Page 130 of The Laird’s Sinful Claim

He blocked a thrust from yet another soldier, countered with a slash that opened the man's arm. The soldier fell back, and David pressed forward, driving him toward the edge⁠—

Pain exploded across his shoulder.

David staggered, his left arm suddenly weak. An arrow. The shaft protruded from his shoulder, just below the joint.

"Me laird!" Someone grabbed him, pulling him back from the wall edge.

"I'm fine." David broke the arrow shaft off, leaving the head embedded. Nay time tae deal with it properly. "Back tae the wall. We hold it."

But the wound was bad. Not fatal—nowhere near vital organs—but deep enough that his left arm was already losing strength. He could still fight one-handed, but his effectiveness was halved.

"David!" Tristan appeared beside him, his face streaked with blood and soot. "Ye're hit."

"I noticed."

"Ye need tae fall back. Let the healer take care of ye,"

"Nae yet." David scanned the wall, assessing their position. They were holding, but barely. Exhaustion was setting in. Men were wounded, flagging. "How's the gate?"

"Reinforced. But it willnae hold much longer if they keep at it." Tristan grabbed his good shoulder. "David, we need fresh men. We're runnin' on fumes here."

"Send up the reserves. Have them relieve the most exhausted defenders." David moved toward another section of wall where the fighting was particularly fierce. "And get word tae the archers tae focus on anyone carryin' a ladder. We cannae keep fightin' them off if they keep comin'."

BOOM

The gate shuddered again. David could hear the wood cracking, see the huge beam behind it starting to bow.

"Fall back from the gate!" he called down. "Get ready tae defend the courtyard if they breach!"

But even as he gave the order, something changed in the battle's rhythm. The assault on the walls was slowing. Ladders were being pulled back. Langley's men were withdrawing.

"What are they daein'?" Tristan voiced the question David was thinking.

David watched as Langley's forces pulled back to a safe distance, regrouping. The battering ram fell silent. The arrow fire stopped.

"Regroupin'," David said. "Probably thought they could take us in one push. Now they're realizin' it's goin' tae be harder than they expected."

"How long dae ye think we have?"

"Hard tae say. Could be minutes. Could be hours." David pressed his hand to his wounded shoulder, feeling blood seep between his fingers. "Use whatever time we get. Get water tae the men. Tend the wounded. Repair any damage tae the defenses."

"And ye?"

"I need tae check on Elinor. Make sure she's alright." David moved toward the stairs, his shoulder throbbing with each step. "Then I'll be back. This isnae over yet."

"David." Tristan caught his arm. "That wound needs tendin'. Properly. Before ye lose too much blood."

"After I see me wife."

"Stubborn bastard."

"Aye. Always have been."

David made his way down from the walls, moving through a courtyard that looked like a battlefield. Wounded men were being carried to the great hall. Others were catching their breath, gulping water, checking weapons.

They'd held. Against superior numbers and a determined assault, they'd held.

But David knew this was just the first round. Langley would come again. Harder. Smarter. He'd probe for weaknesses, find ways to exploit them.

And next time, they might not be so lucky.