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Rory Mac quickly answered the call, bringing his horse near. “Aye,my lord?”
The emphasis on the wordsmy lordwas not lost on Cameron. Rory Mac was not used to answering to him. The man was much like an older brother to Cameron. Rory Mac had seen him at his most foolish and angry, and when he spent entirely too much time wooing countless lasses to fill the loneliness that keeping his brothers at a distance had caused. Cameron had learned slowly to allow them closer and not to always expect that they would belittle him as their father had done. The need to still prove himself worthy burned inside him, but differently now. He wanted to be trusted to help protect the clan, not for glory or praise. This was his chance to show his brothers that he was capable of a commanding role so they would rely on him as fully as they did one another.
He would not fail.
Cameron glanced in Rory Mac’s direction but could not see his face in the darkness. The awkward feeling of the reversal of positions could not be allowed to inhibit his command. He’d asked the king for this assignment, and he could ill afford to have any mishaps. The king had been leery about acquiescing to Cameron’s request, but he’d done so after Iain had spoken up and said he believed Cameron was ready for the position. The support had shocked Cameron. Knowing that his brother may actually finally believe in him had moved something within. It was a foreign feeling, but one he was glad to experience. He prayed his brother’s faith was not ill bestowed.
“Go explain to Lady Mortimer that her yelling in the forest when we are trying to travel in stealth could be the verra thing that gets her killed,” Cameron clipped out.
“Aye, my lord,” Rory Mac said once more. “Being a commander seems to come naturally to ye,” he added with gruffness before doing as he had been ordered.
The words made Cameron smile, despite his tension. They were as close to a compliment as the Scot had ever given him.
He stared in the direction of the trail of the Marching Oaks. Darkness was both his enemy and friend right now, as was the rain. He would need to be ready for anything. Taking a deep breath, he let out an owl call, alerting his men to advance.
Two
Sorcha saw Hugo before she heard him, but only because he was carrying a torch. His horse bolted from between two trees, and when he glimpsed her and extinguished the torch, the blackness swallowed him whole. Yet she knew he was still there, in spite of the fact that she could not hear his horse’s hooves because of the pouring rain. Hugo was not the sort of man to give up on something simply because a problem—her—had arisen. She glanced toward the trail, obscured in darkness and then toward where Hugo had been. She started to give the order for her horse to flee when the reins were snatched from her hands.Hugo!He yanked back hard. Summerset whinnied loudly and reared back her head.
“What the devil are ye doing?” Hugo demanded in a voice just fierce enough to be heard over the rain. The darkness may have concealed his features, but the anger in his tone was easily discernible.
Her mind raced, and before she could think of an answer, she felt motion to her left. A horse brushed her leg and a hand gripped her by the arm. Fingers dug mercilessly into her flesh. “Answer now, Sorcha,” came her brother’s voice, his words cold as ice.
Her heart hammered so hard she feared she could not form words, let alone a believable lie. “I overheard Father speaking with the two of ye, and I wanted to help,” she replied truthfully.
“Ye wish to help kill the king’s mistress?” Hugo asked, his disbelief evident in his tone.
She nodded, barely containing her sigh of relief that Hugo had drawn such an erroneous but beneficial conclusion.
“Damn yer eyes,” Finn snarled. “Ye betray me—yer own brother.”
Sorcha sucked in a sharp breath at the barely contained anger in his voice. She could see how he’d think that, given Father had said he would give Blair Castle to her as a wedding present after Hugo killed Katherine.
“Finn, nay! ’Tis nae what ye think!” But she could not explain more. Not now. Not with Hugo listening.
“Hugo,” a man hissed from behind her, making her jump. She had not even heard anyone else approach. “Someone is coming!”
Before she knew what was occurring, Finn had released his hold and her horse was being turned. “Wait by yer sister,” Hugo commanded. “Keep my future wife safe.”
Finn muttered his disgust but led her through the darkness until she felt a branch brush against her cheek. “Dunnae move.” He spoke so near to her that she jerked. His warm breath washed over her. “That castle is mine, Sorcha. I’ll be killing the mistress. Nae ye and nae that damnable Hugo.”
The air swished around her as he moved away, but she blindly reached out and grasped his arm. “Finn, nay,” she whispered furiously hoping no one else could hear. “Ye must nae do this!”
“I am soaked to the bone!” a woman cried out.
Sorcha released Finn and moved her horse toward the voice, filled with the certainty that the woman had just sealed her own death. “Lady Katherine!” she screamed.
Lightning slashed across the black sky, illuminating it long enough to see a fair-haired man at the front of a group of warriors. Their gazes locked before the night closed around them again. Thunder boomed, as did Sorcha’s heart. Then the clank of swords meeting resounded around her.
Blindly, she urged her horse forward toward the woman’s whimpering voice. A second voice, deep and male, demanded the woman’s silence, but her cries grew louder. Thunder shook the earth again, and lightning once more slashed across the sky to illuminate the melee. All around her, men battled one another. To her right, the whimpering woman was on horseback, three guards surrounding her. One of Hugo’s men struck down the man closest to the king’s mistress, then a couple of arrows sliced before Sorcha’s face. She stared in horror as the arrows hit Katherine’s two remaining defenders.
A war cry came from the darkness that once again blanketed them all, and thunder and lightning crashed. When she could see again, she screamed at the sight of Hugo beside her, bow raised and arrow aimed at the king’s mistress. Hugo released it as the fair-haired man she’d seen a moment ago cut down two of Hugo’s men to get to the woman. But it was too late. Hugo’s arrow struck with athunk, straight into the woman’s heart.
“Flee!” Hugo roared.
Before Sorcha could decide what to do, a hand slapped Summerset on the flank, and her horse took off so suddenly that she nearly toppled from the back of the beast. Fear raced through her as she reached out, searching for the reins that had been snatched from her. Branches whipped across her face, leaving a trail of stinging skin and warm, trickling blood. Tree limbs snagged her sides, cut her legs, and caught the sleeves of her gown, ripping the material as Summerset surged forward, too terrified to heed Sorcha’s commands to slow.
The jolting ride rattled her teeth, and sharp pain shot up from her bottom and along her spine. Her head pounded as she leaned farther down over the horse, feeling around frantically for the reins now. Finally, her fingers grazed the rough leads, and she began to sob, grasping them and sitting up as she pulled back. Relief flooded her, but it was fleeting as Summerset neighed loudly and something knocked Sorcha in the middle of her forehead. A horrified scream was ripped from her as she flew off the back of her destrier and landed hard on the ground. Her head smacked against a rock that robbed her of all thought.
