Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The first scream cut through the chaos like a blade.
Mhairi's head snapped up from where she'd been preparing bandages at the medical station. Through the smoke and dust, she could see the main barricade buckling under the assault. Riders were trying to force their way through, their horses screaming as arrows found their marks.
"They're breakin’ through the eastern barrier!" Kenina shouted, grabbing Mhairi's arm. "We need tae get the children further back!"
Mhairi didn't hesitate.
She dropped the bandages and ran toward the cottage where a group of children huddled behind stacked firewood, their eyes wide with terror. An elderly woman crouched with them, trying to keep them quiet, but panic was spreading fast.
"Come on," Mhairi urged, reaching for the nearest child, a girl perhaps six years old. "We're movin’ ye further intae the cellars. Now."
"I want me mam!" the girl sobbed.
"I ken, dear, but right now I need ye tae be brave and—"
The crash of splintering wood made them all flinch.
Mhairi spun to see three riders burst through a gap in the eastern defenses, their swords already bloody. One of them spotted the children immediately.
"There!" he shouted, spurring his horse toward them.
Mhairi's hand closed around a spear someone had left leaning against the cottage wall. She planted herself between the attackers and the children, the weapon raised despite her shaking hands.
"Get back!" she screamed at the riders. "Ye'll have tae go through me first!"
The lead rider laughed, a cruel sound that made her stomach turn. "Gladly, lass. Though I'm guessin’ the duke will want ye alive when we hand ye over."
He dismounted, approaching with his sword drawn. Mhairi thrust the spear at him, forcing him to step back.
"Stay away from them," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Stay away or I swear I'll—"
He lunged.
Mhairi jabbed with the spear, catching him in the shoulder. He cursed, stumbling back, but before she could press her advantage, another soldier grabbed the spear shaft and yanked it hard.
Mhairi refused to let go, pulling back with all her strength.
Behind her, the cellar door stood open, she'd sent the last of the children down with Kenina just moments ago.
At least they were safe.
"Run!" Mhairi shouted toward the cellar, praying Kenina would get them deep enough underground to be protected. "Get tae safety!"
The soldier yanked again, and this time Mhairi's grip slipped. She stumbled forward as a third man appeared from nowhere and grabbed her arm.
"Got ye," he snarled.
Mhairi kicked out, her boot connecting with his knee. He swore but didn't let go. Instead, he twisted her arm behind her back hard enough to make her cry out.
"Stop fightin'," he growled in her ear. "The duke wants ye unharmed, but he didnae say anything about a few bruises."
"Let me go!" She thrashed in his grip, trying to break free.
But another soldier joined the first, and between the two of them, they wrenched the spear from her hands completely.
Mhairi fought like a wildcat, knowing she was alone now—Kenina was underground with the children, the other villagers were scattered, fighting their own battles. There was no one to help her.
She kicked, twisted, bit down hard on one soldier's hand when it came too close to her mouth. He yelped and backhanded her across the face, stars exploding in her vision.
"Behave," he snarled, "or the next one will be harder."
Through the blur of pain and panic, Mhairi's mind raced. At least the children were safe. At least Kenina had gotten them away. That was something. That had to be enough.
In her mind, she saw children's faces pressed together in a cellar, deep below ground. As they dragged her out, she saw villagers trying to help but being cut down by Graham's soldiers. She saw the organized defense crumbling into chaos.
And then she saw Alpin.
He was at the main barricade, his sword a blur as he fought off three attackers at once. But even from that distance, even through the smoke and confusion, Mhairi saw the exact moment he realized she was being taken.
His head whipped toward her. Their eyes met across the chaotic square.
And something in his expression transformed from controlled fury to pure, primal rage.
Alpin saw red.
One moment he was fighting defensively, holding his position at the barricade like he'd ordered his men to do. The next, he saw Mhairi being dragged toward a waiting horse by two of Graham's soldiers, and every strategic thought fled his mind.
"Mhairi!" he roared.
He abandoned his position without hesitation, cutting down the man in front of him with a brutal slash before charging toward her.
Villagers and warriors scattered as he barreled through, his sword swinging in wide arcs that forced everyone, enemy and ally alike, to get out of his way.
"Alpin!" Callum's voice, desperate. "The barricade, we cannae hold without ye!"
"Ye have tae!" Alpin vaulted over a broken cart, his eyes locked on Mhairi's struggling form. "I'm getting’ her back!"
