Twenty-Eight
Laurel watched in horror as the Lamonts seemed to multiply before her eyes. She crouched beside Donnan as men arrived from the south and joined those camped at the southern base of the mountain. They fanned out like ants as they moved to encircle the mountain.
“They’ve seen us,” Donnan whispered.
“Likely seen my bluidy hair,” Laurel muttered. She’d grown warm and allowed her arisaid to slip off her head until Donnan pointed out that her hair would be noticeable to those at the foot of the southern trail. She’d hurried to cover herself, but she feared it was too late.
“We need to get back to the horses and ride before they converge on us,” Donnan explained as he motioned to the four Ross men. Laurel looked at Michael and stopped short, Donnan bumping into her.
“He signaled them.” Laurel pointed to a coin in Michael’s hand that glimmered in the sunlight. “He drew their attention.”
Donnan lunged at Michael, jabbing his fist into the man’s face. When Michael stumbled backwards, his ankles now bound along with his hands, he had no way to keep his balance. He pitched toward the edge of the path. Donnan shoved his chest, pushing him over the ledge where they rested. Laurel watched as Michael appeared to soar through the air before his body crashed into the rock face. He rolled and bumped from one crag to another. There was no chance that he survived by the time he reached the ground. The Rosses didn’t wait to see. Laurel had already lifted her skirts and was flying down the path between Donnan and one of the guards, the other two at her back. She skidded along the shale and pebbles, reaching out to Donnan’s shoulder more than once.
When they reached the base near where they’d camped, Donnan whistled. A Ross appeared with their mounts. Laurel didn’t stop to think when Donnan tossed her into the saddle. She slipped her feet into the stirrups and gathered the reins.
“We need to get closer to Kilchurn,” Donnan called as they charged away from Ben More. “There’s no avoiding them. We have to outrun them.”
Laurel knew he spoke the truth. She had a greater chance of surviving if they could reach Brodie and Monty and if they could gain ground toward the keep. She didn’t doubt that Nelson, Matthew, and Edgar led their men toward them. Between following their trail and knowing of the MacDougalls’ plans, they would ride in this direction. They couldn’t go back the way they came without facing her captors.
The seven riders laid low over their horses’ withers, making it easier to gallop and to make them less of a target for the arrows that flew toward them. Laurel watched as Lamonts rode toward them, swarming like an angry hive of hornets. Seeing their direction, men rode to intercept them while others came from their left and behind. Laurel squeezed Teine’s flanks, encouraging him to continue galloping. She gave him his head while grasping hanks of his mane along with the reins. She’d only encouraged him to run like this a handful of times when he was a colt, and she was still a young girl at Balnagown. She’d grown fearful that she would harm him if she was so reckless. But now, she let him run. He sensed the danger and the race. It was as though her gelding knew he raced against stallions and sought to prove himself. She knew he could outrun most horses, even when she restrained him. She prayed now that he had the stamina of the warhorses and more speed.
The Lamonts arrows were within striking distance as the Rosses barreled across the open grassland. The arrows imbedded in the ground around the horses’ hooves as they churned up the soil beneath them. A battle cry made her look toward her attackers. A man on an enormous pure white stallion charged toward her, his sword pointing at her. She recognized David Lamont in an instant. She also recognized that she was his sole target. She had no weapons, and even if she had, she still would have been no match for David. Donnan and the Ross guards noticed him at the same time, shifting their formation to shield Laurel. Rather than surrounding her, they rode two-wide on her left.
Laurel turned her attention back to where they headed. Her eyes swept the landscape, scanning for anywhere that offered them protection. But there was nothing. Her head whipped around when a pained whinny came from beside her. The horse had an arrow protruding from its neck, and a matching one stuck out from its rider’s neck. The horse and man fell away, but she and the other Rosses continued their mad dash as they tried to put distance between them and their pursuers. It felt like only a heartbeat later that another Ross fell. Laurel looked at Donnan, noticing for the first time that a splintered arrow stuck out from his bicep. She hadn’t seen it strike him, nor seen him snap it off.
“Donnan!” Laurel cried over the sound of the horses’ pounding hooves.
“Ride!” Donnan didn’t look at her, his attention focused on the men drawing closer. Laurel looked ahead once more and witnessed a band of riders approaching.
“Donnan! Ahead of us!” Laurel couldn’t tell who the men were, but they were riding as swiftly toward them as the Lamonts were.
