Chapter 16
Callum cursed under his breath, and the smile fell from his face immediately.
Islay’s face paled as she saw her wedding day interrupted by these uninvited guests.
They had such gall to come here to the heart of the Gallach clan, to her home.
Anger burned inside her, mixing with fear.
She thought of how she had been captured by them and held at knifepoint.
She thought too of how Callum had rescued her.
Now, he seemed eager to protect her again.
He pulled her behind him, putting his broad body in the way of hers as the chaos unfolded before them.
Black-cloaked bandits flew in like ravens, their swords and axes brandished brazenly.
The guests of the wedding screamed and sought to escape the hall, trying to rush past the bandits if they saw an opening, but were cut down swiftly. Islay saw her father huddled over Iona.
Because it had been a wedding, most people were not wearing weapons; only the handful of guards that stood watch did.
They rushed into action swiftly, but they were vastly outnumbered by the bandits.
It seemed that carnage was awaiting them, and Islay feared that nothing would save them now.
This marriage was supposed to have protected the clans and scared the bandits off, but if anything, it seemed to have emboldened them.
Whoever had masterminded this attack was a cruel and calculating person, someone with no morals at all and no respect for tradition.
The bandits took grim joy in their task, crashing through chairs, slashing tapestries that hung on the wall.
There was nothing that escaped their violent appetite, and Islay feared it was only a matter of time before she was killed.
Her marriage, slain in its infancy, before there was a chance for love to truly blossom, and before they could have children.
Islay had been fearful and uncertain about the future before, but now that it seemed as though it might be ripped from her grasp, she mourned it.
She grieved for the children who would never be born, and she regretted not being married years before so that they might have had more time together.
“Get me a sword!” Callum roared, a bellow as loud as a lion’s.
One of the guards tossed a sword towards him.
Callum plucked it out of the air and then leaped into action like a panther.
He stormed through the hall, whirling his sword as though it was a part of him.
As it swirled around him, it caught the beams of sunlight that were pouring in through the open windows, and the sword seemed to wink at Islay.
Hope flared as she was reminded of his prowess in battle, and it seemed as though he was determined not to let any bandits ruin his wedding day.
He growled and snarled, and his presence inspired the other guards.
With renewed vigor, they fought back, and the tide of the battle seemed to be changing.
The sea of black cloaks was being driven back by Callum, and if Islay had not already been in love with him, she certainly would have fallen madly for him there.
To see him fighting for her made her heart tremble.
He was magnificent, and she was proud of her husband, and even prouder to be his wife.
But then horror captured her heart as her father was dragged away, leaving Iona unprotected.
Islay screamed. Callum twisted his head, ready to move towards the vulnerable girl, but before he could move, he had to dodge and defend himself from another attacker.
The other guards, including Hendry, were trying to push the bandits back, leaving gaps on the floor.
Callum fought his way towards Laird Gallach before he could be killed, but Iona was still vulnerable.
With the sound of clashing steel ringing in her ears and the air hot with violence and blood, Islay summoned her courage and moved towards Iona.
She picked up a dagger from a fallen bandit and clutched it tightly in her hands.
Her breath rushed out of her in short, hot bursts.
Her hand trembled as she fought back against the fear.
This was certainly not how she had expected her wedding to unfold.
She raced to Iona and pulled her trembling body close.
“It’s gaeing tae be fine, Iona. Ye dinnae hae tae be scared,” Islay said, although she wished that she believed her words.
She looked up through golden strands of hair that were cast about her face wildly and became lost in the cacophony of noise.
She saw Callum rising to fight the man who had captured her father, and within moments, Laird Gallach was free.
He rose to his feet and wrested a sword from the bandit that had just been defeated, and joined the fight.
It was pleasing for Islay to see Callum and her father fighting alongside each other.
That is what the marriage had been for, after all—for the clans to share their might and resist the power of the bandits.
It seemed as though the efforts to push back were going to be successful.
Iona reached over to Kirsten, who had been knocked unconscious as she had been pushed against a chair and hit her head.
She could not be roused, but Islay was glad when she pressed her palm against Kirsten’s chest and felt the beating heart.
“Islay!” Iona cried out, her words laced with fear.
