After she entered Maili's chamber, he climbed the spiral stone staircase and exited onto the ramparts. He had wanted to spend some extra time with Kristina, but that was not to be this evening. He was glad she'd found a new friend in Neacal's sister. Truth be told, he actually needed some time to think anyway, to clear his head and figure out what he wanted.
The west wind from the sea blew hard over Loch Moidart. And 'twas much colder today than it had been only a few days earlier. Winter was certainly on the way.
He would have to return to Rhodie Castle soon, before the weather turned severe. But he didn't want to leave. Everything was completely unresolved for him. With each new moment he spent with Kristina, he was more and more drawn to her beautiful soul. But could they build a life together? Even though he knew she had a passionate spirit… was she physically too fragile to cope with a regular life as someone's wife… as his wife?
He knew not what to do. His life had become both incredibly joyful and turbulent since he'd met her. He wished he could see into the future to know how everything would turn out.
***
Holme and his two comrades watched Rhodie Castle from the cover of the wood, as they had been doing for days. He hated hiding out like an outlaw, stealing food from the nearby village to survive. He had to do what he'd set out to do soon or go mad with the anticipation. The need for revenge slithered through his veins like so many vipers. He kept seeing Colin Cameron's face, the way he'd looked when he'd first snatched Kristina from him—the look of a fierce and determined warrior.
Holme could be equally fierce and determined when he wanted something.
The distant clang of the Rhodie Castle portcullis being raised riveted his attention. "Nock your arrow," Holme whispered to Dobson. "Scroggie, hold the horses at the ready."
He followed Dobson a few yards farther along to a position with a better line of sight. Whoever had left the castle would have to pass this spot.
As he watched the four riders drawing closer, he realized that the middle-aged man with the graying beard who rode in the center of the three younger guards was indeed Maitland Cameron, the chief. He remembered him from years ago.
"This is our chance," Holme whispered, his heart pounding with eagerness. "Shoot the bastard in the middle—the one with the gray beard and red sash."
Aiming, Dobson drew the bow back and let fly the arrow. It struck a tree limb with a snap and went askew.
"Damnation," Holme hissed, grabbing the bow from Dobson's hand. "Give me an arrow."
Luckily for him, the horses' hooves pounding the dirt road covered the sound of the arrow hitting the limb.
After he quietly sprinted to a better position, he nocked the arrow and aimed, making sure no tree limbs blocked the line of sight. He released the arrow at precisely the right moment. It flew straight, striking the Cameron chief in the lower abdomen.
Holme couldn't believe it. He was stunned for a moment, unable to move.
Pandemonium broke out below. The chief shouted, and his horse danced about. The guards went berserk, yelling. Two of them leapt off their mounts and dragged the bleeding chief from his horse, the arrow still embedded in his lower abdomen.
Holding a targe before him, the other guard rode closer. "Assassins in the wood! Get him back inside the walls!"
"Let's go." Filled with dark satisfaction, Holme ducked low and ran toward Scroggie and the horses. Finally, he had avenged his father.
As Holme mounted, the distant shouts still echoed. No doubt all the Cameron guards would be riding through this spot in a matter of moments. Assassination of a chief was not taken lightly.
"Ride as fast as you can," Holme warned. "If they catch us, they will not let us live."
