“We made it,” Alyson said. “We’re here.”
“We’re here,” Isabeau echoed. “I’m glad ye’re safe.”
Tòrr cleared his throat, his eyes warm despite his rough exterior. “Miss Campbell, it is an honor tae meet ye. I am Tòrr, Michael’s older braither. Ye saved our sister. Words are too small a thing tae offer. Ye showed courage most men never find.”
Isabeau shook her head immediately. “Me laird, I only did what was right. What must be done.”
Her gaze slipped instinctively toward Michael, who watched her with something raw in his eyes—relief, admiration, something deeper she could not name but still felt.
Michael stepped beside her, offering his hand. “Come. We dinnae tarry here.”
He lifted her easily, his hands firm at her waist, and settled her onto his horse before swinging up behind her. His arm slid around her to take the reins, his warmth enclosing her, steadying her.
Isabeau looked back once—just once. The keep stood in the distance like a silent, brooding beast, the place where pain had been her companion, where fear had been her guard.
“Are ye ready?” Michael asked softly near her ear.
Isabeau turned her face slightly toward him. “Aye.”
He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “Then hold on, me brave lass.”
The horses surged forward as one, hooves pounding into the dark earth. Wind tore at her cloak., whipping her cheeks, reddening her pale skin, and soon, the forest swallowed them whole.
And for the first time in her life, Isabeau felt freedom.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Branches whipped past them as they tore through the forest, the cold air slicing thin trails across Michael’s cheeks. For a while, there was nothing but the sound of the wind and that of his horse’s hooves as they hurried in the dark, the warm press of Isabel’s body in front of him on the saddle his only comfort.
But soon, the sound of hooves thundered behind them—too many, too close. The glow of torches flickered between the trees like fire chasing the wind.
Damn it!
He had thought they could escape them. He had thought they would be fast enough, stealthy enough not to be followed, but he was clearly wrong.
“Michael!” Isabeau’s voice trembled as she shouted to be heard over the wind and the chaos.
“I have ye. Hold tight.”
But even as he said it, he felt the sick twist in his stomach; they would not outrun this.
“Clearin’ ahead!” Tòrr shouted from behind. “We make our stand there!”
Michael’s jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth, glancing over his shoulder at the approaching Campbell troops. As much as he despised the thought, there was no other choice.
He swung down from the horse the moment they reached the open patch under a stand of tall pines. Frosted leaves crackled under his boots as he pulled Isabeau with him, pushing her behind him before she could protest.
“Stay close, nay matter what happens.”
He had made her a promise. He had given her a reason to believe in him, and now he wasn’t going to take it back. He would protect her with his life, and by the end of it, if he ended up dead, he would die with the satisfaction that he had saved her.
But first, he had to keep her away from her father.
Her fingers tightened around his sleeve. “I will.”
Torchlight burst into the clearing. The Campbell riders surged in, shouting, surrounding them in a tightening ring. Before he knew it, the riders were dismounting their horses, opting to be on foot in the small clearing, and one of them was rushing straight ahead for Michael.
With a grunt, he met the man’s blade with his, the sound of steel against steel echoing around the trees. All around him, Tòrr and his men threw themselves into the fight, but Michael only had eyes for one man—the one currently in front of him, trying to strike him down.
