A Forbidden Night with a Scot (Sins in a Kilt #1)

Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

T he study was quiet, no one there but Samuel, who found it impossible to go to bed, even at that late hour. The sun had set hours prior and the castle had been plunged into darkness, his study illuminated by nothing but the fire that burned in the fireplace, as he had neglected to light any candles and had not allowed any maids inside.

He wanted to be alone. He didn’t want to see anyone for a while, and the darkness of the room offered him some perceived safety, as though he could hide for a while behind those four walls. It was an illusion, but one that brought him comfort, and one he hoped would last for a while longer.

The room seemed transformed in the darkness, shadows looming in its corners. There was something cozy, though, about the incandescence of the fire, the warm, orange glow of the wood as it crackled and burned, the scent of oak that suffused the air around him. Samuel sipped slowly on his wine, as he stared at the flames, almost hypnotized by their swaying movements in the dark.

And then, just as his mind was emptying of thoughts, a bell rang, the sound cracking through the night air.

An attack!

Samuel shot out of his chair, slamming his cup on the desk with such force that half of the wine spilled on the surface. He rushed to the window, gazing at the walls to see where the attack was coming from, but he could see no enemy force. All he could see were a few men gathered close to the gates and more of them arriving by the second.

There may have been no attack—not yet at least—but something had happened, Samuel knew, and so he grabbed his coat before rushing out of the room and down the stairs to the courtyard. He had hardly made it to the doors, though, when Nerian all but slammed into him, his hands flying out to steady them both.

“What happened?” Samuel asked.

“I dinnae ken,” said Nerian. “I was headin’ there now meself.”

Nodding, Samuel continued on his path to the gates, Nerian following close behind. Once there, he saw a large group of soldiers gathered around a small opening, and when he pushed his way through, the crowd parting easily for him, he saw that one of his soldiers was dead.

No, not dead, Samuel thought. Killed.

“What happened here?” Samuel demanded, but no one spoke. “Does nae one ken? Did nae one see anythin’?”

One of the soldiers, a young man with nervous eyes, stepped forward and out of the circle of men, though not without some hesitation. “Arran was patrollin’ the perimeter, me laird,” he said. “Cameron was meant tae be with him, but we dinnae ken where he is. We fear… we fear somethin’ may have happened tae him.”

Samuel looked at Arran’s body, pale and waxen, and his stomach churned at the thought of what had happened to him and what might have happened to his partner. It never became any easier, seeing his men lying dead on the ground. Every corpse was like the first one, every man just as big of a loss as the one before him, regardless of rank.

“Sword,” Samuel ordered, holding out his hand, and the soldier gave him his quickly before stepping back once more. “Nerian, we’ll patrol the perimeter. Everyone else, scatter out. I want ye tae search every part o’ this castle an’ every part outside it as far as the loch.”

At his orders, the men dispersed, forming groups of four or five as they left to conduct their searches. Nerian approached, his own sword in his hand as the two of them walked through the gates, Samuel grabbing a torch from the wall before they went too far out.

“Right outside our walls,” Samuel said bitterly, through clenched teeth. “This is MacLaine’s doin’. I ken it.”

The one thing Samuel couldn’t wrap his mind around was how MacLaine’s men had come so close without anyone noticing. With all the guards who were posted around the walls and the security measures they had taken, the enemy should have never come this close.

Had Arran been killed near the gates, he wondered? Had they killed him somewhere else and dragged him there to make sure he would be found quickly? What had happened to Cameron? Was this a trap?

It was very likely it was a trap, Samuel decided, but he couldn’t sit idly and wait for an attack. Even if MacLaine’s men were waiting out there for him and his forces, it was a risk he had to take. Colm MacLaine was closer than he had thought. He had been so preoccupied with the attack in the forest and the conundrum of his relationship with Alicia that he had neglected to consider the possibility of an imminent attack, something he now regretted dearly.

As they walked around the castle, he and Nerian remained as quiet as they could, swords at the ready in case of an attack. The more they searched, though, the more apparent it became to Samuel that whoever had been there was now gone, though perhaps not long gone.

As they strayed farther and farther, he spotted traces of a camp—a camp which had been hastily dismantled, leaving behind—whether purposefully or not—the remnants of a small fire and several pairs of footsteps that led in all directions.

