Jane nodded again. She gave him a little smile and impulsively squeezed his hand before leaving. He immediately ordered a guard to stay at the door.
Jane lay on her bed in disbelief, unable to process or put a name to the uneasy sensation that welled within her. Her heart pounded so hard that she could hear it, and she said a prayer of protection.
It wasn't only for her father. She wanted Darach Robertson to come back unhurt too. She wanted him to hold her again, kiss her again, and make her feel all those feelings she couldn't put a word to.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Darach decided not to wait behind his walls. He led his men over the hilltops and down the steep southern boundary of their lands, where he met with his men to strategize in a tent. He missed the feeling of having his brother and Kenn flanking him, but instead, he had Arran, the leader of the keep's guards. Arran was a good head too, and quite a fine warrior. Darach stared out into the bright moonlight's shadows around the trees before turning to him.
“How strong is the army?”
“Nae strong enough,” Arran pointed out. “Barely a hundred. I think they were counting on the element of surprise and the cloak of nightfall.”
Darach scoffed. It was a good plan, and MacThomas had only been found out because he’d sent out sentries to give his plea to the fellow laird. This attack seemed quite unlike him. Darach had known him to be a rational man, and this was in no way rational. It might be purely a father's fury, but it was coming some days too late, and he'd expected him to have tried something like this sooner.
“Sire,” Arran called Darach's attention. “MacThomas will expect a few patrol guards waiting for him right here.”
“How long before they arrive?” he asked as he rubbed his hand slowly on the hilt of his sword.
“From the last report,” Arran muttered, “they would be on the fringes of our land by now. One of the guards who obviously feels ‘tis best tae remain on my good side informed me of their departure a few hours past.”
“God's teeth,” Darach swore. “I'd hope we could avoid the spilling of blood.”
Arran shook his head. “I should think the time for a peaceful resolution has passed, my laird.”
Darach refused to believe things could not be remedied any longer. He didn't want to fight MacThomas, and that had much to do with the lass lying in her chamber. She'd already gone through a lot, and losing her father and his soldiers in a needless battle would be even more painful.
Darach opened the map and traced his finger along it as he tried to put the memory of Jane crying and the kiss that had followed out of his mind. The scars, where had they come from? It couldn't be her father, could it?
He couldn’t imagine Keith MacThomas hurting Jane so cruelly because it would drive him insane. He would have to enact the lass's revenge, but for now, he knew he needed to focus on the task at hand. He knew quite well that the only way to survive a battle was to have a clear mind and turn it all off. He needed to turn off his emotions and the images flashing through his mind with torturous precision.
“He’ll ken that forcing his way intae the keep wasnae going tae come without resistance. He’ll ken it and expect it, so he’ll be prepared.”
Arran nodded; his eyes also focused on the map as Darach spoke.
“Any wise commander kens he'd be putting his men in more danger by attacking the keep with the might of our entire army facing him.”
“Aye,” Arran's agreed. “What then do we do?”
“I’d give him the fight he expects and nae give a damn that he expects it. We swarm over him before he has the time tae settle and end this quickly. But I willnae take the risk that he could try tae send a contingent through our blind side to seize the lass.”
Arran nodded. “We’ll succeed. They do nae ken these woods as we do.”
Caelen, another trusted soldier from the troops, let out a deep breath, the sound loud in the quiet of the tent.
“Ye make it sound like a simple raiding mission, Arran. Laird MacThomas will expect such a trick as well.”
The other men in the tent voiced their agreement. A party rode back to the keep to guide the walls and prevent MacThomas's spies from entering behind them.
Silence fell as they waited. An hour later, a sound outside the tent stirred them to action. Another rider had ridden furiously to give Darach the update that MacThomas' men were approaching without delay.
It was time. Darach had no desire to let the battle drag out for long, so he rode with the might of his entire army, save only the contingent that remained behind to guard the keep.
“They’re just over the next hilltop, my laird,” Arran said as he drew up his horse in front of Darach. He could see the MacThomas men, and there was no doubt they were outnumbered. But he was wary that the soldiers could make up in might for what they lacked in numbers.
“Let’s greet them on the next rise,” Darach said to his warriors, raising his sword into the air.
The shouts of his men echoed sharply across the land, and Darach spurred his horse. The hooves battered the ground in the moonlight as they raced down the hill and began the climb to the next. When they topped the rise, Darach called a halt as they stared down at the assembled might of the MacThomas army. He scanned the soldiers until his gaze landed on the man he sought. Keith MacThomas sat high in his saddle, dressed in full battle regalia.