Page 41 of Kilted Sins

When she breathed softly against him, the sound soft and sweet, Cillian found himself melting into the kiss, into her arms, losing himself into the sensation of her lips and her body. He wished that moment could last forever, stretching into eternity, but then Thora pulled back and looked at him, gazing into his eyes.

The smile on her face was warm and inviting. Before long, she leaned in for another kiss, this one just as enticing as the first, but then it was Cillian’s turn to pull back.

There was something—or rather someone—in the woods. Cillian could hear it, the crunch of frost and leaves under boots, the careful but not quiet enough steps. The air around them seemed charged, but not in the same way it had when Thora had saved the rabbit. There was a sense of danger, a whisper in the back of his mind that something was wrong, that someone was watching.

He took a step back from Thora, his hand reaching for his sword as he scanned the woods around them for any signs of a threat. Though he couldn’t see anything, not yet at least, he was certain the enemy would soon be revealed.

“What is it?” Thora asked in a careful whisper. Cillian glanced at her, gesturing at her to come closer to him, and she moved quietly, standing right behind him.

“Somethin’ is wrong,” he said. “Stay close tae me. Dinnae stray unless I tell ye tae run.”

He didn’t want to frighten her, but if this was an ambush, then he wanted to make sure Thora could get to safety. They weren’t too far from the castle. One of his men would help her get back to safety if he was overwhelmed by the enemy forces, but until then, he wanted to keep her close.

For a moment, there was silence, everything around them seemingly standing still as the earth held its breath. Then, he heard shouts and loud footsteps coming from all directions, some of which he recognized as belonging to his men.

We are under attack.

Grabbing Thora’s hand, Cillian made his way back towards the camp, hoping they would make it on time to grab a horse so Thora could flee. That was all that mattered to him in that moment: saving her, ensuring that she would be safe and would not get tangled up in a sword fight. He didn’t care if she could handle herself. He didn’t care she was trained for it like he had been. She had never seen a real battle and the real thing was very different from a mere training session.

They had barely reached the camp, though, when Cillian stopped dead in his tracks, Thora coming to a stop behind him. Hooded men had flooded the clearing, attacking his men from all sides. The clang of steel against steel was deafening, the grunts and shouts of his men and the enemies filling the woods with noise. Their arrival seemed to go unnoticed at first, at least until one of the hooded men spotted him and pointed a finger towards his direction.

“There!” the man said in a gruff voice and Cillian tightened his grip on his sword. Of course, they wanted him. They knew precisely who their target was, so they could not be simple brigands.

“Run!” he told Thora. She hesitated for a moment, clearly unwilling to leave his side, but then broke into a sprint, heading towards the horses which were wide open, unguarded by the enemy.

If she reaches them, she can escape. I only have tae hold them back until she does.

When Thora began to run away from him, though, the hooded figures changed course and chased her instead, much to Cillian’s surprise. He had thought he was their target, as the Laird of Clan MacDonald, but it was Thora they were after, pursuing her as Cillian’s men tried to stop them.

Why her? What dae they want?

In that moment, it didn’t matter. He would figure out their motives later, once Thora was safe. For now, all Cillian could do was throw himself in the middle of the fight, desperate to reach her. His blade flashing in the sunlight, Cillian put himself between Thora and the first man in his way, stopping him before he could get too far. Around him, his men were doing the same, all of them fighting tooth and nail to stop the attackers from reaching Thora.

He couldn’t see Duncan or Archibald anywhere, though he knew they must have been there, fighting alongside the others. He didn’t have the time to search for them. He could only focus on the man in front of him, whose sword was fast approaching his neck before Cillian swiftly dodged it, jumping back out of reach. Before long, another blow came, the man aiming for his gut this time, but Cillian parried it with ease before swinging his sword in an arc to deliver a fatal cut to the man’s torso.

His body had not yet fallen to the ground when Cillian turned around to pursue his next target. His gaze fell on Thora first, though, who had been captured by one of the men. She was fighting back, resisting the man as he tried to pull her away from the camp, but it was clear he had the advantage of brute strength over her, large and imposing as he was.

“Unhand her!” Cillian demanded, but his voice was lost in the chaos around him, drowned out by everything else. He rushed after them, hoping Thora could at least delay the man long enough for him to reach them on time, but even as he pushed through the bodies on the ground, the soldiers still fighting around him, and the blades that met time and time again near his head, it was as though he was walking through molasses, his trek slow and laborious. For every step he took, the man took two, dragging Thora farther and farther into the shadows of the woods.

In a moment of despair, Cillian pushed through a group of half a dozen men, all of them involved in the same fight, shoving those who stood in his way aside. An errand blow caught him on the arm, slicing the skin there, but he paid it no mind as he came through to the other side, just short of reaching Thora. When he called her name, she turned her gaze to him, her eyes wide and filled with a panic that broke his heart.

She didn’t deserve any of this. She was too good, too kind-hearted for anyone to want to hurt her.

When she turned back to her attacker, the man stopped, his lips parting to speak. From where he stood, Cillian couldn’t hear their exchange, but he could see the moment when true terror struck her. Her skin paled, turning waxen, and she trembled from head to toe violently, her efforts to disentangle herself from him only doubling.

Just as Cillian reached her, she finally managed to escape from the man’s grasp. His hand shot out, ready to grab her and pull her to safety, but just as his fingers brushed against hers, a piercing pain exploded in his stomach, making his hand slip.

Cillian looked down in shock to see blood spreading over his clothes, drenching the fabric. A small blade jutted out of him, the carved, polished handle depicting a mythical beast. When he looked back up, the man was staring at him—Cillian could tell even with the hood that obscured his features.

The only thing he could see was his lips twisting into a smile before he fled, running away from the camp. Distantly, he thought he heard Thora call his name again and again in despair, but it was all drowned out by the ringing in his ears as the pain spread, radiating out to the rest of his body. The last thing he knew was his back hitting the ground just as the darkness swallowed him, the pain fading away into the shadows.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Nay… nay, nay, nay.

Enya’s hands hovered uselessly over Cillian’s wound. Her first instinct, of course, was to heal him, but with all those people around them, she couldn’t risk it. Someone was bound to notice and then Enya would have to come clean about her secret, telling the truth to everyone.

She could never do such a thing. Not only would she be damning herself but her entire family, as well.