Stealing a Kilted Heart (Temptation in Tartan #8)

Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I t must be the Gordon Clan.

There was no doubt in Knox’s mind that this attack was Laird Gordon’s doing. No one else had reason to attack the castle. But if it was as he suspected, that could only mean that Callum had completely failed in his mission to gather information.

How could it be that he hadn’t sent a single letter all this time? How could it be that the Gordon Clan could be moving right under his nose and he didn’t even know?

Rage gripped Knox, the likes of which he had never felt before. This was one of his most important battles as the Laird of Clan Stuart and everything would hinge on this. The Gordons could decimate them with a well-placed attack. Their forces were equally matched in numbers and training, and Knox had relied on the information he received from his spies and his scouts to get ahead of Laird Gordon.

He was clearly not ahead anymore, but he had no one to blame but himself. He should have been firmer with Callum. He should have never allowed him to be the one to lead such an important mission, for he had always thought that his work was always lacking. Falling for his insistence and his stubbornness had been a grave mistake and he had known better than to trust him.

However, regrets wouldn’t help him now. He needed a plan, and to meet with Magnus. But first, he had to ensure Fia’s safety. If anything happened to her because, he would never forgive himself.

“I need ye tae hide,” he told her, turning around to look at her and grab her by the shoulders. “Me chambers are the safest place in this castle. I’ll have Bane take ye there.”

“Nay,” said Fia, shaking her head. “Nay, I can help. I am yer healer, I cannae hide while the soldiers need me.”

And need her they would, Knox knew. There were bound to be plenty injured and many more dead—not only soldiers, but possibly also women and children and elderly people who would be caught in the fight while attempting to hide or flee. Knox hated the thought of Fia putting herself in danger, but she was right; she was the healer of the clan. Those people needed her. This was why he had brought her to the castle in the first place, to help Effie in case of an attack such as this.

“Alright,” he said, mostly trying to convince himself that this was the right thing to do. Pulling her close once more, Knox kissed her fiercely, trying to pour everything he felt for her into it—the growing feelings, the longing, the desire to keep her safe. She would understand, he knew; they didn’t need to exchange any words. “Be safe.”

“Ye as well,” said Fia and then the two of them parted, she running to the great hall where they would receive the injured and he running to the courtyard for a first assessment of the damage.

The bell still rang in Castle Stuart, the sound almost completely drowned out by the shouts of men, some of whom were in his forces while others were Gordon’s soldiers, trying to breach the walls. Knox’s lungs filled with cold air as he rushed to the gates, his breath coming out in short puffs that fogged just past his lips, his boots thundering against the frozen ground. By the time he made it to the courtyard, the first line of soldiers was already there, forming their defenses, and Magnus was rushing back and forth in the crowd, shouting orders.

“Magnus!” Knox called, catching the man’s attention. He looked around frantically until he spotted Knox and then relief washed over him as he rushed to him, shoving a sword in his hands.

“Where have ye been?” he asked. “They’re about tae come inside.”

“We cannae hold them?” Knox asked.

Magnus only shook his head. So, this is how it would be, Knox thought. The Gordon forces would pour inside the castle grounds and then there would be no hope of ending this as bloodlessly as possible.

Men would die on both sides. But Knox knew that even if they couldn’t hold them, they could still defeat them. Even if he had to fight them all off on his own, with nothing but his sword and a prayer to God, he wouldn’t let them hurt his people.

The courtyard was suddenly bathed in light as his men lit up torches and small fires to illuminate the night. Suddenly, Knox could see the Gordon forces that had scaled the walls and were throwing themselves at his men who guarded the curtain walls, wave after wave of them pouring inside as though they were expendable.

And perhaps for Laird Gordon, they were. Perhaps the lives of those soldiers meant nothing to him and he was willing to sacrifice them all if it meant that he could get inside the castle walls—perhaps he would even succeed, as such ruthless plans often did. But Knox wasn’t willing to sacrifice his men like this. Their lives had value. They were not objects to be discarded.

Behind Magnus, the first wave of Gordon soldiers began to attack, jumping into the courtyard and knocking down the gate and its defenses. Drawing in a deep breath, Knox gripped his sword tightly, planting his feet as he waited for the enemy, his ribs rattling with how hard and fast his heart was beating.

His thoughts kept returning to Fia, who was in the great hall. For now, she was protected and Knox would do anything in his power to keep her safe, but who knew what could happen in the event of a complete takeover by the Gordon Clan.

However, Laird Gordon had no reason to harm her. She was a healer and could be useful to him. Knox had to trust that she would be safe, no matter what.

He wasn’t the only one there worrying about someone he loved. All his men had someone to protect, whether a parent, a wife, children or a sibling.

The courtyard was thrown into chaos as the Gordon forces attacked, clashing with Knox’s men. Without hesitation, he threw himself into the fight, falling into the first man he found in his path. Around him, Magnus and the rest of his men did the same, battle cries ringing out throughout the entire castle.

Knox swung his sword as he met his opponent, their blades clashing with a clang that echoed around them but was lost in the chaos of the battle. The other man was lithe yet fast, moving with precision, but he was still part of the first wave of soldiers, and it didn’t take Knox long to strike him dead. As the other feinted to the left, Knox saw right through his strategy and took advantage of the opening, his sword piercing him right below the ribs and slicing a clean line through his stomach.

He didn’t wait to see him hit the ground. Death and battle were nothing new for him, and before his opponent had taken his last breath, Knox had moved on to his next target, attacking with the same relentlessness.

How many lives would be lost, he thought with bitterness But what other choice did he have if he wanted to keep his people safe? Diplomacy hadn’t worked, and now he would make sure Laird Gordon would pay the price.

