In a fit of fury, Callum pointed his sword at Rory. “Ye will pay dearly for this treachery, MacDonald!”
He merely grinned, lifted his great axe into the air. It exploded into a bright, white light, ripping the space in front of them. And then, Rory, Bruce, Rufus, and the two men holding their women captive rode through. Chloe’s gaze lifted to his moments before she disappeared. Her emerald eyes were full of dread. And then she was gone.
The moment they disappeared, Callum emitted a frustrated war cry that sent chills through Malcolm, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He had never heard anything like that from his brother.
Malcolm’s stomach was tied in knots. He had failed in his promise to protect her with his sword and his body. Now, she and her sister were in the hands of their enemy.
MacDonald’s army retreated, thundering away from the castle, leaving them standing there on the ramparts to watch their forms disappear into the dead of night, heading back to MacDonald land.
No one moved. No one said anything. No one dared breathe. The archers stationed on the ramparts remained until their laird ordered them otherwise.
Jamie and Dougal had failed to protect the women. Which meant they were incapacitated or—worse—dead.
Rory had their women and the two pieces of the keystone.
In a strangely calm fashion, Callum sheathed his claymore. His gaze still remained on the horizon, watching the retreating army growing smaller as more distance was put between them and Dundale Castle.
“That bloody knave hasmy wifeand I will see him dead for it.”
Callum said this so calmly, it sent a twinge of fear through Malcolm. He didn’t dare point out that he had the woman he loved, too.
It had never occurred to him until that moment that he was in love with Chloe.
Now, he had to get her and her sister back.
His brother turned from the ramparts and stalked down the rough-hewn steps to the ground. With his shoulders pulled back and his back taut with tension, he was a man on a mission. As he marched across the bailey to the stable, Malcolm knew what he intended to do. He sheathed his sword and followed.
“Callum, wait.”
He spun toward him, fury creasing his normally calm features. This was a man on the edge. A man ready to rip his enemy to shreds and not even think twice about it.
“I’m going after them.”
“We need a plan first. We need to find Dougal and Jamie.”
As if remembering their younger brother and the steward, the rage was wiped from his features as he glanced toward the gate that remained closed. He realized, as Malcolm did, that something must have happened to the two of them.
“Open the gate!”
A shout rose up from one of his men still on the wall. Callum shoved by him and ran toward the gate. Malcolm followed. The portcullis started its slow ascent. When it was open enough, two men hobbled inside the gate. Jamie held his arm against his side, his tunic damp with blood. Dougal limped beside him, favoring one of his legs. As soon as they were inside, they lowered the gate.
“What happened?” Callum demanded, halting in front of them.
“Ambush,” Jamie said. “Mercenaries.”
“There were too many of them,” Dougal added. “I’m sorry, Callum. We failed.”
Regret and torment gleamed in both men’s eyes.
Callum clenched his jaw again, tight. “We dinnae expect mercenaries.”
“Welsh ones,” Jamie added, then spit to show his distaste for them. “We can go after them, brother.”
“Aye, we can and we will. But for now, ye need yer arm stitched,” Callum said eyeing the cut down his left arm. “Malcolm, fetch Roslyn. Have her meet us in the great hall. And then we will decide how we get the women back.”
***
They rode hard throughout the night. Chloe tried to keep her panic down, but it was difficult when she was terrified of what was to come. Bruce made sure to ride next to her, keeping a watchful eye on her. On the other side, Evie and her captor.
