“It shall not come to that,” Finn assured her, “but—”
“I shall do whatever I must do, brother.Godspeed.”
He nodded and kissed the top of her head.Finn ducked into the shadows and they were alone with the exception of some of the household staff and the two men guarding them.Now all they could do was wait.
And wait they did.
They waited until a thudding sound echoed through the castle.Until it felt as though the walls would shake and crumble to pieces, until every knot of wood in the castle would splinter and fall.
“What was that?”Alana jumped to her feet.
They were attempting to break through the portcullis, she realised.And once they had done that, they would start on the door.Lorna pressed her eye to the slit on the shutters and could make out scores of men on the hill, shielded by a shelter of hardened leather to protect them from the arrows raining from above.
“They are trying to break through.”
Should she have spoken with more care?She glanced at the women’s ashen faces but saw the same fire in their eyes as she felt in her belly.Neither of them were fools who wished to be lied to.And neither would surrender easily.
“The men shall go out and meet them,” Catriona said quietly.“They shall defeat them.”
“Aye,” Alana agreed with a grin.“We have the finest warriors in all o’ Scotland here.Gillean and his Vikings shallnae prevail.”
Lorna found herself unable to smile, not when her heart thudded like a galloping horse, but it gladdened her that she was surrounded with such courageous women.Only a few of the serving maids uttered whimpers with each pound at the door.Sweat trickled down her spine under her gown while they waited for what felt like an eternity for the sound to stop.
And when it did, Lorna was certain her insides had twisted so hard, they would never untangle.For the cessation of that sound meant one thing.They were opening the door and going to battle.
The noise of battle had become almost forgettable until that moment.Now she was aware of every shout, every clang of swords.It echoed around them, surrounding them in a painful dissonance.The two men at the top of the stairs readied themselves for anyone who might break through.
Her fate was in another’s hands.In Logan’s hands.And she trusted him to see to her safety.Nevertheless, if she needed to raise a blade, she would.She passed Ewan over to the nursemaid and bade them to tuck themselves in the corner by the bed.The large oak frame might offer some protection from swinging steel.Even the elderly laird had risen from his bed and was ready to fight.
Lorna paused in front of the two women she had come to think of as sisters.“The men shall prevail.”
“Of course they will,” Alana said confidently.
“Some invaders may slip by them,” Lorna warned.
Catriona nodded, a hand to her belly.She had seen Catriona’s bravery in the face of adversity before and had witnessed her overcoming the horrors of siege warfare.She only hoped the worry in her gaze was for her husband and unborn child and not her slipping back into her nightmares.
Lorna grabbed her hand.The woman’s fingers were cold against hers.“All will be well.”
“I know.”Catriona nodded again, a little boldness seeping back into her gaze.“I do know that, Lorna.”
Lorna puffed out a breath and turned to face the two men.“Pass me a blade.”
Neither of them argued with her and one handed over a sword.She clasped the handle.The blade wasn’t heavy but the metal in her hand reassured her, the gentle weight hanging from her hand empowered her.
It didn’t stop her heart from thudding against her chest with each noise drifting up the stairs.Grunts of pain, steel against stone.Footsteps.
She dragged in a breath and it rasped against her throat.Her skin felt hot and itchy as if someone had lit a fire too close.She didn’t glance at the other women or the nursemaid holding the one thing most precious to her.She couldn’t.Gaze set on the entrance to the room, she waited.
They entered swiftly and ready to battle.Three Vikings.She immediately recognised the largest.Ivar.Had he come searching for her?And where were Logan and her kin?She gulped down the tension in her chest.He would not fail her.
The Highlanders guarding the room had little chance.They fought valiantly, even injuring one of the Vikings but in such close confines, it was only a matter of time.Lorna lifted the sword and stood her ground as one was thrown back, mayhap dead, she could not tell.The other man suffered a swipe across the chest and continued to fight until all three men turned on him.His gaze locked briefly with hers—regret written in his expression—before Ivar delivered the death blow.
Lorna longed to tell him that he’d done his duty before he passed, but it was too late.Ivar lowered his dripping axe and let slip a grin as he approached.Here was when her front would be useful.She adopted the pose she had become accustomed too.The one that radiated confidence and power, and icy calm.Her husband had not beaten her into submission and nor would this man.
“My lady.”The Norseman dipped his head as if he had not just spilled the blood of her clansmen across the wooden floor, as if it was not now dripping between the floorboards and scenting the air.
“Leave while ye still can,” she commanded.“There is no one important here.Yer army is being defeated as we speak.”She hoped that was true.“Ye’d be better returning to the battle.”
