Her rescuer seemed to sense her fear. "It's alright,lass—we are not your enemy. We were sent by king Robert to help when we heard the English had retaliated for the shelter your village gave his men."
Help? Her mouth drew tight. Bruce was the one who had put them in this position. He was the one who'd done this.
But these men were proof that that the Scotland's would-be king hadn't completely forsaken them. Not that it gave her much comfort; Bruce's men had come too late.
And there were only four of them! Her heart started to race again, pounding against her chest like a drum. "What if they come back?"
"Who did this child?"he asked.
Tears 😭 streamed down her cheeks and a fierce sob tore from her lungs. "English soldiers from the castle. The earl of Hereford's men. They..."
She started to cry harder when she remembered what they'd done. He drew her closer to his chest, soothing her with soft words ,telling her it would be alright.
But it wouldn't be alright. It would never be alright again. Her mother was gone,and Carissa had no one. Unconsciously, her fingers gripped the steely muscles of his arms harder. Except him. This man who looked like an angel sent from God to save her from certain death. As long as he was holding her, she had him. And Carissa didn't ever want to let him go.
Maxwell
Maxwell thought he might need Robbie Dane( or at least his fellow guardsmen inhuman strength )to pry the lass's bloody fingers from his arms, eventually the mite grew so exhausted from weeping m, she dozed off, enabling him to help the others finish their grim task.
But he kept a eye close on her where he'd left her,wrapped in a plaid by the horses. The wee lass was traumatized,and as he was the one who'd found her ,he felt strangely responsible for her.strangely,because it was an entirely new experience feeling any sort of responsibility towards a woman—even one who was still a child.
But when he thought of what she'd been through,it roused every protective bone in his body. Bones he hadn't even known gripped existed.
God's blood,for how long has she been in that hellhole? Four days?five? She'd been close to death—was still close to death. Without food and water for so long ...
He grimaced. It would be bad enough for a grown man,let alone a small girl with little meat on her bones to spare. Her shredded fingers from trying to climb the wall of the well were evidence of the torture she'd endured and how desperate she'd been to escape.
He'd thought he'd seen just about every injustice and barbarous cruelty the English could mere out. But who could do something like this to a child? It seemed calculated and almost personal.
Maxwell didn't have much experience about young lasses,but he did have two younger brothers,and she couldn't be more than eleven or twelve. Still more young girl than young woman. One side of his mouth curved up, recalling the breeches he'd been surprised to discover under her skirts when he'd carried her over his shoulder to climb out of the well.
She weighed next to nothing. Practically skin and bone. Fragile,but with a surprising strength to her skinny limbs. Aye,the lass was a fighter. With what she'd survived,she had to be.
It was Steven who finally asked the question they all were thinking. "What are we going to do with her? We can't take her back to camp. It's too dangerous."
That was an understatement. They'd been back in Scotland 🏴 for less than a month after been on a run in the western isles for the past six months. Bruce's army had won one minor victory against the English at Turnberry, but they were one lost battle away from been forced to flee again. After the disaster at Loyc Ryan, where over two-thirds of Bruce's force had been killed , they'd been left with a fewer than four hundred men in the entire army.
A lost cause it might seem to some, but they didn't know Robert the Bruce. Maxwell would fight by his side for as long as it took, even if they were the last two men standing.
"Was she able to tell u anything that might help?"Stewart asked.
Maxwell shook his head. "Nothing more than what we'd already guessed. It was Hereford's men." Though Lochmaben was part of the Bruce ancestral lands of the lordship of Annandale, it's castle 🏰 was again in English hands after been retaken by Bruce last year. King Edward had given it to sir Godfrey de Leod, Earl of Hereford, and the earl and countess (one of King Edward's daughters)had arrived not long ago to occupy it. "She is still in shock. She couldn't even tell me her name.she just kept crying over and again that he killed her mother and now she was alone."
Steven winced. "She witnessed her mother's death"
Maxwell turned to him grimly. "Aye, it sounds like it."
"Poor lass," Stewart said. "She's too young to have seen something like that."
An odd look crossed MacSon's face. It took Maxwell a moment to realize it was compassion. "I was ten probably only a couple of years younger than her, when I witnessed my mother raped and killed. I still remember every damned moment of it."
The men were silent.Apparently Maxwell wasn't the only one to be strangely affected by the lass's suffering; it had penetrated the stony shell of of one of the most feared swordsmen in Scotland—hell, probably in Christendom. Until MacSon's marriage last year with Elena flair, Maxwell didn't think the chief of the highland guard was capable of smiling.
"Perhaps she has relatives nearby?" Steven asked.
"No!" The lass's voice rang out, and the next moment she'd launched herself into Maxwell's arms. Her raw and bloodied fingers were digging into Maxwell's arms again,clutching tighter if it were possible. "Please,you can't leave me here. They'll find and kill me."
"Shhh," he soothed, stroking her head. "No one is going to leave u here. But isn't there someplace we can take you? An aunt? An uncle?"
She shook her head furiously. ". There's no one My mother is my only family."
He didn't correct her tense. "What about your father?"
A hard look crossed her face. ". Dead." From her tone, he gathered her memories were not fond ones. " At Methven."
One of the many disasters that had felled Bruce's and his men last year. "What's your name , lass?"
She hesitated. " Carissa."
" And your father's name ?"
Another pause. "Patrick."
A common enough clan name around these parts. ". You have no brothers or sisters, Carissa?" Maxwell realized it was the wrong question to ask when her face collapsed in grief.
"My mother was eight months pregnant. He was hurting her. I had to try and make him stop."
Maxwell felt rage flare in him, suspecting the king of "hurting." Sick bastards! He squeezed her tighter though he knew there was no comfort he could give her that would take the pain away.
"I hit him with the hoe, I missed, and then he ..."
Tears glimmered in the big brown eyes that dominated her small face. She was a cute little thing(even beneath the dirt)with a wide enough mouth,slightly upturned nose,softly pointed chin, and dark hair and brows to match her eyes. ". He killed her. It was my fault. He killed her because of me."
Maxwell's voice turned hard as he shook her by the shoulders and forced her to heed him. "It wasn't your fault," he said in a voice that booked no argument—much like MacSon had spoken to Stewart and Steven earlier. " You fought back and gave her a chance no one else in this village had."
" But it wasn't strong Enough."
" You were strong enough to try, and that's what counts. Fighting isn't just about physical strength.Quickness and knowing were to strike can compensate for size."
She eyed him skeptically. " But I'm a girl."
He mocked disbelief. " I must have been confused by the breeches."
A fiery blush stole up her cheeks. " I just wear those sometimes to make it easier to move around." She paused and looked at him. " Do you really think I can learn to defend myself?"
He nodded , guessing the directions of her thoughts —to prevent a man from doing what had been done to her mother. "Am certain of it."
Her dark brows gathered across her nose and her mouth screwed down tightly in an expression that was oddly fierce. "Then I'll do it. Will you teach me?"
Ah hell. He looked to his companions for help but they gave him a look that he'd gotten himself into this.
"Please," she begged. "Can't you take me with you? I've nowhere else to go."
She looked at him with such hope in her eyes, he instinctively wanted to turn away. No one should pin their hopes on him...