Highland Warrior by Heather McCollum (the rosie project TXT) 📗

foolish,” Fiona said, her words coming like a hiss. “You would leave Osk in charge of our people? If you had wed Torben, he could lead us.”

Kára ignored her and ran to Brenna, forcing a reassuring smile on her face. “We will make sure this little one knows how hard you worked to bring him into the world.”

Desperation and exhaustion pinched her friend’s face. It was the fear she saw in her beautiful wide eyes that caught at Kára’s breath. “I will bring Hilda,” Kára said. “She will coax that little one out.” She nodded, and Brenna followed her example. “You rest and listen to Amma while I run out to fetch her.”

Brenna clasped her hand, staring up at her with trusting eyes. “Kára. Thank you.”

Kára smiled again, kissing her forehead. She turned and strode out of the buried bedchamber. Calder sat in the main room and leaped up when she strode by. “Brenna?” he asked.

The worried tightness of Kára’s face drained the color from his. “I am going to get Hilda from the palace,” Kára said.

“I will go with you.”

She shook her head. “You need to be here with Brenna. If… If Amma calls you, go hold her through whatever comes.”

He swallowed hard, as if his throat was too tight to allow it, and nodded. Kára ran out the door, her legs slapping against her heavy skirts. She must change into her hunting clothes for sneaking into and out of Robert’s palace. She ducked into her home, the banked fire low with the lateness of the evening. Her brother and son were certainly sleeping in one of the back rooms, and she held her breath as she entered the bedchamber she had been using. Has he left?

The darkness made her blind, and she ran back into the front room to light a torch, sliding it into a sconce carved from the stone lining her old chamber. She turned toward the bed where a mountain of blankets and furs moved. She released her breath. Joshua’s head shot up from what looked like every blanket and fur that they had in the house. Hair askew, he leaped out of bed, raising a short sword, completely naked. The blade looked too small for his mountainous form.

“Kára?”

“Go back to sleep,” she said, yanking her tight-fitting trousers and wool tunic from a chest at the end of the bed.

He lowered his sword. “Is the bairn born?”

“No.”

“What are ye doing?”

“I need to get the healer to help Brenna or she will die.”

“Cac,” he whispered. “Where is the healer? I will take ye.”

“No. She is my aunt, and she is a prisoner at the Earl’s Palace.”

“Fok, Kára,” he said. “I am absolutely taking ye.”

She turned, indicating his brawny, naked body. “First of all, you are not dressed.”

He mimicked her gesture. “And ye are quickly becoming undressed.” He grabbed his own tunic, throwing it over his head as Kára wrapped her breasts and yanked on her trousers.

“Two,” she said, snapping her tunic out before her to throw on over her head, “Brenna is my best friend. I am the one who must go to find someone to save her.”

“The fact that ye are emotional about this makes it even more important for me to come.” He caught his pleated kilt with his belt and shoved his feet into his boots at the same time Kára did. They worked nearly in unison across from each other in the dim light, shoving and yanking clothing into place.

She threw her hood up over her head, grabbed the torch, and turned to run back out the door. Of course, he followed.

“Thirdly,” he said behind her, “I have a horse to get us there swiftly. Fourthly, I know the guards and could get us inside easier.”

“I know of a back passageway,” she threw over her shoulder, but she found herself running toward the barn where the only horse they had was standing, Joshua’s warhorse.

“The back passage is locked and guarded by the ocean if the tide is high.”

Shite. Is it high tide?

He caught her free arm, pulling her around. “And fifthly,” he said, stepping in to her, “I am not letting ye sacrifice yourself for Brenna.”

She stared into his hard face, as hard as the stones that held Orkney out of the sea. “She is one of my people,” she said. “A leader makes sacrifices for her people.”

“Not before I teach ye how to battle first.”

Her eyes opened the slightest amount. “Are you agreeing to—?”

“To keep you alive tonight,” he said, still without committing to help them in a full war on Robert Stuart. Face hard, he stared into her eyes. “I am not ready to see ye dead.”

…

“She is likely housed with the children,” Joshua said as they squatted below the hill line that led down to the south side of the Earl’s Palace, his horse farther back. “They are housed on the east side of the castle.”

“I agree, from what our source has said,” Kára answered. “But Robert’s room is three doors down.” He could tell without looking that her beautiful features were tight with a mix of worry and determination. “We could use the back passageway. I think the tide is going out.”

“If Robert followed my advice, a guard will be there when the tide recedes.” As an advisor on safety, Joshua had implemented a rigid guard routine to better protect the palace from local bandits. Guilt tugged at him. Mo chreach.

The enemy had always been so clear back at Girnigoe—anyone who threatened the Sinclairs. His father had taught him that the more powerful must always be in control, the conqueror, to bring peace to everyone and protect them from others.

“Ye stay here,” Joshua said. “I will bring her out.”

She frowned at him. “You will just ride up there, hop off, stride in and walk out with her to ride away?” She shrugged. “With no issue?”

“I have spent the last three months training these men. They know me, and I set their routines.” He looked back toward the dark