She laid her hand on his arm, as she knew Rhian would have done, had she been here. “Alasdair, we need ye on the field, aye.” She could barely imagine heading into battle without him. All she’d ever seen when on the way to fight was his broad back. “But we need ye well and strong still more. Please go back to your bed.”
“My bed!” Bitterly he spat the words. “If I am to die, Mistress Saerla, it will be wi’ a sword in my hand.”
“No’ this time,” she told him softly. “No’ this fight.”
She looked around wildly. All the warriors stared, at a loss. She caught young Calan’s eye and gestured him over. “Please, Calan, escort Master Alasdair back inside.”
Alasdair glared at her. He glared at Moira and the unfortunate Calan in turn.
“Alasdair,” Moira said so low only the four of them heard, “ye can barely stand. Wha’ use will ye be to me in battle?”
“Let us carry this fight,” Saerla begged him swiftly. “Let us defend the place we all love.”
She would take a place at the forefront of the battle, among the first to meet the men coming ashore. All she had to do was locate Rory MacLeod and kill him.
*
Rory, balanced withhis feet wide in the lead boat, listened to the creaking of the oars and the silken splash of the water on the hull. He’d ordered silence, always essential during a raid. So far his men made a fine job of it.
The scent of the loch rose all around him. A familiar scent, bred into his bones. His limbs twitched, ready to launch him forward as soon as they hit the far shore. The hole in his back screamed at him, though, more than he would have thought possible.
Do no’ think o’ that. ’Tis just pain. Pain could be dismissed. His intentions could not.
He kept his eyes fixed on the MacBeith stronghold ahead, situated halfway up the opposite rise. No matter who might be in charge there, they were no fools. Men would be on watch.
His approaching forces, no matter how quiet, would soon be spied.
He knew the moment it happened. He could not hear the cries go up, the distance being too great, but torches bloomed all along the battlements and then out in what must be the forecourt. He could almost see dark figures running hither and yon.
Would they march out to face him? Or would they stay behind their walls and defend? He scowled over the question. He’d not had any luck breaking through their defenses. Still, his men who’d gone around by the burn brought a battering ram.
They’d almost had success with that last time. Before he’d taken that damn arrow in the back.
“They’ve seen us.” The mutter spread from man to man and boat to boat, little more than a breath of wind. Rory steeled himself. Not all these men he’d brought with him would make it home again. At least, not alive.
He always tried to collect as many of his dead as possible. To be sure, sometimes they had to be abandoned. Left lying on foreign soil.
He’d feared Leith dead, following that battle in which he’d been injured. The flank had taken a pounding that night, and—
His boat grounded on the shore, and he left off thinking. The instant his foot hit that soil, he left off being a man, and became a warrior.
No mercy. No quarter. And no regrets.
Chapter Six
They burst outof the stronghold in formation, with Moira at their head, Farlan and Saerla just behind. Moira had tried to persuade Saerla to stay back and oversee the defense of the keep, as she had at times in the past. Saerla, her sword already drawn, refused.
How could she slaughter Rory MacLeod if she did not face him in battle?
So Moira assigned Farlan the task of keeping close to Saerla’s side. Saerla had one glimpse of them sharing a fervent embrace before they marched out—warriors instead of lovers.
They did not know whether they would return together. None of them did.
For the first time, Saerla was glad Rhian was safe at MacLeod. At least she would survive. And her wee bairn, not yet born. Because everything within Saerla insisted this would be a dire battle. A costly one.
She ran off anyway into the dark with her fellow clansmen—men she had known all her life and with whom she’d trained—thundering around her. Driven by the fear inside her, fear of what could be so much worse than this battle, she would not hesitate.
Find Rory MacLeod. Kill him.
