Chapter Four

Two hours later, Fiona and several Roses followed Austin Merrick and his hand-picked men into the gloaming, leaving the newly made central campsite behind. A few Urry men and one MacLaren lad were among the party as well. Three bodies separated Fiona from Austin, some of his Merrick lads following directly in his wake, but that didn't stop her from staring at his broad back as he led the party initially through the forest and then out along the River Nairn.

Despite the distance between them, Fiona's eyes remained fixed on Austin's back, her thoughts filled yet with a lingering irritation. Each confident step he took seemed to echo with a brashness that bordered on infuriating, almost inexplicably, save that he'd grated on her nerves since first they'd met. His broad shoulders and strong posture did nothing to endear him to her, instead serving as a constant reminder of his overbearing presence. His walk was determined but somehow casual still, and she found it annoying how he seemed to command the terrain with such ease, as if he owned every inch of the land they traversed while she herself was forced to lift her legs high to march through the tall grass.

At his hip there flopped a length of rope, coiled many times and secured on his belt. Another of his men also carried rope, which she supposed was brought to assist their climb.

Her gaze remained mostly locked on Austin Merrick, not out of admiration but out of a desire to understand what made him so insufferably confident. She toyed with a notion that behind that fa?ade of strength and conceit was a man who used arrogance and flippancy as a shield.

She'd brought with her Keegan, wanting agility and power, and Plum, a young man about Fiona's age who was possibly the best climber of the Roses. Teegan Rose, a direct cousin of Fiona's, had been Fraser's suggestion—"scrappy, he is," Fraser had said, "he'll reach the top". Will Moray was part of the Rose contingent as well; though he might struggle with the climb, Fiona guessed his tenacity would see him at the top, and his hand to hand fighting ability was exceptional.

Fraser's suggestion of Teegan, and his approval of her other choices had come after he'd subjected her to a blistering after the meeting at Urry's tent. Fraser had returned last to the Rose camp, dismounting swiftly and rigidly so that Fiona was not stunned by his anger. Thus when he'd stalked across the camp toward her, she'd lifted her chin defiantly, having a good idea about what he meant to take issue with.

"Ye encountered Merrick," he'd growled, a vein throbbing in his temple, "had cause to draw yer dagger—had cause to put it to his bluidy insufferable neck!—and ye dinna ken that was something I needed to be made aware of!"

Straightening her spine, though she would never match his height, Fiona had returned his glare. "I dinna ken it was him—the Merrick—when I met him!"

"It dinna matter who ye kent it was! A man accosted ye and—"

"He did nae accost me—"

"I need to ken about it, occasions such as those." His mouth had twisted with displeasure. "I'll be climbing that wall with ye and ye can—"

"Ye canna, Fraser," Fiona had insisted tersely. "And I dinna need to run and cry to ye with every little distress in my day. Jesu, ye want me to be a leader then treat me like one. I want ye at the front gate, Fraser. I dinna ken I trust Merrick anymore than ye do." In truth, she thought him rash, flippant, and arrogant, none of which made for a good warrior. However, she didn't suspect him of treachery or a complete lack of competence, only feared he might not be equal to the task at hand if he were too busy wanting to torment her. "I need ye there, Fraser," she'd repeated, with softness now. "If it does go awry on the cliff, I need to ken ye'll be coming in from the other side."

"I dinna like it," he'd grumbled.

It had not escaped her notice, when they'd joined the Merrick camp, the vicious looks Fraser had leveled at Austin.

While Fiona had begun to form her own opinions of the Merrick son, all of them negative, she was prepared to reserve final judgment until after the siege. She'd met dozens of destructive and undesirable characters in her life, but many of them had gone on to prove their worth in battle, tipping the scales of her opinion. She could generally tolerate a braggart and brash person if he could justify the swaggering when the fight came; however, in light of Merrick's original affront, she wasn't sure she would be so generous with her grace.

The unit of fourteen walked steadily along the river, shadowy silhouettes standing tall amid the flat terrain. They were not, though, in sight of Wick yet and so there was no need to disguise their presence. Another unit, those meant to overtake any de Rathe men and secure the docks, approached from another direction. They would need to subdue any resistance there—little was expected at this time of day—before the climbers could begin their mission.