They are tryin’ tae confuse us.

He didn’t think trained soldiers who were good enough to approach the walls undetected would be so careless as to leave these traces behind without a good reason. MacLaine knew just how to instruct his men in order to lure Samuel into a trap, and Samuel knew better than to think it was anything else, but had no other choice than to walk right into it.

“We should call more men,” he told Nerian, looking at him over his shoulder, where he was crouching by the edge of the camp, examining the ground. “At least a few o’ them must be nearby still. If we find them, we may manage tae get somethin’ out o’ them.”

Nodding, Nerian made to stand, but he had hardly managed to get upright before an arrow whizzed right past his head and lodged itself in the tree behind him. In an instant, Samuel rushed to him, eyes wide with fear as the arrows began to fall around them like drops of rain, one after the other in a relentless attack. It was too dark out there for them to see their attackers, but from the angles from which the arrows came, Samuel could only assume they were hidden in the trees, and the torch he was carrying was making them both a very easy target.

But without the torch, they could hardly see a thing.

Samuel steered Nerian back towards the castle, the two of them running to avoid the arrows that rained upon them from the trees. As Samuel looked back over his shoulder, he saw one of them heading straight for Nerian, threatening to pierce through his heart, and so he pushed him out of the way, using his body as a shield to save him from the killing blow.

Pain erupted in his left shoulder as the arrow struck him, white-hot and searing. An agonized groan was ripped from him as he fell to his knees on the ground, the pain so blinding for a moment that he couldn’t move. The flesh of his shoulder had been torn wide open, he knew, without even needing to look. The arrow had pierced clean through him, and warm blood seeped down his arm in a steady river, coating his skin and making his grip on the torch slippery.

“Samuel!” Nerian called, standing up from where he had fallen after Samuel had pushed him away. He rushed to him, grabbing him by the right arm and hauling him up to his feet, and Samuel did his best to follow his fast pace as Nerian dragged him out of there and back to the safety of the castle walls.

They weren’t too far from the gates, and yet the run there felt as though it took an eternity to Samuel. His breathing was ragged, coming out in labored puffs, and every step he took jostled his shoulder, sending a new wave of agony through him. It wasn’t the first time he had been pierced by an arrow—wounds were nothing new to him, but this one was worse than most, almost unbearable in its intensity.

Soon, Samuel found himself being half-carried through the gates, and the moment they reached the castle, more guards rushed to them, helping him walk. Someone was pressing a cloth against his shoulder, while others were calling for the healer. It all felt distant, as though he was underwater and everything around him was muffled and blurred by the depths.

It was then he understood just how much blood he had lost. Still, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to walk, refusing to allow the darkness to claim him. He couldn’t be unconscious, not when his clan was under attack. Even if the attack was not direct, even if MacLaine’s men wouldn’t dare come too close yet, he needed to be alert and ready for them.

With each step he took, he was closer and closer to the healer’s quarters, and once there, his men laid him on one of the cots gingerly. Samuel was thankful for it; he didn’t know how much longer he could have walked in his state. He was also thankful for Nerian ordering everyone out of the room, giving him some space as the healer rushed to him and began to work on the wound.

“I’ll need tae remove the arrow,” the healer said, enlisting Nerian’s help, who held Samuel upright. When the end of the arrow was cut off, Samuel bit his lip through the pain, tasting blood. But when it was pulled out of his body with one rough yank, he couldn’t fight it anymore; within moments, everything went black.

When Samuel opened his eyes once more, he found that he was not alone in the room. Nerian and Gavin were there too, sitting a little farther away from his cot and discussing between themselves quietly. At first, Samuel looked around, trying to orient himself in time, and saw that it was still dark outside. He hoped that meant he had only been unconscious for a short while and that he hadn’t lost an entire day or even longer than that.

Looking at his shoulder, he found it bandaged, his clothes removed from the waist up. Blood had seeped through the bandages, leaving a deep red circle on the surface, but at least the pain had subsided a little, leaving behind an insistent throbbing.

As he shuffled on the bed, trying to sit up, Nerian and Gavin noticed him trying to move. Nerian stood quickly and rushed to his bed, pushing him back down with a look so stern that Samuel went back down easily, without so much as a complaint, though there was much he wanted to say to him.