Islay twisted her neck and saw the shadow of a man coming upon her.
He had sneaked around the hall, avoiding the raging lairds to get to the real prize: her.
And she knew his face. They were the same beady eyes who had captured her that night she had run from the castle.
She knew it had been a mistake to leave them alive, but at the time, she and Callum needed to flee.
“Nice tae see ye again, my lady,” he said dryly. The expression on his face looked more like a grimace than a grin.
“What are ye daeing here? Ye are gaeing tae be captured. I’ll make sure ye never see sunlight again!” Islay yelled, trying to push Iona behind her.
“That’s what ye’d like tae think. But I hae friends in high places. I know about the secret tunnels, and I’m due for a big reward for yer head. It’s a wee shame I wilnae be able tae finish what I started, but I’m sure the coin will make up for it.”
Panic flared through her mind. Who could possibly want her dead?
As this thought rushed through her, the bandit lunged forward and tried to grab her by the throat.
Islay slashed wildly with the dagger, fending him off.
The bandit cursed. With one arm, Islay ensured that Iona was staying behind her, while the other jabbed towards the bandit, hoping to catch blood and either scare him off completely, or ward him off long enough for someone to come to her aid.
“Help!” she cried, her words rippling with panic.
He snarled, his ugly face twisting into something monstrous.
Whatever enjoyment he was getting from tormenting her seemed to have faded as she put up more of a fight.
Redoubling his efforts, he clamped a strong hand around her wrist as she lunged forward with the dagger, his fingers holding so tightly onto her slender wrist she was afraid that it would snap in two.
He dragged her forward, away from Iona. Islay lost her grip on her sister.
“Close yer eyes, Iona!” Islay begged, but she had no idea if Iona obeyed her instruction or not.
Islay screamed as the bandit wrapped his arms around her and held the dagger to her throat.
His breath was hot and fetid. He smelled of staleness, of all the dirty and horrible things in the world; she hated that her memories of life would be tainted by this final act.
She hated that life was going to slip away, and it was going to happen in the arms of this man.
The edge of the dagger was cold against her throat.
She clamped her eyes shut and forced herself to think of all the good things in her life—of picking flowers with Iona, gossiping with Kirsten, having honest conversations with her father.
She thought about being with Callum, of all the moments they had shared and all those they would not.
She was not going to let the last moments of her life be defined by a bandit.
Islay had been certain she was going to die.
It seemed grimly poetic that after trying to escape her marriage for so long, she would be killed on her wedding day.
Had there been some deep premonition inside her, some sense that something would go gruesomely wrong on her wedding day?
Was that why she had been so against it all these years?
There was not going to be an answer to the mystery.
She knew one flick of the wrist was all it would take to end her life.
Her body went limp as she resigned herself to the inevitable.
She felt the hand of the bandit twitch, and she was certain she was going to take her last breath, but then the dagger fell away from her neck.
She opened her eyes and was shocked to see a sword blade beside her head, skewering the face of the bandit.
At the other end was Callum, seething with rage, his hand clamped on the hilt.
“I suggest ye move,” Callum said. Islay scrambled away, collecting Iona in her arms. Callum pulled the sword out, and a fountain of blood sprayed as the bandit fell back, limp and inert.
Islay shielded Iona from the sight and moved back to the dais.
Kirsten was beginning to stir from her fall.
She held her head groggily. Islay called out to her, and Kirsten joined them.
Islay gulped away the fear, still trembling from being held at knifepoint.
The question remained as to who had put a bounty on her head, although she didn’t have the faculties to come up with an answer.
The powerful men of the Gallach and Connall clans worked in tandem, fighting alongside each other as though they had been training together all their lives.
They were led by Callum, the fierce warrior unwilling to let anyone invade the home of his new wife.
The bandits had come here so arrogant, so assured of victory because they had the element of surprise and the numerical advantage.
But they hadn’t counted on the warrior laird inspiring his troops.
He embodied the storm, unleashing all the powerful anger that resided in his heart.
He may have confessed to Islay that he wanted to escape his family’s heritage of war, but it was plain to see that this man was bred for battle, and could not rid himself of the legacy that ran through his blood.
Eventually, the bandits were driven off, although they left a hall filled with corpses, and a wedding day stained with blood.