Sadly I do not own Braveheart or anything associated with it. Alaine Campbell is of my own creating and this story is from my wildest fantasies.
I am so sorry about the delay between chapters. I've just started my second year of college and between classes, work and a new boyfriend (we just celebrated our 2 months!), it's been hard to find time to write. But now that things have settled down, I promise at least one new chapter ever week. Enjoy and welcome back : )
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Part VIII
A great skirmish had broken out between William and Lord Bottoms' men after Murron's death. Hammish and the Elder Campbell had fought alongside William. Other villagers joined in. The English soldiers died like the dogs they were.
Alaine had no memory of the last few days. Only shards remained. William's blood speckled face. Slicing her finger on a knife and watching the blood drip until Hamish discovered her and had tended to the cut. Only bits and pieces remained, floating aimlessly behind Alaine's eyes every time she closed them.
It was only when William approached her, wanting, needing, her help that the fog lifted and Alaine was once more aware of her surroundings.
That day they buried Murron's body. Alaine herself had washed her friend's lifeless body and had helped Murron's mother wrap it in white cloth. A dull ache spread through Alaine as she watched William's last kiss to his beloved. Despite everything, the pain buried deep and the hate that burned white hot in her breast, her heart sluggishly beat every time William's blue eyes caught her own.
Alaine turned her head, not wanting to watch them place Murron's body into the ground, and hating herself for the conflicting feelings warring inside of her.
Later that night the men of the village gathered in a field near the Campbell croft. Fires were lit and meat roasted even though no one felt like eating.
The Elder Hamish had suffered a wound during the fighting a few days before. He had been swilling drink since the sun had gone down in preparation for the wound to be sealed with a burning iron.
"Well, wat are yee waiting for boy?"
Ham plucked the hot brand from the fire, eyed the glowing tip and then his father and turned to Liam. "Here, I'll hold him down."
Liam eyed the drunken Campbell and caught the shoulder of a passing man. "Here, you do it. I'll help Hamish hold him down."
The man eyed the iron and rolled up his sleeves. Alaine ducked under the arm of a passing man carrying spears on his shoulder. She gripped her father's shoulder and leaned on it, putting all of her strength into holding him down.
It took only a few moments to cauterize the wound but the Elder Hamish roared as if he had been burned for hours.
Aliane released her father with a roll of her eyes. Despite all his strength and bluster, he could still be a child about the smallest of things.
"There's someone coming!"
The cry went up through the camp. A flurry of activity broke out as men reached for swords, axes, spears, anything they could get their hands on.
Alaine rushed to the pile of her family's things and snatched up her quiver and bow. She slung the arrows over her should as she ran to the bridge.
Hamish rushed to alert William and the two of them joined Alaine in the crowd.
" MacGregors," The Elder Campbell called out. "From the next clan."
The group of newcomers slowed before and came to a stand still.
"We heard about what was happenin' and don't want you Amadans thinkin' you can have your fun without us."
William shook his head no at the MacGregor who had addressed the crowd.
"Nae. Go home. Some of us are in this and cannae help it. But you can help yourselves. Go home."
"We'll hae no homes when the English comes in and burn them."
William sighed. He knew he could use the MacGregor men and there was little chance they would obey him and return home. He hung his head slightly and nodded.
Joyful cries broke out as the two clans came together, sharing greetings and hand shakes.
"What's this now? Wallace lets the whores carry weapons now?"
Alaine turned and narrowed her eyes at the two MacGregor men behind her. One of them leered at her and tugged at the front of his kilt in a suggestive manner.
"How about it lass? Got time for one more?"
Anger flared behind Alaine's breast bone.
"I'd take those words back if I were yee," she growled, one hand going to the knife at her waist.
"Or wat? You'll charge me more?"
The two men guffawed. One eyed Alaine up and down and licked his lips.
"Come on now sweetie. Be a good girl and give me a kiss."
Willaim had noticed the exchange between the two MacGregor's and Alaine. He stood apart, silently watching them. The men had to learn Alaine was off limits unless she so chose otherwise and they had to learn it from her or she would be continuously harassed. He'd step in if things got too out of hand.
It took less than a blink of an eye for Alaine to cross the few yards between her and the letchers. She pulled her arm back and let it fly. Her fist connected straight on with the man's mouth. She felt his lips part and his teeth scrape against her knuckles.
"How's that for a kiss?"
The man backed up a step, one hand cradling his bleeding mouth, his eyes were wide with shock.
"I am nae a whore and if you suggest so again I'll be giving yee a 'kiss' in a more painful spot."
Alaine glared at the other man who was cradling his friend's shoulders before whipping around and stocking off.
William shook his head in amusement, a slight smile hovering over his lips, his first smile in days. Alaine could take care of herself. He was proud of the woman and the warrior she had become, but he did not envy which man she did finally decide to kiss. As much as he loved Alaine, he did not relish being the target of her famous temper.
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Sorry that there's not much action in this chapter. Read and review, no flames please. I'll have the next chapter up by next Tuesday.
Much love to everyone : )
