He desperately wanted to call her name, but he didn’t dare, not when she was looking at Gordon and holding her knives up in front of her like a shield against the villain.
He held the word in his throat until he was close enough to swing down from his mount and put himself between Gordon and his wife.
“Are ye well, Ailsa?” he asked, without letting his quarry out of his sight. Centuries worth of warrior lineage sung in his veins as he ached to cut down this wretch, the man who had done so much harm, all because he had fallen prey to one of the oldest sins in creation—coveting what his brother possessed.
“Aye, fine. I—” She cut off with a feral cry and Ewan whipped around to see her darting out of the way of another soldier who was chopping clumsily at her with his sword. She threw one of her knives expertly, hitting the man in the shoulder and redirecting his aim, and then Ewan was there to finish the job, running the man neatly through.
When he turned back to Gordon, the man was gone. Damn it all.
“Ewan!” Ailsa’s voice was thick with panic as she reached out and clutched his arm. Ewan followed her gaze, terror seizing him as he saw it.
Gordon, reaching out behind Vaila to grab her by the hair and yank her off her mount.
Vaila let out a cry of rage and pain as she was pulled from the saddle, forced to drop her knives so she could brace herself from hitting the ground head first. Next to Ewan, Ailsa let out a tiny, muffled cry of distress at the way her sister’s body was yanked, as Gordon used his tight grip on her hair like a cruel leash. One of Vaila’s hands flew up to clutch at her hair, clearly seeking to alleviate the pressure on her scalp.
As Vaila flailed, trying to right herself, Gordon swept down and grabbed one of the discarded weapons; when he yanked Vaila painfully up to stand, he pressed the blade to her throat and pressed in just enough that a single drop of crimson appeared along the blade.
The world around Ewan slowed. That drop of blood seemed somehow more vibrant than anything else in the world. He didn’t know Vaila well, but he knew that Ailsa loved her more than anything, that his wife would not recover if she watched her sister slain before her very eyes.
The battle grew more sluggish as everyone turned to see what would happen next. Ewan saw James, standing with a bloody sword, frozen and more frightened than Ewan had ever seenhim. He looked like a man who was watching his life flash before his eyes, as though he had a dagger held to his own throat.
Vaila looked terrified but fierce. She looked over to meet her sister’s eyes. When Ewan looked back to Alisa, he saw that she looked… determined. Furious and afraid, but ramrod straight, like her spine was made of steel
Like a leader.
And, despite the horror around them, Ewan felt his chest surge with pride in her. His wife. His Lady. The leader that his people would need in the coming days.
“If you touch her,” she said, and even Ewan, close as he was, could scarcely detect the tremor of worry in her voice, “I will kill you. I will not make it easy. I will not be merciful. If you think that you can expect otherwise because of my name or my sex, you will be incorrect. I may be a woman, but I can wield a blade like any other. You will suffer. I promise you this.”
”Suffer!” Gordon’s shout revealed him to be a man coming undone, someone who was watching everything unravel around him. “Do you not think I know how to suffer? I, who was born first, but was forced to watch while my brother goteverythingthat should have rightfully been mine? I, who was cast aside for no reason other than the circumstances of my birth?” This might have been a more sympathetic argument, had Gordon not followed it up with his next comment.
“He deserved to die,” he spat. “He was a usurper. A quick death was too merciful for him.”
Vaila snarled at this reference to her father’s murder. She looked nearly angry enough to try to yank away, threat to her life be damned.
James had unstuck himself and now looked as though he was fighting not to lunge forward. His eyes were fixed on that blade at Vaila’s neck, at the barely perceptible flash of red whereGordon’s blade was digging into her tender skin. Ewan saw James look at Vaila and give his head a small shake.
Don’t move, he was telling her. Ewan mentally pleaded with Vaila to listen to James, just this once.
“If you think I am going to lose,” Gordon went on, sounding madder than ever. “Then I am going to make sure that you lose, too. Let it be a final gift to my dear, departed brother.”
Ewan wasn’t sure if it seemed like it happened quickly or slowly. All he knew was the crushing, brutal fact that he was too far away to do anything in time. There was no way he could move fast enough to save Vaila—the truth hit him like a punch to the gut.
Gordon pulled his arm back just enough to signal his intention to shove the blade deep into Vaila’s throat. Alisa cried as her sister struggled to be free. James lunged, but he, too, was too far away. Gordon began to slash downward with his blade?—
He lurched as an arrow, fletched with dark feathers, sprouted from his shoulder.
Vaila, with all the reflexes of the warrior she had long trained to be, needed less than a second to wrench herself from Gordon’s grip. James grabbed her in an instant, pulling her away from any remaining danger. Ewan and Alisa both surged for Gordon, though his men intercepted them before they could reach the villain, who was staggering toward his mount, where a shorter man beckoned. Ewan had not taken more than five steps when he saw Gordon flee like the swine he was. It was too late to catch him now.
The archer who had shot Gordon was riding swiftly toward them, loosing arrows as he went, and Ewan shoved Ailsa behind him as the figure approached. The rider had been shooting Gordon’s men and Gordon’s men alone, but Ewan would not risk his wife on an unknown quantity such as this newcomer.
But as the rider entered the fray, where the few remaining Gordon men were fleeing, overcome by the combined efforts of the Donaghey clansfolk, the Buchanan soldiers, and whoever this strange archer might be, Ailsa let out a cry.
As Ewan turned to face her, she stepped around him and threw herself into the arms of this newcomer, who opened them to her gratefully. Ewan felt a surge of jealousy rise inside him, followed by a fierce determination.
He didn’t know who this man was to Ailsa, but he didn’t care—not even if this rider was the reason Ailsa had left him all those years ago. Ailsa was his now. Sworn before man and God. He would not let her go without a fight.
There might have been no wedding vows spoken between them, but Ewan saw James look at Vaila with the same gritty determination as she, too, launched herself at the man, tears streaming down her face.
