in such matters. I'll fetch her. I'll not be but a moment," he said, heading for the door.

  Archibald stopped him. "There's no need. One of my men will suffice." He motioned for the guard beside the door to come forward.

  The minister nodded. "Very well, then. The ceremony may proceed."

  Archibald's eyes kept darting to the back of the church, while his hand stayed on the hilt of his sheathed broadsword. He knew time was not on his side. By now, someone would have found Galen, and if he yet lived, they would ken it was Campbell who had tried to kill him and taken her. If Galen was dead, and there was no proof 'twas Campbell, Sorcha intended to somehow make it known sooner or later. Somehow.

  "Get on with it," he shouted at the minister.

  The old man's eyes opened wide, but he cleared his throat and began. It took but a few minutes for him to pronounce them man and wife. And as he did, Sorcha's heart sank.

  Archibald grabbed her and kissed her hard, then grinned. "You, as well as your wonderful dowry, now belong to me."

  Sorcha buried her face in her hands and sobbed until she thought her heart would break.

  Suddenly the doors to the church were slung open. Cinead and Duncan, followed by Laird MacKinnon and two of his guards stepped inside.

  The Campbell guard unsheathed his sword and ran toward them swinging wildly, Cinead quickly disarmed him.

  Archibald grabbed his dirk, then moved to stand behind Sorcha. He pressed the blade against her neck. "Move, and I'll slice open your throat," he whispered against her ear.

  The frightened minister fell to his knees before the altar, his prayers barely audible.

  Sorcha squeezed her eyes shut, hardly daring to breathe, as the cold steel pressed into her skin. If she so much as turned her head, her life would come to an end. She had no doubt he'd kill her. Hadn't she seen what he'd done to Galen?

  "Campbell, I'll see you hanged for what you did to my son and his wife."

  'Twas true then. Galen was dead. Tears spilled down Sorcha's cheeks and the blade at her throat was the only thing that kept her from sinking to the floor.

  Campbell let out a loud whistle, and the tiny church was surrounded. "I wasn't fool enough to come here alone." He chuckled. "I had a portion of my garrison meet me here."

  Battle cries and the clashing of steel on steel rang out in the street.

  Cinead and Duncan rushed out the door and into battle, followed by the two MacKinnon guards.

  Sorcha prayed they'd not be injured or killed.

  "Nor did we come here alone, Campbell." Laird MacKinnon said, his gaze never leaving the blade at Sorcha's throat.

  Archibald wrapped his free arm about her waist. "Move out of my way, MacKinnon, so that I may take my new wife back to Clifftower."

  "She's not your wife, Campbell, she's mine." Galen walked into the church and stopped at his father's side. He had to get Sorcha away from Campbell, before he lost her for good. Even the slightest movement on her part—or Campbell's—could end her life.

  Sorcha's eyes widened. "Galen, I thought you were dead," she said, her voice full of emotion.

  Campbell growled and moved the edge of the blade against her throat.

  Galen held his breath.

  Sorcha whimpered and a drop of blood dripped onto her bodice.

  Cursing beneath his breath, Galen took a step forward.

  "Stay where you are, MacKinnon, or she dies here and now. I thought I'd taken care of you once and for all."

  "Och, as you can see, Campbell, your blade missed its mark," Galen said. "Drop your weapon. Let Sorcha go and the dowry is yours. I don't want it. It means naught to me." But she means everything.

  Campbell shook his head. "I'm no fool. You'd have your blade in me before my own ever touched the floor."

  The fighting outside the church had ceased, and the street had grown quiet, except for the murmur of many voices.

  Campbell frowned and strained his neck to see through the tiny window. "What the devil is going on out there? My orders were for them to fight until I said otherwise."

  Galen's gaze never moved from Campbell's hand, and with each passing moment, he grew more and more afraid of what he might do to Sorcha. "Lower your blade and let her go, then you might live. If you don't, then I'll have no other choice than to kill you myself."

  He chuckled. "Och, those are some mighty words, MacKinnon. You seem to have forgotten 'tis I who has the upper hand here." His gaze locked on Galen, he leaned close to Sorcha's ear. "Bid him farewell."

  Without a moment's hesitation, Gal
en grabbed the sgian dubh, and with a flick of his wrist, sent it flying across the room, praying it wouldn't miss its mark.

  Campbell dropped the blade at Sorcha's throat, and clutched at the one buried in the side of his neck. After a moment, he staggered backwards, then fell to the floor and lay still, his blood soaking into the stone floor of the church.

