Chapter Twenty-Four
“For Christ’s sake, Nora. Stop, would you?” Will’s exasperated voice reverberated off the bare, stone walls.
Pausing long enough to glance at him, Nora met his frowning features in the dim candlelight. “Stop what?”
He leaned against the wall near the entrance, shifting from his shoulder to his back. “You’re going to wear a blasted hole in the floorboards with your pacing.”
“Well, ’tis not as if there’s a place to sit. Besides, I cannot help myself. I’m strung together as tight as a lute string.”
Despite her aching muscles from the day’s hard ride, she resumed her trail back and forth from one end of the bedchamber to the other as she’d done since Owen left them alone. A taut ball of nervousness clenched her stomach in knots. Though she waited impatiently for the soldier’s return, her mind strayed to a number of disconcerting thoughts. The foremost—what if Owen’s plan happened to go awry?
“And I’m not?” Will asked incredulously.
“What?” In the midst of another turn, she narrowed her eyes at him. “I do not believe that for one instant. This entire time, you’ve remained calm and steady, even when Fergus held a sword to your neck. ’Tis truth, I envy your composure.”
His low chuckle rumbled in the empty chamber. “Oh, Nora. You cannot be serious.”
What the devil did that mean? She paused before him, crossing her arms over her chest, and waited for him to explain.
“Where do you suppose I learned the skill in the first place?” The reflection of the candle’s flame flickered in his amused eyes. “From you, of course. I suspect you’ve learned the ability by necessity over the years and, for that, I am sorry. I know you’ve carried a heavy weight since Mother and Father’s deaths, having to care for me. You’ve sacrificed much for my safety, Nora. If I regret anything in this life, ’tis that I could not have done more to ease your burden.”
The words caught Nora by surprise. At times, she failed to comprehend just how perceptive and clever her younger brother truly was. More often than not, she’d chosen to hold her tongue around him. Mayhap she had learned to conceal her true feelings, but ’twas simply because she never wished to tarnish his youth with melancholy tales or painful memories of their past. He’d faced enough misfortune in his young life without constant reminders. If she could bear the burden for both of them, then she’d gladly carry the weight ten times over, if necessary.
Releasing a sigh, Nora joined him against the wall beside the door. “I confess, ’twas difficult at times, but that was neither your fault nor mine. In truth, I believe we’ve adapted to our circumstances as best we could. Moreover, ’twas never a burden to care for you, Will. You’re my brother and I shall always protect you to the best of my abilities. Naught will ever change that between us.” She nudged his arm. “You should be used to all my nagging and mothering by now, eh?”
Grinning, he rolled his eyes. “You would think.”
They slipped into a tense silence and Nora watched the faint flicker of the candle’s flame.
“Nora?” Will hesitated a moment before peering down at her. “If we succeed, this shall change everything for us. I’m sure you’re aware.”
“I know,” she mumbled.
His forehead creased with concern. “Are you prepared for that?”
She spoke in earnest. “Not a day has passed since we fled five years ago that I have not wished for this moment. I’ve always hoped you would reclaim our home and lead our people as you were meant.” She shrugged. “I suppose I’ve never spoken much of the matter because I was uncertain of your true feelings.”
A peal of laughter bubbled out of him. “I never broached the subject with you because I was unsure of your feelings.”
Amused by his admission, she joined in his mirth. “What a pair the two of us make.”
As their humor subsided and the chamber fell into silence once more, she tugged at his sleeve. When he met her gaze, she said, “I know you have your doubts but, please, do not. You’ve grown into a remarkable young man. You’ll be as wonderful a chieftain as Father.”
“Thank you for your confidence in me, Nora. I’m not as certain in my abilities, but I’m willing to try.” His gaze narrowed a fraction. “When this is over, what shall you do about Liam?”
Now that, she was unprepared for. Resting her hands against the wall behind her back, she gnawed on her bottom lip. “He’s asked me to wed him.”
“’Tis no surprise to me.” Will snorted. “I thought he might.”
Well, Liam had certainly surprised her. “I’ve not given him an answer.”
“Why?” His brows tugged low. “You love him, do you not?”
“Aye, but—”
“But naught. Stop worrying after me so much. I know ’tis why you hesitate. For Christ’s sake, Nora. Live your life for yourself, for once. Liam clearly loves you and you him, so wed the blasted man and have done with the matter.”
’Twas her plan after all was said and done, but ’twas good she could count on her brother’s blessing.
“Do you believe he shall truly come?”
Will cut her a dry stare. “Do you honestly doubt he will?”
Nay, not in truth. She opened her mouth to admit as much, but a quick rap at the door stole her words.
With her anxiety in full motion, she and her brother pushed away from the wall as Owen opened the door. Torchlight spilled inside the chamber. Outside in the passageway, a handful of MacNab warriors stood at the ready with hands wrapped around the hilts of their weapons.
The raven-haired soldier panted as if he’d run a great distance. “My lord, my lady, the cogs are in motion.”
The distinct ring of steel meeting steel, followed by masculine shouts, stretched down the corridor. Owen explained, “The men have launched their attack below stairs.”
