Page 87 of Highland Spy

“I was away from the castle when it was first attacked,” he said. “There was a valid reason for it, but that’s for another time, aye?”

Now was not the time to get into the betrayal, nor the brotherly affection he could not deny—even after all these years.

Kenneth Gordon.

Damn him. Even after Connor had vowed not to mention him, not to think of him, the image of the dark-haired man Connor had considered a brother was forefront in his mind.

Ariana nodded. Connor pushed aside Kenneth’s image and continued on. “I had Cora with me. We heard the sounds of battle before we saw it.”

Cora’s hand was hot in his, and even in his anger he worried he might be clamping down on her slender fingers too hard. He loosened his grip and opened his mouth to speak when a loud pop sounded in the distance, like the blast of a pistol. The wind blew against them and carried with it the raucous cry of men’s voices and the acrid odor of gunpowder.

All coming from Urquhart Castle.

Connor’s muscles bunched along the back of his neck. He remembered too well when they had finally seen the castle. “Urquhart was under attack by another laird, a trusted friend to our family.”

Kenneth Gordon’s da, laird of the Gordon clan.

Connor didn’t say his name, though. It meant nothing to Ariana, and meant far too much to him.

“I tried to leave Cora in a safe place so I could help defend the castle. But the lass always had too much spirit for her own good and followed behind me to join the fight.” He shook his head. “I dinna know she’d do it. I should have, but I dinna. I was thinking only of the battle. It was…”

He trailed off, remembering.

Blood bathed everything in a wash of thick crimson. It left the ground underfoot slick and seasoned the air with its metallic odor.

Connor slid his blade free and let his body explode toward the attackers, his rage building with all the bodies he ran past. Soldiers and unarmed men alike struck down by blades.

The women and children were somehow blessedly absent, most likely sequestered in the church.

It was then he caught sight of the structure, and its gaping door.

And the grisly shadows moving within.

The women and children were not being spared after all.

“It was chaos,” Connor concluded. Divulging details to a woman recently horrified by violence was hardly wise.

“I was fighting among my father’s men, but we were severely outnumbered. I’d been determined to stay and fight until my dying breath when I heard Cora cry out.” The scream echoed in his mind like a nightmare. The hairs on his arms rose. “That’s when I knew she’d followed me. My castle needed me, but so did she. I had to make a choice.” He clenched his fist. “And I chose her.”

Ariana said nothing as he spoke. She nodded in quiet appreciation.

She knew.

She understood.

As he knew she would.

“I managed to fight the men off Cora,” he continued, “and dragged her away from the castle.”

Rage pumped through his body like liquid fire. He didn’t remember killing the men in his blind fury, but they lay suddenly dead at his feet and their blood spattered the stonework around them. Cora allowed herself to be pulled up and dragged away without protest.

Together they ran from the castle until Connor’s legs burned from the effort. Until he was comfortable she was far enough away.

“This time ye dinna move, aye?” His demand came out in a growl. He’d never spoken to Cora so, but did not wait for a reply. He turned back toward the castle below, intent on returning to help—and stopped.

He was already too late.

Connor had to swallow before he could continue. “In the short amount of time it took to get Cora to safety, the Gordons defeated the Grant men and captured my da.” He squeezed his fist tighter, until his knuckles ached. “There were at least twenty men surrounding him. My da never stood a chance.”