Runt paused, clearly amazed at the assailants' boldness, and Lord Hugh took over.
“Ellen and the bairn were walking back with Edmund and this young warrior, here, when this pack of wolves sneaked up from behind.”
“Sir Edmund killed one right off,” Runt went on. “While he was fighting a second one, the other two went right after Ellen and Kit.”
He turned his head to Celia. “They aimed to hurt the bairn, m'lady...I'm sure of it. They were looking right past me at him. If I'd been armed with more than my dagger, we'd have killed them all, though.”
Celia felt her blood boil. Aye, she would have enjoyed killing the would-be assassins herself.
“Easy does it, Runt,” Agnes commanded gently, replacing a blood-soaked dressing with a clean one. “You'll not stop bleeding, if you do not sit still.”
“Runt took the sword in the shoulder and still managed to knock the two clear of Ellen,” Hugh said proudly. “Edmund finished off all but one, who ran across the moor.”
“Did you get him?” Colin growled menacingly. “I'd like to...talk...to him.”
“Nay, they had a boat and a crew waiting for them,” Hugh finished in frustration. “There was no time to get a boat out after them. They'd planned the whole thing out, including their escape.”
“Who were these cowards?” Colin asked, glancing fiercely about. “Were they English?”
“They wore kilts,” Runt answered. “But no plaid, and no sign of any clan.”
“They were not English, nor Lowlanders,” Edmund said with finality. “Their weapons and the way they fought were definitely Highlander.” Edmund had spent most of his life training fighters. These men relied on strength over speed and were more willing to take a blow than avoid it. These were Highlander traits. They may have sold their souls to the devil himself, but they still owed their fighting style to the land that spawned them.
“I want to see them,” Colin demanded. “Where are the bodies? I want to know where these gutless dogs came from.”
Celia looked at the warrior before her. Despite his fierce anger and hard expression, Colin was in total control, and she could see his fighters already heading back toward the kitchens. She knew that he would do what was necessary to protect those who depended on him, but she also knew that she could not endanger these people any longer.
“If you'll excuse us,” Celia interjected quietly, not wanting to interfere, “we'll be going up now.”
Celia handed the baby back to Ellen and, leaning over Runt, kissed him on the forehead.
“You did a great thing today,” she whispered. “More than you know. Thank you.”
Runt nodded, and his eyes quickly found Ellen's.
Celia took Kit back from Ellen and turned to leave the hall. As she did, she was startled to feel Colin's huge hand on her arm. Celia stopped and looked at him towering above her, surprised at the openness of his action.
“I'll look in on you later,” Colin said, his eyes warm with affection, engaging hers. “I haven't even had a chance to meet this little fellow yet.” Colin's gaze dropped to the sleeping child in Celia's arms for a moment. A strange stirring occurred in the giant as he looked into the innocent face, snuggled so peacefully in the mother’s arms.
The hush that fell over the room penetrated their momentary isolation. Colin was the first to recover, and his face darkened with seriousness as he continued. “Also, for the time being, I do not want you going outside the castle unescorted.”
“That will not be necessary. I can—”
“Celia, no arguments,” Colin commanded, his fierce scowl leaving little room for discussion.
Celia paused, then nodded in agreement, and moments later left the hall with Edmund and Ellen trailing behind.
When they reached the upstairs, Ellen took the sleeping baby into her room. Edmund stood by one of the windows of Celia's room, waiting for Celia to close the adjoining door.
“We have to leave, Edmund,” Celia said, pacing her room with the energy of a caged tiger. “We cannot stay here now.”
“I know, lass. But if we leave right now, we could be playing into their hands, whoever they are. That could be exactly what they want.”
“Are you certain they weren't Danvers's men, Edmund?” Celia asked,
“Nay, Celia, they were not,” he answered. “They were definitely Highland fighters.”
“Then we have more enemies than we thought. Who would have put them up to it?” Celia asked. “Do you think it could be the queen?”
Edmund's brow furrowed. “Highlanders working for the queen? It would truly have to serve their interests immensely for them to deal with her.”