The river meandered across a barren stretch of land and through several hundred yards of pines and brush before it widened as it cleared the trees. Streaks of silver slanted and rippled across the dark blue water as it rushed toward the sea.

Just as they began to catch glimpses overhead of the outline of one tower and part of the crenellated parapet, drawn against the gray sky, they walked to the right and east, following the narrowing river. When they came directly under the keep at the foot of the tall crag, directly beneath Wick, they were pleasantly surprised to realize that they didn't need to go as far as the docks to begin their climb.

Glancing upward along the headland revealed a nearly vertical incline, possibly as tall as twenty yards and scarcely occupied with but a few outcroppings of rock and even less vegetation sturdy enough to support a person. Beyond the cliff, it appeared there was a small shelf of ground at the base of the castle wall, which stretched another thirty feet toward the darkening sky. The battlements at the top of the curtain wall were lit intermittently with torches, dropping dancing shadows along the wall below.

The sound of waves crashing over rocks created an eerie atmosphere, though Fiona understood the din of that noise should serve to conceal any sound they might make. Cold began to seep through her bones and she had little protection against it, having left her plaid in camp, wanting to be unfettered when she climbed and fought.

"This will do here," Austin Merric decided, scanning everything above them. He pointed upward. "There's a few trees up top, upon the promontory, which might conceal our climb up the wall."

With that decided and little to do but await the appointed hour, Merrick advised that he and his men would venture forth, rounding a corner of the crag side, to see what they could learn of the efforts to overtake the dock and the beach near it. With naught but a passing glance over Fiona and her men, he took himself off.

Knowing there were hours yet before they would be required to move, Fiona made herself comfortable, putting her back to the cliff wall and slouching down onto her bottom, bending her knees to sit comfortably.

Keegan did the same, sitting on her left, and Plum followed, plopping down on her right. Will Moray and Teegan stood close to the seated Roses.

"If he keeps it up, giving orders all through the night," Keegan grumbled, "he's like to find a friendly blade in his back."

Assuming he spoke of Austin Merrick, and though she was loath to defend the man, Fiona diffused Keegan's animosity with a calm voice. "He outshone Urry earlier for his grasp of what needed to be said and done," she reminded him and then added practically, "and someone has to lead each group."

She hadn't been commanding her own small army for long, but she had quickly realized that soldiers outside the Roses were more inclined to follow a man's orders than a woman's. While this often infuriated her, Fiona had no desire to prove herself to anyone but herself. She sought neither accolades nor attention. She knew that an army's strength lay in its unity, and that was what mattered most.

Her men continued to quietly grouse about Merrick before their conversation turned toward the impending climb and the looming fight.

She listened at first with half an ear and then not at all. Though she'd taken part in numerous skirmishes and larger fights, Fiona never took anything for granted, including her own capabilities. Each battle, with its own unique dangers, was a test of her skills and resolve. Tonight was no different; they would be climbing into the unknown, the shadows concealing both their path and their enemies. The thought of it made her heart race, a mix of anticipation and apprehension coursing through her veins.

Frequently, when she could, she liked to sit quietly with her thoughts, gathering courage. It was a ritual that steadied her, allowing her to confront her fears and channel them into determination. She focused on her breathing, as Fraser had taught her, each inhale and exhale a reminder of her strength and purpose.

She had never entered a fight without feeling fear. Fraser had assured her that any man who claimed to do so was a liar. Fear, he said, was not a weakness but a sign of her humanity. It kept her sharp, made her cautious yet brave. It was the fire that drove her to protect those she loved and the Rose name.

Despite Fraser's wisdom, the knot of anxiety in her stomach was hard to ignore. She hated the feeling of vulnerability that came with fear, the gnawing uncertainty of what lay ahead. While she wasn't sure that she was afraid to die, she sometimes agonized over what the manner of her death might be.

Constant and true, she repeated as a mantra over and over in her head.

Merrick and his men returned within half an hour. If he glanced at or acknowledged Fiona in any way, she had no way to know as inky darkness now blanketed the bottom of the cliff so that they were all simply black outlines and shapes in the night.

