Page 3 of Warrior’s Lady

Chapter One

As the sun slowly rose over the horizon, the weary Lockhart clansmen rode through the gates of Lee Castle. They had ridden hard most of the night, eager to return home. Their latest battle against the English invaders had been a triumph. But who knew how long it would be before King Edward III sent another army to take their place? Until then, Camden Lockhart intended to enjoy the fleeting moments of peace.

He led his men through the grassy expanse of the outer bailey. Home. His haven. He owed so much to his brother for granting him Lee Castle. His brother had known how much this home meant to Camden after the nightmare of his youth.

And even though he was home, the relief he expected at the sight of the familiar walls did not come. Instead, an odd tingling crept across the back of his neck, as if warning him that all was not as it seemed.

The closer they came to the gate leading into the inner bailey, the tauter his nerves became. His instincts warned of danger. He drew his sword and charged forward. His men did the same.

Camden burst into the courtyard. His heart stilled. His fist tightened on the hilt of his sword. Silence descended.

Seven warriors lay dead, their bodies strewn across the courtyard; the violence of their deaths was obvious from the agony etched on their faces.

But it was not the men who captured Camden's gaze. Nay, his gaze swept across the carnage to the tall, freshly cut cross, driven into the soil at the base of the stair to the keep — a cross that bore the body of his brother. James' dark eyes stared down at Camden, frozen in a rictus of agony. His brother's body had been disemboweled, the sword still protruding from his gut.

James.Camden's sword fell from his hand, hitting the ground with a thump. The sound echoed through the palpable silence.

A sudden cold sickness clenched Camden's stomach. He dismounted, then raced forward, wrenching the sword from James' flesh. Rivulets of his brother's blood trickled down the blade, engulfed his hand. Not James. Camden squeezed the hilt of the murderous weapon until the pain in his hand matched the pain in his soul. He let loose an inhuman sound that filled the silence, reverberating through the Highland hills the unbridled sorrow that swamped him.

Orrin, his lifelong friend and man-at-arms, appeared at his side. Gently, he tried to pry the weapon from Camden's hand.

"I'll cut him down, my lord, if you'll loosen your grip," Orrin pleaded.

The words barely sank through the turmoil that crowded Camden's mind. From somewhere outside himself he watched his men dismount with a speed that belied their weariness, and race forward to assist Orrin. With the utmost care, they lowered James's mutilated body from the cross.

Camden released the pin from his cloak and laid it upon the ground, cradling James in the softness of the wool.

"Why would someone do such a thing to Lord Lockhart and his men," asked Hamish, the youngest warrior of the group, his tone barely above a whisper.

Why?Camden's mind screamed the same question as he balled his fists, fighting back the rage that threatened — a rage that had been building for the last ten years. 'Twas a rage he'd never given in to — a part of him, that once unleashed might consume him and devour those he loved.

The feel of James' cold blood trickling down his arm brought him back to the moment. Camden forced himself to relax, to breathe the sweet Highland air — air free of the tang of salt and the grit of sand. He had to put his own emotions aside. He had to be strong, brave, dependable. His men, and his brother, deserved that much and more.

"Who would do such a thing?" asked Kyle, another of the younger warriors in the group of twelve men who stood surrounding Camden and James.

"I can tell you who," Orrin said, his gaze fixed on the sword in his hands. "This blade bears the markings of clan Ruthven."

"Ruthven?" Titus, a warrior who had been with the Lockharts for years, reared back, his eyes wide. "The traitors have betrayed their countrymen yet again."

"What shall we do?" Kyle asked.

Hamish drew his sword. "I am prepared to fight."

Camden could not answer past the constriction in his throat. A wave of hatred, black and burning like acid, boiled up from some hidden depth of his soul, pulsing through his blood and cramping the muscles in his gut. He had somehow known the Ruthvens were involved.

"'Twas Dougall Ruthven and a band of Englishmen that attacked us." A weak voice came from the stairs.

Camden's gaze shot to his steward's. The aging retainer clung to the wooden railing near the stairs. His garments were slashed to tatters. Fresh blood oozed from wounds on his shoulder, thigh, and abdomen. Bertie's face was a translucent white, and it looked as though it took every ounce of his strength to remain upright. "That vile Ruthven betrayed your brother. He betrayed us all." On unsteady legs, Bertie struggled down the stairs.

Camden surged forward to help his servant, his friend. "Damn the Ruthvens." The words squeezed through taut white lips. "Dougall Ruthven set us up, drawing me away to Glasgow, then luring James and his men here, knowing they'd be a small contingent and unprepared for battle."

Orrin raced to Bertie's side as well, helping Camden guide the aging servant down the stairs of the keep. Orrin's face filled with barely concealed violence. "Shall I prepare the men?"

Fighting his desire to agree, Camden shook his head. He had to remain logical and in control of him emotions. "We must bury James and his men. Then, we must go to Lady Lockhart and Lady Violet." Camden sent up a silent prayer that his sister-in-law and niece had somehow been spared.

Working in silence, Camden and his men dug graves in the churchyard for the warriors. Then Camden methodically wrapped strips of linen around his brother's body and set it in the Lockhart family plot. He carefully placed James next to their father's final resting place, then he smoothed the soft earth back into place. As soon as he was able, Camden would commission a tombstone to be created in James' honor here at Lee Castle.

And even though Lee Castle was the lesser seat of the Lockhart family, it had been their family home long before James had commissioned Lockhart Castle to be built. It seemed right that James had ended up here, with Camden and all the others who had loved him so well.