His Bonnie Bride by Hannah Howell (the beginning after the end read novel .TXT) 📕

The gray light of dawn found Lord Eldon, Lord Foster and a select group of knights on their way to the enemy camp under a flag of truce. Many a person watched grimly as a large slice of their livelihood was led away; although starvation was not really a specter on the horizon, winter could turn out to be very hard indeed. It was especially hard to think on the fact that their enemies would doubtless be very comfortable.

"They're coming, and it looks as if they have fully met our every demand." Sholto grinned.

Colin grinned back. "Ye and Iain take a few men and start a tally. Their lairdships can come and sit with their bairns if they've a mind to."

Storm's eyes widened as she saw what her father had brought, and she looked at Tavis, who had the role of guard. "This could mean a lean winter for our people. Ye have asked for a lot."

He gave one of her braids a tug. "Consider what we hold, lass. We could have taken it all."

She nodded. " 'Twould be fitting and just if they went and claimed from the lands of their ladies' kin."

There was a touching moment of confusion as Lord Eldon and Lord Foster were reunited with the children. Lord Eldon was slightly unbalanced as his own two offspring plus his two nephews hurled themselves at him. When things quieted down a little both men noticed the state of their eldest children.

"Have you taken to brutalizing children then, MacLagan?" snarled Lord Eldon, causing an immediate rise in tension at the camp.

"Oh no, Papa!" Storm gasped, gripping her father's hand which had gone to his sword. "Robin and I did this to ourselves. Truly we did. These men have been all that is kind. My word on it."

"What did you and Robin fight about this time?" Eldon asked with weary patience.

Knowing she could not tell the truth, Storm put her hands behind her back and crossed her fingers. "Robin called me a sharp-tongued, nasty-tempered hag who would no doubt end up as a wizened, bitter old maid, for no sane man would take me to wife. So I fought him to a draw."

Lord Eldon had a strong feeling she was lying, for she looked far too angelic. His eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything Lord Foster drawled, "To a draw you say, Storm?"

"Aye, m'lord." Storm hoped the overly bland faces of all who had heard her lie would not give her away.

"Strange, is it not, that Robin looks in a poorer state than you?"

"Not at all, m'lord. Being the gentleman he is, he was hindered in the fight for, of course, he felt he would not strike me as hard or as oft as I would him. I took unfair advantage of that."

"Ah, aye, of course, I should have recalled that from the last draw between you." Lord Foster did not need the sudden epidemic of averted eyes and coughing to tell him he was being fooled.

"I wish to talk to you, Storm. Excuse us, Foster." Lord Eldon led his eldest child out of earshot, accepted the stool offered him by Sholto MacLagan and then looked at Storm, who stood calmly before him. "While it is clear in my mind and we are idle as they tally up the ransom, I feel I must speak to you. You must cease this brawling, Storm. 'Tis unbecoming. Ladies do not resort to fists. Think of how many enemies you could make. No lad likes to be thrashed by a bit of a girl. That could well be a sore point in the years to come, a shame they long remember. I want you to give me your word that this will cease. Your word, Storm."

"I fear I cannot give it, Papa," Storm said quietly. "My temper is such that I would break my word, and that would grieve me as much as displeasing you. I will promise to try not to get in any more lights, to try to control my temper." She kissed his cheek. "Will that suit, Papa?"

Trying to ignore the amusement of the MacLagans who stood close by, Lord Eldon said, "I gather it must. You are a wretched wee lass whom I should have beaten with far more regularity."

Storm smiled. "I know, Papa. That man said the same thing. Do ye know he fixed my braids as well as Hilda ever did, but he is not married. Now where do you suppose he learned?"

Grinning, Lord Eldon tugged one of her braids. "Impertinent little wench." He stood up and took her by the hand. "Come, we will sit with the others and pray that Hilda ceases her wailing."

Glancing back at Iain, Storm said accusingly, "You have not changed his dressing yet."

Watching Lord Eldon and Storm rejoin the others, Sholto mused, "I cannae say I like seeing how the mon is when we arenae fighting. I'll feel it sorely an I run my sword through him, for now I ken the ones that will be left greeting for him if he dies afield."

" 'Twill nay stop ye, though, will it, lad." Colin understood his son's sentiments well.

"Nay, just grieve me to deprive the bonnie wee lass of her father." Sholto started to move away. "I'll see that the tally is being done right. We left Robbie doing it."

The tally was soon done and the English party prepared to depart. Lord Foster took his daughter up before him and his son behind. Hilda was set in a cart, along with the wounded. Lord Eldon tossed his nephews up with two of his escorts before putting his son on his horse. He then mounted and helped Storm swing up behind him, something she did nimbly.

"It cost me," Lord Eldon said to the MacLagans, "but I thank you for not harming the children."

"We do not make war on bairns, m'lord." Colin suddenly grinned. "Then, too, the lass was all set to skewer me eldest if I