Page 63 of In Bed with a Highland Brute

“Aye. It shall be done. I shall send Wilson up here tae the castle tae treat the wounded. It will be harder tae get the wounded tae the isolated cottage.”

Avery seemed happier with this outcome, no longer concerned about his wife and sister crossing what could be an open battleground.

“Let us go,” Murdoch urged the men. He glanced back once at Eloise, their eyes connecting across the distance of the room.

Already, she had sprung into action. With Callie and Aila at her side, they were clearing the tables with the maids, readying them for wounded men and getting rid of all signs of the feast. Where Callie took control of herbs and hot water that would have to be gathered, Eloise took over the orders for the room. She was in control, like a lady of the clan.

Murdoch allowed himself the smallest of smiles as he watched her, before he ran from the room, readying himself for battle.

“Brace yerselves!” Murdoch ordered as the portcullis was raised.

It was a long and hard fought, bloody battle. He had cuts on his arms from where the Douglas’ bolts had fired from the crossbows through the holes in the portcullis, and there were many around him with similar wounds. The men listened to him, following his orders, with Ian and Avery taking their places on either side of him.

The portcullis was lifted by the Douglas soldiers. They rammed large planks of wood under the spikes and levered against them, lifting it out of the ground.

“Fire!” Murdoch barked.

He released the bolt in his own crossbow, as did the others around him. In unison, they all fired at the men pulling the portcullis open. A line of Douglas soldiers fell away, injured and pulled back from the front line, but there were simply more men to replace them.

Murdoch hunted through the faces in the darkness of the night. The burning torches his men had brought with them were the only light offering a chance of judging one face from another. He used that scolding orange light to seek out the new Laird of Douglas, the boy, rather than any man. Yet he was nowhere to be seen.

“Fire again!” Murdoch called. Fresh bolts flew out toward the portcullis, but they were not fast enough this time.

Three Douglas soldiers managed to make it under the portcullis, as the rest behind them were cut down by the bolts. The soldiers advanced, each one drawing a sword ready for battle.

Murdoch nodded at Avery and Ian. It was the order they needed to take on the men.

Murdoch went for the largest of the three Douglas soldiers. The man was so hulking, his movements were slow and as he struck out with his sword, it was all too easy for Murdoch to cut across his knuckles as he avoided the blow. He sliced the sword across the back of the soldier, watching as he cried out like a cawing jackdaw, in extreme pain. He dropped to his knees, allowing Murdoch to kick him harshly in the back.

Face planting the earth, he was surrounded by the rest of Murdoch’s men.

“Arrest him. Tie him up and throw him in a corner. We’ll take him tae the dungeons later,” Murdoch ordered.

He turned, looking back to the portcullis as the fight raged on. If the portcullis was fully lifted, they’d be overrun by Douglas soldiers. Above the archway, across the top of the battlements stood more of the Gordon men, each one with crossbows pointed at the other side. Amongst them, Murdoch caught a glimpse of Clyde’s face.

“Clyde!” Murdoch shouted at his brother. When his brother didn’t turn to face him, Murdoch cupped his hands around his mouth, amplifying his voice. “Clyde!”

Clyde broke off his own orders to the archers and turned to look at Murdoch.

“We need tae cut the counterweight.” Murdoch shouted the words twice before his brother nodded in understanding.

The more the Douglas men lifted the portcullis, the counterweight would start to work. If they cut the weight free, the portcullis would drop and be even harder to move than before.

“Leave it tae me,” Clyde called back. He retreated into one of the towers that bordered the portcullis, disappearing from view.

“Ian, watch out.” The booming voice caught Murdoch’s attention. He turned around to see Ian being approached by two soldiers on either side of him. Ian cut down the one in front of him with the sword, but he was left open to the man behind him.

“Nay!” Murdoch’s voice erupted from him as he watched Avery step in front of Ian. He blocked the blow that was aimed at Ian’s back with his own sword, yet it was at an awkward angle, and Avery’s arms couldn’t maintain the pressure. When he fell backward, the Douglas soldier took his chance and drove home with his sword. He cut through Avery’s stomach with his weapon. “God’s blood,” Murdoch muttered as he ran forward.

Ian caught Avery, dragging him away from further harm as Murdoch ran toward the soldier. Before he could advance again, Murdoch cut him down. With two quick lunges, he forced the man backward, then he delivered a cruel but ultimately victorious blow straight between the soldier’s legs, winding the man with the base of his sword. The man dropped to his knees, allowing Murdoch to strike him across the back of his head. He fell, out cold.

“Arrest him too,” Murdoch called to another of the soldiers, turning back to face Avery and Ian.

Ian pressed his hands down onto Avery’s stomach, trying to stop the blood that was seeping through his fingers. Avery grimaced, the muscles in his cheeks tightened.

“Clyde!” Murdoch bellowed, hoping that his brother could hear him. His eyes flitted to the portcullis where he saw the Douglas soldiers trying to lift it again. “If ye’re there, now’s the time. Cut the weight!”

Murdoch stood guard over Avery and Ian as he raised the crossbow. He aimed squarely at the Douglas soldier that was now trying to raise the railing. He was close to achieving his aim, too close…