Before either man could act on this plan, shapes exploded from the undergrowth on both sides of the narrow forest path. Six men in Munro colors, their faces grim with determination, weapons already drawn and glinting in the scattered moonlight.
"Stand down, MacDonald!" The leader, a burly man with graying hair, raised his sword. "Return our laird's daughter and we'll let ye ride away with yer skin still attached tae yer bones!"
Me faither’s crest. Me father’s men. He has sent Duncan tae rescue me.
A small flame of hope flickered in Liliane’s chest. If her father had sent men to retrieve her, it meant he still intended to reclaim control of her fate, no matter who had bought her.Which means Nessa is safe, fer now. Faither willnae give her tae secure an alliance instead.
The relief was so sharp it nearly brought tears to her eyes.
Tòrr's laugh was as cold as it was harsh and cut through the relief with cruel judgement. "How generous of ye. I remember ye. ButI paid good coin fer the lass, witnessed by half the Highlands, and I mean tae keep what's mine."
"The transaction was made under false pretenses," Duncan snarled. "Ye had nay right tae that invitation, nay right tae bid."
"I had every right," Tòrr replied coolly. "The invitation was addressed tae Clan MacDonald. I am MacDonald. Simple, even fer a Munro."
In one fluid motion, he swung down from his horse and set Liliane on her feet between himself and Cameron, trapped, with nowhere to run.
"Ye arrogant bastard!" Duncan lunged forward, his sword cutting through the air where Tòrr's head had been a moment before.
Duncan's sword whistled through the air toward Tòrr's head.
"Too slow, Munro!"
"I've got these two!" Cameron called out from the left. "Take him!"
"Me pleasure," Tòrr replied, circling the Munro leader and his two companions.
"Spread out!" their commander barked at his men. "Flank him on both sides!"
"Tryin’ tae improve yer odds?" Tòrr's blade moved in a blur, blocking attacks from two directions. "Smart man."
"Yield, MacDonald!" Duncan pressed his attack, his sword seeking an opening. "Return the lass and walk away!"
"Nae happenin’!" Tòrr's blade rang against Duncan's, sparks flying in the darkness. "She's mine now!"
From the left, Cameron's voice rose above the clash of steel. "A little help here would be nice!"
"Busy at the moment!" Tòrr shot back, ducking under a wild swing.
The men were focused on the immediate threat, their attention fixed on Tòrr and Cameron. If she could slip away in the confusion, she could try to reach Nessa. They could flee together without anyone knowing.
She took a careful step backward, then another.
"Goin’ somewhere, lass?" Tòrr's voice was conversational, but his eyes never left his opponents.
"I—" She froze, realizing he'd been tracking her movements even while facing armed men.
"Stay where ye are," he commanded softly. "This will be over soon."
But Liliane had no intention of staying. It was her chance, perhaps her only chance, to get back to her sister.
This was it.
Gathering her skirts, Liliane turned and ran.
The forest floor was treacherous in the darkness, roots and fallen branches threatening to trip her with every step. But desperation gave her speed, and the sounds of battle grew fainter behind her as she crashed through the undergrowth.
Behind her, she could hear Tòrr cursing. She had made it perhaps fifty yards when a strong arm caught her around the waist, yanking her off her feet.
