Page 57 of The Highlander’s Savage Vow

Fight back. Dinnae let him take ye without a fight.

She slashed wildly with the dagger, forcing the assassin to step back as she fought with the fury of a cornered wildcat. Around them, the battle raged on, but she was trapped in her own deadly dance with death.

The assassin's sword swept toward her again, and she barely managed to deflect it. The force of the blow sent her stumbling backward toward the fountain.

This is it. I cannae hold him off much longer.

Her arms ached from the effort, and she could feel her strength failing with each desperate parry. The assassin sensed her weakness, pressing his attack with renewed vigor.

If only Ruaridh were here. If only he hadnae gone tae the village. God help me, I'm going tae die alone in this garden, and he'll never ken how much he means tae me.

The blade descended for what she knew would be the final time. She raised her dagger one last time, knowing it wouldn't be enough.

But just as the blade descended for the final time, the thunder of hoofbeats echoed through the garden, and a familiar war cry split the air.

"Fer MacDuff!"

Her heart nearly stopped with relief and desperate joy.

He’s back. Thank God, he came back. I'll nae die alone.

Ruaridh charged through the garden entrance astride his horse, his sword already drawn and gleaming in the morning light. His eyes found her instantly across the chaos, and she saw something terrible and beautiful in his face—the cold fury of a Highland warrior protecting what was his.

Without hesitation, he leaped from his saddle and threw himself into the fray, his blade cutting down the assassin threatening her before the man could react. Steel met steel as Ruaridh positioned himself between Iona and the remaining attackers, his movements fluid and deadly.

"Stay behind me," he commanded, never taking his eyes off the enemies surrounding them.

The remaining MacNab infiltrators quickly found themselves outnumbered and outmatched. Real MacDuff soldiers, finally able to distinguish friend from foe and with their laird among them, pressed the attack with renewed fury. One by one, the disguised assassins fell or surrendered, their clever plan undone by superior numbers and Highland steel.

As the dust settled and the last of the fighting died away, Ruaridh turned to Iona. His green eyes swept over her, taking in her torn dress, the small cut on her throat, the dagger still clutched in her trembling hand.

"Are ye hurt?" His voice was rough with concern and barely controlled rage.

"Nay," she whispered, though her whole body was shaking now that the danger had passed. "I'm alive. Ye came back."

"Aye," he said simply, reaching out to gently touch the thin line at her throat. "I came back. And, it seems, just in time, too."

The gentle contact of his fingertips against her skin sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with fear. But when he pulled his hand away and saw the blood there, something terrible transformed his face. His jaw went rigid, his green eyes blazing with a fury so cold it made her step back.

"How?" The word came out flat, deadly. She'd never heard his voice carry such menace. "How did MacNab bastards get inside our walls?"

Duncan approached them cautiously, blood on his sword and wariness in his weathered face. Even he seemed afraid of Ruaridh's mood.

"They may have been here fer days, sir. Studying our routines and everything to fit in easily."

"Someone gave them information?" Ruaridh's voice dropped to a whisper that made Iona's blood run cold. "Someone helped them."

She watched him survey the surviving guards with eyes sharp as winter steel. These men had just fought and bled to protect her, but Ruaridh looked at them like he was weighing each one for treachery.

"Line up every soldier in this castle," he commanded, his voice carrying absolute authority. "Every guard, every man-at-arms, every stable boy who can hold a blade. Training grounds. Now."

"Sir?" Duncan's eyebrows rose.

"We're going to find out how many more wolves are hiding in our fold." Ruaridh sheathed his sword with a sharp snap that made her flinch. "And God help any man who fails tae convince me of his loyalty."

When he turned to her, his expression softened only slightly. She could still see the rage burning beneath the surface, carefully banked but ready to explode.

"Come. We're going inside."