Page 1 of Defy the Highlander

PROLOGUE

Scottish Lowlands

Year of Our Lord 1483

Beneath the morning sky, with the songbirds calling to one another and the gentle breeze filtering through the trees, it seemed like any other bucolic day in the lowlands of Scotland. It was pleasant and gentle. But upon those lands moved men who were adversaries against one another, Scots against English, men against men.

It was a day for death.

Today, the Clan MacKay and their allies were out for blood.

And Brody MacKay was at the head of it.

It had started like most conflicts start. Something small that turned into something big. In this case, it was because the Scots, once again, wanted the much-disputed city of Berwick back, along with the castle, and there had been a great deal of fighting going on in and around Berwick because of it. Those border clans put out a call to the highlands for reinforcements and about seventy men from Clan MacKay joined up with an ally, Clan Munro, and headed to the border town of Berwick to assist in the fighting.

But the warzone of the Scottish marches was evident.

In truth, it was a mess.

Clan Kerr of Hawick, one of the clans leading the charge, had been badly reduced in number, so Clans MacKay and Munro bolstered them. Small villages had been cleared of the enemy and some men even remained behind to help the villagers rebuild, but there was still the ever-present threat of a new English attack. But most importantly, there was rumor of a group of English heading for a mighty border castle with a convoy of wounded from Berwick and once the clans heard about that transport, they were determined to hit it and hit it hard. The English had done so much damage to their villages that destroying a convoy of wounded, as dishonorable as that sounded, would show the English that the Scots were not going to show mercy, nor were they going to give up their quest for Berwick.

An attack like that would send a message.

Still, the method in which that information had been received was suspect by some. Truth be told, his father was one of them. An English soldier deep inside the House of de Wolfe, the largest family on the Scottish border who essentially controlled most of it, was said to have sent the message to his cousin, who was a member of Clan Kerr. That bit of information had old Arch MacKay, Brody’s father, questioning everything.

But not Brody.

He knew best.

Strangely, the chief of Clan Kerr of Hyndlee, a smaller offshoot of Clan Kerr of Hawick, agreed with Brody. He thought the intelligence was viable and wanted to pursue it, but his men had been slaughtered by the wars with the English, mostly the Duke of Gloucester and the House of de Wolfe, so Brody offered his men to bolster the ranks. That didn’t go over well with his father, but Brody wasn’t in the habit of being denied. He did what he wanted to do and when a few men from Clan Kerr and some stragglers from other clans moved out before dawn, Brody and thirty of his men went with them, including two of Brody’s cousins, Doogie and Cauley.

They were full of confidence as they followed the path that they believed would intercept the convoy of wounded, but it took them quite close to a massive fortress known as Wolfe’s Lair. It’s real name was Rule Water Castle, and it was about ten miles away from the English border set in the lowlands of Scotland, but it had been a property of the powerful House of de Wolfe for about two hundred years. Since de Wolfe was kin with Clan Scott, and the castle sat on Scott lands, no one had ever tried to remove them. The English at Wolfe’s Lair were deeply entrenched and it was to this castle that the wounded were being moved.

That brought Brody and the Scots onto de Wolfe lands.

There were two main roads that converged at Wolfe’s Lair from the south. One was a larger road from due south, while the smaller road was from the southeast. They assumed the convoy would be taking the smaller road since they would be coming from Berwick to the east, so they headed towards that one.

Although they were on foot, they moved swiftly. It had taken them a few hours to reach a wooded area that was a perfect place for an ambush, about two miles out from Wolfe’s Lair, and it had the advantage of having a loch just to the north so that their northern flank would be covered by the water. No one could sneak up on them from that direction. Although the Kerr men were in command of this ambush, Brody didn’t like the way they were trying to set the trap and he ordered his men to move further down the road where the trees were thicker.

“Brody?” Doogie MacKay, young and excitable but quite capable, was running alongside him as they spread out from Clan Kerr. “Why here? Why do ye think the Sassenach will be here today?”

Brody could see the road from the slight rise they were on. “Because if they’re coming from Berwick, they have tae come down this road,” he said, noting the angle of the sun and the fact that they were at least two hours into the morning at this point. “They would have stopped in Kelso and then Jedburgh, and from Jedburgh, the Lair is a half-day’s ride.”

“But why today?”

“Because the scout said that they’d left Berwick six days ago,” Brody pointed out. “If they traveled slowly, which they did because of the wounded, they’ll reach the Lair either today or tomorrow. And we’ll be waiting for them.”

Doogie was more of a follower than a leader, so he simply nodded to his cousin’s logic. He thought Brody was brilliant and he always had. Being younger than Brody, he’d followed him without question. Whatever Brody decided was fine with him. As they were moving up towards the wooded position, Cauley MacKay came running up behind them.

“Brody!” he nearly shouted. “There are some deer up by the loch! ’Twould make fine eating.”

Brody slowed down and turn to his long-legged cousin, frowning. “The only hunting we’ll be doing today is for Sassenach,” he said. “We’ve no time for anything else.”

Cauley sighed sharply. “But the lads haven’t eaten well since before we went tae Berwick,” he said unhappily. “I can take down a buck right now and we’ll come back for it after we’ve dealt with the Sassenach.”

Brody growled. “I told ye nay,” he said. “Now, get up ahead. Clear those trees so we’ll be properly concealed when the Sassenach come through.”

Cauley wasn’t pleased, but he did as he was told. Those long legs took him up ahead, running for the trees with the other Scots, all of them planning to find concealment within the foliage and wait out the English convoy.