Page 48 of Twelfth Knight’s Bride

Again, Angus made a dash for her. Again, an arrow assault forced him back, and when a roar so piercing, so terrifying, lifted on the air, she froze. Her stomach dropped. Galloping thundered, and a string of warriors charged down the hill from inland, through the cemetery, a man in the lead with his claymore drawn, feral blond braids blazing upon the wind, red tartan a harbinger of retaliation. His drovers and guardsmen fanned out, metal gleaming high. This was not the gentle man who had confided about his sister’s death but the warlord whom she’d feared ever since his attack on Urquhart.

She shivered at the sight of her husband, the famed, fearless Devil.

His fur lifted and settled with each bound. He expertly steered Devil with his knees, and as an arrow plummeted toward him, he thrust out his round targe to catch the projectile without a flinch. Moments later, MacLeod men jumped from the trees into the frigid water to swim toward the balingers. No way could they survive. Could they? Such relief poured like overturned casks through her. She sat stunned. Jamie was fierce, and with him arrived, surely they would be safe—

“Get ye inside, woman!” James shouted at her, snapping her back to reality.

She scrambled back to her feet, catching his gaze, as his chest rose and fell from exertion while he lifted his sword, his distant face shrouded in fury.

“Run, Allie! Run if ye can!” he bellowed.

Devil leaped into the trees and moments later, splashed onto the shore, into the water as the MacLeod archers swam hard. She ran as he demanded, this time unimpeded, for the assailants were now on the run. Angus dashed outside under his laird’s cover, scooping her over his shoulder like a sack of grains, running her within. She gasped with each jar to her stomach.

“Lady!” Angus exclaimed as a sentry whinged opened the narrow gate for the two of them to squeeze through the gatehouse. He dropped her back to her feet, taking up her hand to kiss it. “God above! I thought they’d shoot ye!”

“I shall be fine—”

“I’ll summon a maid to get ye abed,” he interrupted.

“Sir Angus,” she demanded, pulling free her hand. Now that the shock had subsided, how could she consider swooning abed whilst a maid pandered to her? “I’m unharmed. I’ve withstood a reave or two in my day and need no’ a swig of whisky and a lady’s maid to pat my hand. I would rather be useful. I must—”

“Christ, lady, ye nearly died. Ye’ll do no such thing—”

“All hands can be useful,” she snapped. “How can mine serve a purpose?”

An archer on the wall cried out, collapsing from sight. Angus eyed the wall walk with worry, then her.

“Go on, man,” she chastised him. “As yer lady, I order it. Go to yer men and bring any injured down here to…” She looked about. “That shed. I shall round up medicinals and prepare a surgery. I can, and will, do more than whimper in a corner when there’s work to be done.”

Angus nodded stoutly, relenting to her order. “Account for the women and children as well, and hurry them to the buttery…”

Intent on getting to work, she dashed through the melee of servants securing sheds, stashing goods, and dousing the thatched outbuildings with water drawn vigorously from the well to prevent a blazing arrow from taking hold should it be lobbed.

“The boats arrive!” shouted a guard. “They turn the tables and push back the laird’s line!”

Aileana froze in the doorway to the keep as more orders were shouted. Is Jamie okay?

“Is the gun powder on its way?” Angus demanded. “Be damned, we need it! Make haste!”

Gun powder? Tioram Castle has a cannon?

“Hurry, Aileana,” she muttered to herself, tamping down the fear for James that gripped her. She had to help, and if she let worry cripple her, who would treat the injured?

Still, fear gnawed at her as she dashed indoors. Brighde stood at the hearth, quaking, as several serving wenches corralled the children within their huddle. She ran to Aileana, grasping her in a hug.

“Oh, Aileana! Is it true what they say?” she begged. “That ye were trapped outside and nearly perished?”

“Indeed it is,” breathed Aileana, returning the embrace, then pulling back. “Where might I find bandages and salves?”

“In the pantry by the kitchen, mi lady,” said one of her maids with a curtsy. “We keep all manner of healing supplies there.”

“My thanks. Now come, all of ye. I’m ordered to secure ye and the bairns in the buttery.”

The women hurried the children with them, and Aileana snatched up wee Maudie’s hand, who trembled, still wearing her lopsided crown of twigs. “Come, child. We cannae have our abbess left unsafe.”

They wound through the corridor to the kitchens and detoured down the narrow stone stairs to the buttery, where the women huddled against the casks along the back wall, entombed within.

“Is anyone missing?” Aileana demanded, and after a moment, accepted the shakes of the head and turned to leave.