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He glanced to the left, where Thor grazed, away from the camp. If he dealt with the enemy quickly, they’d have a chance to run for Thor and—

But they didn’t have a chance. Not with six against one.

The only chance was for Kate to go alone.

“Ye have to promise me, lass,” Ian said. “If ye see me fall or if I tell ye, run to Thor and get away. Go alone to Inverlochy.”

“No, Ian! Never.”

“Aye. Promise. If ye care at all about me, run.”

“I can help you—”

“Nae, ye canna. We’re losing time. Promise. Now.”

Her chin shook, and her neck became red and blotchy.

“Ian, no—”

He already hated himself for the pain his words would bring her.

“Ye are a burden to me,” he said. “I canna protect us both now. If ye want to help me, ye must go.”

She gasped without a sound. Pain distorted her face, and her eyes filled with tears. She shrank visibly, her shoulders curling inward. Her hand clutched her stomach.

Ian’s fists clenched helplessly. He wanted to hit himself for hurting her like that. But it was for the best. It was to keep her alive. He would likely die now. He couldn’t bear the thought of her being left alone to them.

“Promise,” Ian hissed. When she said nothing, he pressed. “Relieve me of yer burden. Now.”

She looked down and hunched.

“Yes,” Kate said. “I’ll go.”

Ian breathed out. “Thank ye.”

He looked from behind the tree again. The English were advancing towards them. He had to protect her.

He looked over his shoulder at her. “When I tell ye to go, ye go. Ye promised me. Aye?”

Kate nodded solemnly, hurt and fear in her eyes. He nodded back. Then he turned to his attackers, unsheathed his claymore and went.

He didn’t even have time for a prayer. Just the war cry must do. “Cruachan!”

They looked surprised as he launched at them, probably because he attacked them alone instead of running. Ian used that surprise to his advantage. He slid to the left, slicing the outermost man’s side, then ran farther behind them, making them turn around away from Kate.

Five.

The bowman shot, his arrow missing Ian by an inch. One of the swordsmen came at him. They clashed together in a scrape of iron against iron. The man attacked swiftly, but he wasn’t experienced. Ian slashed him in the chest, and he fell. Two more came.

They were different. Heavy bangs met Ian’s sword from both sides, and he barely jumped back in time to avoid the soldiers’ following thrusts.

It was when the third man joined, and arrows continued to fly at him, barely missing him, that he knew that he was finished.

“Goooooo!” he yelled as he danced with death.

A flash of gold and gray in his side vision told him Kate ran. Iron-hot pain burst in his side—he’d missed the thrust of a sword as he’d allowed himself one look at her.

She was on Thor, staring at him.