CHAPTER 39
Murdoc clamped his hand over Sìleas’s mouth as she fought to get out from under him. She could not hear the Green Lady’s weeping over his harsh breathing.
Even the castle’s ghost had deserted her.
“Your mother was a weak vessel,” Murdoc said. “Poking her was dull work. But a lively lass like you will surely give me a strong son.”
Murdoc suddenly released her as a murderous war cry rolled through the room like a thunderclap. Relief washed over her.
Ian had come for her.
Murdoc spun and drew his sword with lightning quickness. Although he blocked Ian’s thrust from reaching his heart, blood seeped down his arm, soaking the sleeve of his shirt. The clank of swords filled the room as the two men moved back and forth.
Sìleas hugged her knees to her chest as she watched and prayed.
Ian looked glorious, with his dark hair flying, and his blue eyes as piercing as a hawk dropping from the sky for a kill. The muscles of his body clenched and released as he swung the heavy two-handed sword in deadly, rhythmic arcs.
Behind the controlled violence, she felt Ian’s pulsing rage.
Time and again, he attacked, his blade slicing through the air with lethal force.
Another slash and blood ran from the top of Murdoc’s thigh, near his groin.
Another, and his shoulder bled. Yet Murdoc fought his way back each time.
He was a strong man and an experienced warrior, and he was fighting for his life.
The men grunted with the effort of their swings.
Blood sprayed the bed as the fight moved closer. When Murdoc fell backward against the bed, she scrambled to get out of his way. But Murdoc’s arm shot out, and she shrieked as he caught her ankle in an iron grip.
“Arrgh!” Murdoc screamed as Ian’s sword went through his belly, pinning him to the bed. In quick successive moves, Ian grabbed Murdoc by the hair, drew his dirk across Murdoc’s throat, and pulled his sword from Murdoc’s gut with a great sucking sound.
Ian stepped over Murdoc’s body and lifted Sìleas off the bed into his arms. She held onto him with all her strength.
“Hush, hush. I’m here now.” He soothed her with soft murmurs as he rubbed her back and kissed her hair. “I’ll keep ye safe.”
“Ian! We must go.”
At the sound of a man’s deep voice, she turned and saw Father Brian in the doorway. Smoke was billowing out of the stairwell behind him.
“Hurry,” the priest shouted. “The castle is burning.”
Ian lifted her in his arms. As he carried her out, she looked over his shoulder at the bedchamber that had been the place of so much of her mother’s suffering.
Smoke was filling the room so rapidly she could barely make out Murdoc’s body on the floor.
The last thing she saw gliding through swells of gray was the flash of a pale green gown.
The smoke was so thick in the stairwell that she could not see Father Brian ahead of them, but she heard him coughing. Her eyes watered and her throat burned. When they reached the bottom, Niall and Payton were waiting for them just inside the hall.
The two were surrounded by the bodies of dead men.
As soon as Ian set her on her feet, the four of them ran along the wall toward the front door of the keep.
The smoke was not as thick in the hall, because the fire was hot here.
Everything that could burn—rushes, tables, overturned benches—was ablaze.
As she watched, flames shot up from the high table and ignited the wooden ceiling.
She prayed that Dina had escaped, for there was no one else in the hall but the dead.
“I’ll go first. They may have men just outside, ready to cut us down as we come out,” Ian warned before he opened the door.
That was what he would have done, but when he stepped outside, it appeared that the MacKinnons had abandoned the castle altogether. The bailey yard was empty save for Dina, a goat, and a few squawking chickens.
“Ye should have seen Niall,” his father said, as he came down the steps of the keep one at a time.
He was covered in blood and leaning on Niall for support, but he was grinning as if he’d never been happier.
“We stood together, with him covering my weak side, and cut down every MacKinnon who dared come near the stairs.”
Ian tightened his arm around Sìleas. He couldn’t join in their good humor over their success. The vision of his wife held down on a bed with a man standing between her legs was still with him—and would likely haunt his dreams for a long, long time to come.
“Father Brian was a sight to behold,” Niall said, laughing. “He didn’t want to use a sword or dirk, so he went ’round hitting MacKinnons on the head with a silver candlestick holder.”
“There was little fight left in them by then,” Father Brian said. “Between retching and the fire, they fled like rabbits.”
“Dina and I poisoned their ale,” Sìleas said in a quiet voice.
“Clever lasses,” his father said, beaming at her.
While the others continued sharing stories, Ian pulled Sìleas against his chest and closed his eyes. Praise be to God he had found her.
His eyes flew open at the sound of boots on the wooden planks of the drawbridge. He pushed Sìleas behind him and drew his claymore just before a dozen men poured through the gate.
“It’s Gòrdan,” Sìleas said.
Ian relaxed his stance when he saw that it was, indeed, Gòrdan, and he was leading a group of MacDonald men.
“We’ve taken Knock Castle!” his father greeted them, raising his sword to the sky.
The men took in the smoldering keep and the bailey yard empty of MacKinnons and lowered their weapons. To a man, they looked disappointed.
“I could only gather a dozen men quickly,” Gòrdan said, as he approached them.
“I’m grateful to ye for coming,” Ian said and saw the pain in Gòrdan’s eyes when they flicked to Sìleas.
Gòrdan turned away and fixed his gaze on the smoke billowing out of the open doors of the keep. “I thought ye would need help, but I can see ye didn’t.”
“I do need your help,” Ian said.
Gòrdan turned back. “Good. What would ye have me do?”
“It’s near dark, so we’ll have to stay here overnight,” Ian said. “But in the morning, I must see my family home and get Connor to the gathering. Can ye hold the castle for me for a time?”
“Aye. The guardhouse hasn’t been touched by the fire, so we can sleep there,” Gòrdan said.
“I’ll send one man to the gathering tomorrow night to speak for all the men here.
” His gaze roved over the smoldering keep again.
“With so much stone, the keep won’t burn long.
We’ll save what we can, but I suspect there won’t be much. ”
Ian thought of all the bad memories Sìleas had of this castle, which was to be their home. He didn’t want to keep a single stick of furniture, sheet, or floorboard.
“Let the men have anything they can salvage,” he said. “Sìleas and I will start anew.”
From the way Sìleas squeezed his hand, he knew he had made the right decision.
“Are ye all right, lass?” his father asked her.
While Sìleas talked with his father and Niall, Ian drew Gòrdan away for a private word.
“There’s another favor I’d ask of ye,” he said in a low voice.
Gòrdan looked at the ground and kicked at the dirt with the toe of his boot. “Ye know I owe ye after what my mother did.”
“Can ye take care of Dina after we leave in the morning?” When Gòrdan’s head snapped up, Ian added, “Just until I can find someone else to take her in.”
“Is she your mistress?” Gòrdan hissed, his nostrils flaring. “I said I owe ye, but I’ll no help ye deceive Sìleas.”
“Ye misunderstand me,” Ian said, putting a hand up. “There will never be another woman for me but Sìleas.”
Gòrdan’s lips were pressed into a hard line, but he was listening.
“I doubt we would have all gotten out alive without Dina’s help,” Ian said. “I don’t like leaving her unprotected. Will ye watch over her and see that’s she’s safe?”
Gòrdan looked over at Dina, who was standing alone, hugging herself against the fine mist that had begun to fall.
“She’s made mistakes,” Ian said. “But we all deserve a chance to redeem ourselves.”
“Aye, we do,” Gòrdan said with a tight nod. “I’ll see her safe.”