  Sorcha raced up the aisle and into Galen's waiting arms.

  He clenched his teeth to keep from groaning in pain, but he didn't push her away. It felt too good to have her safe in his arms once again.

  Cinead and Duncan re-entered the church with Garreth Campbell.

  Garreth walked to the front of the church, where his uncle lay dead before the altar.

  The elderly minister was on his knees with his head bowed, most likely asking forgiveness for the bastard's wicked soul.

  Garreth shook his head. "Knowing I'd try to stop him, my uncle kept his plan from me. He sent me to Aberdeen to inquire about a horse. When I returned, I found a good many of the garrison missing. I had to practically threaten the life of his steward to find out what was going on. 'Twas the dowry he was after, and greed that got him killed."

  Galen snorted. "If I'd known he planned to murder me in my bed and marry Sorcha for it, I'd have given him the damn dowry."

  His father narrowed his eyes. "Why was he so desperate to have it? Was he that much in need of funds?"

  "Quite the contrary, my uncle was a very wealthy man. 'Twas the land—the waterway in particular—that he wanted."

  "Why?" Galen asked, his arm resting on Sorcha's shoulder. He suddenly felt overly tired. If he could just lie down for a few minutes, he was sure he'd be fine.

  Garreth let out a long sigh. "Then he'd have control over who came and went through the waterway, including the merchant ships. His plan was to make them pay a heavy fine for safe passage."

  "Och, a devious plan was it not?" Cinead said, his narrowed gaze on the dead man.

  "Aye, 'twas," Garreth said. "I'll take my uncle back to Clifftower for burial. The MacKinnons will no longer be bothered by my people."

  Galen nodded. "You're now the laird of Clifftower. I hope you remember what Laird MacLachlan said before, about you being an ally instead of an enemy."

  Garreth nodded. "I'll remember." He motioned for the Campbell guards outside the door to collect his uncle's body, then turned to Sorcha. "Lady MacKinnon, I regret my uncle's actions. Please accept my heartfelt apology."

  She smiled and nodded. "Garreth, 'twas not your fault, but I accept your apology."

  Garreth smiled back, his gaze lingering far longer than Galen thought it should have.

  Galen frowned at the young laird and pulled Sorcha closer. He knew when a man was attracted to a woman, and Garreth Campbell was very much attracted to his beautiful wife.

  With an incline of his head, he followed the guards carrying his uncle's body through the church doors. With Archibald Campbell strapped to the back of a horse, he and his garrison departed Oban.

  The minister appeared to be a great deal upset, as he worked to wash away the blood from the floor of his church.

  Sorcha broke away from Galen and went to console him. Whatever 'twas she said, he turned and nodded.

  Throughout the ordeal, Galen somehow managed to hold onto his composure, but he was waning fast. Weakened by loss of blood and the journey from Mull, he took a seat on the settle beside the door.

  His father noticed and sat down beside him. "You've pushed yourself hard, my son. Perhaps 'twould be better for you and you wife to remain here in the village, until you are well enough to travel. I'm certain Cin and Duncan wouldn't mind staying. I can leave several of my garrison behind as well, if you wish."

  Galen shook his head. "There'll be no need, if Cin and Duncan are willing to stay." All Galen wanted was to find a bed and lie down, with his wife at his side. He was relieved he wasn't going to have to make the journey home. Galen leaned his head back against the stone wall and closed his eyes. Sorcha's tantalizing rose scent reached his nose and he opened them.

  She sat on the settle studying him, a worried frown creasing her pretty brow. "Your father sent Cin to secure us a room for several days. But I warn you, Galen, if I am to see to your injury, you are to do as I say. If you do not, I may have to become forceful."

  He raised a brow, trying to keep from smiling. Sorcha didn't have a forceful bone in her wee body. "Aye, lass, I'll be doing whatever you tell me."

  "Good!" she said, a bit of a smile curving the corners of her mouth. "You might even find it to your liking," she whispered against his ear.

  His brows shot up in surprise and even with his body in the miserable state it was in, a wave of desire washed over him. Whatever the lass had in mind, he was sure to enjoy it. He always did.

  Cinead returned from his mission. "The landlord at the tavern has no rooms available, but he does have a small cottage at the edge of the village he's willing to let us have, for a substantial fee, of course. It has a separate room for Galen and Sorcha. And Duncan and I will be there if she should need help—which I doubt she will."

