Page 147 of Bride of Fire
So she quickly laid out her plans.
“Our best chance against the English is to convince them not to invade. We have to intimidate them, make them believe we’re not worth the battle.”
“Us?” someone said. “Intimidate them?”
“Aye,” she said. “We may not have the strength of wolves. But we have the guile of wildcats. If we can make ourselves look larger than we are, we might make the English reconsider a frontal attack and convince them to lay siege instead.”
Once she explained what she wanted them to do, the lasses’ faces lit up at the prospect of such wily subterfuge. They quickly dispersed to follow her instructions.
Jenefer’s attention was drawn to the hearth, where the young lad still held Miles safely in his arms. Perhaps Morgan had been right to trust him. She gave him a nod of approval, communicating that she had faith in him to keep the bairn safe.
He gave her a solemn nod in return.
Then she bolted up the stairs. She’d seen no sign of Feiyan, and she needed her cousin’s aid.
Bethac and Cicilia met her on the steps as they scurried from the nursery.
“Who is it?” Bethac hissed. “Who’s stormin’ the gates?”
“The English.”
Cicilia gasped.
“Where’s Feiyan?” Jenefer asked.
“She’s not with ye?”
“Nay.”
Bethac’s brow wrinkled. “I saw her climb into bed last night.”
Jenefer nodded. “And she was sleepin’ this morn when…” A sudden, nasty twinge of foreboding seized the back of her neck. “Bloody hell,” she muttered, pushing past the lasses on the stairs and hurtling along the passageway.
She knew what she’d find even before she exploded through the nursery door. She tore the coverlet off the bed. The lump she’d believed was her cousin was just that—a lump.
“Shite.”
Feiyan had deceived them. It wasn’t the first time she’d used such a ploy to make an escape. The slippery wench must have stolen from the nursery and fled. But when? And to where?
The last Jenefer had seen of her cousin was when she’d returned from the practice field last night. Even then, she couldn’t be sure the lump in the bed beside her had been Feiyan and not just carefully arranged bedlinens.
Could Feiyan have gone after Alicia? Had she been intercepted by the English? Was she lurking in the woods?
Damn her devious cousin! She’d picked the worst possible time to disappear.
Jenefer blew out a steadying breath. Then she whirled and exited the nursery. There was no time to dwell on obstacles. She’d just have to lead the battle on her own.
Alicia, hidden in the shadow of the hearth, had heard enough.
She didn’t think the Highland women were capable of pulling off the lass’s rash scheme. But enough doubt nibbled at the corners of her confidence to convince her she definitely needed to ensure her own safe escape.
With everyone rummaging through bedchambers, collecting men’s clothing, the great hall was essentially deserted except for her, the lad, and the infant. From her secluded spot, Alicia could easily reach the small iron shovel used for scooping out ashes. So while Danald babbled to the babe, pointing to the happily crackling fire, she coiled her fingers around the handle of the shovel.
“Danald,” she called softly from behind him, drawing the shovel back like a club.
He jerked at the sound of her voice. “Oh! M’lady! I’d forgotten ye were ther—”
As he turned toward her, she swung forward. The flat of the shovel struck his temple with a dull thud. He dropped like a stone. The child spilled out of his arms, hitting the hard floor.
