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

"Twice, mayhaps thrice as many. He comes equipped to try and storm our walls."

Giving Storm a brief, hard kiss, Tavis began to get dressed. "Ye stay within the keep, Storm. Maggie will be here ere long, and ye can lend a hand to her. Come, Sholto, I must needs stop by my rooms," he said as he left the room, still lacing up his braes.

"That's some verra sweet lass ye have there, Tavis," Sholto said as they raced down the steps.

"Aye, too sweet for some Sassanach dog," growled Tavis as they bolted through the hall.

"Aye," Sholto agreed heartily, excitement already surging through him at the promise of a battle.

Even though she dressed hastily and did not bother to do up her hair, simply ran a brush through it and tied it back, Storm was unable to catch Tavis. She had barely started to aid the women in preparing the hall for the wounded who were sure to come when it was clear that Sir Hugh's forces had arrived. The moment Maggie's attention was diverted, Storm raced for the battlements.

"Send the Eldon girl out, MacLagan. You cannot wish to shed Scottish blood for an Englishwoman. You are outnumbered and my victory is certain," Sir Hugh boasted.

As Colin answered that boast in very colorful language, Storm looked over the force gathered and gasped as her gaze settled on a small knot of people to the right. "God above, Lady Mary herself."

"What the devil are ye doing up here?" Tavis bellowed, grabbing her arm and angrily shaking her.

"Where is she?" Sholto asked, his eyes trying to locate the infamous countess and ignoring Tavis's anger.

Although breathless from Tavis's treatment, Storm answered, "O'er to the right, The bright cart."

Curiosity getting the better of him, Tavis looked as well. Bright was a subtle description of the cart and its occupants, as well as the four horsemen at its sides. It was a ludicrous sight on a battlefield. In their attire of yellow and red, the four horsemen looked like well-built jesters. Tavis thought, with a grimace of distaste, that those horses were not all those men were hired to ride.

Seeing the direction of Tavis's disgusted look, Storm said, "M'lady's handmen." She grinned when Sholto laughed, but then grew serious. "Ye must hand me o'er to Sir Hugh," she said, although the words choked her and the very thought twisted her insides with fear and loathing, "an it will keep this battle from being fought. I am nay worth a battle."

Tavis stared at her, his eyes resting briefly on her full mouth, before meeting her gaze. He could read the fear there, yet he knew she meant what she said. Terrified though she was of Sir Hugh and fully aware of his plans for her, she would go to the man rather than have any blood spilled for her.

"Nay, lass. As my father now bellows, we'll nay hand ye o'er to Sir Hugh. Lady Mary gave ye to me to do as I pleased and," he lowered his voice, "I am nay done being pleased yet. Then, too, he asks for more than ye. He asks for the return of all we stole in the last raid and then a bit more for sparing our poor wee lives. Nay, lass. We fight. A bit for your sake and a bit for our own."

When a volley of arrows was Sir Hugh's reply to Colin's last retort Tavis shoved Storm down none too gently. "Not get your wee backside into the hall and keep it there," he growled. "And put some cursed hose on," he added when he noticed that her slim legs were bare.

"Aye," Sholto agreed, patting one exposed and very pretty thigh. "Ye could catch a chill." He grinned when Tavis shoved his hand away and tugged Storm's skirts back down.

Cupping his face in her hands, Storm gave Tavis a slow, loving kiss. "Take care, cushlamochree."

Watching her as she returned to the hall, Tavis murmured, "I wish I kenned what that meant."

"Vein of my heart," Phelan offered as he passed by with a bucket of water, "or darling. Ye can choose."

Tavis fought down an urge to chase after her and ask if she meant it. He turned his full attention to the battle, which soon grew from an exchange of insults and a few arrows to full warfare. For all his other faults, Sir Hugh proved to be a formidable enemy in battle. He knew the Scots were lacking manpower and he worked with slow but definite success to cut the number down even more, making no move to breech the wall. Sir Hugh wanted the odds fully in his favor before he did.

Storm soon had more work than she needed. Men who had only small wounds were patched up and went back to fight.

The need for fighting men was too great to allow any pandering. It was not only grief for a lost friend or relative that was felt as the inevitable dead slowly added up but the fear of how each new loss weakened the defenses of Caraidland. Each man lost put the odds more in Sir Hugh's favor.

When Sholto was carried in with an arrow wound in his leg Storm was first at his side. She did not question her very real relief when she discovered it was little more than a graze that had bled freely. As she finished bandaging the wound, she felt his hand touch her hair and looked at him.

" 'Twas a temptation too great to resist," he said with a grin that made her think of her brother Andrew with sad, fond remembrance.

She laughed and impulsively kissed him only to be caught by Tavis, who was bringing in yet another wounded man. "What the devil are ye about?" he growled as he helped the man onto a pallet.

"Did ye ne'er have your hurts kissed better when ye were a child?"

"Sholto's mouth looks fine to me," Tavis grumbled, his glare doing nothing to dim Sholto's grin.

"Aye, 'twas his