Two guards releasedMaia and Mollie, shoving the women aside as they drew their weapons and moved to intercept. But they were on foot, tired from their march through the forest, and he was mounted on a warhorse trained for battle and fury.
Ewan crashedinto the first guard with the full weight of his destrier behind him. The man went flying, his sword clattering away into the undergrowth, his body crumpling like a broken doll.
The second guardmanaged to dodge aside at the last second, but Ewan's blade caught him across the shoulder as he passed, biting deep. The guard screamed and went down, clutching at the wound that was already soaking his tunic with blood.
Ewan wheeledhis horse around to face the remaining threats: Callen and one guard, who still had his hands on Maia even as she struggled against his grip.
And seeing her there—seeingthe bruise on her temple, the blood on her lip, the terror in her grey eyes—something inside Ewan snapped.
"Let her go."His voice was ice and death and promise of violence. "Let go of what's mine, or I swear by every god I ken, I will make ye suffer in ways ye cannae even imagine."
"She's nae yers!"Callen's face twisted with rage and desperation. "She's mine—me niece, me responsibility—ye daenae have the authority to?—"
"LET HER GO!"
The roar echoedthrough the forest, feral and furious, and Ewan saw Maia jerk in the guard's grip. Saw her grey eyes find his across the distance, wide with fear and hope and something else he couldn't quite name.
She looked terrified.Hurt. There was already bruising forming around her temple where someone had struck her, and her lip was split and bleeding.
Someone had hurt her.
Someone was goingto die for that.
Multiple someones.
"Ye cannae have her!"Callen was shouting now, his voice high with panic. "Kill him! Kill him now! I'll double yer pay, triple it, just kill the bastard!"
The guard holding Maia hesitated,clearly torn between following orders and facing an enraged laird on horseback who'd just cut through two of his companions like they were nothing.
Ewan didn't givehim time to decide.
He charged.
The guard'seyes went wide, and he made his choice—he shoved Maia away roughly, sending her stumbling toward where Mollie stood frozen, and raised his sword to meet Ewan's attack.
But he was too slow.Too afraid. And Ewan was beyond reason, beyond mercy, beyond anything but the need to destroy the men who'd dared to touch what was his.
Their blades metwith a clang that rang through the forest. Once. Twice. The guard was skilled, Ewan would give him that, but skill meant nothing against the fury driving Ewan's sword arm.
On the third exchange,Ewan's blade found its mark, slicing across the guard's throat. The man's eyes went wide with shock, and he dropped his sword to clutch at the wound. Blood poured between his fingers, black in the moonlight, and he crumpled to his knees before falling forward onto his face.
Callen was backing away now,his bravado crumbling into naked fear. "Stay back! Stay back or I'll—I'll?—"
"Ye'll what?"Ewan dismounted in one fluid motion, his boots hitting the ground with a solid thud. He stalked toward Callen with predatory grace, his sword still dripping with the guard's blood. "Ye'll hurt me? Kill me? I'd like to see ye try, ye cowardly bastard."
"She's worthless!"Callen's voice cracked. "I told ye that in me letter! She's nothin', a burden I was glad to be rid of! Why would ye even want her? Why would any man want a fat, useless?—"
"She was never yers."Ewan's voice cut through Callen's babbling like a knife. "From the moment I took her from that tower, she was mine. And ye—ye had nae right to her. Nae after what ye did. Nae after six years of abuse and cruelty and makin' her believe she was less than nothin'."
"I'm her uncle!I'm her laird! I had every right."
"Ye had nae rights at all."Ewan was close enough now to see the sweat beading on Callen's forehead, to smell the fear rolling off him in waves. "Ye were a cruel, petty man who abused his position and hurt someone under his protection. Someone who should have been precious to ye. And now ye're goin' to pay for every moment of pain ye caused her."
Callen's handwent to his own sword, fumbling with the hilt. But his hands were shaking too badly, his fear too great, and by the time he managed to draw the blade, Ewan was already moving.
Their swords met,but it wasn't really a fight. Callen was soft, pampered, a man who'd spent more time drinking and scheming than training. His attacks were clumsy, desperate, and Ewan batted them aside with contemptuous ease.
"Please,"Callen gasped after the fourth exchange left him stumbling backward. "Please, I'll give ye anythin'! Money, land, whatever ye want! Just—just let me live!"
