22. For Love and War
22
FOR LOVE AND WAR
J ames rode at a break-neck speed towards the McGregor Keep. It was reckless to push his horse to run so fast. Taking the forested roads as quickly as he was put his horse’s life and his own life in danger. But James knew that his life wouldn’t matter if Taryn was already gone.
“I’m coming to ye, lass,” James whispered, the wind whisking away his words before anyone else could hear.
Not that there was anyone even remotely close to him. Fifty McKenzie soldiers were trailing after him, battle ready, but they moved at a much slower pace. Even Arran and Christopher were following him, though their horse was kept at the back of the group, far away from any danger. Only Lachlan and Aila came close, sailing through the air on Knight, the giant warhorse that had led him to her. It was a magnificent beast he’d always be grateful to. But the warhorse, though impressively large, was weighed down by carrying both of them. They were still several paces behind.
All James cared about was Taryn. He had to get back to the keep before the Laird had made his decision, before he had enough time to enact anything. He couldn’t let himself think that anything else might have happened. He wouldn’t dare to go down that dark path.
Twisting over his shoulder, he caught sight of Aila surging Knight on, farther and faster, Lachlan’s eyes scanning their surroundings, hand on his sword. It was a comforting sight; to know that not only had James managed to find an army and bring them to Taryn’s rescue, but be able to tell himself that if he was too late, he would have someone by his side who loved Taryn as much as he did was a great relief.
The traveling army sounded like thunder was rolling over the Highland hills. The hoofbeats, despite the distance between James and the others, were a booming call that sanity was returning to the McGregor clan.
Aila nodded, her face serious and focused. James took her cue, twisting back in his saddle, spurring his horse on once more. For the first time since he left home searching for Taryn, he knew he wasn’t alone in his quest. He knew that no matter what they encountered when they reached the McGregor Keep, Aila would be by his side. It was apparent that the relationship she and Taryn shared was the same sister-like bond that Taryn had once had with Laura. He knew that Aila would do whatever it took to see Taryn safe.
The distance passed in a blur and every mile they grew closer, James felt his mind become a little more unsettled, a little more unhinged. He felt reckless, riding without abandon, the only thought in his mind was Taryn. Making it back to her side was his sole driving force.
“Please dinnae let me be too late,” he whispered again, sending his prayer to the heavens.
“Slow down!”
Glancing behind him, he saw Lachlan waving an arm, trying to gain his attention. Everything inside of him demanded that he keep going, that he press on. Taryn needed him more than he needed his own life. But the rational part of James’ mind told him that it would do Taryn no good if he was flung from his horse and injured, or worse, before he could save her. With Lachlan as their lookout, he knew that it was best for him to heed the Laird’s warning. So, doing as instructed, James pulled back on the reins, slowing his horse to a more sensible trot.
Steam billowed off his horse’s neck as droplets of sweat trickled down through his hair.
“Good, lad. Ye are doing so verra well. Apples and carrots for ye for the rest of yer life if ye get me to her in time.”
The whispered promise sent the horse’s ears back, flickering in approval. James rubbed a gentle hand over the thickly corded muscle affectionately, waiting for Aila and Lachlan to catch up.
“Are ye trying to get yerself killed?” Lachlan shouted once they were within earshot.
James shrugged off his concern.
“I am merely trying to get to Taryn in time. That is all that matters.”
“So ye love her, then.”
Aila had phrased her words as an accusation rather than a question, but James answered it all the same. He couldn’t deny what he felt; he wouldn’t deny it. After spending their shared childhoods with a youthful crush, then going on the emotional journey the last three years have been, blaming Taryn for his sister’s fate, and finally seeing the woman Taryn had blossomed into, James wasn’t going to let another second go by without being honest.
“Aye. I love her.”
It surprised him how easily the words slipped from his mouth. He wasn’t sure exactly when the feelings had emerged, cementing themselves in his heart, but he was done trying to fight them. Taryn was so easy to love, so easy to adore. He knew that if the rest of the clan was given the chance to know her without the fear of their livelihoods hanging over their heads, he knew they would see that too.
“Do ye ken what that means?” Lachlan pushed, his face as serious as James had ever seen it.
There was a gleam of mistrust still lingering in his gaze. James knew that although Aila believed him, understood his love and dire need to protect Taryn, Lachlan was less sure. James didn’t blame the man. He doubted that he would react any differently if James was ever in Lachlan’s position. To anyone else, it would seem as though he were leading them into a trap. James simply had to wait until they reached McGregor land for Lachlan to see that James was being honest. And James had to continue the same level of candor, if he wanted the same level of support.
“It means that I will do anything to see her safe,” James answered resolutely. “I will do anything to see her happy. That is all I want.”
“Will ye betray yer clan? Leave behind any and all family ye have ever kent if that is what it takes to get her out alive? Will ye walk away from the only home ye have ever kent and be ready to run for the rest of yer life?”
Stunned, James didn’t answer. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought of these things—he had, dozens of times. He had wondered if he would ever get to say goodbye to his parents or collect the mementos that meant the most to him before he made a new life for himself.
What surprised him was that Lachlan felt as though he had to ask the question at all. Of course, James was more than willing to risk everything for Taryn, including his life. That was what it meant to him to love someone. He didn’t know any other way.
“If we march into the Keep and yer Laird McGregor is nae willing to hear us out, if he is nae willing to change his plans, or, God forbid, he has already carried them out, there will be a battle on our hands. We will have to fight our way out.” Lachlan said, the two horses trotting side by side. “Ye must be ready to turn yer sword against yer clan, against the people ye have grown up kenning. It will be a fight against yer friends. Are ye ready for that?”
