Page 73 of Wicked Kilted Highlander

CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE

Everyone started coughing as they neared the cottage. A thick cloud of smoke billowed above the structure, and each breath became an effort that left Lara’s lungs aching and her chest tight.

"Something isnae right," Harris muttered, his eyes narrowing as they scanned the surrounding area for further signs of danger.

"Stay close to Elsie, Lara,” Gil ordered, looking warningly at Lara. He gestured to the burning building with his eyes. "And dinnae go rushing in there on yer own either. Wait for us. We’ll save Darragh, I swear tae ye.”

The ominous atmosphere sent shivers down Lara's spine, and she clutched at Elsie’s hand for reassurance, pulling her sister to her side. Suddenly, a flash of movement seemed to catch Harris' attention among the fringes of the trees. He jerked to a halt, peering into the hazy darkness.

"Gregor!" he suddenly roared, unsheathing his sword and pointing at a dark blur near the tree line. “Dinnae let them get to their horses, lads!" he shouted to his sons. Lara could only watch with her heart in her mouth as he and her brothers ran to cut the miscreants off before they could escape.

"Faither, wait!" she cried, but her words were swallowed by the wind and the fierce crackling of the flames that were rapidly devouring the cottage. Elsie clutched at her hand as they turned to look at it.

"This is all Gregor’s doing, and Darragh’s inside there, I just ken it," she told her sister, her voice a sob as she regarded the dancing flames.

"Ye must wait fer them, like Gil told ye tae,” Elsie insisted, squeezing Lara’s hand more tightly as if to hold her back. "'Tis too dangerous tae go in there on yer own. Ye could be killed."

The sound of metal clashing made both girls look round, and Lara saw her father challenge Gregor and engage in a vicious duel with the man, trading blow for blow with his sword. The metallic clanging echoed through the air, ringing out above the crackle and hiss of the encroaching flames behind her.

Quinn and Gil were fighting as well, and she could see two of Gregor’s men slain on the ground, while her brothers engaged ferociously with the remaining two. Angry voices floated over towards the girls.

"Ye'll pay fer what ye've done, Campbell!" their father was shouting, thrusting Gregor’s sword aside with his own.

"Bold words," Gregor declared, pulling his weapon free and advancing once more. "But I'll see precious MacLean blood spilled before the night is out! Yours to begin with, and then the rest of your family’s!"

The clang of metal upon metal reverberated through the night air as the warriors battled, the smoke and ash thickening with each passing moment. Lara held her breath, watching in horror as her brothers and father engaged in a life-or-death struggle. Elsie clung to her, their hearts racing in tandem as they witnessed the violent clash of wills.

But before too long, she looked back to see flames running around the eaves of the cottage, a monstrous beast of flickering red and orange. A sheaf of burning thatch fell to the floor, throwing up sparks. She and Elsie jumped back with a startled cry as a sudden wave of heat hit them.

Despite the continuing battle to the death going on just yards away from them, urgency gnawed at Lara. Every second the men spent locked in combat meant the smoke and flames posed more of a danger to Darragh.

"Damn it all," she muttered under her breath, feeling a surge of frustration. "We cannae waste any more time! Forgive me, Elsie," she whispered, wrenching herself free from her sister's grasp.

"Nay, Lara, nay, ye’ll be killed!" Elsie shouted, trying to grab her and stop her from running forward, but Lara shook her off. Picking up her skirts, she ran towards the entrance to the cottage, now surrounded by a halo of hellish red.

Without hesitation, she put her cloak over her mouth and nose to protect her from the choking smoke and plunged inside the building. As she crossed the threshold, the heat enveloped her in a stifling embrace, but she refused to falter. Darragh was in there somewhere, and she would die before she left him to burn.

Flames roared around her, their deafening symphony drowning out all other sounds as she peered around her with streaming eyes.

"Where are ye, Darragh?" she gasped, her voice barely audible even to herself.

Charred beams groaned above her, threatening to collapse at any moment. The floor beneath her feet felt as unstable as a restless sea, its timbers blackened and weakened by the relentless fire.

"Ye must be here, me love," she murmured through gritted teeth, moving forward despite the suffocating atmosphere.

Suddenly, she caught sight of him amidst the chaos. Darragh, bound and unconscious, lay slumped against a far wall, his muscular frame illuminated by the dancing flames. As Lara reached for him, a beam overhead creaked ominously, and she knew they were running out of time.

"Please, Darragh, wake up!" she cried, running to him and struggling against the ropes that bound him. She cursed, realizing she had not thought to bring the knife from the saddle bag with her. "We must leave this place!"

But he did not stir, his handsome face marred by soot and sweat, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths.

"Damn ye, Gregor!" Lara cursed, her fingers raw and blistered as she finally managed to undo the knots. She glanced upwards, aware that the crumbling ceiling could give away at any moment. Determination coursed through her veins, fueled by the love she bore for the unconscious man in front of her.

"Yer nae dyin' on me today, Darragh MacDonald!" she declared fiercely.

I swear it!

"Ye must wake, Darragh!" Lara implored, her voice cracking with urgency as she shook him. "Fight fer us! Wake up! I cannae lose ye!"