They waited for several more hours, until midnight had come and gone. Fiona stood and stretched her legs several times, as did others, but mostly the small party remained still and quiet throughout the night until the faints sounds of the mock frontal assault could be heard, a dim boom and several indistinct thuds coming just before the dawn.

Austin Merrick rose and stood before the group, announcing it was time to move.

"Stay close and move quietly," Austin cautioned, his voice barely audible over the sound of the sea. "We must be as shadows, unseen and unheard."

With a nod, Fiona closed in on the wall, following Austin Merrick's ascent. Almost immediately, her muscles strained as she pulled herself up the cliff face. The rock was cold and slick with sea spray, making the climb treacherous. She found footholds where she could, testing each one carefully before putting her weight on it. Her heart pounded in her chest, the effort and the danger combining to create a rush of adrenaline.

Austin, a few feet above her, moved with the confidence of a seasoned climber. His strong, deliberate movements set a steady pace, and she found herself matching his rhythm. Occasionally her sword scraped or slapped against the braeside, sometimes causing her to teeter momentarily.

Halfway up the cliff, by which time Plum had passed her on her right, Fiona paused for a moment, her breath coming in steady, controlled bursts. She glanced down to see the others making slower progress, scattered left and right of the climbers above. It was imperative that they did not ascend directly below another; should someone fall, they'd take down with them all those in their path. She looked up and met Austin's gaze, glittering in the gray morning light. He gave her a brief, encouraging nod, and she felt, inexplicably, a renewed surge of resolve. For a moment he struggled to find his next hand or foothold and paused a bit, allowing Fiona to catch up until she was level with his thighs, just slightly to his left. Her hands reached higher, skimming the jagged shale with her fingers and palm. She bit her lip as one foot began to slip, desperate to secure a handhold before losing the precarious grip of her toehold.

A wee panic surged through her as she searched in vain for some crevice in which to dig her fingers, being supported at the moment entirely on the toes of her feet, dug into the cliff face.

A small whimper escaped as she could not find purchase, neither with her hands or one foot.

Just as she felt herself slipping, Austin glanced down and understood her peril. Without hesitation, he reached down and caught her wrist in a firm grip, his strong hand steadying her. Fiona's heart pounded as she dangled for a moment, her life literally in his hands. Teeth clenched, she looked up and met his intense gaze while her legs kicked at the wall, looking for someplace to land.

"I've got ye," Austin assured her, his voice calm but commanding.

With a grunt of effort, he pulled her upward. Fiona found a new foothold and secured her grip on the rock, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

""Guid?" He asked when they were nearly side by side. As soon as Fiona lodged the toes of her boots into two new footholds, Austin transferred his grip on to the back of her tunic, pressing her against the rock wall, allowing her to search and secure her hands.

"Aye, guid," she answered, her voice shaky but grateful.

With a brief nod, he returned to his own climbing, murmuring, "Stay close."

Fiona took a deep breath, reluctant to admit but not unaware that she was steadied by his presence. She continued her ascent, inch by inch and foot by foot, feeling the tension in her muscles peak.

Just as they resumed climbing, a sudden loud grunt pierced the night air, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body clattering against the cliff face. Austin and Fiona froze, chests against the cool shale, and looked down to see that one of the Urry men had lost his grip and was tumbling down the rocky slope. The sound of his fall was punctuated by snorts of pain and the clatter of loose stones. The other climbers were momentarily paralyzed as well, unable to assist as the man bounced past them.

Fiona's pulse thudded as she watched the falling man bump and bounce down the cliff face. He didn't stop until he had reached the bottom, a long groan following his hard landing.

"We need to keep moving," Austin said to Fiona, his voice low but firm. "We canna help him from here."

She nodded curtly, sorry for his circumstance but knowing Austin was right. He and she were nearly at the top.

They continued upward, inch by inch, until they finally reached the edge of the crag. Austin threw his arm over it and paused, catching his breath, before he pushed on, hauling himself up onto the ledge. Fiona followed, sorry that the promontory was all rock as well, providing little to grasp. As she searched with her hand and repositioned her feet, Austin tapped her hand and then clamped his long fingers around hers, pulling her up once more until her feet found the shelf of ground. Briefly, she collapsed against him, her breathing ragged by now. Beneath her cheek, his chest heaved up and down as well.

