Page 25 of Bond of a Bewitched Highlander

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DEFEAT THEM! Brodie telepathically sought to embolden the three-dozen male selkies who surrounded him. He refused to allow these bastards to seize any more of the females. Armed with a sword, dirk, and targe, he charged through the night wind toward the invaders advancing along the beach. He was ready to kill them all. Numbering around two score, the garrison carried torches and glinting blades.

Brodie hoped the selkies were ready for their first skirmish. He mentally issued the command, and the selkies hid behind the black rocky crags protruding from the sand, as he'd taught them.

As soon as the raiders raced past, Brodie and his fellow warriors leapt out, swinging their swords and shouting, attempting to incapacitate their enemies with the first blow. The intruders yelled and dodged aside. Some fell to the sand, bleeding, including Brodie's first opponent.

The men carrying torches jammed them into the sand and joined the melee. Blades clanged and thumped against targes. Shouts rang out. Brodie slashed and thrust his sword, hoping the selkie warriors could best these bastards.

Moments later, two of the selkies fell beneath human blades, spurring Brodie to more ferocious fighting. 'Slud! He was responsible, for he had not trained them well enough.

High-pitched screams echoed, carried on the wind from just outside the cave. After finishing off his current opponent, Brodie ran in that direction. Had the females not shifted and escaped into the ocean, as he'd told them?

Nay.

Either naked or wearing thin shifts, they lay writhing on the sand, their wrists and ankles bound.

"What the hell?" he growled.

A bellowing foe stormed toward him, sword swinging. Brodie caught the blade on his targe's central boss spike and dispatched the whoreson with a strike to the neck.

Two invaders emerged from the cave. What were they doing in there? And how had they tied up all the females so quickly? They must have darted past the fighting earlier.

Several enemies left the fighting and loped toward him. He couldn't see any of the selkie warriors in the distance. Were they all dead? Saints!

Brodie attacked the nearest foe, parrying and thrusting. He disabled the bastard with a strike to his sword arm and went after another. How could he defeat so many? Several marauders threw the screaming females over their shoulders and fled back along the sandy shore. Following them, Brodie sliced his sword at the legs of two of the men, causing them to stumble, fall, and drop their captives.

He chased after the others, but enemies delayed him, engaging him in the skirmish again. Before he could take them out, a shouted command echoed from the distance. They turned and fled.

Where the earlier battle had taken place, the selkie males lay on the ground, yelling and struggling, their wrists and ankles bound, their weapons gone.

"What the devil happened?" Brodie had never known this to take place in a skirmish. Using his dirk, he cut the ropes. "Where are your weapons?"

"Stolen by the wind," one of them said.

What? Mayhap he had misheard. But he didn't have time to figure it out now. He severed the remaining ropes and freed the warriors.

"We must stop the bastards! They're almost to the galleys!" Brodie raced toward the miscreants, the selkie males following him.

Who the hell was the leader of this gang of savages, and which clan was it? In the torchlight, he had seen no one he recognized. They wore various plaids and no identification, no plant badges on their tams.

The ruffians were handing off the females to those on board and shoving the galleys into the water.

"Shift!" Brodie threw down his weapons, drew the sealskin from his sporran, and unbuckled his belt. His plaid fell to the sand. After rushing into the cold surf, he slid on the sealskin and transformed into a seal. The selkie warriors followed his lead.

They had to stop the bastards.

***

HEARING ROUGH SHOUTS, screams, and the clashes of battle approaching, Elsea peered over the galley's hull into the night. Torches blazed in the distance, their flames blown sideways in the wind. The women's screams lanced through her own heart. Her pulse thudded like a drum in her ears as shadowy, nightmarish figures rushed through the faint moonlight.

"Dear God, help me," she breathed. What could she do for the women?

Talnaroch and his clansmen dashed forward, carrying the squirming women over their shoulders, their glinting swords still in hand. Some of the females were naked, and others wore thin white smocks. Hands and feet bound, they shrieked and struggled against their captors.

Such barbaric demons! Ice scraped through Elsea's veins, and her chest constricted.

"Give me strength," she prayed quietly. She crouched low, still hidden by the sail. Hands sweaty, she fumbled for the sgian dubh on her forearm and withdrew it.