“You’re dead,” one of them said, pointing the tip of his sword.
“No,” Gavin replied as the door slid open behind him. “You are.” He slapped the horse on the rear, sending it bolting through the open sallyport. He shoved Heather through next, running after her as the men lunged at him.
“Get the door shut!” he shouted, tripping over Heather and falling heavily to the ground, landing on top of her.
The door slammed shut behind them, the bar sliding into place, shutting out the outlaws for good.
“Are we alive?” she asked, panting into his face, her eyes wild.
“We’re alive,” he replied.
“Thank God,” she said, throwing her arms around him. “I thought we were dead for sure.”
She pulled back slightly, enough for him to look deep into her eyes. Before he knew what was happening, he was kissing her. He managed to stop himself almost at once but in the brief moment when their lips touched, he felt something he’d never felt before.
The feel of his lips on hers had sent sparks shooting through his body, a sensation like no other. All at once he was hungry for her, wanting to kiss her again. He looked at her. Did she feel the same way?
She was staring back at him. No doubt she hadn’t wanted him to do that. Could he pretend it was an accident? Had he just taken advantage of her because she was vulnerable? That was not how a laird should behave.
She looked like she was about to cry. He got to his feet, helping her up, Will was nowhere to be seen.
Heather said nothing, just standing there. Was she in shock?
“Do not worry, they can’t get in. Come on.” He led her into the courtyard, finding several of his men standing around the horse, looking confused.
“Lairdkiller,” Lachlan was saying. “Where is Gavin?”
“Here,” Gavin replied.
They all turned to look at him and Heather. “You’re alive,” Bruce said. “How did you get past that lot out there?”
“Lairdkiller ran like the wind,” Will said, emerging from the shadows. “I saw it all.”
Gavin hoped he hadn’t seen it all. The kiss was a mistake and not one he wanted anyone else to know about.
The knowledge that the laird had kissed a strange woman would spread through the clan like wildfire, especially if all were told that she had not wanted the kiss. Her reputation would suffer more than his even though she had done nothing wrong. It was not fair but that was the way of the world.
He vowed she would not experience that shame because of his actions.
“What now?” Lachlan asked, pulling out his sword. “Do we fight them?”
“What are their numbers?”
“Two hundred at least,” John called out from the battlement facing the outlaw army. “And more still arrive each hour.”
“Any siege engines?”
“Nothing visible but from the valley I hear sawing.”
“Chopping down our wood,” Gavin said to Bruce. “Curse Jimmy the Snout. What were they saying when you found their camp?”
“That they thought Jimmy had gone off to get orders from Mungo before the attack.”
“It is not Mungo Frazer who gave them their orders. It was-”
“My laird,” John interrupted from the battlements, sounding scared for the first time ever. “You must see this.”
Gavin ran up the stairs to join him, looking out at the distant view as his men climbed up behind him. “Careful,” he said, “Make sure you are not in the range of their bows.”