"Sadly, that was the easy part," he remarked.

"Christ," she muttered, sorry to be reminded of this.

His hand settling unaccountably on her back brought her to awareness of her position and she carefully stepped away from him. Heat crept up her neck but she ignored it, glancing around to discover they stood upon a narrow strip of rocky ground, a span of maybe ten feet wide, lying at the base of the imposing curtain wall. The sea's roar was louder here, crashing against the cliff below and sending salty spray into the air. The rising sun and departing night cast eerie shadows across the stone wall, but there was no time to admire the view.

Austin positioned himself at the edge, ready to assist the others as they completed the climb. Plum was already atop the ledge, the first to arrive, his face flushed with exertion. Austin reached out, clasping the hand of a Merrick firmly and tugging him upward with a grunt of effort. The young man scrambled over the lip of the cliff, collapsing onto the rocky ground, his chest heaving. Two more Merrick men came next before Keegan showed his face. One by one, the others followed. Austin and now another Merrick man's strong hands grasping each wrist in turn, pulling them to safety.

"Careful now," Austin murmured as he helped Will Moray to the top, the lad seeming particularly exhausted. Austin took the time to steady him before releasing his grip.

"Five minute rest," Austin announced, his breath still coming in ragged gasps.

The curtain wall of the castle loomed ahead, even more formidable up close for being perfectly perpendicular. The smooth stones offered few handholds, and the height was dizzying so that Fiona was not displeased at all to see Austin and two of his men pull those coiled ropes away from their bodies. She hadn't noticed earlier but saw now that one end of the rope was attached to a grappling hook, a single-pronged iron arm that was intended to be thrown and secured over the battlements. She might have snickered that the hooks would have come in handy upon the cliff but realized that there was little here at her feet for that spike-tipped arm to grasp.

Five minutes had not passed before Austin stood sideways with one foot at the edge of the crag and swung the hook end several times before sending it skyward. It fell barely short and dropped back down. Several waiting and watching winced at the banging noise it made on the way down, but unless they were unfortunate enough that a de Rathe man stood directly above and upon the battlements to hear the noise over the furious roar of the sea, ?twas likely it only sounded dangerously loud to those wishing to remain unnoticed.

A pause was allowed, and when no face peeked through the crenels and downward, he tried again. This time it soared above the battlements in an arc and fell beyond the wall. A bit of tugging on the thick rope secured it upon the stone. Austin yanked several times to make sure it was secure. The additional two hooked ropes required nearly a half dozen attempts, combined, before they were secured atop and dangling down the side of the curtain wall.

With the rope in one hand, Austin faced the group.

"The strongest will lead," he said. And just as Fiona stepped forward, he pointed his forefinger at her. "I ken yer eager to prove yerself, lass, but we need might and power first thing." Moving his hand to the right, he singled out Keegan. "Ye take up a rope. Ronan, take the third," he said, and one of his men moved into position. To those that remained, Austin ordered, "Come quick on our heels. If the fight comes immediately, it'll come hard."

Oh, she absolutely wanted to argue—at the very least, she screamed inside to object to his assertion that she wanted to prove herself to him—but she understood innately that dissention here, at this crucial moment, was ill-advised, and she had a fairly good idea that there would be plenty of fighting left for her by the time she reached the parapet.

Thus, she waited and watched as Austin, Keegan, and the man named Ronan took to the rope. Only because she was standing closer to the cliff did she have to wait for two more sets of three to climb up ahead of her.

Despite the ropes, climbing the wall was not any easier, having to rely solely on arm strength, and being unable to pause for a moment as there were too few places to find a foothold if rest was required.

Fiona wasn't quite halfway up the side of the wall when she realized a clamor above.

They'd been discovered.

Between the gloom of morning gray and the bodies above her, ?twas difficult to see how far the first three had managed to climb. She worked her hands faster on the rope and her feet quicker on the wall, scrambling furiously upward, fearing that at any moment the rope might be sliced from above and she would be dropped to the ledge and likely farther, down to the bottom of the cliff.