“She could reward them well,” Celia said. “And she's still the queen, even if she is the English king's sister. Until the coronation, she's still a power to be reckoned with.”
“Aye, but we're talking about killing, here. And she wouldn't go so far, even with her English blood.” Edmund was certain of that.
“Then who's left?” Celia's frustration was growing.
“I do not know,” her uncle responded. “Although I wish we could somehow communicate with the earl of Huntly about this. I know he wasn't expecting this. He’d only considered the English as a threat to us. I know he thought the Western Highlands would be far enough away. But he must be nearly finished with his business at court.”
“Why can't we just go to Argyll now?” Celia blurted out. In her head she knew that leaving Kildalton Castle right now was probably not the best of plans. But with so many things pulling at her, Celia simply could not sit still. She was not built for waiting. “Edmund, I'm worried for these people. I want Kit to be safe, but I do not want to see anyone else hurt. These people are building something good here, and I'd hate to see the plots and the destruction that are following us ruin innocent lives.”
“That's another reason I wish we could contact Huntly,” Edmund said. “If he'd known where Colin Campbell stands and what he's doing here, he would have chosen him to help us rather than Argyll. Not that I have doubts about Argyll, but Colin is a driver. He would have been involved at every stage. And he would have taken a personal interest in Huntly's plans. They're the same type of man. Colin sees his successes here as a model for the rest of Scotland.”
“And these people are not isolated from Scotland's turmoil,” Edmund continued. “The Campbells see clearly what is going on around them, but their vision extends beyond that. They'll protect the present, and prosper by it, but they also plan for the future. They are true survivors. What happened at Caithness Hall will not happen here. Colin will not allow it.”
“But unless Huntly agrees,” Celia said with resignation. “We cannot confide in them, can we?”
“Nay, we cannot,” Edmund agreed. It was the earl of Huntly's game they were playing. It was his call to make. “We must continue as planned. We will know Huntly's plans when he arrives there just after Easter. But we need to be at Argyll for that.”
“But what can be holding up Father William?” Celia asked impatiently.
“I do not know, lass,” the knight said gravely. “I do think it's time we sent a message to him. As far as we know, he's still at the abbey by Argyll's castle. I suspect he is just waiting for Argyll to get back, and that's why we haven't heard anything. Argyll should have heard about the attack on Caithness Hall by now. He'll be looking for us to arrive. It's just a matter of time.”
“So we just wait?”
“No, I'll send the message today. We'll know in a day or two what is detaining Dunbar. We'll stay that long, at least.”
Celia watched in solitude as the sky above the white-capped sea grew gray. Standing by the window, she could feel the spring chill once again descend upon the castle. The rain would begin again soon, she thought, raw and sharp and penetrating.
In spite of all that she and Edmund had talked about, in spite of all common sense, in spite of all impending danger, Celia wanted to stay. In her heart of hearts, there was nothing she wanted more. What had been occurring since Colin's arrival was so incredibly new to her, so wonderfully surprising, that Celia still hadn't even had time to sort it out.
And now, she almost didn't want to. More than anything else, she was afraid to.
I have Kit to focus on, Celia thought. There's nothing else that I can put before that. Even Colin Campbell.
Colin Campbell.
Oh, God. Why now? Celia thought. Why did they have to meet this way? Why right now? Six years at court, never once feeling at home. Never once even tempted to care for someone. Never once in control of her destiny. A destiny controlled by others. Enforced by kings.
The inevitable impossibility of their situation settled upon her, damp and cold and painful.
By the time darkness fell, the cold rain had begun in earnest.
Despite the wet chill without and her own gloom within, Celia chose a soft, white cotton dress. She wanted to feel comfortable and at home. Just a pretense, she knew, but Celia wanted to somehow dispel, or at least ignore, the heavy gray shadow that loomed above her.
When a man carrying turf and wood and one of the serving women had come in to light the fire, Celia had suddenly felt self-conscious of the low-cut front of the dress. But they came and went without any indication of impropriety in her attire, and Kit had then easily captured her attention.