A Graham soldier moved to intercept him. Alpin's sword took the man's legs out from under him without breaking stride. Another tried to block his path, Alpin slammed into him shoulder-first, sending him sprawling.
He was perhaps twenty yards away when one of the soldiers holding Mhairi managed to lift her onto a horse despite her violent resistance. She clawed at the man's arm, her nails leaving bloody furrows, but he held fast.
Alpin grabbed a fallen spear from the ground and threw it with all his strength.
The weapon flew true, slamming into the rider's back with enough force to punch through his leather armor. The man's eyes went wide with shock. His grip on Mhairi loosened, and then he toppled backward off the horse.
The animal reared, panicked by the violence and the smell of blood. Mhairi, still partially on the saddle, was thrown clear. She hit the ground hard, the impact driving the air from her lungs.
Alpin was running before she finished rolling. Ten yards. Five.
Then hoofbeats thundered behind him, and a voice cut through the chaos.
"You!"
Alpin spun just in time to raise his shield as Ashcombe's blade crashed down. The impact jarred his entire arm, but the shield held.
"She's mine!" Ashcombe shouted, his face twisted with rage as he guided his horse in a tight circle for another pass. "Legally purchased, witnessed, documented!"
"She's nae property tae be stolen!" Alpin blocked another strike, this one aimed at his head. "And she's certainly nae yers!"
"I paid a lot of scots fer that girl!" Ashcombe's next blow came from the side, forcing Alpin to dodge rather than block. "She belongs tae me by right of law!"
"Yer law is trash!" Alpin caught the next strike on his sword, metal shrieking against metal. "Ye have nay rights! "
They clashed in the center of the village square, the battle raging around them fading into background noise.
Ashcombe fought from horseback, using his mount's height and weight to his advantage. But Alpin was faster, more agile, and absolutely consumed with fury.
He ducked under a wild swing and hamstrung Ashcombe's horse. The animal screamed and went down, throwing its rider. Ashcombe hit the ground hard but rolled to his feet with surprising speed for a man his age.
"Ye're good," Ashcombe panted, blood trickling from a cut on his forehead. "Better than I expected from a Highland savage."
"And ye're slower than I expected fer a man who thinks he's so superior." Alpin circled, looking for an opening. "All that English refinement must weigh ye down."
Ashcombe lunged, his blade flashing in the morning light. Alpin parried, riposted, forced the duke back three steps. They traded blows in a deadly dance, neither giving ground for long.
"She's wasted on ye," Ashcombe snarled between strikes. "A girl that beautiful, that spirited, she deserves better than some backwater laird playin’ at nobility."
"She deserves nae tae be owned." Alpin's next strike came close enough to Ashcombe's throat to draw a thin line of blood. "Something ye're apparently too thick tae understand."
Behind them, Mhairi had managed to crawl to safety behind an overturned cart. Alpin caught a glimpse of her pale face, her wide grey eyes tracking their fight, and felt his resolve harden.
He would end this. Now.
Alpin pressed his advantage, driving Ashcombe back with a flurry of strikes that had the duke scrambling to defend. The older man was tiring, his movements becoming sloppy, his breathing labored.
"Yield," Alpin commanded, his blade at Ashcombe's throat. "Yield and get off me lands."
"Never." Ashcombe's eyes blazed with defiance. "I'll hunt her tae the ends of the earth before I yield what's mine."
"Then ye're a fool."
Alpin was raising his sword for the killing blow when movement at the edge of his vision made him hesitate. Graham, directing his men to circle around the village's weakened defenses.
And Peadar, spurring his horse toward the scarred laird with murder in his eyes.
Alpin's attention snapped toward the sound of clashing steel. Through the chaos of the battle, he saw Peadar and Graham locked in combat at the edge of the square.
"Graham!" Peadar's roar carried across the battlefield. "Face me, ye coward!"
The scarred laird wheeled his horse around, and even from a distance, Alpin could see the cold recognition in Graham's eyes. The two men charged at each other, their swords meeting in a brutal clash that sent sparks flying.
Alpin wanted to go to his friend's aid, but Ashcombe was already rising, reaching for his fallen sword.
He couldn't leave the duke, not when the bastard was still dangerous.
"Kill him, Peadar," Alpin muttered under his breath, keeping his blade trained on Ashcombe while his eyes tracked the fight across the square.
Peadar fought with a fury Alpin had rarely seen. It wasn't just about the battle or protecting the village. It was personal.