Highlanders by Tarah Scott

Rhoslyn took two steps to the fallen warrior and quietly slid his dagger from its sheath and slipped it into her cuaran along the inside of her ankle. She glanced at the warrior, then gave a prayer of thanks that his chest rose and fell with even breath. She rose and stepped away from the man. He would have a headache when he woke, but likely nothing more.
    The creak of the door sounded behind her. “There is no one in the hallway,” Dayton said. “Come, we must go.”
    Sheila stepped up, swung the cloak around her shoulders, and tied the cord.
    Rhoslyn grasped her shoulders. “Say nothing of this, Sheila. Do ye understand?” The girl nodded, wide-eyed. Rhoslyn pulled her into a hug and whispered, “Wake the knight when we leave.” She drew back and said, “Hurry back to my bed and stay there until someone comes. Say you do not know where I am.”
    Rhoslyn whirled and hurried to the door. 
    * * *
    Thin curls of fog swirled about three approaching horsemen. Talbot assumed the one in the lead was Aodh Roberts. Of the two men who flanked Roberts, one carried a white flag of truce, the other a torch. Talbot shifted his gaze beyond the riders, past Roberts’ warriors, to the battlements of Longford Castle. Seward and the young Earl of Melrose must have watched Talbot’s approach, seen his and Seward’s banners. Each banner-man carried a torch to ensure the banners were recognized—a risky move, but he didn’t relish the idea of getting shot by a stray arrow if mistaken for one of Roberts’ men. There was, of course, the possibility they would shoot him on purpose.
    Roberts neared, then came to a stop a few feet from Talbot.
    “I am surprised to see ye here,” the Highlander said. “I expected you to wait at Castle Glenbarr for the good news that you are the new Baron Kinsley.”
    “Go home,” Talbot said.
    Roberts grinned. “So ye wish to kill the old man yourself.”
    “Kinsley is my wife’s grandfather. You will not harm him.”
    The Highlander’s brows snapped downward. “What? Ye should be glad to rid yourself of the old man.” He snorted. “Save those words for your wife. She might believe you.”
    “Beware trying to deduce my thoughts, Roberts. Now, leave peaceably so my two hundred men may return to their beds.”
    Dawn inched across the horizon, but it was the torchlight that allowed Talbot to read the shock on Roberts’ face. 
    “Ye have no right to interfere,” he snapped.
    “Think,” Talbot said. “Even if I allowed you to kill Seward, the Earl of Lochland would hang you for murder. He is your lord as much as Seward’s.”
    “Hang me? God’s teeth. Have Englishmen no bollocks? Here in Scotland we take what we want.”
    Lady Rhoslyn was right. Aodh Roberts was a man who would rather take what he wanted than work for it, laws be damned.
    “And ye have it wrong, St. Claire.” Roberts’ tone turned friendly. “Lochland will welcome you as the new baron. He understands you are Edward’s man.”
    Talbot suspected it was Roberts who hoped to ingratiate himself into Talbot’s—and Edward’s—good graces. Lochland wouldn’t be so eager to trade a willing Scottish vassal for an English knight.
    “Leave,” Talbot said.
    Roberts urged his palfrey so close that Talbot’s horse snorted and sidestepped. Talbot tightened the reins to still the animal.
    “Lochland willna’ interfere.” Roberts locked gazes with him. “Neither will you.”
    Talbot lifted a hand over his head and made a ‘come forward’ motion with two fingers. He didn’t have to look back to know that a hundred of his men separated from the shadows of the trees.
    Roberts’ eyes narrowed. Then he reached for his sword.
    Talbot had his sword out and had slapped the flat of the blade across Roberts’ shoulder before the Highlander’s sword left its sheath. He tumbled from his horse. His two men drew their swords in unison with Talbot’s men.
    Talbot leapt from his horse and pointed his sword at Roberts’ face.