Bedded by the Laird (Highland Warriors) by Rachael Kennedy Read Free Book Online Page B

Dougal .
    The laird kicked
his horse forward, he would speak with Mrs Moffat as soon as he returned. He knew his decision was
the right one, especially when he looked over his shoulder, saw Dougal raise a stick to the dog that lay on his back. It
was a side to Dougal he had not seen before and Alasdair
was tempted to turn around and challenge him, for black anger suddenly rose,
but there were warriors charging towards them bringing important news - the
English were approaching, not McClelland but further south at the gateway of
the Highlands.
    ‘They’re going to
take Stirling - there are hundreds,’ he was told.
    ‘Then there will
be thousands to meet them,’ Alasdair said, thundering back to the castle summon his men for battle.
    Bridie had been
cleaning the Grand Room when the news came. Still smiling from her morning with
the Laird she was sweeping the rugs that had been spread as if it were her
white gown she was preparing the floor for. She carried heavy candles imagining
the room lit and that it was she dancing with the Laird, for nothing could spoil
this morn.
    Except
battle.
    As soon as word
came, Mrs Moffat gave orders. There was much to
quickly do and she sent Bridie to the basement room where she dragged up salted
meat and wine to the kitchen and then set about packing up supplies for the men
to take with them. Supplies that would hopefully sustain them
and give them strength for the battle ahead. Bridie was choking back
tears as she wrapped up food and carried it out to the supply carriage.
    ‘Where’s Mary?’ Mrs Moffat shouted, when she was nowhere to be found.
    The horses were
ready and the carriages too that would ride behind with supplies and also bring
the injured home.
    ‘Where’s Angus?’
The laird was already mounted, his face fierce, his mind already on the battle
ahead and Bridie was jealous when Angus appeared and a wee while later so did
Mary, for she wanted to kiss the laird farewell, but he had told her this
morning it was to be forgotten, that there must be no more.
    She caught his
eye, just once, he stared at her but for a moment and then he kicked his horse
on and the warriors rode out of the castle as the women watched on, Mary
crying.
    ‘Why do
they have to go?’ Mary sobbed. ‘It’s not their land…’
    ‘Because the Scots
need to stick together,’ Mrs Moffat said. ‘The Glenbarach Clan are riding down
south too…’
    ‘Aye, but the Glenbarach laird won’t be going in to battle…’ Bridie
flared. ‘So why does our laird have to?’
    ‘You watch your
tongue lassie.’ Mrs Moffat turned. ‘Our laird is the
McClelland Clan Chief too. Would you rather a laird who sat and did nothing as
his men did his work?’
    Yes, Bridie
thought, but did not say, if it meant that the laird was safe.
    ‘I hate the Glenbarachs .’ Bridie settled for instead.
    Alasdair hated the Glenbarachs too, had been born and raised to hate
them, could hear their pipes playing in the distance as they set up camp for
the night. They had been travelling for three days, forging ahead, pushing to
get to the ford where the battle was to be held. Rapid was the English approach
too though and the reports of their numbers were increasing. The Scots were way
outnumbered, the Welsh were marching with the English too and so tonight the
men drank wine, for there was little doubt that otherwise it would be wasted,
but then Callum came over with news. ‘There’s a Glenbarach approaching.’
    Alasdair stood as
solid as a rock as Hamish, the Glenbarach War Chief
rode up and he offered no greeting as Hamish dismounted and faced him.
    ‘There are
thousands approaching,’ Hamish said.
    ‘I heard.’
Alasdair nodded.
    ‘We’re to spread
the word that they’re not coming across the ford now…’ Hamish said. ‘Instead
they’re coming the quicker route across Stirling Bridge, which is just as Wallace wanted.’
    Alasdair smiled,
for at the ford the English could ride many men abreast but Stirling Bridge would