Chapter 13

13

C olin sat alone in the dense woods, surrounded by towering trees that seemed to scrape the sky. The only sound was the gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird. If he really strained, he could hear the ocean in the distance, but that could easily be mistaken for wind. Colin had been camping out for three days, hiding in the woods for his own safety. He couldn't risk being seen by Bryce's men, who were always patrolling the area. He’d nearly blown his cover once already, not realizing they’d extended their perimeter. When he’d been part of the guard, they barely touched the forest. Colin wondered why there was this sudden need for increased security.

He stared into the distance, his mind consumed by thoughts of Gemma. She had gone to see Bryce, to try and find out why he had been exiled. Colin had no idea what had transpired between them, but he couldn't help but worry. Would Gemma be able to convince Bryce to lift his banishment? Or would she be forced to leave him behind and marry him after all?

The sun was still high in the sky. Colin sighed heavily. He had no way of knowing what the future held. All he could do was wait and hope for the best. He knew that he would continue to hide in the woods until he was sure that it was safe to come out. At least Gemma had snuck out and provided him with some food.

Despite the uncertainty of his situation, Colin couldn't help but feel a sense of peace. The quiet beauty of the Scottish Highlands was a balm to his soul, and he knew that no matter what happened, he would always have this place to return to. At least, if Bryce did not kill him.

That peace quickly dissipated.

He scanned the sky, his heart falling at what he saw. It grew increasingly ominous. The first sign of the impending storm was the distant rumble of thunder, echoing through the hills and valleys like the heartbeat of a giant. The air grew thick and heavy, pregnant with the promise of rain. A faint breeze began to pick up, rustling through the trees and sending leaves and debris skittering along the ground.

Colin knew he did not have much time. It was not good to hide amongst the trees in an oncoming storm, lest he fancied being struck by lightning. He had no choice — he had to go to the castle. Confronting Bryce was the inevitable option now.

As the storm drew closer, the sky darkened to a deep shade of blue-black, and the first flashes of lightning streaked across the sky. Each bolt was like a jagged white spear, illuminating the world for an instant before fading back into darkness. The wind picked up, growing stronger with each passing moment. It howled through the trees, tearing at the branches and leaves with relentless force. Colin’s russet locks whipped violently around his face, stinging his eyes with their surprising impact.

The rain began to fall, at first just a light drizzle, but quickly growing in intensity until it was coming down in sheets. The drops pounded against the ground, creating a steady roar that drowned out even the loudest thunderclap.

The storm was in full force now, and there was no mistaking its power. Lightning continued to flash across the sky, each bolt seeming brighter and more violent than the last. The wind howled like a pack of wolves, tearing at anything that stood in its path. Colin kept his eyes fixed on the castle's turrets, standing tall and imposing against the darkened sky. He had to keep his goal in mind.

His heart was pounding in his chest, and his mind raced with doubts and fears. He knew he was risking everything by returning to the castle, but he couldn't bear to be away from Gemma any longer. His love for her was the only thing that kept him going, the only thing that gave him the courage to face the danger that lay ahead. Damn Bryce. Damn him for being such an entitled prick, for stealing her away and ruining his life. It wasn’t fair.

In the storm, there weren’t many guards on the wall. They would likely be inside the turrets, and their ranks would be spread thin. But even in the storm, he’d be visible — it was a wide open space between the forest and the castle. There was nowhere for him to hide or sneak up. He began to panic, until he remembered… Master Gordon had taken him through a tunnel once, one that led from his house to the castle. Colin had been young when he saw it, but he remembered it very well. Master Gordon had shown him this in case of emergencies.

If ever those bastard English decide tae come after our castle, ye can lead everyone tae safety through this tunnel. When yer captain of the guard, ‘twill be good for ye tae ken these things. But ye mustn’t tell a soul, aye?

Colin remembered those words well, and he was glad they came to mind now. The rain pelted him — cold, large wet droplets that seemed to pierce his clothing, intent on making their way into his bones. Under the cover of the forest, he doubled back to Gemma’s home. This too was a risk he was taking — inviting himself in when he’d been exiled. If anyone else were to see him, they might be accused of harboring a traitor. He certainly did not want that for any of the Gordon family or their servants.

As he approached the house, he realized only one chimney was smoking, and from what he knew of the layout, it was the kitchen. Master Gordon was away, the Gordon boys were apprenticed elsewhere, so it was likely only the maids and Mrs. Gordon inside. He surmised they were in the kitchen together with the largest hearth. Again, it was risky, but he had to do something.

Colin snuck around, keeping low and peeking into all of the rooms. None of them seemed to be occupied, save for the kitchen — his hypothesis was right. He breathed a sigh of relief and snuck in through the side door. With any luck, the study would be empty and he could use the passage.

The journey under the earth took longer than Colin would have liked. As a boy, this passage had seemed wide and cavernous, but as a tall grown man with broad shoulders, it was less than comfortable. And it was wet. It wasn’t finished with stone, just packed earth, so when it rained, it made the walls and the floor damp and a bit sticky. His red curls stuck to his forehead, slick with sweat and rain. Just a little longer and then…

Aha!

He spotted the door at the end, but he would have to be careful. It emptied into a cellar, and if there were any servants about, he’d surely be discovered. As the son of the former captain of the guard, his face would not be forgotten so quickly. As he pressed his ear against the door, he could hear muffled female voices.

“Och, aye, ‘tis her third bairn,” one said, and Colin heard some rustling and the clanking of glass.

Servants , he thought, sent to fetch wine.

“Christ, but that’ll be done quick. After yer second, it’s—” the second voice faded away until it was clearly out of the room, much to Colin’s relief. He had no desire to hear about the gruesome particulars of childbirth right now.

