Page 73 of The Lady of Her Highland Clan

"We've got tae get out o' here,'' Fiona said, desperately grabbing his hand. Clyde did not take much persuading.

All around, the sounds of dungeon doors being flung open clattered and clanged. Slowly, half-emaciated prisoners were creeping free. Quickly, Clyde led them all through the long corridors beneath the Greenock castle.

Then, just as they were about to take to the main stairs, a giant crash stopped them dead. At the top of the staircase, a great commotion was taking place. Behind the stout wooden door came loud banging.

Now at the top of the stairs, Clyde and one or two of the other prisoners tried opening the door. It was locked.

"Now what?" cried Fiona. Her hair was thrashing wildly, freed from its lace caul.

Very briefly, Clyde took her aside, kissing her on the cheek. The unexpected kiss burnt into Fiona's cheek, leaving her shocked. But there was no time to think about it any further.

The terror from above was plain to hear. And all their troops were on the other side of the door, unable to help them.

In despair, Fiona cursed herself for coming alone to the dungeons. The young commander had been right!

Desperately, she looked at Clyde.

Clyde did not stand back. With his full weight behind the door, he rammed it hard. And with Fiona's sgian-dubh, he cut away at the fittings. Then, with a well-placed shove, it fell open.

Grabbing Fiona tight, he bundled her through the door, shielding her from the frenzy beyond.

Clinging to Clyde for all she was worth, they emerged into the castle hall. Fiona pressed her head down in terror at the destruction that lay all around.

Bodies were strewn everywhere, although, on closer look, they were mostly Fraser's men. Despondently, Clyde glanced about. Fighting had mainly stopped, but there were still a few stragglers.

Pacing through the debris, Clyde looked sadly at a fallen soldier. "Malcolm," he said sorrowfully. Fiona watched as he kneeled by the side of the dead man. "He was one o' mine, afore Fraser..."

Clyde sighed. Picking himself up, he led Fiona by the hand through the hallway. Breathlessly, Fiona followed. It was hard for her to keep her cool. This was like nothing she had ever seen.

Nineteen years had seen her shut away in a castle; she had never gone to war.

Shaking, she leaned into Clyde to guide her.

"It's alright," said Clyde tenderly. "We've done it."

Then, a small voice made them turn around.

"Have ye?"

Fiona's eyes flared as she saw him. In front of her was Fraser, with a sgian-dubh. Slowly, he raised the blade close to her throat.

"Yer nae home an' dry yet, sweetie," he said darkly. "Dinnae forget, we're tae be wed."

But he was on his own. Fiona's eyes went watchfully to Clyde. He had frozen, but only momentarily. Immediately, he swiped at Fraser with his ankle.

Surprise had the upper hand, and Fraser collapsed in agony. Cradling his shin, he howled in pain.

"Ye’re gonna regret that, sweeting!" he hissed. Even from the ground, he tried to grasp her, tugging hard at her feet.

Fiona was shaking, but she still managed to push back at him, kicking him hard. Then Clyde, who had grabbed a sword from someone, pressed down on Fraser and glared.

"Dinnae ye touch her!" he growled. His face had set into granite, with his green eyes pounding down like poison into Fraser's face.

It was all Fraser could do to keep breathing, as Clyde's boot mounted his neck. In disgust, Fiona pulled away. She just wanted to get out of there.

And behind them, the raggle-taggle army of prisoners was shifting. Slowly, they surged forward.

At the very same time, an influx from a side door brought a line of men into the room.