Page 132 of Claimed by a Highlander
Big Duncan of the Axe fell like a stone. Blood seeped from his mouth as he stared up in shocked surprise.
Sybil ran into Rory’s arms. He held her close and buried his face in her hair. He had come so close to losing her.
“I tried to be brave,” Sybil said against his chest, “but I was so afraid I’d never see you again.”
“You’re the bravest lass in all of Scotland.” He brushed her hair back and looked into his beloved’s violet eyes. “I’ll never let ye go.”
When the pair who had run out of the hut joined them, Rory was relieved to see that the young man was Malcolm’s missing grandson, Lùcas. He was injured, but they did not have far to go. Though he did not know her name, he recognized the girl as the wise woman’s granddaughter. He knew now why the woman had lied about his birth.
The girl went to stand over Duncan.
“Burn in hell,” she said, and spit in his eye.
A fitting end to an evil life.
“We’d better hurry now,” Rory said. “I have a boat to catch.”
“I’d go anywhere with you,” Sybil said, “but I hate to see you give up the chieftainship to Hector. Your clan needs ye here.”
“I’ve no intention of giving it up,” he said, and gave her a wink. “I told Hector I would leave. I never said I wouldn’t come back.”
CHAPTER 48
Rory and his thirty chosen men boarded the birlinn, a Highland longboat that was fast and sleek, on the MacKenzie side of Beauly of Firth and under the watchful eyes of Hector and a hundred of his men.
Hector would have men farther up the shore watching to make sure their boat passed by, but it would soon be too dark for anyone watching from the shore to see their sail. Rory had asked for a few hours to allow his men to bid goodbye to their loved ones and prepare for the journey, which ensured their departure would be near dusk.
They sailed through the night for an hour. When they were near Avoch, Alex’s parish, Rory ordered the sail dropped. The men rowed toward the shore, the birlinn cutting silently through the water like a hot knife through butter.
A night fog had rolled in, hiding the shore. Rory tensed, ready to give the order to reverse oars if they were met by Hector’s men.
But all was quiet. Without a word, he and his men slipped over the sides of the boat and hauled it onto the shore. He did not relax until Alex emerged from the fog.
“I’m glad to see you, Brother,” Alex said, putting an arm around Rory’s shoulders. “The horses are tied just behind that rise.”
Rory was not pleased when he saw Sybil. “You were supposed to stay at Alex’s house.”
“I’m going with you.” She rose on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “I want to be there to see it finished.”
“I want ye in a safe place,” he said. “Whether I succeed or no, this will not be a pleasant sight.”
“Ineedto be there, and I’ve earned the right,” she said with that stubborn look. “Years from now, I want to tell our children and grandchildren that I saw it with my own eyes.”
Rory heaved a sigh. He suspected he’d have to tie her down to keep her from following. “All right, so long as ye promise to stay well back.”
It felt good to have Sybil riding behind him on Curan across the fields. He and most of the thirty men had grown up in this part of MacKenzie lands and knew the trails well enough to ride them at night.
Rory’s plan depended on his uncle’s confidence in his victory. He was counting on his uncle relaxing his guard while he celebrated—and on Hector not discovering Duncan’s body. If they arrived to find a hundred sober men posted around the tower house, this would not go well.
They dismounted and left their horses a quarter mile from Fairburn Tower. While the others waited, Rory and a couple of his men sneaked through the wood to the edge of the clearing around the tower house. Boisterous laughter and drunken songs drifted from inside. A few men, who should have been watching the parameter, stood outside the door passing a jug and talking in loud voices.
His plan just might work. By the time Rory rejoined his men, they had a small fire going.
“Remember,” he cautioned them, “silent as the dead.”
At his signal, each man picked up a burning stick from the fire or one of the iron pots of oily tar they had brought with them.
“You can come to the edge of the wood with us, but no farther,” Rory said, holding Sybil by the shoulders. “At the first sign of trouble, you run back to the horses and ride as fast as ye can to Avoch.”