The door opened after Colin gave it a little shove, and he fell onto the cold stone floor of the cellar.

Now, he had to make it to Bryce. He stuck to the shadows, which was easier since the sky was so dark with the storm, but he was still wary that someone might see him. At every footfall and every word, he found himself pressing his body flat against the stone wall. Cutting through the balcony area of the great hall might work…it had direct access to the second floor and was not as wide open and well-lit.

The great hall was empty, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he tiptoed past the threshold.

But he did not have to look far to find Bryce.

“You!” Colin heard his menacing voice before he saw him.

Colin spun around.

“Aye, me,” he said with just the lightest touch of humor.

“Ye are in exile, Colin. Why’re ye here?”

“I needed tae speak wi’ ye, Bryce,” he explained, holding his hands up and backing away carefully. Colin had learned from experience that it was better to keep his distance when Bryce had that white-hot seething anger.

“Couldnae a letter have sufficed?” He asked, still advancing, hand on his sword.

“No guarantee ye’d answer,” Colin replied. And it was true; any letter from him or his father would likely be burned. Exile meant they were as good as dead to the rest of the clan.

“How did ye get word tae Gemma, then?” Bryce asked. “She kens. I dinnae know how, unless ye came out of hidin’ tae spin yer miserable tale.”

“Gemma came after me. Found me in my new village, an’ I told her everythin’.”

“I gave ye one chance tae make things right, an’ ye chose exile. I see now I should ‘ave just dealt with ye myself!” Bryce cried, lunging at Colin with his sword.

Colin narrowly escaped the edge of the blade as it came down. He hadn’t carried his own sword with him on his journey, since it was rather bulky and hard to hide. But there were swords hanging on the wall of the great hall…oh, he could use that to his advantage. He twisted and dodged Bryce’s blade until he could yank one off the wall. It was old, heavy and dull, but it was better than nothing.

He gritted his teeth as he parried Bryce's furious attacks. His sword clashed against his opponent's with a metallic ring that echoed through the great hall. The sound was amplified by the storm raging outside, which unleashed a torrent of rain and thunder upon the Highlands. Their swords clashed again, and Colin felt the impact reverberating through his arms. He knew he had to end this quickly or he would be in trouble. He feinted to the left, then swung his sword in a wide arc to the right. Bryce fell for the feint and moved to block the imaginary attack, leaving himself open. Colin seized the opportunity and lunged forward, his sword aimed at Bryce's chest.

But Bryce was not an easy opponent to defeat. He saw the attack coming and deflected Colin's sword with a quick flick of his wrist. The force of the deflection made Colin stumble, and he almost lost his footing. He regained his balance just in time to block Bryce's counterattack, cursing inwardly for not bringing his own sword. This clunky, dull thing was not near as nice a weapon as Bryce’s finely made blade. The stumble had pushed him out the side door and into the courtyard, where the torrential downpour obscured his vision.

They circled each other, their swords raised and ready to strike. Colin could hear his own breath coming in short gasps, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The adrenaline was rushing through his veins, making him feel alive and invincible. His father had told him to always keep a calm head, and knew he couldn't afford to be reckless. Bryce was too dangerous, too unpredictable. He had to find a weakness, a flaw in his opponent's defense, and exploit it.

They clashed again, their swords ringing out in a metallic symphony. Colin parried Bryce's attack, then launched a series of quick jabs and feints. He was testing Bryce, trying to find a weakness. Unfortunately, they’d had the same teacher, so Bryce wasn't fooled by Colin's tactics. He countered each attack with ease, his sword moving like a blur.

They fought for what seemed like an eternity, their swords dancing in a deadly dance. The rain was coming down in sheets now, making the stone walls of the great hall slick and treacherous. Colin could feel the cold water soaking through his clothes, chilling him to the bone. In this weather, the sword felt heavy, and his hand slipped on the grip, which had doubtlessly been worn down by years of battle.

They circled each other again, their swords raised and ready. Colin could see the anger in Bryce's eyes, the frustration and the pain. He knew he had to end this, had to find a way to disarm Bryce without hurting him.

“Bryce!” He shouted over the thunder and rain, “ye must listen tae me! I came here tae speak wi’ ye!”

“Then talk!”

“The captain is yer father! Bryce, we’re brothers!”

That made Bryce falter a moment. There was a look of realization in his eyes, mixed with confusion. Thunder shook the very stones of the castle just then.

“Nay…nay, we cannae,” Bryce muttered, stepping back and lowering his sword.

“Think about it! Why do we look so alike? Why do ye have no brothers or sisters? Why d’ye think ye were mistaken for my father’s son as a child?” Colin urged.

For a moment, it looked as if Bryce might concede, and realize that this fight was indeed pointless. He even looked like he might cry; he had that intense look of despair that Colin had only ever seen a few times on the battlefield.

It was short-lived.

Bryce channeled whatever emotion he’d felt momentarily into the force of his next charge. Colin had to act quickly, and barely got the sword up to block the blow.

“Ye will not take the lairdship from me!” He screamed.

Colin used the slippery stones to his advantage; he kicked out his leg and made a quick sweeping motion with it. Bryce stumbled and fell backwards, his head hitting the stone column. Still, it was not enough to stop him.

“I dinnae want the lairdship! I just want tae have a peaceful life with Gemma!”

“All ye do is lie an’ steal! That ends taeday!” Bryce screamed.

He rushed toward Colin with his sword raised, but at the very last second, they heard a woman’s cry.

Gemma stood there in the pouring rain, her dark hair loose and soaked. She looked beautiful, terrifying, and desperate. Colin had never loved her more.

“Stop this at once!”