“They are nae my friends if they condone the murder of the woman I love.”
James’ quick retort, firmly said, elicited a satisfied nod from Lachlan. Turning his eyes back to the dirt toad, Lachlan once again resumed his duty of looking out for any danger. But James had more to say. He needed them to know just how serious this was for him.
“I came in search for ye because I kent it would be a fight to set her free. I kent that I would need yer help in getting her out of here alive. But if I had nae been able to find ye, I would have returned and fought to get her out alone.”
Lachlan and Aila’s eyes spun to meet his. He looked at them both squarely, his gaze unwavering to match his determination.
“I would have lit the castle on fire, I would have waded through a river of blood to get her out, regardless of whose it was. I love her.” James pounded against his chest, where the depth of that truth sat heaviest. “I have loved her since I was a lad. She is the only one for me. Without her, my life does nae matter. So aye, I will do all that is required to set her free, nay matter the cost.”
“Ye really do love her,” Aila answered, a small smile on her lips while tears gathered in her eyes.
“Aye,” James agreed, his voice softer. “I really do love her.”
The trio rode on in silence, each contemplating his declaration and what may lie ahead. Several minutes passed with only the sound of the horses to fill the cold night air. When James looked over at his riding companions, he found that Lachlan was already studying him. Or studying his horse, at least.
“If ye had told me that there was a horse out here who would outrun Knight, I would have called ye daft. I have never seen a beast move with such speed. How did ye make it run so fast for ye?”
James shrugged, patting his horse’s neck again.
“I told him the truth—that we have to save Taryn. He did the rest.”
Lachlan huffed in surprise, but let the matter drop. James knew it was Lachlan’s way of trying to ease the tension, an olive branch of friendship. In any other circumstance, James would have jumped at the opportunity to question a Kincaid about horses. But with the sky giving way to the first of the dawn’s light, there was no time for such conversations.
They rounded the bend and crossed into McGregor territory, the snow-covered trees thinning out as small thatch roofed houses started to appear. Mountains, stony and proud, rose from the ground, cutting into the sky, concealing the rising sun behind them. But James knew they were quickly running out of time.
“Where is everyone?” Lachlan asked, studying the houses. “There are nay fires in the chimneys, nay early risers getting a start on their chores.”
James’ eyes scanned the outskirts of the village, slowly starting to see what Lachlan had already spotted.
“Perhaps they have all gone. It would nae surprise me to find the clan abandoned yer Laird for making such a foolhardy decision. Perhaps this will be easier than we think.”
Lachlan sounded confident in his assessment of things, relaxed even. But James’ eyes had only grown wide, fear lit anew.
“Nay. I have seen this before,” James told him. “The villagers only leave their homes and beasts this early for one of two reasons; a great feat or an even greater terror.”
“Terror?” Aila questioned. “What do ye mean?”
“A public execution.”
The words tasted vile against James’ tongue. He had never known such horror as he let himself realize that Taryn was going to be executed with the dawn. That was only minutes away.
“We must make haste,” James shouted, already kicking his horse into a dead sprint. “They are going to hang Taryn.”
Riding as fast as his horse could carry him, James zipped through the village and down the familiar path that would take him home. He had ridden this road hundreds of times, venturing towards the castle for training or a feast. But it had never seemed so impossibly long before now.
Willing the sun to slow its ascent, to give him time to get to Taryn, James pushed on. A terrified mixture of murmured prayers and curses fell out of his mouth the closer he got to the courtyard. He didn’t bother looking back to see if Aila and Lachlan had kept pace. He would make it to Taryn. He would save her from this undeserved fate, and then let the consequences come as they may.
A rumbling thrum of excitement came from the air in front of James. He was horrified to see so many villagers lined up and waiting to see the death of who had once been their beloved heir. That the Baron had been able to twist things so far, to make Taryn into his scapegoat so completely, rocked James to his core. But the rush of terror that he felt at seeing the crowd, bodies crammed in next to each other, was nothing compared to the pang of dread that rang through him at the sight of the scaffold.
Wooden and fresh, the nails still gleaming from the blacksmith anvil, was the worst thing he had ever seen. At least, that was what he thought until he got closer.
“Och, nay,” Aila muttered in horror. “We are too late.”
She and Lachlan skidded to stop beside him, both horses panting.
“How are we ever going to get to her?”
Lachlan studied the crowd, so thickly packed that there was no space for anyone to slip through. They would have to push and shove people out of their way. James had already deemed that would take entirely too long. His mind was racing, trying to find a solution, to do anything that would get Taryn out of the courtyard and as far away from this crowd as he could.
A terror unlike anything he had ever known before ran through him at the sight of Taryn standing on the scaffold. His heart stopped, as did everything else inside of him.
Faint sunlight streamed in from behind her, making her golden hair glow as if it were a halo instead of the knotted mess it was. She looked angelic, eyes closed, hands folded demurely in front of her, entirely too innocent to be standing in front of the knotted noose dangling from above her.
The rope swayed in the morning breeze, taunting James, mocking him for not getting to Taryn sooner.
“How could he do this? Her own uncle,” Aila questioned. “Just standing there as if it were completely normal, completely right to kill her.”
James didn’t bother answering. He didn’t have an answer to give. And he feared that if he did dare to open his mouth, the bile that had risen up from his stomach would be the only thing to come out.
It was a harrowing scene; Taryn positioned within a hair’s breadth of the noose, Laird McGregor standing to one side wearing a grim but determined expression, and the executioner in black. Behind the trio, a morning dove called out its greeting, but James couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of his heartbeat. Or perhaps it was the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance.