The Buchanan with the spear was dead as well: another pair of arrows from seemingly nowhere embedded deep in his chest.
Graham untangled himself from Scrunge and stumbled to one side, staring at the dead men in amazement. He wilted back against the wall, the realization of being free made his knees weak. Safe. Finally safe. Now he could find Lilia.
Angus exploded with a victorious whoop as he hopped out from behind the tree. Then all triumph left his face as he stared down at the dead Buchanan in front of him. The man’s lifeless eyes were still wide open and his fist still clutched the spear.
Angus’s scowl darkened with vengeance. He knelt slowly and wrenched the weapon out of the dead man’s hand. Then he stood, stretched tall, and jammed the spear deep into the Buchanan’s chest just below the breastbone. “That’s for breaking me arm, ye bastard.” Then he spat on the man and kicked dirt across him.
A rhythmic thundering rumbled beyond the sparse tree line hedging in one side of the camp. The ground trembled as the thudding grew closer. Horses. Several of them.
Pray let it be the MacKennas.Graham straightened, wrapping the chain back around his fists and pulling it tight again. He had to be ready lest it be more Buchanans.
“Graham!”
Lore a’mighty, it was her.
“Lilia!” He nearly choked on her name, so relieved he was to hear the sweet music of her voice.
Her mount was the first to pound into camp. She pulled up hard, leapt from the saddle, and vaulted onto his chest.
Arms pinned by the chains of his shackles between them, Graham couldn’t hold her but he could damn sure kiss her. The taste of her sent his senses reeling. Now he could die a happy man. He’d held his dear one once again—he was complete with the other half of his soul.
He drank deep of her sweet mouth like a man dying of thirst, then finally pulled back the barest bit and grazed his lips across her forehead.
“I never thought I could love anyone so,” he whispered. “By the gods both new and old, I swear I love ye more than life itself.” He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “I canna exist without ye, sweetling. I need ye more than ye’ll ever know.”
“I know more than you think because I love you just the same.” She cupped his face between her hands, her lower lip quivering as she looked deep into his eyes. “I would die without you,” she whispered, tears leaving a glistening trail down her cheeks.
Then her eyes widened and a horrified look registered on her face. “Graham. Oh. My. Graham.” She repeated the words over and over in a frantic whisper as she stepped back, her gaze scouring his body from head to toe.
“What the hell did they do to you?” Her tears flowed faster and her jaw tightened. Graham knew that look well. His dearest love was enraged.
Lilia ran her hands over the cuts and bruises on his face—not touching them but skimming just above them as though trying to brush them away. She did the same to the wounds on his chest, then down across the shackles, then back to his face again.
She slowly circled him, one hand touching his shoulder, turning him away as she moved behind him.
Graham stood taller, bracing himself. She would be upset. Nay—not upset. She would be more enraged than a berserker filled with bloodlust. He had to make her understand that all that mattered now was that they were back together. Wounds healed. Separated hearts did not. “It is not as bad as it seems, love. I will be mended in no time.”
Still standing behind him, she hissed out something under her breath, her words so soft he couldn’t make them out. But he knew his sweetling. He had a fair idea of what she’d said even though most women he knew would never use such foul language.
Graham turned to pull her back around in front of him but her look of cold calculating rage stayed his hand. “Lilia,” he said softly, reaching out to her. “Leave go of yer rage, lass. ’Tis over. The men are dead. They have paid in full for what they’ve done.”
She didn’t take his hand, just clenched her fists and stepped around him. She directed her words at Colum and Gray as they worked in unison to free Graham from the irons around his wrists and ankles. “We should’ve killed the son of bitches a lot slower.”
Karma agreed with a deep growling rumble, leaned against Graham’s leg, then made a softer whining sound with a slow wag of his thick tail.
“Aye, lad. She is a fierce one, is she not?” Graham rubbed the dog’s broad head, grateful that the massive beast was on his side.
Colum and Gray looked at each other, then turned in unison to Graham. The three men seemed to communicate without saying a word. Colum pulled the strap of a swollen leather flask from across his chest. He uncorked the skin and held it out. “Uisge beatha.Water of life, man. Ye look as though ye could use it.”
“Aye to that.” Graham gladly accepted the bag and took a long deep drink. Fine MacKenna whisky. A warm streak of renewed vigor warmed down his gullet. Life was good once again.
“Angus?” Graham held out the flask.
“Ye dinna hafto ask me twice.” Angus winked, grabbed the bag and upended it, squeezing a steady golden stream into his opened mouth.
“Buchanans a comin’!” The sandy-haired MacKenna guard that had stood watch on higher ground whilst they rescued Graham and Angus thundered into the center of the camp. “Best take cover in the ruins. There be seven of them. Mayhap more.”
Protective rage burned through Graham’s veins hotter than the whisky. He took hold of Lilia’s arm and pulled her toward the fallen-down structure of dry stone walls that had once been an impressive broch. “I want ye to stay down and keep hidden within the walls, ye ken?”
