Page 5 of The Highlander’s Savage Vow

CHAPTER THREE

Ruaridh MacDuff's sword took the MacNab bastard through the spine before the sentence fully left his mouth. The man dropped like a stone, his spear clattering harmlessly to the ground beside the woman he'd been about to murder.

Iona.

Even in the chaos of battle, even after fifteen years, he'd known her instantly. Auburn hair catching starlight, those defiant hazel eyes that had gotten them both into trouble as children. But she wasn't the laughing girl who'd dared him to climb the highest tower in her father's castle. She was a woman—curves where there had been sharp angles, grace where there had been skinny limbs.

Focus. The battle first. Everythin' else can wait.

"Ye’re safe now" He kept his voice clipped, professional, as he extended a hand to help her up.

She stared at him for a moment. "Ruaridh? Is it really⁠—"

"Aye. It’s me. Can ye stand?" He cut her off, pulling her to her feet with perhaps more force than necessary. He ignored the shuttered look that came over her features.

Around them, his men were finishing off the remaining MacNab soldiers with ruthless efficiency. The tide had turned completely—what had been a massacre was now a rout.

Good. Let them run back tae their master with tales of MacDuff steel.

"Aye, I can stand," she said, brushing dirt from her torn dress. "But Ruaridh, Murray is here. I saw him meself, leading the attack."

Murray MacNab had come personally to oversee Iona's murder. The insult, the threat, the sheer audacity of it made his blood sing with rage.

This ends taenight.

"Where?" His voice came out as a growl.

"I’m nae sure… "

"Brodie!" Ruaridh barked at his lieutenant. "Take the lady to safety. Guard her with yer life. "

"Ruaridh, wait—" Iona started, but he was already moving.

He turned back long enough to state between gritted teeth, "Ye’ll be safe with Brodie. I'll come tae ye when it's over."

The battlefield stretched before him, littered with bodies and the groans of the wounded. His men moved like shadows among the carnage, finishing off enemies and checking their own casualties. Professional. Efficient. Deadly.

He picked his way through the gore, eyes scanning for any sign of Murray MacNab. The bastard had to be here somewhere. Men like Murray didn't run from fights—they stood and gloated over their victories, savored the fear in their enemies' eyes.

A movement near the standing stones caught his attention. A figure on horseback, watching the battle's end from a safe distance. Even in the darkness, Ruaridh could make out the MacNab colors, the arrogant set of the man's shoulders.

"There ye are, ye coward."

He sprinted light footed toward the stones, but the horseman had seen him coming.

With a sharp whistle that carried across the valley, Murray MacNab wheeled his mount around and disappeared into the darkness beyond the ancient markers.

Ruaridh cursed as Murray's horse disappeared into the tree line. The coward had been close enough to smell, close enough to end this nightmare permanently. Instead, he'd run like the craven dog he was.

Run then. Run back to whatever hole ye crawled out of. But this isnae over.

"Sir!" A lieutenant appeared at his elbow. "Should we pursue?"

"Nay. He kens these lands too well, and he'll have fresh horses waitin'." Ruaridh spat into the dirt. "But he'll be back. Men like Murray dinnae give up easy."

The man nodded but didn’t move an inch awaiting his master’s orders.

"Double the watch when we reach MacDuff lands. Send riders tae every outpost—I want tae ken if a single MacNab crosses our borders." Ruaridh's grip tightened on his sword hilt. "And send word tae me faither. Tell him Murray MacNab declared open war taenight."