“Monty,” Donnan barked. Laurel strained to see, unsure how Donnan had already noticed her brother’s hair. But as their horses ate up the distance that separated them, Laurel knew Donnan was right. Beside Monty rode her husband. She kept her eyes on Brodie, praying over and over that she could just reach him. Her attention was so singular that she didn’t see David Lamont until his sword flashed in her peripheral vision. She looked at him, shocked to find him so close. David felled the third Ross when he impaled him. He withdrew his sword, locked eyes with Laurel, and grinned.
Laurel knew how Eliza died. Brodie had finally admitted it, and she saw her life pass before her eyes. But instead of seeing her own face, she saw a faceless dark-haired girl. Laurel was certain David intended for her to have the same fate as Eliza. Laurel refused to consider it. The only fate she accepted was growing old with Brodie. Lamont men drew alongside David, their attention on Donnan and her last guard. The Lamonts engaged Donnan and the other Ross, forcing them away from Laurel.
“Come on, Teine. Just like it used to be,” Laurel said to her horse. The gelding’s ear twitched as though he understood her. She’d spent hours riding her horse once Teine was old enough to take a rider. They’d raced across Ross land, her guards charging along with her. But her best rides were with Monty and Donnan. They encouraged her daredevil nature, but they drew the line at some of her more reckless stunts. But it hadn’t stopped Laurel from trying them. She’d fallen from Teine more than once, but she blamed only herself. She kicked her left foot free of the stirrup as David came closer. When he swung in a wide arch, she leaned away, bringing her left leg onto the seat of her saddle while holding tight to the reins. Her body pressed along her horse’s flank. Teine whinnied when the tip of David’s sword slashed his ear. But Laurel trusted her mount. Teine didn’t slow. Laurel was certain he moved faster. Glancing over the top of Teine’s neck, she saw David watch her in shock. Pushing with all the strength she could muster in her right leg, she righted herself.
Laurel saw Brodie and Monty drawing closer, but they still weren’t near enough to protect her. Donnan was free of his attacker and racing after David and her. Teine wasn’t a trained warhorse, but he had a foul temper to match Laurel’s when he felt others encroached. Laurel whipped her steed around, and Teine barred his teeth at David’s horse. Despite clearly being an experienced warhorse, the Lamont’s horse was unprepared to come face-to-face with Teine. Laurel loosened the reins, pulling back as she leaned back. Teine followed the command. He reared, his front hooves striking out at David’s horse. She’d practiced the move with Teine countless times, but he’d always pawed the air, making him look like he danced on his hind legs. Now he fought with the valiance of a trained destrier.
Teine’s right hoof struck David’s horse in the face. The Lamont struggled to maintain control, unprepared for the attack. It was obvious to Laurel that David and his mount were used to David controlling the beast with only one hand, but she’d caught them both unaware. She slackened the reins, and Teine chomped toward David’s horse. His teeth clamped the end of the other animal’s nose. Laurel saw the blood before Teine pulled away. She steered him right as David swung his sword again. Laurel pushed herself forward, out of the saddle and over Teine’s neck. David’s sword struck her saddle where she’d sat a moment ago. She slid back into her seat as Teine kicked out his back legs. They struck David’s mount in the face. Still angry, Teine bucked again, striking the other horse in the neck and pushing it sideways. Laurel swung Teine around once more, intending to ride past David and out of his reach, but Teine disagreed. The Lamont’s horse had nipped his arse. Laurel squeezed her legs and clung to the reins, unprepared for Teine to rear again. But she swore she would give her steed every carrot and apple she could find, and all the hay the horse could manage when he unseated David. Teine barreled forward, and to avoid another ferocious attack, the other horse sidestepped. He knocked David to the ground and shied away.
“Clì.” Laurel commanded Teine to the left then to go. “Ir.” Teine lurched forward until he stood over David. She commanded him to step. “Ceum.”
Teine stomped down each time Laurel gave the command. By the fifth time, David’s face was mangled, and Laurel was certain he was dead. She reined Teine in, waiting to see if David moved or made a sound. She noticed Donnan fought another man, and she couldn’t see the last Ross guard. Sound coming from her right made her look up. Brodie’s hair flew behind him, his sword in one hand, the reins in the other. He looked like an avenging angel. He also looked enraged. She wondered if her husband would send her to heaven or hell.
