Swords raised, their faces masks of violence, a stream of knights flooded Rónán’s view. “The guard have opened the castle road!”
“God’s teeth!” Craigshyre clashed with the next assailant, then continued to move back.
Lathir slashed her attacker across the neck; he collapsed. “We will have to fight our way out.”
Screams of steel and cries of pain rang out over and again as Rónán and the others worked their way into the woods. He searched the violent scene, cursed the number of knights they’d lost.
Craigshyre shouted.
After a final blow to his opponent, Rónánglanced over.
The noble lay sprawled upon the snow, blood streaming from his gut.
“Kieran!” Lathir drove her sword into Craigshyre’s attacker, then raised her weapon as the next foe charged.
Blast it! Rónán bolted over, helped her fend off several guards as her knights surrounded them, creating a barrier between them andthe attackers.
Breath coming fast, Lathir knelt beside her betrothed. “Kieran.”
Face ashen, eyes dark with pain, he took in the blood streaming from his wound. “Leave me,” he rasped. “Go before you die.”
Like Hades! Rónán grabbed the reins of a nearby steed, shoved them at Lathir. “Take Lord Craigshyre to Wynshire Castle!”
Her mouth tightened. “I willna leave you.”
“If your betrothed stays here, he will bleed to death.” If the enemy didn’t kill him first, a fact Rónán refused to mention. “Your father needs you as he recovers as well. Nor can you disregard the fact that the arms Lord Sionn holds along with his support, as Craigshyre’s, are imperative to King Robert’s success.”
Snow-laced wind whipped Lathir’s face as she hesitated. “But—”
“I have a plan to hold off the enemy while you escape,”Rónánrushed out as he struggled to devise a way to stall Lord Ardgar’s men. He gestured to several guards before she dug in her heels to stay. “Place Lord Craigshyre on his steed. Lady Lathir will be riding with him.”
Hereyes narrowed.
“Go!” Rónán shouted. “I will follow shortly.”
“Swear it!” she demanded.
Well aware, regardless of any plan he invented that would buy him and his men time, ’twould leave little hope for their escape. Rónán nodded. Though she would despise him for never returning, ’twas a small price to pay for her life. “You have my vow.”
Her breathing unsteady, her face strained with worry, for a moment he thought she’d run to him.
Two warriors lifted Lord Craigshyre up on his mount, while another held her steed.
Tears glittered in her eyes.I love you, Rónán, she mouthed.
His heart ached and he longed to confess his love, to hold her, to kiss her, but the time for such luxuries was past. He prayed that if not in love, Lathir would have a good life. With a nod, gusts of wind picking up, Rónán pressed his fingers against his mouth, touched his heart, then stepped back.
Face a mask of grief, she swung up on her destrier. Turning, she dug her heels into her mount and led her betrothed on his steed, along with a significant portion of their force into the dense woods.
Against the increasing wind, Rónán and the remaining men battled their way deep into the forest. Within the trees, Rónán guided his men in tactics learned as a Templar. Strategies designed to stall their foes and allow them to continue to withdraw.
The pounding of waves below echoed like thunder as, with the sun slowly rising in the sky, he kept his small group within the dense forest, but near the cliffs.
Themorning passed.
After numerous small skirmishes, the number of guards he led had dwindled to a handful. He took in the sun’s position. By now Lathir, Craigshyre, Lord Sionn, and their contingent were well en route to her home.
Rónán drove his sword into the next aggressor. As the man tumbled down the snow-covered incline, he led his guard along the edge of the cliffs to a denseswath of trees.