  His father nodded. "That'll do then." He reached into his sporran and handed the necessary funds to Cinead, who hurried down the street to procure the cottage.

  He turned to Sorcha. You're in need of clothing, lass, before you freeze to death. Duncan, see what you can find for her." He handed the Highlander several coins.

  Duncan headed down the street.

  Sorcha smiled. "Much thanks, Father," she said, shivering.

  "You're welcome, lass."

  "Would you mind telling Inna to see to Nutmeg until our return?"

  Laird MacKinnon nodded. "I'll make certain she does," he said, then walked to the front of the church and handed several coins to the minister, who smiled and thanked him for his generosity.

  After saying good-bye, the laird of Moorloch and his garrison returned to the galley for their journey home to the Isle of Mull.

  As Galen, Sorcha and Cinead walked the short distance to the cottage, they met Duncan coming out of the dressmaker's shop carrying a large package under his arm. He looked at Sorcha and smiled. "The dressmaker had some items of clothing that had never been picked up. I hope you like them."

  She smiled up at him. "I'm certain I will, Duncan." Chilled to the bone by the thick mist surrounding them, she didn't care what he'd chosen, as long as it would keep her warm.

  When Cinead opened the cottage door, Sorcha was pleasantly surprised. The place had been readied for their stay, with a crackling fire, clean linens and a table of fine food. Sorcha was certain Laird MacKinnon had paid through the teeth for such fare.

  Without a word, Galen headed through the doorway leading to the bedchamber, with Sorcha on his heels. After removing his weapons, he carefully lay down on the bed, and almost as soon as he closed his eyes, he was asleep.

  Sorcha removed his boots and put them beside the bed, then threw a blanket over him. She frowned, concerned about his wellbeing, as she watched him sleep. Perhaps, after a good rest, Galen would feel much better.

  She brought Duncan's purchases into the small bedchamber, and was surprised to find the dark green dress he'd chosen fit her near perfectly. He'd also purchased a dark scarlet one, she liked as well. Beneath them, she found a pair of brown slippers and quickly put them on her cold feet.

  She checked on Galen, before busying herself about the cottage, checking on him often throughout the day. He needed to eat, but she didn't dare wake him, figuring he needed the rest in order to heal. After checking his forehead for any sign of fever, she let him be.

  Saying goodnight to Cinead and Duncan, she quietly slipped into the bedroom and stripped down to her shift. She slid beneath the covers, careful not to wake her husband. It'd been a long day for them both. The rain falling outside caused Sorcha to shiver and she snuggled deeper beneath the blanket and closer to Galen, careful not to hurt him. She closed her eyes and listened to the steady sound of the water dripping from the that
ched roof into the standing water below.

  When she next opened her eyes, 'twas somewhere near dawn. Something had awakened her.

  Beside her Galen moaned in his sleep. She placed her hand against his forehead. He was burning up.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Trembling with fear, Sorcha leaped from the bed and threw open the door. "He's burning up with fever," she shouted, her voice shaking.

  Cinead and Duncan jumped up from their pallets before the fire.

  "I'll fetch a healer," Duncan said, securing his broadsword to his belted plaid, before leaving the cottage.

  "What would you have me do, Sorcha?" Cinead asked, his brow creased with worry.

  "Let me dress, then come help me with Galen." Sorcha spun around and headed for the bedchamber.

  Sorcha quickly dressed, then hurried to Galen's side. "Cin," she called out, then lit a candle and sat down on the bed. She gently pushed up his shirt to take a look at his wound. He'd been so exhausted the previous day, he'd not taken the time to undress. His injury had bled during the night and now she had trouble pulling his shirt away from the dried blood.

  Galen opened his eyes, then closed them again. "Lass, you should wake me when you wish to have your way with me." His words were slow and thick, but at least he'd not lost his sense of humor.

  Cinead leaned over her shoulder and watched as she tore a portion of the bandage away.

  Her husband winced and swallowed hard. "Easy, lass."

  Tears ran down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Galen, I promise to be more careful."

  Her hands shook as she removed the blood-soaked bandage. She took a close look at his wound, then gasped. Pus oozed from between the stitches and there was an unpleasant odor about it. Heat radiated from his body and his teeth chattered. She prayed Duncan found a healer soon. Sorcha wiped a tear on her sleeve. She couldn't lose him now—not after all they'd been through.

  Cinead blew out a breath, shaking his head. "I ken it don't look good, lass, but I'm certain he'll be fine, once the healer sees to him."