Page 82 of Seduction in a Kilt

CHAPTER 36

When the guards came to collect her, they looked at her askance but said nothing. As she thought, their orders did not extend to policing what she wore. Two of them took hold of her upper arms and marched her between them down the stairs and into the great hall.

It was brightly lit with candles, and Carson was waiting there in front of a makeshift altar, along with a frightened looking minister clutching his bible. A small, silent congregation was seated on the benches set out in rows. As her captors dragged her up the aisle, Ivy glimpsed some familiar faces. None of them looked happy. To know others disapproved of what was happening gave her heart that she was doing the right thing by trying to make take a stance.

Carson’s face creased in fury when he caught sight of her. “What’s this? I told ye tae put on the dress!” he spluttered, his face reddening.

Ivy tilted her chin proudly. “I’m nae wearing that rag,” she replied in as steady a voice as she could muster. “I’m here tae finish this between us, Carson. I’m here tae cross swords with ye, fer the sake of our clan.”

“Ach, ye’re pathetic! Ye’re like a wee child, a story book heroine. Ye have nae power, none! Ye’ll get back up those stairs and get out of that ridiculous costume and try tae act like woman fer once in yer miserable life,” he yelled at her.

“I will nae!”

He bared his teeth at her and growled, “Very well, if that’s the way ye want it.” He took a menacing step towards her.

Suddenly, the air was shattered by the frantic, metallic clamor of alarm bells ringing all over the stronghold and echoing deafeningly from the walls. Though startled, she recognized the signal immediately. An enemy attack was underway! Oh, please, Lord, let it be Liam!

“What the bloody hell is this?” Carson bellowed, unsheathing his sword and staring at the doors. The guards in her escort hurriedly gathered around him, also unsheathing their weapons. That left only two men holding her, who were also distracted by the din coming from outside.

Ivy saw her opportunity to escape. While the men holding her were distracted, she twisted in their grip and kicked one of them hard in the balls. He screamed and doubled over in pain, releasing her arm. In a flash, she grabbed the hilt of his blade from its scabbard and stabbed her other captor in the belly, leaping away as soon as he let her go.

She ran towards the door, drawn by the shouting and crash of metal on metal coming from the other side, praying it was Liam and Knox and their men out there. But before she could reach them, the doors imploded inward with a loud bang.

There stood Liam, his bloody sword in one fist and his dirk in the other. He was panting, spattered with blood from head to toe, his bloody sword in his fist. His eyes scanned the room, while behind him, Ivy saw a phalanx of heavily armed Stewart soldiers.

“Liam!” she cried and raced towards him as the soldiers filled the room and engaged with Carson’s body-guard.

“Ivy, are ye all right?!” he exclaimed, opening his arms. She ran into them, and they embraced tightly amid the fighting.

“Aye, but all the better fer seein’ ye!” She kissed him on the lips joyously. “Ye got here just in time. Luckily, Gael is late to his own weddin’.” She kissed him again, tears straining down her cheeks. “I prayed ye’d come, but I wasnae sure if ye’d work out what had happened tae me.”

“The groom at the stable told us ye’d gone with Evander, and then I found yer ring on the track in the woods. We guessed the rest,” he told her with a smile.

“It was all I could dae after Evander attacked me and tied me up,” she explained. “I’m so sorry fer causin’ all this. Ye were right, I should never have trusted him.”

“Ye did what ye thought was right,” he said, itching to catch up with Evander and get his revenge.

“But now, I have a score tae settle with me braither,” Ivy continued. She looked across to where Carson was hanging back from the fighting. Liam followed her eyes. He saw her brother for the first time, a tall, powerful looking man in his early thirties, with the same dark hair and dark-blue eyes as Ivy.

But that was where the resemblance ended. Carson’s face was hard and marked by his evil deeds. He had a thick scar that ran from the corner of one eye to his hair line. He stood with his sword out, making a formidable figure as he taunted Ivy from across the room.

He waved at her and shouted, “Come on, then, little sister where’s yer fightin’ spirit? Come and show me what a brave wee warrior ye are! And bring yer friend too. I’ll tell ye what, if ye give up now and marry Gael, I’ll let him live. How about that?”

At that moment, a figure appeared next to him, also with his sword out. This man was shorter than Carson, with a barrel chest and bulging arm muscles that made him seem a fearsome foe. He had straggly, reddish hair and pale eyes, and his face had a sneering expression caused by a badly bent nose. It had clearly been broken and never reset.

“That’s Gael,” Ivy said.

“I thought it might be,” Liam murmured, dying to engage with the man who had helped terrorize his love for so long. He’ll nae make it out of here alive, he swore to himself. The pair started to advance on them, pushing through the fighting going on all around them.

“I’ll take Carson, and ye take Gael, and we’ll fight side by side,” Ivy said, looking up at Liam. She snatched a sword from a fallen soldier and wielded it to test its weight. “This’ll do nicely,” she added.

“Are ye gonnae fight or nae?” Carson taunted Ivy again as he drew within striking distance, while Gael grinned at Liam.

“Aye, ye murderin’ bastard, I’m gonnae fight, and I’m gonnae bring ye down! This will be justice fer Ma and Da,” she yelled and sprang at him, launching her attack.

Meanwhile, Gael squared up to Liam, who wasted no time but, with a wrathful roar, attacked him hard. Gael fell back a little but parried his strikes expertly as their blades clashed in what Liam intended to be a fight to the death—Gael’s death.

“Ye filthy, cowardly dog, ye’re gonnae die fer what ye’ve done tae Ivy,” he spat through gritted teeth, his hatred for the man fueling his blood-lust.