Working his way through the wave of soldiers, Knox, along with his men, managed to decimate Laird Gordon’s forces. He was bathed in blood, his skin and clothes stained red, his blade dripping crimson as it glinted under the moonlight. His chest heaved with every breath he took; already, he was tired and he knew this wasn’t the end, for Laird Gordon was trying his best to overwhelm them with numbers and a part of Knox feared that perhaps it was working.

For a moment, he looked around him and took in the carnage. Bodies from both sides littered the ground, and it was hard to tell which side had suffered the most casualties. Those of his men who still remained standing rushed around, trying to fortify the walls and their defenses, and to prepare for the next attack.

The ground, too, was soaked in blood, puddles of it forming under Knox’s feet. His boots sank into the softened earth. The air smelled metallic, and that familiar nausea gripped him as he stood there, waiting, his body trying to fight the stench of death.

The next attack came too soon, Laird Gordon’s men giving them no time to recover. The enemy forces poured into the courtyard once more, overwhelming those of the who were trying to guard the gates, and Knox had no choice but to throw himself into the fight once more, sword raised high as a scream was torn from his chest.

Every muscle in his body protested the fight. Every limb ached; every bone felt as though it was going to shatter under the force of his blows. And still, Knox picked his way through the soldiers, attacking anyone who got in his path and killing them swiftly and mercilessly. The faster they were done with this fight, the better it would be. If they could just fight fast and with efficiency, then he knew they could defeat the Gordons.

When a larger man walked into his path, Knox paused for a moment to catch his breath, wiping his bloodied hands on his clothes to stop his sword from slipping from his grip. The man didn’t look like the Laird Gordon’s other soldiers. He was older, clearly more experienced, with battle scars covering his arms and face, and Knox knew he held a high rank among Laird Gordon’s men.

And still, Laird Gordon was nowhere to be seen. He hadn’t yet dared to step foot in the castle and Knox doubted he ever would. He had been there from the start, fighting alongside his men, while Laird Gordon had been hiding behind his forces, too afraid to join the battle.

Knox stared at the man across from him with narrowed eyes, drawing in a few deep breaths through his nose. This, too, would be over soon, he told himself. If anything, it was lucky that the man was engaged with him and not with one of the younger, less experienced soldiers. Knox was certain he had killed his way through his men, just as Knox had done with Laird Gordon’s.

The man attacked first, barreling his way towards Knox, who met the first blow with his blade. The force of it reverberated up his arm, all the way through his body, and he stumbled back for a moment, hand flying out to steady himself. He was exhausted. The only thing keeping him going was the thought that if he stopped, his clan would be doomed. He shouldered the weight of every laird who had come before him, every man who had dedicated his life to this clan—many of whom had died in such battles. He thought about all the men before him that had stood there, sword in hand, facing an opponent they didn’t know if they could defeat.

Another attack, this one swift and precise, one Knox barely managed to dodge. His heels kicked up a cloud of dust behind him as he slid to the side and another soldier barely avoided colliding with him as he rushed off towards the walls. Knox didn’t have the time to see if it was one of his own or an enemy, but it hardly mattered. The man hadn’t given him a second glance. There, on the battlefield, it didn’t matter so much that he was the laird. He was just another body, just another hand with a sword.

Knowing he had to put an end to this fight before he was completely exhausted, Knox charged at the man, a deep, rumbling growl the only warning before he raised his sword and attacked. Their blades met again and again, clashing against each other, the two of them evenly matched, in a way Knox had rarely seen. Only Magnus had ever matched him like this. And now, in the heat of the fight, he could see there was already another.

Knox was exhausted by then, while the man had only just begun to fight. When the last blow came, Knox hardly saw it, his opponent’s blade flying through the air with a swishing sound and slicing him across the shoulder and chest. For a few moments, Knox didn’t register the wound. He was just surprised by how close the blade had come and so he moved backwards, trying to avoid another blow, only to realize that blood and pain both bloomed from his torso, the former dripping and making his clothes stick to his body while the latter radiated all over his limbs.

The ground met his body with a thud as he tilted to the side and collapsed. The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt before in his life. Though he had been injured in the past, no wound had been as severe, as debilitating. Never before had he been forced to watch, helpless, as his opponent loomed over him, raising his sword to deliver the final strike.

In a moment of clarity, Knox realized there was nothing he could do to do to save himself. He would die there, in that courtyard, with no heirs to speak of, and so he could only hope that the clan would go to capable hands. Magnus would have been his first choice, but since he wouldn’t be there to suggest it to his council, he doubted he would be the one to take the reins. Whoever they would choose, he hoped he would be a good man.

As long as it isnae Callum. That bastard.

Knox closed his eyes and surrendered to his fate, waiting for death. Only it never came. Instead, a pained gasp sounded above him, and he opened his eyes to see none other than Bane there, his sword having pierced clean through the other man’s chest. Fat drops of blood dripped down from him over Knox’s body, and the moment Bane drew his sword out of the man’s body, he fell to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been suddenly cut.

Who would have thought I’d be saved by… Bane?

Saved was perhaps a bit of an exaggeration, Knox thought in his last moments of coherence. Bane had killed the man, that much was true, but Knox had lost a lot of blood and the shock from the pain was not helping with his will to live. Distantly, he heard a panicked voice over him, which sounded familiar but which he couldn’t connect to a person. His eyes, though open, stared blankly at the sky above, seeing nothing but blurry faces and the orange glow of the flames around him.

And then, just as he drew a deep, shuddering breath, they saw nothing at all.