Page 30 of How to Be a Scottish Mistress

No storm would be coming on a clear night. Then why the thunder? Gavin turned at the exact moment a spine-chilling war cry shattered the stillness of the night. A line of men on horseback burst out of the underbrush. Swords drawn, they charged the camp.

“To arms!” Gavin roared. “’Tis Gilroy!”

The camp erupted in confusion. Men shouted and cursed and scrambled to find their weapons in the darkness. The ringing of steel on steel soon filled the night.

A rider charged Gavin just as he reached for his sword. He leapt to his right and the warrior swung ineffectively into thin air. Heavy sword clasped between both hands, Gavin pivoted around and slashed his foe in the leg, striking nearly to the bone. The man screamed and fell to the ground while his riderless horse disappeared into the woods.

The night air thickened with the energy of battle. Swords clashed and arrows flew, as each side fought for dominance. Gavin fought his way into the center of the fray, his mobility hampered by the darkness, his determination increasing with each swing of his sword.

It ends here and now!

A body hit the ground next to him, coming so close it brushed against Gavin’s boot as it fell. Gavin glanced down briefly, noting the arrow protruding from the man’s chest, then felt a stab of relief when he saw it was not one of his soldiers.

Realizing they were outnumbered, and the tide of the skirmish was turning against them, Gilroy and his men fled into the dense forest.

Gavin watched them retreat, his breath coming in harsh gasps. Ignoring the bodies strewn on the hard ground, he faced Aidan. “Did we lose any men?”

“Nay. We sustained some gashes and bruises, but these bodies are Gilroy’s minions.”

Using his foot, Connor rolled one of the prone men onto his back. A single shard of moonlight bathed the corpse in a ghastly glow. Blood seeped from the gash across the man’s chest and pooled onto the soil, making it slippery.

“I dinnae recognize him,” Duncan said, bending low to peer closely at the man’s features.

“I’m not surprised,” Aidan said. “Outlaws and brigands are the only kind of men who would follow Gilroy and ye don’t know many of them.”

“They can fight,” Connor said. “I’ll give them that.”

“Not as well as they die.” Gavin felt the intensity of his emotions blazing in his chest and knew he needed to ignore them. Calm, steady, controlled. ’Twas the only way he would win this contest.

“There were at least two dozen of them that attacked us,” Aidan said, as he wiped the bloodied end of his sword on a nearby bush and carefully sheathed the weapon back in its scabbard.

“Did anyone see which way they went?” Connor asked.

“They scattered like leaves in the wind,” Aidan replied.

“North,” Duncan said with confidence.

“Leave one man to care fer our wounded and bury these bodies,” Gavin commanded. “The rest of ye mount up. We ride north.”

The constant sound of a ringing church bell startled Fiona awake. Rubbing her eyes, she tried taking in her surroundings, but it was too dark to see much.’Tis not yet dawn. Why do they rise so early?

Shaking her sleep-clouded head, Fiona reached out and fingered the unfamiliar heavy bed curtains, realizing they were the reason for the dimness surrounding her.

Cautiously she pulled them back and a shaft of daylight caressed the length of her bare leg. Opening the fabric a fraction wider, she peeked out and peered about the room.

It was empty. Gavin was nowhere to be seen. Actually, judging by the neatness of the chamber, it appeared that he had not returned last night. She probably should not have heeded his command and slept in his chamber, but her mind had been occupied and in the end it seemed easier to obey.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. Fiona froze, hoping it meant the household was answering the toll of the bells and going to Mass. But one pair of feet did stop, opening the chamber door and entering without a knock.

Fiona wasn’t certain who was more surprised—her or the female servant who entered.

“Glory be, what are ye doing in here?” the woman asked as her disapproving gaze swept Fiona from mussed hair to bare toes.

Fiona smiled mysteriously. She was not about to explain herself to this sour-faced servant. “Has the earl returned?”

The servant propped her hands on her hips and assumed an indignant air. “And why would ye be needing to know that?”

Deciding it was too early in the morning to be answering questions, Fiona sprung from the bed. She stalked out of the chamber and returned to her own and found Alice waiting for her.

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