“I need at least one of them alive, Sigimor,” yelled Brian even as he dismounted, grabbed another horse and joined with the men riding out through the gates, their horses at full gallop and their swords drawn before they had even cleared the gates.
“Such poor manners ye have, lad, to give me a gift and then tell me what to do with it,” she heard the man Brian had called Sigimor yell back.
Brian’s reply to that was lost in the roar of a battle cry erupting from all the men racing toward Amiel and his men. Arianna turned in her saddle to look out the gates, not surprised to see Amiel and his men immediately turn and flee, leaving two arrow-ridden bodies on the ground behind them. Arianna suspected those two dead men had been the ones closest to her and Brian.
“A horse! Go fight!” cried a high, sweet, childish voice.
Arianna turned back to look at the people gathered in the bailey. A small, red-haired boy was running toward the gates, a wooden sword held high in his tiny hands. Hard on his heels was a very pregnant, black-haired woman. One tall, lean man was quicker, catching the boy up in his arms and laughing as he disarmed the child.
Not sure what else to do, Arianna dismounted only to have to hang onto the saddle and lean against the horse when her legs threatened to collapse beneath her weight. Out of the corner of her eye she saw two black-haired little girls, armed with wooden swords as well, attempt to creep around the people gathering in the bailey. Before she could open her mouth to say a word, yet another tall, handsome, red-haired man caught both little girls by the back of their gowns and pulled them to a halt.
Just as Arianna was about to test the strength in her legs, the very pregnant, black-haired woman stepped up to her and smiled. The woman was, in a word, beautiful. There was only welcome to be seen in the unusual silvery gray eyes as well and Arianna found herself returning the woman’s smile with a tired one of her own.
“I am the laird’s wife, Lady Jolene Cameron,” the woman said.
“English? Are we at peace with England then?”
“Who knows. It changes from one day to the next. Nay, I am but a poor English lass caught up by Sir Sigimor’s great charm.”
Arianna did not need the laughter of the men around them to tell her that was a jest. The laughter brightening the woman’s eyes told her that. She also realized she had just been rather rude to the poor woman, who already had to deal with an enemy at the gates.
“I am sorry,” Arianna said, and held out her hand. “I am Lady Arianna Murray.” She stuttered to a halt as she shook the woman’s hand and realized she did not want to be known as a Lucette any longer. The word had stuck in her throat. Relief swept over her and she knew it was past time she had let go of the name that had never truly been hers and had no pleasant memories attached to it.
“Well, I imagine you have had a very long and arduous journey, if your entrance into Dubheidland is any indication.” Jolene slipped her arm through Arianna’s. “Allow me to escort you inside. I suspect you would welcome a bath, clean clothing, and food.”
“Och, aye, I would. Thank ye. I apologize for the trouble.” She rubbed her forehead but it did little to ease the throb of exhaustion. “We just couldnae seem to shake them off our trail.”
“They will be shaken off now.”
The woman spoke with such confidence, Arianna was forced to believe her. She set her mind to simply walking without stumbling. Now that she had stopped running, she was all too keenly aware of just how exhausted she was.
“’Tis verra wrong of me, but I wish they were nay just shaken off; I wish they all end up dead.”
“Nay, after what they have done to you, that you would wish it is no surprise. I understand that feeling very well, having had to run from an enemy myself. ’Tis how I met my Sigimor, but that is a story to tell you after you have rested. I suspect you have not had much rest from the running.”
“Nay, verra little.” She looked around when Jolene escorted her into a bedchamber. “Oh, this is verra nice,” she murmured, eyeing the big bed and wondering if she had the strength to get over to it and collapse upon all those soft coverings.
“I have already ordered a bath for you.” Jolene urged her toward the bed. “Sit and I will gather some clothes for you.”
Arianna sat as stiffly as she could, afraid she would fall over and go to sleep if she did not. More aches were making themselves known in her body and she had to fight back a groan. She accepted the tankard of drink Jolene gave her with a smile—one sip enough to tell her it was a deliciously spiced cider—and watched the woman move quickly around the room to collect some clothes for her.
“This isnae your bedchamber, is it?” she asked.
“Nay, this is the one Sigimor’s sister Ilsa uses when she comes to visit. These are her things. They may be a little long but I think they will fit you well enough.” Jolene set the clothes down on the bed and turned to direct the youths and maids in setting up the bath for Arianna.