Her lips parted in surprise. “Already?”
“Aye, my lady. There’s no time to lose. We must move before dawn.” He passed a sheathed short sword to Will. “Do you know how to use it, my lord?”
Despite the stress holding her limbs rigid, Nora almost snorted. Saints, nay. He’d never handled a sword a day in his life, but she reserved her comment.
Examining the weapon, Will gripped the pommel and removed the blade from the scabbard. “I’m sure I shall manage well enough.”
Nora peered from the sword to Owen. “What of me?”
The MacNab soldier darted a quick, startled glance at her brother.
“Nora…” Will frowned at her. “Mayhap, ’tis best if you remain in this chamber until the danger has passed.”
Affronted by the suggestion, she narrowed her eyes. Her indignation waded to the surface. By God, this was her clan, too.
Straightening her spine, she stepped closer in between her brother and Owen. She jerked a finger in the air, pointing it beneath their noses. “If you two think to lock me away in here, then you’re both sorely mistaken.” She hit Will squarely with the force of her glower. “Surely, you must know better. Do you not?”
“Saints above, Nora.” Exasperated, Will rolled his eyes. “Owen, I’m afraid there’s no winning this skirmish. Just pass her a weapon.”
Owen huffed a deep breath. “Please, I implore both of you to remain above stairs.”
“Nay.” Nora lifted her chin, the challenge clear in her stance. “We shall not cower in a locked bedchamber. We go with you. Now, a weapon, if you will.”
The soldier opened his mouth as if he wished to protest but snapped his mouth shut and bent to retrieve the small dagger shoved in his boot. He passed her the weapon and she frowned at the wee, sheathed dirk no larger than her hand.
“This is it?” At least Will had gotten a short sword. What the devil was she to do with this? Nick the enemy to death? She glared at Owen.
Shifting from foot to foot, he glanced away. “God’s will, you shall not have to use it.”
’Tis truth, she hoped not either, but she would do what was required in order to protect her brother. Despite her resolve, a shiver darted down her spine, raising gooseflesh along her arms and nape. She sucked in a shaky sigh to quiet her pitching stomach.
She followed Owen and Will outside the chamber and glanced at the MacNab guards anticipating orders. Armed for battle, each man wore a harsh expression, their demeanors suggesting they’d awaited an opportunity to overtake Tavish and his men far longer than that eve.
Compelled to speak her gratitude, she addressed the warriors. “My brother and I cannot thank you enough for your aid.”
The comment earned her a round of nods and grins. An older soldier with graying temples lifted a hand to his broad chest. “My lady, we are overjoyed to see the pair of you, alive and well.”
Shouts of distress, clangs of weaponry, followed by the clatter of shifting furniture reached above stairs, effectively ending their short acknowledgement. True comprehension of what she and Will might step into dawned on Nora. Her pulse leapt in her throat, sucking her closer toward the precipice of panic. Gathering her pluck from somewhere deep inside, she swallowed her bout of nerves and straightened her spine. ’Twas not the time to give in to the fear threatening to cripple her.
“Nightfall has worked on our behalf this eve,” Owen announced. “Our men easily overtook almost half of Tavish’s who’d bedded down for the night. ’Twas unfortunate Fergus sounded an alarm, rousing the rest before we could subdue more.” The soldier’s demeanor took on a harsh edge. “I need the two of you to stick close to me and Gordon.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “The rest shall close around us and guard our flanks. Stay with me at all times. Understood?”
“Aye, we shall follow your lead,” Will readily agreed.
She grabbed hold of her brother’s hand, wringing his fingers with a firm press. Sensing her distress, he peered at her and offered a tight smile. “No worries, Nora.”
Consoled by the warmth in his gaze, she forced a smile. “No worries.”
This was what they’d longed for. ’Twas time to retake what belonged to them and their clan.
Signaling his men, Owen marched for the stairs with Gordon at his side. Weapons drawn, the other MacNab soldiers encircled her and Will.
Despite the furled bundle of unease wreaking havoc in her stomach, she clutched the small dirk in a white-knuckled grip. Unsure of what might meet them below stairs, she shadowed Owen and Gordon’s quick steps, careful to ensure Will remained at her side.
The unruly clamor heightened as they descended the main stairway into outright chaos. Throughout the great hall, weapons hurled through the air as men scuffled over the stone floors, slashing and deflecting their enemies’ blades. Grunts, yells, and the scrapes and scuffs of boots drowned together in Nora’s ears. The front doors hung wide open where most of the fight spilled out the entryway and into the inky blackness of night. Flickering torchlight gleamed off sharpened edges of steel.
Rattled by the sight, terror grabbed hold of Nora. Her heart pounded a labored cadence.
“Stay with me,” Owen bellowed.
Without waiting for a response, the ebony-haired soldier moved into the great hall, slashing out at any of the enemy foolish enough to step within range of his sword.
Pushing ahead, Gordon waved his arm at the MacNab guards closed in around them. “Go, go. Now.”
Taking up the flank, Gordon swung at one of Tavish’s men who charged their rear, dealing a devastating blow to the enemy’s chest.
