Gifted

Siege

An arrow struck the earth at Laird Campbell's feet. He pulled it from the ground and unrolled the note wrapped around the shaft. As he read, a flush crept up his neck such that it nearly matched his flaming hair. He handed the letter to Magnus then glared up at the closed drawbridge.

"There's no bluidy siege ye daft woman! Drop that bridge and stop this nonsense," the Campbell bellowed.

No one at the castle bothered to answer.

Alec, who was reading the letter over his brother's shoulder, said, "Says here that she petitioned her king and ours tae come tae their rescue. Paints the Campbell as the villain and us as his Viking henchmen. Ye may have been right, brother. We've no business getting involved in this feud."

"Hm," was his only response.

Magnus stared intently at the castle then at the laird beside him. He knew the Campbell was not so much in a feud as much as he was in a battle of wits with Lady Lillian. He wanted to win but had no real intention to harm her. The laird was obviously upset but also seemed energized by the interaction with the lady.

He'd observed the laird in quiet moments when darkness seemed to close in on the newly widowed man. Even the chaos of five little boys running around the keep failed to penetrate the fog surrounding the laird when he wasn't busy plotting. A simple letter from the lady seemed to rouse him to feel something, even if it was a complicated stew of anger, competition, lust and guilt.

Magnus found himself similarly held in thrall by a lady's letters and they weren't even addressed to him. He'd not yet laid eyes on her but could not stop thinking about Lady Alina. He felt her presence behind those walls. It made no sense for him to be here. The plan was to sail home first thing this morning but he spent the night on the Campbell ramparts staring at this castle from across the loch. When dawn broke, there was no choice but to follow this compulsion toward this place, toward her.

The Campbell laird dictated a response through his clerk as he was too angry to do it himself. As it was, the clerk struggled to prevent the laird from dictating a prolonged diatribe about interfering women stringing men along and failing to do their duty. In the end, it remained an unconvincing attempt at allaying the lady's fears about aggression from the Highlanders. They sent the message anyway and again failed to elicit a response.

The laird convinced Magnus to set up camp at the castle gates and at least await word from King William. Stirling Castle was but three days away with a relay of fast horses if a messenger willing to forgo sleep. The situation had turned into a half-hearted siege. Alec led several excursions down to the village to enjoy the ale and mutton pie at the tavern. Garrick Kerr and his sister Glynnis owned the brewery that supplied his tavern. They boasted the best ale this side of Hadrian's wall. Glynnis was reported to be an attractive widow who might welcome a highland soldier's attentions. Alec's charm paved the way with the villagers and assured them that their Kerr lass was safe from attack up at the castle.

Magnus stayed at camp. He'd always maintained a Spartan existence and had no desire for the diversions offered at the village. Mairi and a recovering Jamie sailed down and joined the group on the third day. Jamie said he wanted to make his apologies to the Kerr ladies but it was likely that he also wanted to escape his hellion half-brothers at the Campbell stronghold. The newlyweds frequently disappeared into the woods by themselves.

On the fourth evening, a small, pregnant woman with a mess of honey-colored curls escaping her wimple drove a donkey cart up to the castle gates. A groaning man, the village baker, lay in back. He'd apparently been in a brawl at the tavern when his opponent tried to sneak in a jab with a dirk. He managed to dodge being stabbed but needed a healer for a slice in his side. Magnus was surprised to hear the lass call tearfully out for Lady Alina.