Suddenly matters took a dangerous turn. A group of battling men reached the base of the knoll. Within moments, a band of Scottish knights were racing toward the knoll to assist their harried kinsmen. The Fosters and the Eldons were falling back under the bludgeoning force of the Scotsmen. The women of the castle, already in a high state of tension, panicked when a cry from one of the Scottish knights indicated that they had been spotted. Screaming, they fled to their carts. A few Scots gave chase, trampling the bright blankets and scattering all the festive eating arrangements. In the confusion, Storm hustled the children off, remembering a shearer's hut and deeming it a good place to hide, unwittingly shepherding her charges closer to the enemy.
The shearling was in a poor state of repair, but it remained a niche in which to hide. Storm guessed at her error when the tents of the Scots became visible, but there was no turning back for she could hear the swift approach of armed horsemen. Pushing the children within the doorless hut, she sat before them and, putting a hand on her knife, was ready to protect the smaller ones should they be discovered.
Scotsmen were soon returning from the field, passing the hut all unknowing of the treasure it held. Storm began to think they would escape detection when suddenly a small knot of men paused before the hut so that one could sit and rest. She easily recognized the laird of the MacLagans, for he had a number of distinctive qualities, not the least of which was his silver hair and the scar that ran the length of his face in a jagged line from forehead to chin. When his blue eyes, darkened by pain, met and held hers she felt her heart had stopped. Her mind conjured up a multitude of fates.
"Weel, look what we have here, lads," Colin MacLagan drawled in a husky voice. "Look, Tavis."
The young man turned to follow Colin's gaze. His eyes, the blue of a summer morning's sky and so clear in his swarthy face, fixed upon the children. When the tiny girl with her brilliant hair pulled a knife from a pocket in her skirts a smile brightened his harsh features.
"Now, lass, what do ye intend doing with that?" Tavis asked, his eyes dancing.
"Stick ye like a pig if ye come any closer," Storm replied tersely, frowning fiercely when the other men seemed amused. "I mean it," she warned when Tavis stepped closer.
"There's no need o' doing that, lassie. We're nae going to harm ye," said the laird.
Storm's eyes narrowed, for that rather contradicted the stories she had been told. However, even covered in mire and blood as they were, none of the men struck her as the sort to cook and dine upon children. The five youngsters clutching and trying to hide behind her skirts were plainly not so sure. It struck none of them as strange to look to Storm for protection; she was not only the eldest, but had always been the strongest one. Storm carefully considered her next move.
Tavis edged nearer to his father, saying softly, "What fool do ye think let them near the battle?"
"God knows. With that hair, methinks we may have some Eldon spawn. Strange little lass."
"Aye. Cat's eyes and that hair. 'Tis a wonder. I have never seen the like before." He grinned at his father. " 'Tis taking her awhile to decide whether or not to stick one of us." They laughed softly.
"I want your oath," Storm spoke up. "Your oath that ye and none of your men will harm us. Your word of honor." She watched them carefully.
"Ye have it, lass," the laird said gravely. "We'll just be holdin' ye for ransom."
"Fair enough." She tucked her knife back into her skirts and then scowled at the other children. "Will ye leave go my skirts? All your trembling is near to shaking my teeth loose."
Two men helped the laird to stand, and Tavis looked at Storm, motioning her to join them.
Ushering the children ahead of her. Storm fell into step beside Tavis. When they reached the camp the surprise of the men there was plain to see. The Foster and Eldon men captured and being held for ransom became vocally upset, needing a few minutes of rough persuasion to quiet them. The children were kept near the laird and his sons, two more of whom had come to his side. They were barely settled before a tent when some men came up dragging an upset and untidy Hilda, who fell upon the children, hugging and kissing them as she wept copiously.
"Enough, Hilda." Storm escaped her clutches. "Ye will surely drown us. How are the other ladies?"
"They got away, lass. I could get none o' the lot to help me look for ye."
"What were ye doing so close to the battle?" Colin asked Storm as his armor was removed.
"My new mother thought to watch the spectacle." Contempt was heavy in her voice. "She and the Foster heir's bride-to-be and a number of servant women drove out to the knoll. 'Twas a picnic. Then, when your men drew near, the silly cows fled screeching. Seems only Hilda remembered we children."
"And whose children do we have? I wish to be exact in me ransom demands."
"Well, m'lord, ye have Storm Pipere Eldon," she said with a curtsey, "eldest child of Lord Eldon, and his heir, Andrew. These two are Fosters, the heir's two by his first marriage, Robin and Matilda. The brown-haired twins are my cousins, Hadden and Haig Verner. The lot are at Hagaleah for the Foster heir's wedding in a fortnight."
"B'God," breathed the laird, "the future of both families in one catch. That woman should be thrashed within an inch o' her life. 'Tis a fair ransom we will gain from this." He turned his attention to his messenger, who would ride to Hagaleah with the ransom demands.
"Hilda, we children are
