Page 17 of Wicked Kilted Highlander

CHAPTERSIX

The first light of dawn had barely crept through the narrow cave entrance when Darragh awoke, his senses tingling with unease. The sound of quiet footsteps echoed faintly in his ears, like the beats of a distant war drum. His heart pounded as memories of battle surged through him—long nights spent lying in wait, swords clashing against shields, cries of pain and victory.

Darragh's disorientation quickly dissipated as he registered the soft rise and fall of Lara's chest beside him, her petite figure curled up in peaceful slumber against him. A sudden protective instinct washed over him, sending shivers down his spine. His dark eyes took in every detail of her serene face, framed by her long dark hair.

Years of bloody conflict had honed Darragh's senses to razor-sharp precision, leaving him constantly on edge. Ever alert, his ears strained for the source of the footsteps, his gaze darting back and forth between the cave walls. The smallest tremor, even the whisper of wind against stone, was enough to trigger his instincts.

"Stay silent, lass," Darragh murmured, his voice barely audible as he gently shook Lara awake. Her eyes fluttered open, widening with fear as she took in his tense expression. With a nod, she acknowledged the unspoken danger.

"Footsteps approaching," he whispered into her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "We must move deeper intae the cave."

Together, they crept further into the shadows, hearts pounding in sync with the muffled footsteps beyond the cave's entrance. As Darragh led her to a hidden alcove, his mind raced. The familiar weight of responsibility weighed heavy on his shoulders— it was not just his own life at stake but also that of the fragile beauty beside him.

"Ye trust me?" he asked quietly, his voice barely a breath in the stillness of the cave. She only nodded, clearly trying not to make a sound as her eyes met his.

The air in the cave was thick with tension as Darragh's eyes narrowed, focusing on what he now discerned to be a group of men. They appeared within his view outside the cave, their outlines shimmering through the pouring rain. The had their weapons drawn, betraying their hostile intentions. A shiver of unease coursed through him; he could almost taste the dread. If they were out in this weather then he had to conclude they were searching for something, or someone, they badly wanted to find. He knew it would be foolish to assume they meant no harm.

Darragh's jaw tightened as he beckoned Lara with a swift tilt of his head, leading her deeper into the cave's inky embrace. As they moved, he could feel the air growing colder and damper, the rough stone walls slick with moisture beneath his fingertips.

"Stay here. Dinnae come out, whatever happens. They ken someone’s here, fer the horses are tethered outside. I’ll make out I’m alone, with the other beast as a spare," he whispered, guiding her to a shadowy crevice concealed by jagged rock formations. He pressed her into the tight space.

“Please, be careful, Darragh," she whispered back.

As the footsteps drew nearer, the rhythmic thud of boots on damp earth sent shivers down Darragh's spine. He strained to catch any hint of conversation amongst the men, hoping to glean some clue as to their intentions. Were they friend or foe?

He knew it would be a challenge to face the entire group alone, but for her sake, he would. First though, he’d try to find out who they were and what they were doing, and then try talk his way out of things accordingly.

"Look there!" one of the men called out, pointing at the telltale signs of their makeshift camp. "Seems we've found our quarry."

"Keep yer voice down, ye fool!" another hissed, drawing his weapon. The others followed suit, glancing around the cave warily. "We dinnae want them tae hear us coming."

Darragh's instincts took over. His grip tightened around the hilt of his dirk, the cold steel both comforting and ominous. His sword would be no good to him in the enclosed space. He cast a fleeting glance at Lara, who was staring at him with fear etched on her face.

He stepped out into the open. "Who goes there?" he called out, hoping against hope that the men might be allies or at least neutral parties. But deep down, he knew the chance was slim.

There were five men, all armed with knives. The biggest one stepped forward and looked Darragh up and down.

"And who might ye be?" he inquired aggressively through broken teeth.

“I might ask the same of ye. What are ye doing, disturbing a man’s resting place without an invite?" Darragh demanded, pulling himself up to his full height. He saw with some satisfaction that a few of the men looked afraid on seeing his scarred visage.

“Dinnae try to fool us, ye knave. We ken ye’ve got a lass with ye. We’ve seen her things." The intruder said with a sneer, pointing with his dirk at Lara’s scattered clothing and drying boots by the fire. “We just want the lassie. If ye give her tae us, ye can go free," the man growled, confirming Darragh's worst fears. "And if ye disagree, we aim tae take her anyway."

"Over my dead body," Darragh spat, his voice thick with defiance. "Ye can try, but ye'll nae succeed. What d’ye want with her anyway?"

One of the bolder men laughed as he edged forward, brandishing a wicked looking blade. “She’ll be worth a pretty penny to the madam who runs the house of ill repute in Leonardstown, and more if she’s pretty!" He laughed again at his own wit and the horrified expression that Darragh could not prevent from appearing on his face.

Meanwhile, at the back of his mind, a strategy was forming: Take out the ringleader, and the rest will scatter or fall like ninepins.

With a sudden mighty roar, he lunged forward at lightning speed and buried his dirk deep in the chest of Broken Teeth. There was a collective gasp as the man clutched at his chest, gurgling and gasping for air. He collapsed onto his knees, then fell over onto his side and lay motionless.

There was a moment of stunned silence from the other four men. Then, they charged towards Darragh. Steel clashed against steel as Darragh met the first attacker head-on, parrying his blow with practiced ease and following up with a mighty punch to the man’s guts. The fellow dropped his knife and doubled up in pain, coughing thickly.

Though another was down, Darragh feared he could not hold off the remaining trio for much longer. But he had to protect Lara at all costs. If he failed, she would be in grave danger.

I cannot fail.

"Run, Lara!" he shouted, redoubling his efforts to hold the assailants at bay, his battle reflexes coming into play without thought as he parried their lunges and strikes. He tried to take the fight to his right, to draw the men further across the cave floor, hoping it would supply Lara with an exit route. "Run, and dinnae look back!"