Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Domhnall ran like he had never run before.
The path from the loch to the castle rose steeply along the hillside, but he barely felt the climb. Margaret kept pace beside him. By the time they reached the outer gate, smoke was already rising from the inner courtyard.
Domhnall stopped dead. “Stay behind me.”
Margaret did not argue, but he felt her close at his back as they stepped through the gate. Chaos had swallowed Inveraray.
One of the wooden storehouses near the barracks was burning, and thick smoke was pouring into the courtyard and rolling through the open corridors beyond. Guards rushed across the stone yard, some dragging water barrels, others drawing steel as shouting erupted from the lower passage.
The unmistakable clash of blades rang through the air.
Intruders.
Domhnall’s jaw hardened instantly.
“Me laird!” Cameron’s voice roared from somewhere across the yard.
Domhnall spotted him near the broken gate of the servant passage, with his sword already in hand, fighting alongside three guards against a group of men forcing their way through the breach.
Their plaids were dark and their movements quick and brutal.
MacGregor.
Domhnall knew them the moment he saw them. The rage came swift and cold. MacGregor’s men had crossed into his home, his castle.
Behind him Margaret drew in a sharp breath.
“Domhnall—”
He turned immediately. “I need ye tae go tae the upper hall.”
“I will nae hide while yer men—”
“Ye will,” he answered sharply.
The argument in her eyes flared instantly. But another shout cut through the courtyard. A guard staggered backward from the breach, and there was blood across his sleeve. More MacGregor men poured through the passage. There were too many. The breach had been planned.
Domhnall grabbed Margaret’s wrist. “Listen tae me.”
“I can help here.”
“Nay,” he cut her off.
She pulled against his grip. “Domhnall—”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice but not the command in it.
“If they break through this yard, ye are the first target. I will nae let them have ye, Margaret, so dae as I say.”
Margaret hesitated. The truth of that settled between them. He squeezed her hand once.
“Go.”
She looked ready to argue again, but then she nodded. Domhnall turned toward the stone stair leading to the upper corridor.
“Thomas!” he barked.
One of the guards stationed near the wall spun toward him.
“Take Lady Campbell tae the upper hall. Nae one leaves that corridor until the passage is secured.”
“Aye, me laird!”
Thomas hurried forward, already motioning Margaret toward the stairs. She paused once at the first step. Her eyes met Domhnall’s across the smoke-filled courtyard.
“Be careful,” she said quietly.
Domhnall’s mouth tightened. “Always.”
Then she was gone, disappearing up the stairs with the guard. The moment she vanished from sight, Domhnall turned back toward the breach. Cameron was still fighting near the broken passage, driving one of the MacGregor men back with a brutal strike.
Another intruder vaulted the low wall behind him. Domhnall drew his sword. Steel flashed in the firelight.
His voice carried across the courtyard like thunder. “Drive them out!”
Domhnall did not wait for a reply. He crossed the courtyard at a run, feeling the smoke already thick enough to sting his eyes. Flames licked along the edge of the storehouse roof, sparks scattering upward into the morning sky.
The first MacGregor man rushed to him before he even reached the passage. Domhnall’s blade met the attack with brutal efficiency. Steel clashed once, then twice. The third strike opened the man’s shoulder and sent him crashing against the stone wall.
Domhnall did not stop. He stepped over the fallen body and plunged into the inner passage.
The narrow corridor was chaos. Smoke had begun creeping through the archways, filling the space with a bitter haze.
Guards and intruders clashed in tight quarters where long blades were awkward and every movement risked striking stone.
Cameron stood near the center of the corridor, with blood already streaking across his sleeve as he drove two MacGregor men back with short, controlled blows.
“About time,” Cameron growled as Domhnall reached him.
“Where did they come through?”
“West servants’ gate.”
Domhnall glanced toward the shattered door at the far end of the corridor. The heavy beam that should have secured it lay splintered on the ground. More men were forcing their way inside.
Another intruder lunged at Cameron from the side.
Domhnall stepped forward before Cameron could turn, his sword driving the man back with a sharp strike that sent sparks skidding across the stone.
The MacGregor man swung wildly. Domhnall caught the blow, twisted his wrist, and drove the hilt of his sword into the man’s jaw.
Bone cracked and the man dropped. There was no time to watch him fall, because two more rushed the corridor. Cameron met the first with a vicious downward cut. Domhnall caught the second in the narrow space between the arches, forcing him backward with steady pressure.
The passageway was too tight for fancy movements.
This was close fighting, and close fighting meant it had to be brutal and fast. The man swung again.
Domhnall stepped inside the strike and drove his shoulder forward, knocking the intruder off balance before his blade struck cleanly across the man’s ribs. The MacGregor soldier collapsed.
Behind him Cameron kicked another attacker backward into the smoke-filled archway.
“More coming,” Cameron told him.
Domhnall glanced toward the broken gate again. Three more figures were pushing through the passage. He felt that familiar calm settle into his bones. Battle had always done that. It stripped the world down to simple truths.
Protect the castle. Kill the men who threaten it.
“Hold the corridor,” he ordered.
Cameron nodded once. “Aye.”
The next man charged. Domhnall stepped forward to meet him. Steel rang sharply in the smoke-thick air as the fight pressed deeper into the inner passageways of Inveraray.