Chapter Eleven
Salvation drew closer. The carriage crept to where Evander and Camden waited with two other soldiers. There would be coin within. Enough to afford them food for the rest of the hard spring and buy the potato seed to plant when the ground thawed.
Evander could have waited for them to arrive at the castle to meet the men, but his gut twisted against the idea. He’d take the coin from the men first, ensure all was well prior to leading them through the castle gates and into his home. It might be overcautious, but one could never be too careful when it came to the English.
A man led the group of a dozen soldiers surrounding the wagon. They’d all bundled against the harsh chill of the Highlands, their discomfort evident and amusing.
The man stopped before Evander and swung down from the horse. He peeled the blanket from his face.
The Earl of Cornwall.
Anger fired through Evander’s body, and he was suddenly very glad he’d left Diana sleeping in their bed. He clenched his hand at his side to keep from rushing to the man who had caused Diana so much hurt.
Lord Cornwall narrowed his blue eyes against the biting wind. “I want my daughter back.”
Evander swallowed his incredulity at the earl’s words and gave the man a fierce glare. “She’s my wife.”
“Within the carriage is what I owe you.” Cornwall nodded his head back to the wagon. “And a bit more.”
Evander didn’t bother to reply.
“I was hasty, you see,” Cornwall said. “I want her back. As I said, I brought more coin than necessary.”
“She’s no’ an object to buy,” Evander gritted out. “She’s my wife.”
The earl smirked. “Anyone is for sale for the right price. After how compliant you were with bribery, I assumed you’d be well enough with the deal.” He sighed in a great puff of frozen air. “If you will not relinquish my daughter willingly, we will take her by force.”
Twelve English soldiers against Evander and his three men. He was never gladder to have brought his sword despite the originally peaceful intent of this meeting. He’d almost left it in his room for fear he would give in to the temptation to kill Lord Cornwall.
Twelve against four. But Evander and his men were Highlanders, ready for battle. And he was a man in love. He would rather die than see his wife be poorly treated by her father once more. Even if the four of them did not survive the day, the soldiers at Castle Leod would ensure Lord Cornwall and his men were unable to get into the castle. They would protect Diana.
Evander pulled his blade in response. Camden and the other two warriors drew their weapons as well.
The earl narrowed his eyes, and this time Evander knew it had nothing to do with the icy wind. “I will have my daughter back, even if I have to bring half the damn soldiers up from England to do it.”
“That’s what ye’ll need to take my wife from me,” Evander growled.
“We’ll see about that.” Cornwall drew a pistol upward and aimed it at him.
Evander pulled his dirk from his boot and threw it at the man’s hand, knocking the pistol from his grip. He did not give the earl a chance to recover before he charged.
Diana raced in the direction the stable hand had pointed her, where Evander and his three men had gone. She clutched the reins with her left hand, as if the action could stop the frigid burn at her palm. She lowered her body against the horse’s back and streaked across the landscape to where the dots of figures showed in the distance. Hera and Zeus raced along with her, ever her determined comrades.
In the back of her mind, she wondered if she was being foolish, if she would arrive and find the men peacefully accepting the coin. But she couldn’t ignore the nagging cry in her mind any more than she could second-guess her father’s lack of integrity.
Her pulse stopped for a long, horrible moment. There, at the base of the hill, was a group of men locked in battle. With Evander and Camden and another warrior whose name Diana did not know bunched together, swinging their massive swords. Nausea rose in her stomach as recognition of the soldiers’ livery slammed into her. Blue uniforms with yellow sashes.
Her father’s men.
There were too many of them against only three Highlanders. Already one man in a kilt lay on the ground not far from where Evander stood, along with a few of her father’s men.
“Stop!” She cried the word into the air, but it was promptly swept away by the wind. The clang of weapons against one another reached her ears.
She snapped the horse’s reins and flew down the hill, into the battle where the press of blue crushed in on the muted plaids of the Highland warriors.
She could make out the fierce expression on Evander’s face now as well as identify the Cornwall soldiers she knew. Including the one locked in combat with Evander.
Her own father.
Evander glanced in her direction and faltered. He opened his mouth to call out to her. It was all her father needed. He slashed his blade at Evander, who staggered back with his brows raised in shock.
The world slowed and Evander fell to his knees before crashing to the ground. Diana cried out and ran to him, her hand going to her blade before her mind knew what she was doing.
Her father spun away from her, but not out of fear. Not to protect himself, but to grab for something several feet away. A pistol.
Diana charged at her father and knocked him in the opposite direction. Slamming into his broad chest was like hammering herself against a tree trunk. Her father blinked up at her in surprise before pushing back against her.
“You don’t know what you’re doing, girl.” He shoved hard at her shoulders.
Her fist flew out and caught him with enough force to turn his face. A surge of energy shot through her and ignited something inside her she never wanted to go out. It wasn’t the weakness in him which had sparked it, nor was it his pain. No, it was her own strength.
“You’re an old man.” She caught his ankle with her shin and shoved him backward so he fell hard into the dirt. “And I am a warrior.”
He sneered up at her. “You’re feral, exactly as I’ve always said.”
“Not feral.” She put her foot to his throat and gazed down at him. “Powerful.” She cut a hard look at the men still fighting. “Enough.”
They stilled at the authority of her voice. She glanced to where Evander had dragged himself to a slumped sitting position. The linen of his shirt had gone crimson with too much of his blood.
Her father laughed, a winded wheeze of an exhale. “You’re more like me than you care to admit. Come home with me, girl. Leave these barbarians to their pathetic lives of starvation and strife.”
“What?” She was so surprised by what he’d said, she let the pressure holding him down slacken. After all he’d done to her, hope wavered in her chest. She hated herself for it, and yet she could not stop the swell of longing. To be wanted by the father who had cast her aside. To be loved.
He pushed her off him and leapt to his feet. “I want you home, girl.”
“Never.” Evander threw himself at her father. She hadn’t even seen him rise.
He drew back his arm and punched her father in the face. Blood spurted from his nose, and her father gave an angry howl of anguish.
He clutched his face and bent over. “Take the coin and leave her to me.” Her father’s face was bright with blood when he looked up. “Take the gold.”
Evander limped in front of Diana. “Ye’ll get my wife over my dead body.”
She stared at Evander’s wavering back, blocking her father from being able to reach her. He would die for her. To protect her. He had his gold for his people and still he was fighting. All for her.
This – this was love. To sacrifice one’s life for the care of another.
And it was an act she too was willing to do. Diana threw herself to the ground and let her hands clasp around the cold metal of the pistol while she rolled. She popped up and lifted the weapon, aiming it directly at her father, at the man who would so readily kill the husband she loved.