* * *
Brodie entered the meadow to the horror of the Lamonts’ attack on Laurel and her guards. He watched as his wife charged toward him as she sought to flee her pursuers. His mind absorbed the scene, taking in the sounds of the Lamonts’ battle cry, the swish of arrows flying toward him, and the clatter of horses’ hooves as he and his men, along with the Rosses, charged toward Laurel. He scanned the battlefield, noticing the Lamonts were far greater in number than Graham saw from Ben More. He watched in horror as they drew closer to Laurel from three sides.
Fear had never driven him in battle before that day. He’d always had a healthy respect for the fragility of life. Trepidation came to every warrior, and it kept them vigilant. Duty spurred Brodie to act when the Lamonts attacked the last time and took his first wife’s life. As he watched David Lamont draw closer to Laurel, terror unlike he’d ever imagined possessed him. He would later understand it came from love, but as he fought to make his way to Laurel, it was heart-pounding, lung-crushing fear. He swung his sword indiscriminately at any man or beast who thought to keep him from his wife.
As he charged forward, the scene before his eyes flashed to the one where David Lamont rode for Eliza, and he watched his first bride cut down. He was certain he was about to witness the same scene played out but with Laurel this time. His chest would surely explode as he witnessed Laurel pitch sideways from her saddle. Brodie called her name, convinced her horse’s hooves would pummel and kill her.
“She did it!” Monty cried. Brodie spared Monty a glance and saw the determination that formed when they entered the glen be replaced by beaming pride. He couldn’t process what he saw, so he turned back to Laurel. He watched in horror as her steed reared, convinced the gelding would throw her. Fear took a moment’s reprieve as astonishment took hold. He’d never imagined Teine would be so ferocious as he witnessed the animal attack David Lamont’s mount. Teine’s stamina and speed had impressed him, but he hadn’t foreseen the animal’s strength and tenacity. It matched his owner. Brodie swore he would give Teine the best stall in his stables and the choicest treats.
Laurel’s name died on his lips as he watched David fall from his horse. He heard Laurel’s commands as he drew nearer. She ordered the horse to step over and over as her billowing copper mane gave her the appearance of a warrior goddess. No other moment in their courtship had ever given him the surety that he’d chosen the right woman to lead his clan alongside him. He would forsake his lairdship, his clan, and his life if there was a better way to protect Laurel as he battled to reach her. But rather than panic and attempt to flee, she defended herself without a weapon. He chided himself. Teine was the most powerful weapon she could wield. As he called out Laurel’s name, he had a moment of clarity. Deeming her the warrior goddess he saw wasn’t a mere similarity. It was in truth. His hellion had been born of the Highlands and drew her strength from the earth that surrounded her, just like the thistle. This was where she was meant to be. This was her home. Not the rigidity and insincerity of court. It was the wildness that set her free.
“Laurel!” Brodie bellowed again as her head whipped toward him. She turned Teine toward her husband and brother, spurring the horse again. His men and the Rosses had remained together despite how the Lamonts fought to break through their ranks. He looked at Monty. “Lead.”
Laurel fell into place at Brodie’s right, away from the oncoming Lamonts. The Ross and Campbell warriors surrounded Brodie and her. She kept low over Teine’s withers as arrows continued to fly toward them. She heard more men cry out, but she didn’t dare shift her attention as she rode in the pack. She’d breathed a moment’s ease when she watched Donnan fall into the lead alongside Monty. Blood soaked his sleeve, but he appeared to maintain his strength as that arm controlled his horse while the other was ready to slash and stab with his sword.
“We lose them at Ben Lui!” Monty called back. Brodie shared the same thought, even though hours earlier they’d decided to avoid the mountain. But it would offer them safety that the flat land would not. It would be dangerous traveling along the ridges and over the peaks, but he and the others would fan out and evade the Lamonts. His men knew the mountain, climbing it in spring and summer for training and hunting. Brodie prayed there was no early autumn snow and that none would come. He would order no one into the hills during winter because of the precariousness.
Laurel watched her brother and friend as they guided them toward the mountain. She’d never had reason to witness them lead as they did now. She’d never seen them fight outside the lists. She’d never caught sight of the resolve that turned their features brutal. They’d entered a fight that wasn’t their own because of her. They’d drawn her clansmen along with them. But as the men surrounded her and positioned themselves to be the targets rather than her, she realized she would never not be a Ross. She’d just become a Campbell, too. She owed her life to these men who defended her. But more than that, she owed them her respect and loyalty. There might never be an amicable relationship between her parents and her, but she wouldn’t forsake the Rosses because they hadn’t forsaken her.
