Page 52 of Enchanted

Chapter Twenty

As the hazy light of dusk fell over the land, Alastair picked his way through the rubble strewn across the courtyard. The castle was no longer secure. He had placed several warriors to guard the breach, but most of the men were busy tending the wounded or burying the dead. So much destruction and pain caused by one man who wanted someone he could no longer have.

Lieutenant Long would no doubt make a second attack on the castle once his men regained their nerves. Fisting his hands, Alastair stepped through the ragged hole in the curtain wall. He tried to think of something besides the death and destruction wrought this day. There was no time for despair. He needed to stay focused and in control while he moved out to and negotiated with Lieutenant Long for the sake of his clan.

Alastair knew he took a risk, heading for the enemy alone, but he had put his men in enough danger this day. The thought had barely formed when Tormod and Graeme appeared on either side of him.

“You did not think we would let you face that man alone, did you?” Graeme asked, falling into step beside the laird.

“I had hoped you would stay behind and help the others,” Alastair said, then added, “But I do thank you for always standing beside me.”

“Let us go get this over with,” Tormod said, clutching the pommel of his sword as they approached the eerily silent English campsite that had been set before their conflict had begun.

Watchfires had been set, but not yet lit around the sprawling camp. The activity Alastair had expected after a battle retreat was non-existent. Instead of caring for their wounded or burying the dead, the men lay on the ground, asleep.

To test that theory and to make certain it was not a trap, Alastair lifted a man’s arm and let it fall. No response. Still not fully convinced, he found a stick and poked another man in his most private area and garnered no response. Alastair allowed himself a smile of satisfaction. It would have been difficult to fake unconsciousness with a thrust to that area if the man were not fully dosed with the augmented whisky and sleeping.

Feeling more secure about their safety, they moved about the camp. “Perhaps we can simply find the lieutenant and transport him back to England,” Graeme suggested.

“He would only return.” Alastair continued to search the faces of the men they passed. There were too many of them to take to Dunshee castle. They would have to determine another way to dissuade them from returning to Dunvegan.

Alastair, Graeme and Tormod walked through the camp for several more minutes until they came to a campfire that had been lit. A single man stood before it, staring into the flames.

As they approached, Lieutenant Long turned to them, and raised his pistol. “I can only shoot one of you before you reach me. But at least I will have the satisfaction of knowing one of you will join me in hell.”

“No one has to die this day,” Alastair said, stepping forward, making himself a more accessible target than his brothers.

Lieutenant Long kept his pistol aimed at Alastair’s chest. “Another ploy? You have already drugged my men. You sent fantastical vines to toss our cannons. What else do you have in store for me?”

Alastair slowly moved his hand inside the tail of his tartan and withdrew the missive the rider had brought back from the Earl of Aberdeen. “I have an offer for you. One you will find hard to refuse.” He held out the folded parchment as he stepped ever closer.

A deep frown cut across the lieutenant’s face. “What kind of trick is this now? I open the parchment and it explodes in my face?”

Alastair unfolded the paper. “No tricks. I come to offer you a promotion to the rank of major in the British Army.”

The pistol wobbled in the lieutenant’s hands. “Why would you do such a thing? There must be some concession you would like me to make.”

“There is,” Alastair replied, moving to stand before the man. “You put away your pistol, then promise to leave Scotland, break your betrothal to Rosalyn, and never attempt to see or speak to her again, and the commission is yours.”

The lieutenant’s gaze shifted to the parchment in Alastair’s hand. “How did you accomplish this?”

“I have friends in high positions in the English government.”

The lieutenant pressed his lips together as he released the cock of the pistol then shoved it into his belt. He snatched the parchment from Alastair’s hand. His eyes flared as he read the words written there. “There are no strings attached?”

“None that I have not already mentioned. But with those three things, you must comply.”

The lieutenant looked beyond Alastair to Graeme and Tormod. “What if the British Army sends me back to Scotland?”

“As a major, you would have some say in your placement,” Alastair replied. “See that it is not Scotland. Besides, there are other conflicts around the world where your skills might be better suited.”

“My skills.” The lieutenant laughed. “If I accept, how do I know you will not attack me as soon as I turn my back on the three of you?”

“You have our word as Scots. We say what we mean.” Alastair’s voice was hard. “Your future, for Rosalyn’s life. What will it be?”

The lieutenant palmed the parchment and turned, running for the trees where a lone horse waited. Alastair and his brothers waited until the sound of hoofbeats faded into the distance.

“Will he stay away, do you think?” Graeme asked.