Morag's hands flew to her mouth.
The world froze for a second as Alistair, his expression frozen with surprise, teetered in place for a moment. Then he fell to the ground with a solid, final thud, his blood soaking the ground where he lay.
The guard holding Morag released his grip in his shock, while the Campbell guard yelled and dropped to his knee beside his fallen Laird. Others nearby turned and stared or cried out or shouted in shock and horror at what had just happened.
Morag did not stop to think. She broke free and rushed forward through the crowd to Christopher's horse. Christopher rode forward, heedless of those he sent scattering to the side, clearly only interested in reaching her. He stretched down with his hand and she grabbed onto him, allowing him to haul her up onto his horse with one swift move.
Morag clambered behind Christopher and wrapped her arms around his waist as he reared Beatha then turned and raced back the way they came. Christopher passed her his bow as he held tight to Beatha's reins, and Morag hesitated only for a second. She still wasn't confident in using the weapon, but as she raised it, she remembered night after night training with Christopher, the gentle way he taught her, the way he held her as he corrected her stance. There was no balance now from the back of this horse, but Morag took a steady, calming breath, feeling Christopher's closeness and using it as an anchor.
She took aim and fired once, twice, three times. She wasn't aiming to kill but to disable and disarm anything to keep those rushing them away. As they raced toward the main gates, Morag protected them with everything she had, fighting until she had no arrows left.
They burst through the gate with a triumphant yell from Christopher, but guards on horseback soon followed. Morag tucked the bow over her shoulder and held onto Christopheronce more, clinging tightly to him as he urged Beatha to speed up.
The wind whipped at Morag's face, lashing her skin and tangling her hair, and she cried out in defiance as the two of them and Beatha sped toward freedom.
"Ye came back for me," she shouted over the wind.
"I'll always come back for ye," Christopher told her. "Always."
For the first time in her life, Morag had someone she knew she could trust. And that knowledge was more powerful than any fire, any flame, or any arrow. She buried her head against his back and closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the moment, her heart bursting with love where fear had once been.
The dense forest rose before them, and as Beatha hurtled along the path to shelter, Morag knew that she may not live to enjoy it, but she would be free at last.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Christopher was shaking badly by the time he finally allowed Beatha to slow down deep in the forest. They couldn't hear the pursuing guards anymore, and Christopher was at last confident enough that they had enough distance to stop. He dismounted awkwardly without any of his usual grace, then turned to help Morag down. When she took his hand, she was shaking too, her skin cold, but her cheeks rosy and her eyes wild and alive.
"Are ye all right? Are ye hurt?" he asked her anxiously.
He'd already asked her several times as they rode, but he needed to besure.He lowered her to her feet on the ground, checking her over. There were more bruises and small cuts than when he'd last seen her in the tower, and some red burn marks on her hands and singed material at the end of her dress, but she otherwise looked fine. Only the angry bruise on her cheek looked bad.
"Did they hurt ye?"
"I'm fine, Christopher. I promise," she replied.
Tears filled her eyes and she reached up to touch his cheek. He leaned into the gentleness of the touch, closing his eyes at the soft comfort the gesture brought.
"I'm fine. What about ye? Are ye hurt? What happened tae ye?"
He opened his eyes again to see her watching him with concern written all over her face. Forcing a smile, he said, "I'm fine." Then, as she frowned, he relented. "I… Ian captured prisoners. Important prisoners. Me friends. He hurt them. Ordered me taekilla lad, someone who's almost family. I got them out of there, but we barely escaped with our lives."
Morag took his hand and squeezed it. "But ye did. Ye escaped and ye helped them tae do the same. And then ye came for me. I?—"
But before she could finish what she was saying, a woman's scream echoed through the trees. Morag's eyes widened and Christopher's heart sank. He recognized that scream.
Without a word, he started to run, Morag's hand in his as they raced through the trees toward the sound. Beatha followed behind, loyal as ever. As they ran, Morag's hand was tight in Christopher's, and her skin was ice cold from fear. He wished he could comfort her, but the closer they got, the louder the screams, accompanied now by grunts and shouts of male voices.
The fierce, familiar crash of sword on sword rang through the air, though there was none of the friendliness of training. Two people were fighting nearby with the kind of earnestness that only ended in one thing.
For a brief moment, the image of Alistair Campbell's pale face crashed across Christopher's mind's eye. That man, the man who had been responsible for Christopher's birth, had been a monster. He felt no guilt for letting him die. But to take a man's life was harder than he'd expected, even one like Campbell.
Christopher could not let anyone else die.
They burst through a dense bush into a large clearing and found a scene of true horror waiting for them. Bile rose in Christopher's throat.
He'd tried so hard to get the McKenzies away, but Ian had caught up to them anyway. Now, Rory and Ian fought fiercely in the center of the clearing, both bloody, neither showing any mercy. Alexandra stood nearby, weaponless and desperate, clinging tightly to Splendor as though she needed to hold on rather than collapse. There was no sign of Ian's horse.
"Christopher!" Alexandra shouted as soon as she caught sight of them.
