Free The Knights of Christmas by Suzanne Barclay Page B

better way to perish.”
    Â 
    â€œNor can I,” he said slowly. “Unfortunately.”
    Kara snorted in exasperation. There it was again, that mysterious something coming between them. If he’d been wed to another, she’d have fought her love for him, but he wasn’t. He was hers, promised to her in the bright flames at Beltane. “Things will happen as they were meant to.”
    â€œI wish I could be as certain as you.”
    â€œCall it fate or God’s will, you would not have been sent to us if we were not destined for each other.”
    â€œThe Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away,” he grumbled.
    She heard the thunder of the waterfall and brightened. “Look, there is Stratheas, Brighde’s tower.”
    Duncan reined in and studied the small tower set high in the glen at the apex of the valley. “How do we get up there?” he asked over the rush of the water spilling one hundred fifty feet from the mountaintop to the loch at the base of the tower.
    â€œThere’s a wee trail over there.” As they rode up it, Kara told him how Donald’s great-grandfather had come to build here. “He was the cousin of my great-grandfather—everyone in the valley is related somehow—and a loner who wanted a place to himself.”
    â€œWell, he certainly found it here.”
    They were scarcely halfway up the trail when they met a single rider coming down.
    â€œThank God ye’ve come,” cried old Ned.
    â€œâ€™Tis Brigdhe, isn’t it?” Kara asked.
    â€œAye. Her time’s come and the babe’s caught. Diedre just bade me saddle up and ride for help.”
    Without waiting to hear more, Kara crowded past him on the narrow trail and galloped toward the tower. Duncan was right behind her, sliding from his saddle before she’d halted and lifting her down.
    â€œDo you need anything?” he asked.
    â€œPray for Brighde.” She squeezed his hand before dashing into the keep. Taking the steps at a reckless clip, she burst into the master chamber. A wave of hot air nearly drove her back. It stank of fear and helplessness. “Brighde?”
    â€œKara!” Brighde called.
    â€œAye. I’m here.” She crossed the dark chamber, shoving past a ring of stricken women. One look at the woman in the bed, and her own heart quailed.
    Brighde’s face was ashen, her lips bitten bloody. Her dull, sunken eyes were filled with pain and a hopelessness that was more damaging than poison for it sapped the will.
    â€œWell, your lad seems eager to join us,” Kara said.
    â€œI...I don’t know,” Brighde’s said listlessly. “It’s taking so long...I fear...”
    â€œNone of that,” Kara said briskly. She sent the maids hopping for hot water, fresh toweling and a few things she didn’t even need. Anything to inject life into this death chamber.
    Dame Wilma, the midwife, pulled her aside and whispered, “The babe’s caught wrong wise. Coming out feet first.” She made a sign to ward off evil. “Best to let them slip away.”
    â€œWhat?” Kara exclaimed so forcefully everyone in the room stopped and cringed. Furious, she pushed the bulky woman from the room. “Get you gone.”
    â€œGladly.” Wilma puffed up till it seemed her massive bosom might explode. “I’ll be no part to—”
    Kara shoved her face into Wilma’s sweaty one. This was one case where the old ways and superstitions were wrong. “You will leave and quietly. If I hear one word against Brighde or her bairn, I’ll...I’ll get Morag to cast a spell on you.”
    Wilma squeaked in fright and fled down the dark corridor, chins jiggling, skirts flying up behind her.
    A dark figure roused from the shadows at the end of the hallway. “Kara, is aught wrong?” Duncan asked.
    Kara sagged against the open door. Everything. Her friend was suffering, mayhap dying, and