Highland Barbarian Part 32

Meredith stood with her ear pressed to the heavy door. When she heard the sound of the guards outside the door being engaged in battle, she clenched her hands at her sides and strained to make out the voices muttering savage oaths and barely coherent phrases. A scream pierced the air and she heard the thud as a body dropped to the floor just outside the door. The fighting went on for what seemed an eternity. She heard a second body fall. Then she detected the sound of footsteps receding.

For long minutes she continued listening with her ear pressed firmly to the ma.s.sive door. There was only silence outside the room. But from the upper floors she could hear the distant sounds of battle.

How much longer should she remain here with the women? This room offered shelter, a safe haven from the battle. But those were her men fighting, dying. And they were here to rescue her. Regardless of Brice's words, Meredith knew in her heart that she had no choice.

She must show herself to her men and order them to cease this battle at once and return with her to the Lowlands.

She lifted sweating palms to the latch that secured the heavy door from inside. Behind her the women lifted pleading eyes that spoke of their disapproval.

"Please, my lady," Cara whispered.

"There is only death beyond this room."

"I must go. I have the power, the authority, to stop this slaughter."

"Nay, my lady," Mistress Snow said, coming to place a restraining hand upon her arm.

"My lord Campbell ordered us to stay here where we are safe. He is the only one who has the authority to end this battle. I beg you, please do not disobey him."

Meredith lifted her head a fraction. No one, not even these well-intentioned servants, would dissuade her.

With her shoulder to the door she pushed it open an inch and peered about. Two men lay in pools of slowly congealing blood. She recognized the two as men who rode with Brice and her heart went out to their widows still waiting bravely just beyond the door. At least for a little while longer she would spare them the gruesome sight of their loved ones.

Motioning for Mistress Snow to latch the door behind her, Meredith slipped out and hurried to kneel beside each of the fallen warriors in turn. Both were dead. Judging by the b.l.o.o.d.y swords beside them, both had fought furiously before giving up their lives.

She lifted her head and listened to the sounds of battle being waged above her. Lifting her skirts she ran to the stairs and began to climb.

The great hall was littered with the bodies of the dead and dying.

Blood spattered the walls and tables. The hulking forms of men writhed and twisted as they moaned or choked back sobs. Pain and death were everywhere.

Meredith walked among the fallen men, kneeling to whisper a word of comfort, to offer a tankard of water. Not one of them, she realized was a MacAlpin. All except Brice's men were strangers to her. Brice.

She studied each face, and though she was not aware of it, her heart sought only one. When a search of the entire room did not reveal him, she let out a long sigh of breath. Brice had survived the first wave of attack.

Meredith heard the sound of the pipes from the direction of the courtyard. When she reached the door she looked out at a scene of such carnage it took her breath away.

The storehouse had been burned. Black acrid smoke filled the air.

Animals, free of their pens, milled about while swordsmen battled all around them. Chickens, ducks, geese, were trampled in the melee.

Goats bleated and ran about, seeking to escape.

Young Jamie, standing alone in a corner of the courtyard, struggled to play the bagpipes while all around him were fallen comrades.

Meredith saw tears streaming down the lad's dirt-streaked face, but he continued to play, though she was certain he no longer knew nor cared what the song was. He played because Brice had ordered it. And he would go to h.e.l.l and back for his beloved Brice.

Seeing a flash of saffron sleeve, Meredith cried out Brice's name and watched in horror as a tall man fell to the ground. His hands pried in vain at the blade of a sword buried in his chest. But when the man's head lolled to one side, she realized he was not Brice.

Her gaze scanned the swordsmen who milled about the courtyard. There were twenty men for every one of Brice's. Where had they all come from?

Hearing a cry from above her, Meredith looked up. A man was pushed from a balcony and hurtled past her, landing with a terrible shudder on the hard-packed earth of the courtyard. A bushy red beard covered his chin. He proudly wore the garb of a Highlander. His vacant eyes stared heavenward.

Meredith looked up toward the balcony. Peering down from his position of victory toward the fallen man was Gareth MacKenzie. On his face was a smile of supreme confidence.

Meredith was certain that Gareth had not yet spotted her. He was still staring intently at the man he had defeated.

Scanning the faces of the crowd, Meredith felt her heart lurch.

Brice. Did he lie even now in a pool of his own blood?

She ducked back inside the castle and raced up the stairs toward Brice's chambers.

Outside the door she came to an abrupt halt. Brice, his sleeve hanging in shreds, his shoulder bleeding profusely, faced three opponents. His left arm dangled uselessly at his side. In his right hand was the gleaming broadsword. By the light of the fire the jewel-encrusted gold handle winked with brilliant color.

While she watched, all three men attacked.

Meredith longed for a sword. Though the men fighting Brice were MacKenzie clansmen, and therefore considered her protectors, she chafed at the uneven odds. With a weapon she could at least make the battle a bit more even.

As she watched the dueling swords she heard the sound of running feet.

Dropping to her knees, she hid herself in a little alcove. It was a terrible thing to be forced to listen helplessly to the sounds of battle and be unable to join in. Nor could she any longer witness the outcome.

"So." The voice of Gareth MacKenzie rang through the hall.

"At last we have backed the Highland Barbarian into a corner. Let us now show him how the Borderers fight sc.u.m like him."

Meredith got to her feet. She would show herself to these men to prove that she was truly alive and unharmed. And then she would demand that Gareth's men join her and follow her back to their home in the Lowlands. Though Gareth would insist upon taking Brice prisoner, she would at least see that he was kept alive.

As she began to step from her place of concealment, she heard Gareth's voice, low with fury.

"You men. Join these three and pin the Highlander against the wall. I want it to be my thrust that ends his life."

Meredith sprang from her place of concealment and stood in the doorway.

Five men held their sword points against Brice's chest while Gareth MacKenzie faced him. Brice's sword lay gleaming at his feet.

Seeing the nicker of movement in the doorway, Brice's eyes narrowed.

G.o.d in heaven. Not now. Meredith must not be seen. If these animals caught sight of her, all would be lost. For there was no doubt in Brice's mind that Gareth MacKenzie was an evil man, bent upon destroying everyone who stood in the way of his l.u.s.t for land and power.

"And when you have killed me, where will you lay the blame for your next murder? When innocent lads and old men are cut down in the night, whose name will you curse?"

"When I have taken over your land, and that of the MacAlpins, there will be no further need of deception," Gareth stated.

"It will all be mine."

"And what of the woman?" Brice's lips curled in a hint of a smile.