The guard shrugged. “Then you’ll burn to death.”
Dark smoke rose into the air, and Alex shifted his wrists, watching for a sign of Callum. He stared out at the forest and a slight movement caught his attention. There, standing amid the trees on the hillside, he saw Laren. She didn’t move forward, but watched from her position, her long red hair blowing past her face in the wind.
God above, but he loved her. Beautiful and talented, with a soft heart, his wife meant everything to him. He wanted to spend the rest of his days at her side. Their marriage was a gift, one he’d neglected for far too long.
The vision of her renewed his determination to free himself. Alex’s gaze fell upon the soldier’s spear and he tightened his grip upon the ropes above his head.
Lifting his feet off the ground, he struck out at the soldier, kicking him in the face. The man stumbled, and Alex lashed out again, knocking the man unconscious. The fallen spear lay on the ground, and Alex seized it with his feet. Though it was awkward, he managed to raise the shaft higher, until he could grasp it with his bound hands to slice the ropes.
Once he’d freed his hands, the soldier tried to rise again. Pain radiated through his arms from the lack of circulation, but Alex fought back and seized the guard’s sword and shield.
“Alex!” came Bram’s shout.
He spun and blocked a sword blow from another soldier coming up from behind. Diving to the ground, Alex kicked the man’s legs out from beneath him, sliding his sword deep into the man’s gut. His vision seemed to blur with the motion of battle, but he was conscious of the men moving closer, starting to surround them. He raised his shield, all the while searching for a way out.
Lord Harkirk had his own weapon drawn, and from the way he slashed a path through the men, it was clear the Englishman was well trained.
“There are too many of us, MacKinloch,” Harkirk taunted. “And when this is finished, the other clans will know that I won’t tolerate any uprising against our garrison. Your heads will be displayed outside the fortress.”
“You’ll have to take it first,” Alex answered, rushing toward him with his sword. It struck Harkirk’s shield, but other soldiers joined in the fight, forcing Alex to defend himself on all sides.
Bram came forward, and they fought back to back while the flames moved toward the slave quarters. “Nairna’s going to be furious if I get myself killed,” he said, holding his claymore with both hands. “I never told her I was planning to fight Harkirk.”
“You’d better not die, then,” Alex said, lifting his shield. As he blocked a sword blow, he kept the image of Laren fixed in his mind. He fought with every last bit of strength, willing himself to survive the battle. And then he reached Harkirk.
The bastard had threatened his family more than once. Scotland would be safer without him, and Alex didn’t care what the consequences might be. He fixed his gaze upon the man, waiting for the chance to strike a killing blow. The glint of chainmail flashed before his eyes when he raised his sword.
But when he heard his daughter call out to him, he jerked out of instinct. There was no sign of Hamish MacPherson or any of the others who had sworn to protect Adaira after they’d rescued her the first time. Somehow, she’d been taken again, and he didn’t know if any of the MacPhersons were alive.
Blood swam before his eyes, a primal cry tearing from his throat when he saw the soldier holding his daughter with a blade to her throat.
“Don’t,”cameawoman’svoice. Laren turned and saw Lady Harkirk standing just behind her within the forest. “I know you want to go inside the fortress. But the moment you do, my husband will use your life against your husband. He’d be glad to kill both of you.”
“I won’t let anyone threaten my daughter,” Laren insisted.
“You can’t help her if you’re already dead.” Lady Harkirk took her by the hand. “If you want to see what’s happening, I’ll take you into another guard tower. It’s empty right now because Robert ordered the men into the keep. Follow me.”
She led Laren around the outside of the fortress, bringing her toward a small overlook. But before Laren could take another step, a hand clamped down on her shoulder. She jerked with surprise and saw Callum.
He stared at Lady Harkirk, an open threat in his eyes. The Lady glanced at his bow and arrows, as if making a decision. Then she beckoned to him. He gestured for her to lead the way and when they passed through the entrance, Callum shot a soldier who happened to see them. He dropped to the ground, thankfully unnoticed by the others.
As Lady Harkirk had predicted, the guard tower was empty, giving them a clear vantage point.
A subtle motion caught Laren’s attention and she saw the imposter priest, Father Stephen, lurking against the far wall. He was shadowed, wearing a dark cloak, but Laren recognized his features when he drew closer to the men.
Callum drew his bow in readiness, waiting for the right moment to strike.
“Wait,” Lady Harkirk pleaded. “Finian MacLachor may be useful to us.”
Laren wasn’t certain, for the man was unarmed. She didn’t know his intentions, but if he were discovered, it would provide a distraction for Harkirk’s men.
Below, Alex was clearly torn between Adaira and the English baron. He kept his shield raised, but his attention was focused on their daughter. Laren’s nails dug into her palms, as she uttered silent prayers for Adaira’s safety.
“Did you believe I would let her go?” Harkirk said coolly. “She still has use to me.”
“She’s naught but a bairn,” Alex gritted out, “and you’ll rot in hell if you harm her.”
“It’s interesting, what a father will do for his daughter.” Harkirk lifted his sword, poised at Alex’s throat. “He’ll commit murder. Steal. Turn against his own allies.” With a twisted smile, Harkirk asked, “What would you do for yours?”
