Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
"We’re nae alone." Cameron’s voice broke the silence.
"Aye." Tòrr turned to scan the forest around them. "Hard tae tell how many in this darkness. But they've been shadowin’ us fer the last mile, stayin’ just beyond sight."
Liliane's pulse quickened. Had her father sent men after them?
"Could be bandits," Cameron continued, his voice low and controlled.
"Nay, the way they're movin’, keepin’ formation... this feels deliberate. Professional." Tòrr said grimly. "They'll make their move soon. The forest grows thicker ahead, perfect cover fer an ambush."
"What dae ye want tae dae?" Cameron asked, his hand moving to rest on his sword hilt.
"We could try tae outrun them," Tòrr mused, "but best nae with the lass. And, if they are who I think they are, they ken these lands better than we dae."
"Then we make our stand. Choose our ground before they choose it fer us."
Before either man could act on this plan, shapes exploded from the undergrowth on both sides of the narrow forest path. Six men in Munro colors, their faces grim with determination, weapons already drawn and glinting in the scattered moonlight.
"Stand down, MacDonald!" The leader, a burly man with graying hair, raised his sword. "Return our laird's daughter and we'll let ye ride away with yer skin still attached tae yer bones!"
Me faither’s crest. Me father’s men. He has sent Duncan tae rescue me.
A small flame of hope flickered in Liliane’s chest. If her father had sent men to retrieve her, it meant he still intended to reclaim control of her fate, no matter who had bought her. Which means Nessa is safe, fer now. Faither willnae give her tae secure an alliance instead.
The relief was so sharp it nearly brought tears to her eyes.
Tòrr's laugh was as cold as it was harsh and cut through the relief with cruel judgement. "How generous of ye. I remember ye. But I paid good coin fer the lass, witnessed by half the Highlands, and I mean tae keep what's mine."
"The transaction was made under false pretenses," Duncan snarled. "Ye had nay right tae that invitation, nay right tae bid."
"I had every right," Tòrr replied coolly. "The invitation was addressed tae Clan MacDonald. I am MacDonald. Simple, even fer a Munro."
In one fluid motion, he swung down from his horse and set Liliane on her feet between himself and Cameron, trapped, with nowhere to run.
"Ye arrogant bastard!" Duncan lunged forward, his sword cutting through the air where Tòrr's head had been a moment before.
Duncan's sword whistled through the air toward Tòrr's head.
"Too slow, Munro!"
"I've got these two!" Cameron called out from the left. "Take him!"
"Me pleasure," Tòrr replied, circling the Munro leader and his two companions.
"Spread out!" their commander barked at his men. "Flank him on both sides!"
"Tryin’ tae improve yer odds?" Tòrr's blade moved in a blur, blocking attacks from two directions. "Smart man."
"Yield, MacDonald!" Duncan pressed his attack, his sword seeking an opening. "Return the lass and walk away!"
"Nae happenin’!" Tòrr's blade rang against Duncan's, sparks flying in the darkness. "She's mine now!"
From the left, Cameron's voice rose above the clash of steel. "A little help here would be nice!"
"Busy at the moment!" Tòrr shot back, ducking under a wild swing.
The men were focused on the immediate threat, their attention fixed on Tòrr and Cameron. If she could slip away in the confusion, she could try to reach Nessa. They could flee together without anyone knowing.
She took a careful step backward, then another.
"Goin’ somewhere, lass?" Tòrr's voice was conversational, but his eyes never left his opponents.
"I—" She froze, realizing he'd been tracking her movements even while facing armed men.
"Stay where ye are," he commanded softly. "This will be over soon."
But Liliane had no intention of staying. It was her chance, perhaps her only chance, to get back to her sister.
This was it.
Gathering her skirts, Liliane turned and ran.
The forest floor was treacherous in the darkness, roots and fallen branches threatening to trip her with every step. But desperation gave her speed, and the sounds of battle grew fainter behind her as she crashed through the undergrowth.
Behind her, she could hear Tòrr cursing. She had made it perhaps fifty yards when a strong arm caught her around the waist, yanking her off her feet.
"Nae so fast, lass."
Tòrr's voice in her ear made her heart sink. How had he caught her so quickly? The battle had only just begun.
"Let me go!" She clawed at his arm, kicking frantically. "They're me faither's men, I’ll go with them!"
"Aye, after they put a sword through me ribs and Cameron's too." His grip was unbreakable as he dragged her back toward the path. "Is that what ye want? Our blood on yer hands so ye can run back tae Da?"
"Aye!" The word tore from her throat with vicious honesty.
They burst back onto the path where Cameron was hard-pressed against three opponents. His skill was evident, but the odds were against him.
"About time," Cameron panted, blocking a vicious thrust. "These lads are more persistent than I expected."
One of Duncan's men broke through Cameron's guard and lunged toward them, seeing Liliane as an easy target to reclaim.
"Behind me," Tòrr commanded, shoving Liliane back as he met the attack with brutal efficiency.
The man's sword whistled past Tòrr's ear as he ducked and came up inside his opponent's guard. His blade found the gap between ribs, and the man dropped with a gurgling cry.
"Me warrior!" Duncan roared, seeing his man fall. "Ye'll pay fer that, MacDonald!"
