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Cameron found he could kill just as easily blinded as with sight. Sound guided his movements, and rage made him quick and deadly. He cut down a man to his right and struck two to his left. Then, as a sword sliced behind him whispering death in his ear, he whipped around, lunged forward, and sliced his blade through soft flesh and hard bone. With a grunt, he yanked his sword from his enemy’s torso and whirled around to face another foe. Lightning illuminated the area where he stood as rain pelted him. In the brief flash of light, he saw that Katherine was lying upon the ground unmoving. Kieran MacLeod and two of the king’s men were lying near her, also unmoving, and their attackers were fleeing.
“After them! All of ye!” he ordered, even as he dismounted to help the king’s mistress and the injured men. At least he hoped they were merely injured.
Stark terror mingled with rage as he strode through the darkness. Guided by memory, he moved toward where he had seen Katherine and the men. His boot had touched a body before he realized he was upon one. He kneeled, his knees hitting the now-soggy ground and sinking into the muck. He strained to see, sweeping his gaze first over Kieran and then one of the king’s men. Both were dead, killed by well-aimed arrows to the head. The storm lit the sky once more, showing the other king’s guard with a slit throat, open eyes, and an open mouth.
Cameron moved instinctively toward Katherine. His heart thudded heavily as he slid his hands up her body with care, feeling for injury. The silk of her gown was wet, whether from the rain or from blood he wasn’t sure. When lightning split the sky once more, it illuminated her long enough for him to see the crimson soaking her gown, upon his hands, and on her face where he had slid his hand to find her neck and cradle it.
“Katherine?” He pulled her close, and the metallic smell of blood filled his nostrils. With trembling hands, he found her nose. He placed one hand on her chest to feel for her heartbeat and one hand below her nose, hoping her breath would tickle his fingers. Nothing. No beat, no breath, just eternal stillness. Death hung over her, and guilt cloaked him.
You are unworthy,his father’s long-ago voice whispered in his head. There would be grave consequences for Katherine’s death, but not now, not while his men were pursuing the attackers.
He whistled loudly for Winthrop, and when the horse nuzzled Cameron in the shoulder, he swung onto the beast’s back and sent out a loud sea hawk call. Immediately, calls came back from his men, letting him know the directions in which they had scattered to give chase to the enemies who had fled like cowards. Blessedly, the rain stopped, and he stilled for a moment, listening. Horse hooves pounded somewhere from the left. He turned Winthrop and raced toward the sound. As he rode out of the thickest part of the woods, a small measure of light from above guided him.
He sent the call out again, then following it, he drove Winthrop over a crest and down a steep, rocky embankment before crossing a stream into a much less dense part of the forest. As he galloped toward the answering sound of his call, his mind swung to the woman with the long, pale hair who he had seen just before the battle had begun. What in God’s name was a lass doing in a party of murdering men? Had she been taken by them, or was she with them voluntarily?
Early-morning light trickled through the branches in this part of the forest. He blinked, his thoughts abandoning the unexpected woman as his eyes adjusted and fixed on Alex battling two men in the distance. Cameron tapped Winthrop’s flanks with his heels, urging his destrier into a faster pace. He drew his sword high as he surged toward the man on Alex’s left. He struck a blow to the man’s sword arm, but he surprised Cameron by ducking and slashing his sword at Winthrop. Cameron jerked his horse back and dismounted in a flash, sending Winthrop to safety while whirling to face the man who was charging him.
The enemy attempted to hit him from the left, but Cameron easily defended the attack, rid the man of his sword, and felled him with a quick, savage cut of his blade to the man’s chest. The enemy gripped himself and fell sideways to join his comrade, who Alex had killed.
“How many?” Alex demanded, light from the rising sun washing over his face as he wiped the sweat and blood running down his forehead and into his right eye.
“How many left, or how many dead?” Cameron asked.
“Dead by yer sword?”
“Five including this one,” Cameron responded, gesturing to the man on the ground.
Alex jerked his head in a nod. “I killed two,” he bit out.
“Both men?” Cameron asked, thinking once again of the pale-haired lass.
“Ye saw her, too? I thought I imagined it.”
“Nay,” Cameron said with a frown. “What ye saw was real.” The woman’s presence was a puzzle, but it was one that would have to wait. He let out another owl’s call, and one came back loud and from the right.
Quickly moving toward the dead men, he glanced down, dismissing the first almost immediately. He didn’t recognize the man, and the stranger had no distinguishable characteristics that might aid them in discovering who had attacked them. But the second man’s eyes were wide in death and quickly caught Cameron’s attention.
“Do ye recognize him?” he asked Alex.
“Nay. Do ye?”
Cameron shook his head and kneeled, then bent closer so his face was right up to the man’s. He hissed in a breath. “He has one green eye and one blue eye. And look at the scar on his cheek.” It was shaped like a bolt of lightning.
“Shall we take him with us?” Alex asked, leaning in beside Cameron.
“Nay. We can ill afford to be slowed with enemies still lurking. He’ll be easy enough to recall. I dunnae imagine there is another man with two such colored eyes and that sort of marking on his cheek,” Cameron replied. He stood abruptly and whistled for Winthrop. He trotted over, as did Alex’s destrier. Once they had both mounted their horses, they rode fast in the direction of the answering call from moments before. He released two more calls to guide him to his men.
They crested a hill, and in the distance, he saw his men gathered. He counted them quickly and cursed, searching the men to see who had fallen. Who was not there? As he rode closer, his gut twisted with the realization that there was a body slumped over the front of a horse manned by another rider.
His and Alex’s men stood silently watching their approach. Cameron stopped in front of Broch, his second-in-command after Rory Mac, and with a nod of acknowledgment to the man, he moved closer to Rory Mac, who was slumped over the front of Broch’s horse. By the horse’s feet lay a dead enemy. Cameron touched Rory Mac’s shoulder, but he did not otherwise move. With a grunt and help from Broch, they shifted Rory Mac into an upright position as gently as possible. He winced when he saw the deep wound at Rory Mac’s midsection. It was a blessing the man had passed out. With care, he probed the wound to judge its severity.
Fear threaded through him. This was a killing wound. There was nothing he could do now except get Rory Mac to Dunvegan Castle and to Marion, Iain’s second wife and a woman with great knowledge of the healing arts. “Can ye ride with him?” he asked Broch. Rory Mac was not a small man.
Broch’s hard stare met Cameron’s. “Aye.” He slid an arm around Rory Mac’s midsection and together they leaned the man back against Broch. “I’ll watch over him. I vow it.”
Cameron gave a brief nod before sweeping his gaze over his men.
“I counted ten enemies,” Cameron said. Nods of agreement came from the others. “Two have escaped us?” he asked. He presumed it was so, but he wanted confirmation.