Warm bodies pressed in around Nora, jostling her and Will to and fro as more of Tavish’s guards answered the call to arms. Caught in the midst of a fresh wave of adversaries, their tight circle of soldiers diminished, one by one, as each warrior engaged their enemy.
A hairy ox of a man rushed for her brother’s unguarded back. Heart slamming in her throat, she screamed, “Will.”
Spinning to face the threat, he raised his sword with both hands, deflecting the larger man’s heavy-handed blow. His limp a constraint, Will struggled to hold a defensive stance.
With a smattering of fear and a healthy measure of determination, Nora sprang forward and stabbed at the offender’s arm and side with the dirk clutched in her hand. The big man hissed in pain while warm blood coated her hand. Pricking the fiend repeatedly, she refused to relent. The soldier jerked around to confront her, his ruddy face a mask of rage. He grabbed for her while she continued to slash at his hand.
The instant the warrior snatched hold of the front of her apron, Will raised his sword, ramming the blade into the giant’s midsection. Releasing his grip, the soldier rocked back on his heels and pressed a hand to the deep gash at his side as crimson stained his tunic. Grunting, he wavered on his feet before dropping to the ground with a heavy thump.
For a suspended moment, disbelief held her and Will immobile as they stared at the dying man at their feet. ’Twas a mercy the commotion of the skirmish shrieked in her ears, snapping her to attention. She grabbed her brother’s sleeve, yanking him from his shock and from the midst of the fray. Wielding her wee dagger, she guided Will through the sea of fighting men to an empty corner of the hall, ready to prick anyone who stepped in her path.
Backing him toward the kitchens, she brandished the dirk in front of her, keeping her eye peeled for anyone who treaded too close for comfort. At the other end of the hall, she caught a glimpse of Tavish locked in battle with Gordon.
Will’s jagged bellow of pain rent the air behind her. Startled, she jerked around just as Beatrice drove a dagger in his back. Clutching his arm, he crumpled to his knees on the sullied rushes scattered over the stone floor, the sword clattering near his bent knees.
The sight of the traitorous bitch’s sneering face snapped the last thread of Nora’s restraint, unleashing a firestorm of rage Nora had suppressed for far too long. From the inside out, fury licked a searing path through her rigid frame. Her entire focus shifted with pinpoint clarity—her aim to annihilate the vile excuse of a woman who’d hurt her brother and countless others.
Outrage ripped a guttural scream from the depths of Nora’s being. Anger bolstered her daring and she charged forward, slamming her shoulder into Beatrice’s middle, knocking them both to the ground. The dagger slipped from Nora’s hand. She scrambled over her nemesis, stretching to reach the hilt.
Beatrice struck her beneath the ribs, drawing a hiss of pain from Nora. She gripped the vile wench’s blonde locks with her fist and twisted. Beatrice cried out, her nails scratching at Nora’s wrist. Undeterred, she struggled to reach the blade. Thrashing beneath her, the bigger woman flipped Nora onto her back. Her head banged against the stone floor, jarring every tooth in her head.
Pure hatred darkened Beatrice’s eyes. Straddling Nora, the woman wrapped her long fingers around Nora’s throat, pressing her into the floor. Writhing and kicking to free herself, she clawed at the sow’s hands and arms. Robbed of breath, she grappled to throw the woman off. As the fight drained from her air-starved body, she slapped, scratched, gouged—anything to free herself from Beatrice’s strangling grip.
A notion flashed in her fading mind—the scissors in her apron pocket. Working swiftly before the life emptied out of her, she clenched the apron, yanking the fabric from beneath Beatrice’s weight. Cramming her hand inside the pocket, her fingers fumbled to hold on to the shears. With the last scraps of strength she possessed, Nora gripped the handles and jerked her arm up with everything she had left in her, burying the shears in Beatrice’s heartless chest.
The loathsome woman’s hold eased and slid away from Nora’s throat. Eyes widening in shock, Beatrice clutched the cutters. Heedless to the warm blood splattering her cheeks, Nora sucked in deep breath after deep breath and shoved the offensive shrew off her. With little regard to the ensuing fight in the hall, she forced herself upright and scrambled for purchase over the stone floor to reach Will’s slumped, unmoving form.
Panic seized her deprived lungs, wedging her chest in a tight vise. She grasped his face between her hands, her gaze sweeping over his pale features.
“Will,” she croaked out. “Do not dare leave me.”
His dark eyes cracked open to stare up at her. “I doubt I could move if I tried.”
A choked laugh flew from her throat while hot tears coursed down her cheeks. Weak with relief, she fell back on her arse.
“I thought…” The rest of the words clogged in her raw throat.
“Nay, though my shoulder hurts a bit.”
Lifting herself to her knees to inspect his back, she winced at the dagger embedded beneath his shoulder blade.
Will shifted his head to peer at Beatrice’s prone figure sprawled on the floor. His gaze darted to Nora’s and his brows shot upward. “Saints, I pity anyone who thinks to harm your and Liam’s children in the future.”
’Twas her turn to raise her brows.