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“Broch!” came a furious roar from across the courtyard.
Sorcha whipped her gaze toward the animalistic sound as Broch obeyed. Her eyes met Cameron’s assessing ones, which darted from her head to her feet in a breath. Rage swept over his face, and an icy glare settled on Broch. “I’ll kill ye!” Cameron thundered.
“Cameron, nay!” she screamed, but her cry was lost beneath his deafening roar as he barreled across the courtyard and straight into Broch.
Twelve
The sight of Sorcha in a torn gown, with her hair a mess and cuts on her face was difficult enough for Cameron to see, but she was also gripped in Broch’s embrace. It made Cameron clench his fists. Then, when Sorcha demanded Broch release her and the man did not, Cameron’s anger exploded, and the innate need to keep her safe sent him barreling across the courtyard and straight at Broch.
He crashed into the Scot with a force that sent them both flying backward and to the ground with a hard thud, but the anger pumping through his blood shot him to his feet. Before Broch could gain his, Cameron’s fist connected with Broch’s nose. Bone cracked and blood gushed, but Broch was not a man to be easily felled. He swiped an arm out, catching Cameron’s left leg, and with a jerk, he pulled Cameron to the ground, all his breath whooshing out of his lungs and the courtyard briefly tilting as his thoughts jumbled.
“Cease this foolishness!” Marion bellowed.
Both men ignored her, Cameron rolling to his side as Broch lunged for him and missed. He scrambled to his feet, ducked a punch, and came up with a hard jab to Broch’s ribs. The Scot doubled over for a second, then came up swinging, his fist connecting with Cameron’s jaw. Pain throbbed through the entire left side of Cameron’s face, but he shook it off and hit Broch’s chin from underneath. After that, it was one punch after the other, warrior to warrior, rage to retaliation. Cameron’s blood roared in his ears, and as he pulled his arm back to hit Broch once more, it was caught from behind. His other arm was yanked up and behind him.
Panting, he turned his head to one side and received a dark scowl from Alex. Turning his head in the other direction, he received a furious glare from Angus. “Let me go,” Cameron growled, trying to twist free. Across from him, two of his warriors held Broch in a similar restraining hold.
“Do ye vow to keep yer fists down?” Alex demanded.
Cameron raked his gaze across Broch, and then around him where a crowd had gathered. “I vow,” he said in a low voice, “nae to hit him again, but I want him gone from here,” he bit out, seething.
Broch cocked an eyebrow at him and spit blood. He looked at Sorcha, who stood trembling between Marion and Bridgette, and back to Cameron. “Ye’d banish me from the clan because ye believe I have somehow hurt this woman?” Broch asked in a voice as low as Cameron’s.
“Ye had her gripped in yer hands,” he growled.
“Aye,” Broch snapped. “I did lose hold of my anger, but only because the lass almost got herself killed by using herself as bait to lead the two men who were shooting arrows at her away from us. She’s braw but foolhardy, and I suppose I thought to shake some sense into her head. If ye wish to banish me from Dunvegan for that, then so be it,” he said, tilting his chin up in challenge.
The news that someone had once again tried to kill Sorcha had anger battering him. Swift shame followed the anger. He had responded so violently against Broch, a man he had known and trusted for years. Guilt flooded Cameron along with the desire to shake Sorcha for endangering herself. He battled the need to pull her into his arms and press kisses all over her in relief that she had once again escaped unscathed. His emotions reeled so sharply, he felt as if the courtyard was spinning. He took a long breath to calm his heated blood before speaking.
Turning his gaze on Broch once more, he said, “I clearly dunnae ken all that has happened. I thank ye for keeping her alive, and I am sorry for the way I responded.” He owed the man that, but he could not leave it there. Fierce, raw possessiveness compelled him to say more. “But hear me now, Broch. If ye ever restrain her again, as ye just did, unless it is to save her life in that moment, ye will regret it. Do ye ken me?”
“I ken ye,” Broch clipped. “Bridgette killed one of the attackers, but one is still afoot.”
A furious tic began in Cameron’s jaw, along with rapidly growing fear. Sorcha had been attacked again, and he’d not been there to protect her. He kept his gaze carefully off her now, fearing that if their eyes locked, he would not be able to stop himself from taking her in his arms, soothing her, and assuring her she would be fine. He had to give orders. Make choices. Be the warrior he was striving to be. But soon, very soon, he would claim her mouth once more. She had almost been taken from him today. The thought sent ice through his veins and clarity into his mind. His heart squeezed tight. It was too late for him to deny her any longer. She was in his head, and likely his heart, just as Iain had said.
He settled his gaze on Marion and then Bridgette, taking care to skip over Sorcha. “Take Sorcha to her bedchamber and stay with her until I come. Can ye do that without getting into any more mischief, or do I need to send a guard with ye?”
Marion grimaced and inclined her head in acceptance, but Bridgette glared and let out a huff. “Aye, we can do that,” Bridgette muttered.
He nodded, then finally looked at Sorcha. His heart lurched at how fragile she looked, yet not fearful. The fear was gone. What was that emotion shining in her eyes? When her gaze bore into him and she tilted her chin up, it struck him—defiance and anger. He ground his teeth. “Ye,” he growled, “I will speak with shortly.”
“Possibly,” she snapped. “If I feel like speaking to ye after this”—she waved her hand at him and then Broch—“display!”
“I thought the man was harming ye!” he thundered.
Her eyes popped wide, and her lips parted. “I see,” she said very quietly, and he swore a small smile had tugged at the corner of her lips before she quickly got herself under control. “In that case, I’ll be willing to talk with ye later.”
With that, she turned with her head high and her spine straight as an arrow and walked toward the castle door with Marion and Bridgette trailing behind her.
“What?” he asked, sensing Broch’s gaze on him. “I said I’m sorry. What I did was nae acceptable.”
“It’s already forgotten,” Broch replied, and a ghost of a smile touched his face. “I stare because I did nae believe I would see the day that a woman tied ye into knots and caused ye to act crazed.”
“I’m nae in knots,” he bit out, all too aware of how irrational his denial sounded. He was grateful when Broch simply shrugged. Cameron motioned for Broch to follow him as he moved away from the other men. When they were alone, he said, “Tell me of what occurred today, from start to finish.”
Guilt flashed across Broch’s face, followed by anger. “It began this morning when Bridgette asked me to accompany her, Marion, and Sorcha to see Eolande.”
Cameron’s surprise at Broch’s words was so great that all he could do was gape at the man. Clenching and then releasing his teeth, he managed to say, “For the love of God, I kinnae imagine how ye allowed yerself to be talked into something ye ken I’d nae approve!”