A clanging of steel reverberated through the night, advising that Austin, Keegan, and Ronan were already upon the battlements. A gurgled grunt erupted from somewhere above and was followed by a Wick guardsmen shouting out an alarm.

More anxious now, Fiona hoisted herself upward with greater speed and resolve, nearly colliding with the man ahead of her. "Move! Move!" she urged him.

He did, or he tried, and went stumbling over the top of the wall, falling inside rather than pouncing.

Fiona gained the embrasure, her arms wobbly for their exertion, and took half a second to assess the situation. Bodies littered the stone ground, all of them de Rathe men, while six men of the party engaged other guardsmen.

Directly in front of her, Austin Merrick was engaged in close hand to hand combat, thrusting and parrying against a man about his size. Five other separate fights were happening simultaneously. And from around the corner, more defenders charged forward. Without great thought, Fiona jumped on the back of the man with whom Austin had been fighting, crying out, "Behind ye!" to warn him of the coming fighters. Having leapt from inside the embrasure, she hadn't yet drawn her sword and did not now. She clawed her fingers into the man's face to maintain her position on his back while producing her dagger, which she deftly stabbed into his neck. She fell forward with the dying man, her head banging against the back of Austin's leg as he lunged backward to avoid a sword thrust from a charging castle defender.

Fiona righted herself as quickly as possible and unsheathed her sword, rushing to Austin's right to take on another adversary. The man had his sword raised over his head with both hands, meaning to stab it down into Austin's head or shoulders. Fiona surged ahead with great force so that when she dropped to her knees, she slid forward several feet, and was able to stab her long blade into the man's belly before he'd brought down his sword.

Having just kicked another castle defender off his sword, which he'd impaled in the man's chest, Austin reached down and with a hand under her arm, hauled Fiona to her feet, barely sparing her a glance.

They both faced to the north, whence came more of the castle guard, one after another. They wore not only the green tartan of de Rathe but some came garbed in red tabards, apparently part of an English troop.

"Bluidy hell," Austin cursed. "I'll cleave Urry's head from his body for this."

Befuddled by confusion—red tabards?—she stared blankly at Austin, who growled, "He said eighty inside, all de Rathe's men. He bluidy had nae idea Wick was being garrisoned by an English troop."

"God have mercy," she breathed, gripping her sword with two hands and preparing for the onslaught.

Despite Austin's command of "Stay behind me!", Fiona refused to adhere to it.

Instead, she allowed his narrow-minded attitude to fuel her fighting rage.

The defenders charged, their swords and shields gleaming under the rising sun. Fiona's heart pounded, but she pushed the fear aside, her training kicking in. The clash of steel rang out, filling the morning air with the sounds of battle. Clangs and cries rang out, drowning out the roar of the sea beyond.

Fiona parried a blow from a sentinel, her muscles pulsing as she pushed him back. Nearby, Austin was a whirlwind of power, taking on adversaries with brutal efficiency. Fiona dared not turn and see how their comrades fared; there simply wasn't time or space between one defender and the next.

The odds were daunting; competitors just kept coming. Her chest heaved and her arm protested the constant use. She switched regularly from sword to dagger, depending on the need and her position. More and more bodies littered the area around them.

"Hold!" A bellow pierced the ugly din. "Hold!"

Fiona, in the midst of a fight, took one last swipe with her sword before she was grabbed by her collar and backed up roughly into Austin's chest. "Cease," he commanded, his chest surging against her back. "Only death awaits if ye persist."

Surrender? She would never! "I will nae give—"

"Ye will," he growled at her, twisting his fist in her collar. "Cease. ?Tis nae our fate to die for Urry's folly."

Gasping, in those few moments of pause in her fight and his, Fiona saw that they were now well and truly surrounded. For quite some time, she and Austin and three others had managed to keep their backs to Keegan, Plum, and more of their party, so that they could not be attacked from behind. But with just that brief pause, and then more swords being tossed away in surrender, the castle guard had infiltrated their tight formation.

With a rage greater than she'd ever known, Fiona shook herself free of Austin and turned to glare at him.

"Ye are a coward, Merrick," she accused with seething hatred before she angrily thrust her sword toward the ground.