At least Nerian hadn’t been injured, he thought, and Samuel could rest easy knowing that both he and Gavin could take over if the need arose as the head of the clan while he was recovering. Nerian was his closest advisor, after all; he knew what needed to be done and how to do it.

“Dinnae try tae move yet,” said Nerian. “Ye must still rest. Ye’ve lost a lot o’ blood.”

Samuel could tell. When he tried to sit up, his head had swum, the room around him spinning. Still, he had to try, just to prove to himself that he could. Sooner rather than later, he would have to return to his duties, and he couldn’t take too long to recover.

“Did the soldiers find anythin’?” Samuel asked. “Any o’ MacLaine’s men?”

“Nay,” said Nerian, shaking his head. “In all the chaos, they must have fled. But they willnae have gone too far. I have already sent men tae look fer any signs o’ them.”

“Good,” said Samuel, finally relaxing. “Good. Ye will report tae me every two hours.”

“Samuel, I dinnae think there is any need fer ye tae?—”

“Every two hours,” Samuel insisted, interrupting Nerian. He wouldn’t have it any other way. Even if he had to stay in the healer’s quarters, he needed to know if there were any news.

With a sigh, Nerian nodded, relenting. “Fine. But promise me ye will try tae rest.”

“I promise,” said Samuel, and it wasn’t entirely a lie.

Before either Samuel or Nerian could say anything else, the door was flung open and Alicia rushed inside, heading straight for Samuel and pulling him into a loose embrace, mindful of his injury. Still, Samuel let out a shocked gasp, not so much at the sudden contact, but rather at the fact that Alicia was being so openly affectionate in front of everyone.

She hadn’t even noticed her father. She only had eyes for Samuel.

“Does it hurt?” Alicia asked as she pulled back, her hands hovering over the wound with worry, her gaze pained as it found his. “How are ye feelin’? What did the healer say?”

Silently, Samuel glanced quickly at Gavin, and Alicia followed the movement of his eyes to find her father there, watching the two of them with a small frown. So shocked was she to see him there that she drew back from Samuel abruptly, pushing to her feet, and exclaimed, “Faither!”

It was far from subtle. If Gavin was not suspicious before, he certainly was now.

“Alicia,” said Gavin, glancing between the two of them. “Perhaps ye should let Samuel rest. Dinnae worry, he’ll be all right soon.”

Alicia nodded vigorously, humming in agreement as she put even more distance between the two of them. “I think… I think I will go now,” she said, and Samuel watched in horror as blood rushed to her face, painting her cheeks a deep red. “I only wished tae see if Samuel was well.”

Without another word, Alicia fled the room, rushing as though she was running for her life. In the silence that followed, Samuel couldn’t bring himself to meet Gavin’s gaze. With a sigh, Gavin rubbed a hand over his face and leaned back in his seat, mumbling for a moment under his breath.

“I think me daughter’s infatuation with ye never stopped,” he said then, catching both Samuel and Nerian by surprise.

It hadn’t occurred to Samuel that Gavin could know about Alicia’s feelings for him, but he clearly knew there was something between them, even if said something was nothing more than a simple infatuation from Alicia’s part. But what if that was not all he knew? What if he suspected more than this and was simply biding his time until he could confront Samuel about it?

Nay, he wouldnae dae such a thing. He would have confronted me immediately.

“I will go… talk tae the men,” said Nerian, removing himself from the room, though not before he gave Samuel a pointed look, as if to say it was time for him to speak to Gavin. Samuel watched his friend leave, not yet ready to tell Gavin the truth.

But Nerian was right. It was the proper thing to do and Samuel had already delayed the inevitable long enough.

He took a deep breath, once again preparing himself, and then looked at Gavin, only to find him staring at the ceiling, his head tipped back. He looked tired, exhausted even, but Samuel had already made up his mind.

“Gavin—”

The door opened once more and two men from Samuel’s council walked in, wearing identical looks of concern as they approached. From the corner of his eye, Samuel saw that Gavin had sat up a little straighter, waiting for Samuel to continue, but it was not something he wanted to discuss in front of his men.

Instead, once again, this conversation would have to wait.