Page 72 of Highlander's Captive Bride
Daisy kissed him back, holding him tightly, knowing she had made the right decision.
22
When Bellamy left Daisy, he felt preternaturally energized, knowing she was going to stay and help him. With her promise and their kiss to seal it, the sorrow that had been weighing on him had lifted off his shoulders, to be replaced by the cool-headed, determined anticipation that always preceded a fight.
He ran up to the battlements, to the parapet walk, seeking out Jamie and his sergeant, Colin Moore. In his brief absence, the pair had already done much to deploy their well-drilled soldiers across the castle defenses to deflect any attack. Archers were stationed at every crenellation, with bows and barrels of fresh arrows and bolts to hand.
When Bellamy rejoined them, they were standing by the wall of the south tower, both looking out over the fields so recently filled with Beltane revelers. The lonely bonfires painted the night in garish, ruddy colors.
Jamie and Colin greeted him with nods, and after a few moments, they broke off their speculations on where the attack would begin and the tactics Lachlan Pearson would most likely use.
“I cannae believe it about Miss Nadia, M’laird,” Colin muttered darkly, shaking his head disbelievingly. “The only good thing about it is that we now have the element of surprise on our side. Pearson willnae expect us to be ready for him, the bastard.”
Bellamy nodded in hearty agreement, deeply grateful to Daisy once more. “Aye. I cannae think a man like Pearson would have many men willing to fight for him,” he noted, his eyes scanning the horizon.
“I thought we wiped out all the McGowans—bar Nadia, of course,” Jamie said. “If Lachlan survived, then it’s entirely possible more of their men escaped under the cover of the fires that broke out during our attack.”
“Aye, and he’s had years to build a fighting force,” Colin added.
“But if he’s been living undercover, likely without much money, no base, and few resources, he must have had some help from someone,” Bellamy said, baring his teeth like a savage for a second. “I cannae wait to have the man at the end of me sword.”
“Well, we’re ready for him. When he comes, he’ll get a nasty surprise,” Jamie said with an air of satisfaction.
“Grand. I’ll away to me chambers and get meself dressed for the fight,” Bellamy told them before taking his leave.
Once in his chambers, he crossed immediately to a tapestry hanging in one corner of the main room and pulled it aside. Behind it was a door. He opened it, revealing a small room whose walls were covered with bits of armor and various weaponry.
He picked up what he needed—his father’s breastplate of leather and iron, with its great central boss in the shape of a bull’s head, and a pair of thick leather vambraces that laced up to encase his forearms and wrists, lending his arms both strength and protection.
When he threw them on the bed, ready to put them on, he was surprised to see a piece of parchment resting on his pillow. A spear of fear went through him, setting his heart pounding. Was it possible Lachlan Pearson had gotten into the castle, into his very own chambers, by stealth?
He snatched up the parchment. Immediately, he recognized the handwriting, but if anything, his heart raced still faster as he scanned the brief message. Once he had read it, he stood for a few moments, thinking about what to do. Quickly reaching a decision, he folded the note and put it carefully in the breast pocket of his shirt, beneath his plaid, next to his heart.
Then, he went to his writing desk. Taking a fresh piece of parchment and dipping a quill in the inkpot, he wrote a few brief lines before signing off with his name and title. He sanded the sheet, rolled it up, and sealed the letter with a lozenge of red wax, impressing it with his family seal. He set it aside and went to ring for a messenger to come and went on with his preparations for battle.
When the messenger came, Bellamy briefly pondered the wisdom of what he was doing, which felt irrevocable. But then, he decisively handed the letter to the messenger, telling him to leave the castle immediately, before the attack began, and to make sure to deliver it as soon as possible.
The messenger sped off. Bellamy tried not to think about the likely consequences of the letter as he went on getting ready.
He was just lacing up the last vambrace, preparing to go and join his men up on the parapets, when the alarm bells signaling an attack began their urgent cacophony. Praying the messenger had gotten over the causeway before Lachlan’s men had approached, he ran out of his room, buckling on his sword belt as he went.
Though the attack was not the ambush Lachlan Pearson had planned it to be, when Bellamy joined his men by the battlements, he was surprised to see the number of men with him—a hundred or so at least.
He looked out over the force. There was a small cavalry waiting, and around fifty bowmen ranged along the banks of the loch, within arrows’ range. The rest of the small army had crossed the causeway and was now standing in formation on the stone pavement before the main gates.
Bellamy’s eyes fixed on a tall figure in battle dress leading them, directing his men with shouts, his claymore held high.
Pearson, ye bastard, ye’ll rue this day, for it’ll be yer last!
“Someone’s been helping him,” he told Jamie, who nodded his agreement beside him. “Looks like he’s hired mercenaries, and that costs a pretty penny.”
Arrows were already flying between the two foes when Bellamy had arrived, but his men had a big advantage, raining injury and death on the attackers near and far from above. Bellamy was gratified to see a gesture of frustration from Lachlan when he realized his ambush was no ambush at all and that the defenders of Castle Murdoch had been expecting him.
Bellamy and Jamie watched side by side as Lachlan’s bowmen continued to let their arrows fly over the battlements, attempting to maim, kill, or at least keep at bay their Murdoch counterparts. But so far, Bellamy was pleased to see that none of his men had been hit, while Lachlan’s bowmen and some of his cavalry were dropping like flies, for they were terribly exposed from all sides.
“His resources are very limited,” Bellamy noted. “He’s goin’ to run out of ammunition soon, and there’s nae room for him to move.”
“Aye, he bargained on his main weapon being the element of surprise, and that hasnae happened,” Jamie said. “He’s in trouble, for sure.”