The two men were clearly old enemies, their swords meeting with the fury of years of accumulated hatred. Duncan was skilled, but Tòrr was faster, his blade work precise and deadly.
"Ye always were too quick with that tongue, MacDonald," Duncan snarled, pressing his attack. "Let's see how quick ye are with steel!"
"Quick enough to send ye tae whatever hell awaits men who prey on women," Tòrr replied, his sword finding Duncan's shoulder, drawing first blood.
But in the chaos of that moment, while Tòrr was focused on Duncan's increasingly frantic attacks, another of the Munro men saw his opportunity. He grabbed Liliane's arm and yanked her away from Tòrr's protection.
“Ye’re hurting me.” She shouted as a steel blade slashed through the silk of her sleeve and the skin beneath.
Pain flared bright and hot as blood began to soak the green fabric. She cried out, more from shock than agony, but the sound seemed to transform Tòrr into something inhuman.
His roar of fury echoed through the forest as he spun toward her attacker, all pretense of civilized swordplay abandoned. There was no mercy in his eyes, no hesitation in his movements. His blade took the man's head from his shoulders in a single, devastating arc.
Liliane froze, the world narrowing to the lifeless body crumpled at her feet.
Tòrr turned to her at once, still breathing hard, his hand reaching for her arm, not rough, but firm enough to ground her.
“Are ye hurt?” he demanded, his voice low and urgent.
She managed a shaky shake of her head, though her pulse thundered in her ears.
“Dinnae look at him. Look at me.”
His hand slid to the small of her back, guiding her a few steps away from the blood-soaked ground.
The remaining attackers faltered, their leader's face going pale as he took in the scene. "That's enough!" Duncan's voice cracked with sudden uncertainty. "We came fer the lass, nae a war!"
"Then ye came tae the wrong place," Tòrr snarled, advancing on him with predatory grace. "Tell yer laird his daughter belongs tae me now. The transaction is complete, the coin paid. If he sends men after her again, I'll return the favor."
Duncan swallowed hard, his sword wavering in his grip. "Roderick Munro willnae forget this insult."
"Good. " Tòrr's smile was all teeth and no warmth. "I'm countin’ on it. He should be ashamed fer endangerin’ his daughter’s life."
"Ye're makin’ enemies, MacDonald. More than ye can handle. Munro has allies. Includin’ Ross, who ye embarrassed in front of everyone by taking his bride."
He gestured with his bloody blade toward the forest. "Take yer dead and get out of me sight before I decide tae send Munro a more... permanent message."
The surviving men gathered their fallen comrades with unseemly haste, Duncan's eyes promising future violence even as he retreated. Within moments, they had disappeared into the forest as quickly as they'd appeared.
Cameron cleaned his blade with methodical care, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of further threat. "Think they'll try again?"
"Nae taenight," Tòrr replied, wiping his sword on a dead man's plaid. "But this willnae be the end of it. Munro's nae the type tae accept defeat gracefully."
"Nay," Cameron agreed. "He'll be back. With more men next time."
"Let him come. I'll be ready."
Liliane stood frozen in the aftermath, her wounded arm cradled against her chest, blood seeping through her fingers. The reality of what had just happened crashed over her like a cold wave. Men had died because of her.
"Let me see yer arm," he said, approaching her with concern replacing the violence in his expression.
The moment his fingers brushed her wrist, fire shot through her entire body. Not pain, but something else. An electric shock that seemed to race along her nerves, making her skin hypersensitive and her pulse stutter.
She jerked backward as if he'd burned her, fury and confusion warring in her chest. How dare her body betray her like this? How dare it respond to a man who had just slaughtered people in front of her?
"Dinnae touch me."
The words came out harsh but she was too shaken to care. She pressed her back against a tree trunk, putting as much distance between them as possible.
"Yer arm needs tendin’," Tòrr said, his voice gentler now. "That cut is deeper than it looks."
"I'll tend it meself." Her voice shook with the force of her emotions. "I dinnae need help from a brute."
"A brute?" His eyebrows rose in genuine surprise. "Those men came here tae kill me and Cameron, tae drag ye back tae a faither who sells his daughters like prize cattle. What would ye have me dae, let them succeed?"
"Ye enjoyed it." The accusation burst from her lips before she could stop it. "I saw yer face when ye killed them. Ye liked it."
"I did what was necessary tae protect what's mine," he said quietly. "Naethin’ more, naethin’ less."
"I'm nae yers!" The words exploded from her with volcanic force. "Ye bought me like a prize horse, dragged me away from everythin’ I ken, and now ye stand there covered in blood expectin’ me tae be grateful?"
"I expect ye tae be smart enough tae recognize when someone's tryin’ tae help ye," he replied, his voice hardening again.
"Help?" She laughed, the sound bitter and broken. "Ye've ruined everythin’.”
"Yer arm is bleedin’ freely."
"I said I'll manage it meself." She pressed her hand harder against the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. But her fingers were shaking, and the gash was deeper than she'd thought.
"Stubborn lass," he murmured, and there was something almost admiring in his tone. "But stubbornness willnae stop ye from bleedin’ tae death in a Highland forest."
"Maybe that would be a mercy," she whispered.