Chapter Nineteen #3
Breath held, he yanked out the blade and threw it. Ivar howled. Lorna shoved the Viking’s arm away and spilled across the bed in her attempt to get away. Logan reached for her while Ivar clutched his arm, and dragged her from the tangle of blankets and into his side.
The Viking lifted his pain-stricken gaze to Logan’s and yanked the blade from his bicep.
Logan did not give him a chance to react.
With his weak arm, he lunged forward. Ivar’s eyes bulged, the nursemaid in the corner screamed and even Ewan decided to make his presence known the moment Logan’s blade met flesh.
His blade slid from Ivar’s gut when the man fell to his knees with a thud, kicking up dust. Lorna pressed her face into Logan’s neck to hide herself from the man’s gurgling noises and strangled expression.
Logan watched coldly. This man had tried to take everything he treasured from him. He had no sympathy for him.
Ivar’s eyes fluttered shut and he slumped forward. Logan turned away and drew Lorna from the scene. He held her head against him, grateful for her trust and bravery, and kissed her soft hair.
“I must return to battle. Ye’ll be safe now.” Her body trembled against him, and he realised how much her courage had cost her. He couldn’t be prouder of his wee Highland lass.
Before he released her, Alana cried out, “They’re retreating.”
Logan released Lorna to ease open the shutter on one of the windows and peer out.
Sure enough, what remained of Gillean’s army were scattering to the hills.
A triumphant roar echoed across the vast Highland landscape.
Logan narrowed his eyes at the grey shapes that appeared to be chasing some of the men away.
Wolves? Why were wolves so close to the castle and at this time of the day?
He blinked. Mayhap he had been knocked on the head during battle.
He motioned to Lorna, who approached with Ewan in her arms. “Do ye see them?”
She peeked past him and scowled. “Wolves? What are they doing?”
They watched the men race across the purple and green knolls before disappearing over the edge.
When the last were run off, the wolves too slunk away.
Logan could only shake his head in disbelief.
Aye, they attacked humans sometimes but rarely during the day, and most packs would never dare attempt an attack on so many.
He looped an arm over Lorna’s neck, turned and faced her.
She softened into him, her eyes lit with hope and love.
It filled his chest and he stroked a hand over Ewan’s face before kissing his mother.
He kissed her gently, aware of the tiny child between them, but her sweet lips moving against his fired his passion.
He’d have to take her to the battlements again soon, he decided.
She must have seen his wicked intentions as desire flashed in those pale eyes, darkening them.
A tiny smile slid across her lips telling him.
.. soon. Soon they’d start their life together properly.
Properly.
“Ye’ll be marrying me after this, lass.”
“I will?” The tilt to her lips grew in amusement.
“Aye, ye will. No arguments. For once in yer life, do as yer told.”
“No man can command me,” she told him, raising that adorable freckled nose, “but my heart can. I cannae think of anything I’d like more.”
He shook his head and kissed her again until they both grew breathless. Alana clapped her hands and squealed, dragging his attention away. He nodded toward the women and the laird. “Ye should stay here until we’ve ensured the keep is secure.”
Catriona shook her head. “Nay. Finn is down there and who knows who might need our help.”
Alana nodded and he glanced at Lorna to see arguing would do no good.
He could understand their need to check on the casualties.
There was a chance their husbands had been killed in battle.
He prayed not. If he survived and they did not, fate was indeed cruel, but after witnessing the strange behaviour of the wolves, he could not conceive it.
Someone, or something, wanted them to be triumphant. He felt it in his bones.
Hand to his sword, he led the women down the spiral stairs, aware the two people who held his heart were behind him.
When he stepped into the hall, he heard Lorna’s gasp and reached for her free hand to clasp it.
The hall was littered with debris—tables were broken, candelabras knocked to the ground.
The tapestry on one wall had a slice through it.
Several injured men were being brought in from outside but he saw no sign of Finn or Morgann yet.
“We must see to the injured,” Lorna whispered. “My brother is likely still outside, securing the keep.”
He heard the tremble in her voice and when he glanced back at the other two women, he saw their ashen complexions. Though they too held their composure and he marvelled at these lasses.
“Stay here while I check outside,” he ordered.
The three women hurried over to check on the men by the rear of the keep.
Logan grimaced as he spied some of the bloody injuries.
The battle for the keep might be over but the battle for these men’s lives was not.
He could almost smell the acrid scent of singed flesh and his scar ached.
Mayhap they would deal with their injuries with better grace than he had.
Spinning on his heel, he clutched his sword.
They may have seen off the majority of the enemy but there could be some lingering, hoping for a fight.
An odd clunking sound registered and he heard Lorna scream.
Before he turned, pain blasted through his shoulder and the force knocked him to the ground.
His vision blurred and he rolled onto his side.
Gaze narrow, he pushed a breath through his teeth and saw a familiar figure step out from behind the door.
Though his shoulder burned, his blood ran cold. He blinked to clear the grey edge encroaching on his vision. Gillean held a crossbow. He had it directed at Lorna and the babe. She froze for only a second before twisting to shield the baby. Everyone else in the room stilled.
Gillean stepped past him, bringing the deadly point closer to Logan’s family. The laird’s footsteps rattled his head and he concentrated on squeezing his eyes shut and pulling them open to clear his vision and to draw his mind away from the agony.
“Ye,” Gillean said, jerking the crossbow in Lorna’s direction, “have been a blight on my plans for too long.”
Logan’s vision cleared suddenly. Blood rushed through his ears. Masking a groan, he reached behind him and snapped the bolt embedded in his shoulder. A fresh jolt of pain tore through him, and sticky blood spilled over his hand.
Lorna backed away from the laird, keeping Ewan hidden behind her arm, acting as a shield.
Her mouth moved as if wanting to say something, mayhap to beg for her son’s life, but from her expression and the hatred singeing Gillean’s words, she had to know the truth just as Logan did.
Gillean intended to kill her and probably their child.
He dragged in a burning breath and tensed. He wouldn’t have much time. His movements would be slow. Mayhap that breath would be his last.
Logan snatched his sword from where it had clattered to the ground and came to standing in one swift move. The weight on his arm felt like it might tear his back apart where it had been split by the arrow. It mattered not.
He leaped forward, saw Gillean turn. Saw the surprise in his eyes and the tip of the arrow coming into view. With a roar, he swung. The ping of the crossbow reverberated through the vast room. Metal clattered and someone cried out. His blade struck flesh and bone.
Logan collapsed to his knees, panting, his strength gone. Gillean fell onto his back, Logan’s blade still embedded in the side of his neck. His blood spilled onto the stone floor in a crimson puddle and his eyes fluttered shut.
As the stone floor came up to greet Logan, gentle arms wrapped around him and a soft body pressed against him.
He peered up at her. Sunlight streamed in through the windows and surrounded her in a fuzzy halo.
He smiled and reached up to touch her beautiful face.
If this was to be his last breath, he was grateful to breathe it in her arms.
“Lorna...” he struggled to get the word out.
“Yer no’ going anywhere,” she told him sternly, though her voice lost its strength on the last word.
He tried to grin. He almost believed her.