Edwin cursed, trying to drag her faster. “Ye’ll ride wi’ me now, and there’ll be nay one tae stop it.”
She twisted again, her hands gripping at the leather strap across his chest. “He’ll stop ye,” she spat. “He always daes.”
He turned, fury flashing. “He can bleed like any other man.”
His words barely left his mouth before the thunder of hooves split the air. Aidan had broken through the last line of men. He was only yards away now, his blade catching firelight as he struck down the soldier nearest her.
Catherine tried one last time to pull free, but Edwin wrenched her around, placing his sword at her throat. The cold edge kissed her skin, sharp enough to draw a thin line of blood.
“Stay back!” he roared at Aidan. “One more step and I’ll?—”
But Aidan didn’t stop.
The next heartbeat was a blur of movement, sound and light. The horse reared, the mud gave way beneath their feet, and Catherine felt herself thrown sideways. The world spun, and when it settled, she was on the ground, breathless, and Aidan standing between her and Edwin.
Aidan took his chance. He moved through the chaos around them as if it did not exist. His sword caught the dim light as he brought it up, the edge gleaming a heartbeat before it struck.
Steel met steel.
The sound tore through the courtyard, sharp as lightning. Edwin twisted in the saddle, blocking just in time, sparks bursting where the blades collided. The force of the blow nearly unseated him. Catherine was on the ground behind them, her eyes wide as she pushed herself up on shaking arms.
Aidan’s voice was low, a growl barely human. “Touch her again and ye’ll draw yer last breath.”
Edwin spat blood, his teeth bared. “Ye think she’s yers? Ye think she’ll ever see ye as anythin’ but her jailer?”
Aidan didn’t answer. He struck again, this time harder, the weight of every fear, every sleepless night, every unspoken word behind the blow. Edwin blocked, stumbled, tried to strike back, but Aidan caught his wrist, twisted, and drove his knee into the man’s chest.
They hit the ground together, rolling in the mud, blades flashing. The only sound was their breathing, ragged and furious.
Catherine tried to stand, but one of Edwin’s men lunged toward her. Aidan saw it without turning, the movement slicing through the corner of his vision. He shoved Edwin away and flung his sword. The blade spun once, caught the man in the throat, and dropped him where he stood.
“Stay down!” Aidan shouted, his voice raw.
She froze, her hand pressed to her chest, her breath catching.
He turned back just as Edwin swung again. The blow grazed his arm, slicing through leather and skin, but he didn’t falter. The pain sharpened him. He blocked the next strike, their swords locking together, both men straining for ground.
“Ye dinnae ken what ye’re fightin’ against,” Edwin hissed. “Campbell promised men—and they’re comin’!”
Aidan shoved him back with a grunt. “Aye? Then where is he?”
Edwin’s eyes flickered. For a moment, the arrogance faltered.
“Where’s yer savior now?” Aidan pressed, voice rising over the wind. “Where are yer reinforcements?”
No answer. Only the clatter of steel from the courtyard beyond, where the battle had begun to falter.
Aidan saw it then—the truth sinking into Edwin’s face. The wild, desperate look of a man realizing he’d been left to die alone.
“They’re nae comin’, are they?”
Edwin’s mouth twisted. “He’ll come fer her instead. If I cannae have her, he will.”
The words hit Aidan harder than any blade. For a moment, the world narrowed to that single thought—Campbell, Catherine, danger.
He moved first. Their blades met again, faster now, both fighting with the last of their strength. Mud splashed underfoot, torches flickered. Every strike was precise, every counter a surge of fury and fear.
Aidan’s sword caught Edwin’s at the guard, turned it aside, and cut through his shoulder. The man stumbled back, blood spreading down his arm. Still, he fought, swinging wildly, desperate, his rage feeding on the pain.
