Page 44 of Laird Of Her Heart

Dominic peered over the rise at a sight that curdled his blood. The enemy had his castle surrounded. Their bluidy blue banners snapped merrily in the wind. Thank God it was nearly nightfall and they weren’t quite set up for an attack. Torquil would most likely wait until dawn. For now, he had his drummers playing and his men chanting and pounding their spears in an attempt to frighten the castle denizens.

He’d trained his people, warned them what tactics an enemy might take. He hoped they remembered his exhortations. He also hoped that Angus was fleet of foot. That he would bring reinforcements from the other clans. Judging from the army Cameron had amassed, they would need help fighting them off.

For now, he had to get into the castle.

It was a damn shame he had his best strategists with him. Between Declan and Liam, no one was better.

“Come on,” he whispered. Voices carried on the night air. “To the sally port.” It would take them a while, as he knew they had to go on foot, and circle the valley. If they were lucky, they’d get there by dawn.

As they made their way through the woods, parallel to the enemy’s camp, campfires flared and the Camerons settled in for the night. Dominic knew it was far too soon to feel relief, but he was glad they had not elected to attack at once.

No doubt, they felt confident that their presence would be intimidating enough to keep their prey on edge all night.

To his surprise, he saw an arrow, one lone flaming arrow arch from the ramparts and through the sky. It landed woefully short of the enemy camp, thudding impotently into the dirt. His chest clenched. Who the hell was running things on the ramparts? Did they not know the range of an arrow?

But then, to his surprise, other arrows began to fly—and not from the castle. From the woods. A fiery rainstorm of them. And they kept coming. He watched in shock as the blazing arrows landed on the Cameron tents throughout the camp, on their supply carts and their war machines, wreaking havoc.

One arrow hit their trebuchet and it exploded into flames.

Cries rose and men scattered, batting at flames and running for water.

Dominic bit back a smile.

Brilliant.

Brilliant strategy.

Who was running the defenses from the ramparts?

Whoever it was, they would be joining his elite team of warriors…if they all survived this.

With the Camerons distracted, Dominic and his men raced through the woods toward the sally port, the secret gate that led into the castle. Dawn was just breaking as Dominic pulled a stone from the wall and pulled out the hidden key. He fit it in the lock. It creaked as he turned it.

The door had not been used for decades and the gate had rusted. There was a mound of dirt blocking its path. Dominic set his weight against the bars and pushed it open. It took a while to create a passable gap.

He eased through and his men followed.

Liam was the last through. He set his shoulder to the grate to push it closed. It resisted. “I’ll lock it,” he said. “You go on.”

Dominic nodded and sped up the stairs, through the second and third gates, which opened and locked using a series of hidden levers.

They emerged in the larder, behind a shelf of crockery and raced through the castle halls into the bailey. Then they bounded up the rampart steps.

Dominic stopped short.

Maggie—glorious and fierce, with her hair streaming out behind her—stood by Ewan, barking out commands.

And his men were obeying her.

It took a moment for this to sink in.

He cleared his throat.

She whipped around. Her eyes widened and her lips parted. Damn, she was beautiful in the soft morning light. A flush rose on her cheeks. “Dominic.”

“Maggie. I…what are you doing?”

Apparently she did not care for his tone. She set her fists on her hips and snapped, “Mounting the defense of your castle.”