Chapter Seventeen #3
Wilkie twirled, his sword at the ready. An almighty clash jolted my senses as his sword connected with Dougal’s.
Wilkie’s sword seemed to have a life of its own, translating and delivering his energetic power.
It seemed the second soldier who had engaged Wilkie had now joined Hayes’s fight with Kade, after a pained yell that I could only hope came from the soldier Hayes.
Wilkie and Dougal exchanged several more blows until it was clear that Wilkie was winning.
Dougal stumbled, but before Wilkie could strike his final, deadly hit, Gregor, who had apparently decided he did not at all like the way this battle was going, yelled loudly and close to my ear, “Halt your attack, Mackenzie! Both of you! I’ll kill her! I’ll do it now!”
Wilkie stopped, holding his sword pointed at Dougal but turning his head slightly in my direction.
His chest heaved from his exertions, but otherwise he remained motionless.
He stared at Gregor with a measured hatred that promised death.
I’d never seen him look more fierce, nor more striking.
But he clearly knew that the soldier’s words were an empty threat.
If it was true that the mark inked to my back meant I was the king’s child, or if there was even the remotest possibility of it, I knew Ogilvie would kill any man who harmed me.
I was the key to obtaining the grand and unsurpassed Ossian Lochs, a holding that Laird Ogilvie—and many men—coveted above all others.
These Ogilvie warriors knew it. And so did Wilkie.
Gregor amended his statement, a taunting lilt well-pronounced in his words.
“Or I’ll think of something else to do with her.
Half-naked and tempting as she is. Now drop your weapon. ”
This threat was possibly not as empty, especially clad as I was, barefoot and bare-legged, with a still-wet and clinging tunic that barely reached the middle of my thighs.
And nothing under it. The soldier’s huge body was not only wrapped around me but also pressed up against me.
Cold horror surged through me at the warning, and a spark of alarm flashed briefly across the rage that featured far more prominently in Wilkie’s flashing eyes.
Dougal was back on his feet, his sword raised.
Gregor’s grip tightened even further. I could feel the coarse hair of his beard brush against my face as he spoke, sickening me.
He smelled of sweat and doom. “You should know we’ll go to any lengths to get this lass back to the Ogilvie keep,” he said loudly to Wilkie, “or I’ll die trying.
A rich reward has been offered to the man—or men—who delivers her.
A very rich reward. And I’m eager to collect it.
If you delay us any longer, and further bore me with your futile rebellion, I’ll first give myself a reward of a different description, right here and right now.
So drop your weapon or I’ll take this lass while you and Dougal finish your fight, Mackenzie.
And then I’ll kill her, just to spite you.
” The soldier’s hand, slung tightly around my chest, moved slightly, so his thumb brushed over the tip of my breast. I heard a small, terrified sound and realized it was my own response. “What’s it to be, Mackenzie?”
Wilkie did not hesitate. He tossed his heavy sword to the ground, where it landed with a humming clang. He held his hands out, palms up, in a quietly insolent gesture.
Dougal stepped forward to hold the edge of his sword to Wilkie’s neck, so it rested just under his jawline. Wilkie stared at him with a look of utter contempt as the blade waited. “’Tis the only way you could best me,” Wilkie said to him. “I, unarmed. You, without honor.”
Dougal glowered at Wilkie, knowing full well Wilkie’s statement was true. The blade of the sword pressed deeper against the vulnerable pulse of Wilkie’s neck, and the sight of it there unraveled something in me.
“Please!” I begged. “I’ll go with you! Lower your sword and leave him. I’ll not fight you. I’ll come willingly.”
“Tie him up, Dougal,” snarled Gregor, whose grasp was becoming more and more insistent, hurting me and frightening me. “We’ll bring him with us.”
Dougal removed the knife that hung from Wilkie’s belt and tossed it out of reach. “I’ll kill him,” Dougal said.
“Nay,” barked Gregor. “The lass will obey any demand of ours—or Ogilvie’s—if we use his life as a bargaining tool. Bind his hands behind his back. And for God’s sake, do it securely.”
Somehow, I could see now, Kade had felled the second of his attackers. He and Hayes stood some distance away, their swords still raised to each other’s, circling.
“Ride, Kade!” Wilkie yelled.
Kade, in a lightning-quick movement, grasped a knife from a holster strapped to his boot and flung it at Hayes, where it embedded into Hayes’s thigh, causing him to hop and curse loudly.
Kade took his split-second opportunity and mounted his horse, heaving himself into the seat in one fluid motion.
His horse reared and whirled, lunging into a hell-bent run.
“Ride him down!” yelled Dougal, and Hayes, pulling the knife out of his thigh with a growl and tucking it into his own belt, leaped into action. But Kade was gone, galloping in the race of his life to reach Kinloch, alert Knox and summon the Mackenzie army.