Page 85 of Intrigued By A Highlander

He didn’t hesitate this time. He rushed to her and pulled her into his arms and kissed her, grateful to feel her snug against him and know she was safe.

He gripped her face. “You don’t obey me and now you have my horse not obeying me.”

“We weren’t about to desert you when we knew you needed us.”

He shook his head. “I should be angry at you, but you feel too good in my arms to be anything but relieved and grateful.” He scrunched his brow. “How did you get the MacTavish brothers to help you?”

“They enjoy fighting others more than fighting each other.” She smiled, “But I sealed the deal when I promised I’d get them four barrels of ale from the monks, one for each of them.”

“Dru, we found one alive,” Quim said, hurrying over to her. “You don’t need us anymore, so what about that ale?”

Knox turned to Star, his mare remaining close to him, and ran a gentle hand along her neck. “Good work, Star.”

He continued to soothe her with a soft touch while he slipped his hand into his rolled bedding and extracted a pouch. He pulled a few coins out of it and tucked the pouch into his plaid.

“You gave your word Dru, and you never renege on your word,” Fyre reminded, joining Quim, Atley and Olin hurrying over to join them.

“Here you go,” Knox said, holding the coins out to the four brothers. “This should buy you six barrels of ale.”

Quim scooped the coins out of Knox’s hand before his brothers could reach for them. “You’ve got a good man there, Dru. Anytime you need help we’re there for you, with payment of ale, of course.”

“How come you get the coin? Why can’t I hold on to them?” Atley asked.

“Or me?” Olin chimed in.

“It should be me,” Fyfe said. “I’m the least drunk of us all.”

“The ride and fight sobered us. We need more ale,” Quim said and grinned. “And with these many coins I wager the monks would be glad to tend our wounds, feed us, and shelter us for the night.”

The four were about to rush off when Knox said, “Show us the enemy warrior who survived.”

The air hung thick with smoke and blood, the fire crackling low as if weary from witnessing so much death. The MacTavish brothers showed them to the warrior while Phelan and his men moved among the fallen, checking for life, offering swift mercy where needed.

Phelan looked up from where he knelt next to one of his fallen warriors. “We need to talk.”

“Aye, that we do,” Knox agreed cautiously, not trusting the man.

Atley walked alongside Dru and nodded to the woman who had been tied to the tree now seated near the fire, wrapped in a cloak, her eyes hollow. “I cut her free and tended to her wounds as best I could. But she may need a healer. We could take her to the monks if you want. They would look after her.”

Dru saw how she clutched a flask with both hands, as if warmth alone could drive the memory of what she’d witnessed from her bones.

“And we’ll make sure everyone knows she’s not Autumn,” Atley said.

“Aye, that would be good. Let me speak with her and let her know she’ll be safe with you and your brothers.”

Atley nodded and they continued to the captive in silence.

The warrior would not survive the night and Knox took advantage of that. “I can end your suffering quickly or I can worsen it. Tell me who wants Autumn dead.”

The warrior moaned, blood seeping through his fingers from where his hand lay over the wound to his stomach. “I would if I knew.”

“I don’t believe you,” Knox said, looking down where he lay on the ground. “You and the others fought with fiery rage, which is often seen in those who fight to revenge something or someone. Who do you revenge?”

“Is she dead?” the warrior asked.

“Nay,” Knox said. “She lives, but she is not Autumn.”

“Aye, he’s right about that,” Quim said and reiterated the truth about Sax starting the rumor.

---