Chapter Thirty-Four

Dorie stood dumbfounded as the mistress of the keep rode out of the bailey in breeches atop a giant of a horse. Kenna led a group of hunters doing their best to supply enough meat for the planned festivities.

Dorie couldn’t help but think the laird wouldn’t approve of his very pregnant wife riding and hunting. She was to deliver the babe in just a few weeks.

Dorie also worried it was premature to plan a victory celebration when they’d not yet heard word if the MacKinlays had engaged or how the battle progressed. For all those left at Dunardry knew it could be McCurdys who arrived back at the castle.

The numbers were in the MacKinlays’ favor, but the McCurdys were sneaky and ruthless. Each time Dorie thought of such things she shivered.

“I’m sure our men will be back safely,” Mari said with a strained smile as she and Dorie worked on bandages the next day.

“Aye. I’ve no doubt about it,” Dorie lied unconvincingly.

They took turns sharing stories, but it was a futile distraction. They were both worried.

Kenna and Mari needed their men to return safely to help raise their children. And Dorie needed Bryce so they could begin their life together free from the danger of the McCurdys.

“They will all come home soon,” Dorie said, her voice more certain this time.

She just hoped it was true.

…

They were winning. Bryce was sure of it. Though the McCurdys were putting up a good fight. Wallace and his crew had run off to leave their laird and the remaining men loyal to him to hold off four armies.

Rory fought beside Bryce. It hadn’t been difficult to find him since he’d been camping at the edge of the woods alone, waiting for whoever came to take Baehaven. He took a knee to pledge his loyalty to the MacKinlays and aided in getting them through the lines.

The viscount had wanted to take down the McCurdy laird for Dorie and for her mother. But it was Bryce who faced him first on the battlefield.

And it was Bryce who delivered the blow that dropped him. The older man sputtered and coughed, and eventually laughed when he realized the injury to his chest was a fatal one.

“For Dorie,” Bryce said. “My wife.”

His eyes locked on Bryce’s and he laughed again, a cruel sound that choked off with a wet cough.

“She was never supposed to leave. Damn Wallace for making that arrangement without my knowledge. The lass was supposed to rot away, thinking every day of how thoroughly she’d destroyed our lives. Her ma’s and mine.”

Bryce looked down at the other man as Dorien stepped closer. It was clear from the expression on his face he’d heard what the old laird said.

“You killed her mother.”

“Nay.” This time when he coughed, red spattered his lips. “It’s true I roughed her up a bit in my rage, but her death…no. She took care of that herself, to spite me.”

“You lie,” Dorien said. “She wouldn’t have taken her own life. Not when she needed to be there for our child.”

The McCurdy’s eyes narrowed on the Englishman. Even at death’s door as he was, it was easy for him to see the similarities between Dorien and the child he’d thought was his daughter for nine years.

“Did she ever tell you of the child?” Blood was running from the corner of the man’s mouth and his voice rattled. “She planned to go to you without Dorie because she knew I’d never let her take the girl. When I refused, she took a blade to her own throat.” He laughed, blood bubbling from his mouth. “Now I’ll see her in hell. And you will never have her.” A few ragged breaths later the smile left his lips as life vacated his eyes.

“He lies,” Dorien said again.

Bryce didn’t know many men who still felt the need to lie when facing death. Generally, they were quick to spill truths until their dying breath. But for both Dorien and Dorie’s sake he would let them have their truth as they knew it. Some things were better not known.

With the fall of the McCurdy laird, the remaining men surrendered quickly and came forward to bow in front of them. Lachlan offered them sanctuary in exchange for their fealty, and they were quick to comply.

When everything was settled Lach turned toward Baehaven Castle and nodded to Dorien. “Your castle, my lord.”

…

It had taken three days for a messenger to arrive with word of a battle that, by now, was most likely over. The news he brought was outdated, not to mention vague. He had no word specifically of who had fallen and who lived. All he was able to report was that the MacKinlay laird was alive, and the McCurdys had been taken by surprise.

Kenna sent the lad for a meal and gave an encouraging smile to the ladies who’d convened. “They had surprise on their side. I’m certain the McCurdy took one look at the men amassed and laid down his sword in surrender.”

Dorie offered a brittle smile and wondered how they were able to sit there without going mad. It took her a moment to see the answer. Each one of them clung to a child. They all had a small piece of the men they loved.

While Dorie had nothing of Bryce.

That night she tossed and turned as visions of her husband being slain in battle taunted her from sleep. It was still dark when she dressed in the messenger’s clothing she had washed and mended earlier and made her way to the stable. She’d secured Rascal in their room, knowing the guard would recognize him and know who she was straight away.

She knew it was a foolish endeavor. If the McCurdys had indeed defeated their forces, they could even now be heading her way. But she’d rather face it straight on than wait another second to hear of her husband’s fate.

At the gate, she was faced with her first challenge. She had found a cap in the hall and pulled it tight over her hair. Lowering her voice, she announced she was to return to the battle to bring back word. Thankfully, the guard didn’t hesitate to lift the gate and allow her to leave.

The sun cast the faintest hint of light on the eastern border so she headed in the opposite direction. It was a simple thing to follow the trail left by more than three hundred horses. As the sun rose higher and she was able to see better, she picked up her pace. She stopped only long enough to rest and water her horse and was off again before dawn the next day.

Rain had settled in and even though it was still summer, she was drenched and shivering in the hills, unsure what time it was since the sun refused to shine. Slogging through the mud made things slower, so she was only at a canter when two men stepped out on the trail, blocking her path.

She turned, but another, larger man had stepped behind her, covered in filth and blood.

“Look what we have found,” a familiar voice bellowed. “If it isn’t my dear sister, here to aid us.”