Margaret did not move. Instead, she stepped back toward the remaining guards.
“Close the corridor!” she shouted.
Two guards rushed forward to hold the narrow entrance as the MacGregor men tried to force their way through the overturned bench. Behind Margaret, frightened families rushed down the evacuation passage as quickly as they could.
Wood scraped against stone as the intruders tried to shove the bench aside. One of the guards slammed his shoulder into it from Margaret’s side, bracing the barricade while the other drove his blade forward through the narrow gap.
A MacGregor man cried out. For a moment, Margaret believed they might hold. Then, the door burst open. A rough hand seized her arm. Margaret gasped as she was yanked backward. Another man emerged from the smoke near the service stair, a fourth intruder she had not seen enter the hall. MacGregor tartan flashed beneath his cloak.
“Got her,” he growled.
Margaret twisted violently, trying to wrench her arm free. “Release me!”
The man only tightened his grip. “Move!”
His companion abandoned the barricade and rushed toward them, grabbing Margaret’s other arm before she could pull away.
Margaret fought immediately. Her heel went down hard on the first man’s foot. He cursed and jerked her roughly toward the side passage. The narrow service exit lay just beyond the hall, a small door used by kitchen servants to reach the outer yard. If they dragged her through it, no one would see. No one would stop them.
“Let go!” she shouted, twisting against their grip.
One of the men clamped a hand across her mouth.
“Quiet!”
Margaret bit him. He roared in pain and struck her arm to force her loose. The other man hauled her toward the side corridor.
“Move!”
The service door loomed only a few steps away now. Margaret kicked wildly, her shoes scraping against the stone floor as they dragged her across it. Behind them the barricade crashed completely as the remaining intruders forced their way through the bench. The guards shouted, but they were too far and too busy holding the corridor.
Margaret’s heart pounded violently as she struggled. If they got her outside, she would vanish into the chaos.
And Domhnall would never even know where she had gone.
Domhnall drove another man backward into the stone wall. The fight had spilled farther into the inner corridors now. Smoke crept through the archways and the sound of shouting echoed from every direction. Cameron fought beside him, cutting down another intruder.
“They’re pushing toward the upper hall!” Cameron shouted.
Domhnall’s head snapped up. The upper hall was where he had sent Margaret.
A cold weight dropped into his chest. He turned immediately toward the inner stair. Two MacGregor men blocked the way. Domhnall did not slow. His blade flashed once.
The first man stumbled back, clutching his arm. The second lunged forward in desperation, but Domhnall drove him aside with brutal force and forced his way up the stair.
Behind him Cameron’s voice echoed through the smoke. “I’ve got the passage!”
Domhnall barely heard him. The hall above erupted in noise the moment he reached the landing. He could hear screams and running footsteps.
And then, the sound of Margaret’s voice.
“Let go!”
The sound cut through him like a blade. Domhnall turned toward the service corridor just as two MacGregor men dragged her toward the narrow exit door. Margaret was fighting them fiercely, twisting against their grip, but one of them had her arm pinned while the other forced her forward.
At that moment, Domhnall could see nothing else. Rage consumed him, fast and absolute.
The first man turned when he heard Domhnall’s boots strike the stone. Domhnall crashed into him like a storm breaking against rock. His blade came down with brutal force, striking the man’s sword aside so violently the steel rang against the wall and flew from his hand. Before the man could even shout, Domhnall drove forward and slammed his shoulder into his chest. The impact sent him sprawling backward across the corridor. He hit the floor hard.
