Margaret Mallory - The Guardian

“Hurry,” the priest shouted. “The castle is burning.”

Ian lifted her in his arms. As he carried her out, she looked over his shoulder at the bedchamber that had been the place of so much of her mother’s suffering. Smoke was filling the room so rapidly she could barely make out Murdoc’s body on the floor. The last thing she saw gliding through swells of gray was the flash of a pale green gown.

The smoke was so thick in the stairwell that she could not see Father Brian ahead of them, but she heard him coughing. Her eyes watered and her throat burned. When they reached the bottom, Niall and Payton were waiting for them just inside the hall.

The two were surrounded by the bodies of dead men.

As soon as Ian set her on her feet, the four of them ran along the wall toward the front door of the keep. The smoke was not as thick in the hall, because the fire was hot here. Everything that could burn—rushes, tables, overturned benches—was ablaze. As she watched, flames shot up from the high table and ignited the wooden ceiling.

She prayed that Dina had escaped, for there was no one else in the hall but the dead.

“I’ll go first. They may have men just outside, ready to cut us down as we come out,” Ian warned before he opened the door.

That was what he would have done, but when he stepped outside, it appeared that the MacKinnons had abandoned the castle altogether. The bailey yard was empty save for Dina, a goat, and a few squawking chickens.

“Ye should have seen Niall,” his father said, as he came down the steps of the keep one at a time. He was covered in blood and leaning on Niall for support, but he was grinning as if he’d never been happier. “We stood together, with him covering my weak side, and cut down every MacKinnon who dared come near the stairs.”

Ian tightened his arm around Sìleas. He couldn’t join in their good humor over their success. The vision of his wife held down on a bed with a man standing between her legs was still with him—and would likely haunt his dreams for a long, long time to come.

“Father Brian was a sight to behold,” Niall said, laughing. “He didn’t want to use a sword or dirk, so he went ’round hitting MacKinnons on the head with a silver candlestick holder.”

“There was little fight left in them by then,” Father Brian said. “Between retching and the fire, they fled like rabbits.”

“Dina and I poisoned their ale,” Sìleas said in a quiet voice.

“Clever lasses,” his father said, beaming at her.

While the others continued sharing stories, Ian pulled Sìleas against his chest and closed his eyes. Praise be to God he had found her.

His eyes flew open at the sound of boots on the wooden planks of the drawbridge. He pushed Sìleas behind him and drew his claymore just before a dozen men poured through the gate.

“It’s Gòrdan,” Sìleas said.

Ian relaxed his stance when he saw that it was, indeed, Gòrdan, and he was leading a group of MacDonald men.

“We’ve taken Knock Castle!” his father greeted them, raising his sword to the sky.

The men took in the smoldering keep and the bailey yard empty of MacKinnons and lowered their weapons. To a man, they looked disappointed.

“I could only gather a dozen men quickly,” Gòrdan said, as he approached them.

“I’m grateful to ye for coming,” Ian said and saw the pain in Gòrdan’s eyes when they flicked to Sìleas.

Gòrdan turned away and fixed his gaze on the smoke billowing out of the open doors of the keep. “I thought ye would need help, but I can see ye didn’t.”

“I do need your help,” Ian said.

Gòrdan turned back. “Good. What would ye have me do?”

“It’s near dark, so we’ll have to stay here overnight,” Ian said. “But in the morning, I must see my family home and get Connor to the gathering. Can ye hold the castle for me for a time?”

“Aye. The guardhouse hasn’t been touched by the fire, so we can sleep there,” Gòrdan said. “I’ll send one man to the gathering tomorrow night to speak for all the men here.” His gaze roved over the smoldering keep again. “With so much stone, the keep won’t burn long. We’ll save what we can, but I suspect there won’t be much.”

Ian thought of all the bad memories Sìleas had of this castle, which was to be their home. He didn’t want to keep a single stick of furniture, sheet, or floorboard.

“Let the men have anything they can salvage,” he said. “Sìleas and I will start anew.”

From the way Sìleas squeezed his hand, he knew he had made the right decision.

“Are ye all right, lass?” his father asked her.

While Sìleas talked with his father and Niall, Ian drew Gòrdan away for a private word.

“There’s another favor I’d ask of ye,” he said in a low voice.

Gòrdan looked at the ground and kicked at the dirt with the toe of his boot. “Ye know I owe ye after what my mother did.”

“Can ye take care of Dina after we leave in the morning?” When Gòrdan’s head snapped up, Ian added, “Just until I can find someone else to take her in.”

“Is she your mistress?” Gòrdan hissed, his nostrils flaring. “I said I owe ye, but I’ll no help ye deceive Sìleas.”

“Ye misunderstand me,” Ian said, putting a hand up. “There will never be another woman for me but Sìleas.”

Gòrdan’s lips were pressed into a hard line, but he was listening.

“I doubt we would have all gotten out alive without Dina’s help,” Ian said. “I don’t like leaving her unprotected. Will ye watch over her and see that’s she’s safe?”

Gòrdan looked over at Dina, who was standing alone, hugging herself against the fine mist that had begun to fall.

“She’s made mistakes,” Ian said. “But we all deserve a chance to redeem ourselves.”

“Aye, we do,” Gòrdan said with a tight nod. “I’ll see her safe.”

CHAPTER 40

It was damp and cold in the gatehouse, but they didn’t go hungry that night. Gòrdan had brought dried fish, oatcakes, and cheese, and Father Brian—bless him—had the presence of mind to wheel the wine barrel out of the keep when he was escaping the fire.

After their cold supper, Father Brian led them in prayer. They bowed their heads to pray for the lives of Connor, Alex, and Duncan, and for the survival of their clan.

While the others dropped off to sleep or spoke in low voices, Ian huddled against the wall with Sìleas, where he could watch the door. He couldn’t be certain the MacKinnons would not return. Although he’d barred the gate and left a few men out on the wall in the rain to keep watch, he wouldn’t rest easy tonight. He didn’t have enough men to hold the castle against a full attack.

He wrapped his plaid tighter around Sìleas and kissed her hair as she rested against his chest. Every time he thought of how close he had come to losing her, he felt as if a great fist squeezed his heart.

“There is something I need to tell ye,” Sìleas said in a low voice.

Blood pounded in Ian’s ears as he braced himself to hear what he knew would be past bearing. But he must bear it and be strong for her.

“Was it Angus or Murdoc?” he asked in a choked voice. For as long as he lived, he would never forgive himself for being too late to save her from being taken in violence.

Sìleas touched her fingers to his face. “No. That didn’t happen.”

Would she lie to spare him? He didn’t want to press her now. When he had her safe, with hours before them to talk, he would find out all that had happened in the castle.

“I speak the truth,” she said. “I wasn’t certain ye would find me before one of them raped me, but ye did.”

Relief flooded through him. Men had their hands on her and frightened her, but at least she had not suffered the worst violation.