Chapter 19 #2
Ceana drew the knife from beneath her cloak. The wool caught around the hilt, and her damp fingers slipped once before the blade came free. As Bryce raised his blade toward Heather, Ceana slashed across the back of his hand.
He recoiled with a curse and released her mother. The cut opened through an old, blood-stained bandage, but his fingers stayed closed around his blade.
He rounded on Ceana. The hilt of his blade struck her wrist first, and her knife fell into the mud. He then seized her upper arm, dragged her against him, and locked his other arm around her ribs. The pressure knocked the air from her lungs.
“Ye come to Angus now,” he grunted. “Morrag has bled enough for yer refusal.”
She wheezed. “I am nae Daphne.”
If he had heard her, he said nothing about it. Instead, he hauled her toward a waiting horse near the edge of the reserve.
She tried to hook her heel behind a stone, but he dug his arm beneath her ribs and yanked her forward. Running out of other options, she stamped on his foot. His steps faltered long enough for Heather to catch her sleeve.
Bryce swung his blade at her, but Ceana caught his injured wrist with both hands and pulled on it with her whole weight. The blade stopped short of Heather.
“Maither, get back!”
Bryce crushed Ceana harder against his chest until each breath came shallow. Her heels slid through the earth as he dragged her onward.
With her vision blurring and time running out, she took a deep breath before she screamed at the very top of her lungs. “Oscar!”
Oscar, who was several yards away, forcing a Gilmore soldier away from the side door, stopped mid-swing. He turned, and his face hardened when he saw Bryce’s arm around her. He roared some order she was too weak to hear. Soon, his men closed behind him as he changed direction.
The first soldier in his path raised a sword. Oscar drove him aside and kept advancing. A second tried to sneak behind him, and Lennan met the man before he reached Oscar’s back.
“Release me wife,” Oscar barked.
Bryce pressed the blade to Ceana’s ribs. “Daphne belongs to Angus.”
“That is Ceana. Ye have me wife.”
Oscar lowered the point of his sword and turned his wrist, as though preparing to throw it aside. Bryce’s gaze dropped to the blade.
He looked at Ceana. “When I move, drop.”
He stepped forward, and Ceana dropped to her knees.
Her weight pulled her downward, and Bryce’s arm slipped from her ribs to her shoulders.
Oscar struck Bryce’s wrist with the hilt of his sword.
His free arm then caught Ceana across the waist and pulled her behind him.
She fell on one knee. Heather reached her and wrapped both hands around her shoulders.
Bryce recovered his footing with his blade still in hand and lunged at Oscar, reaching for Ceana again. Oscar stepped into the attack and drove his sword into Bryce’s chest.
The sound of the blade tearing through flesh rang out across the field. For a moment, there was nothing but stunned silence. Then Bryce fell where he stood, blood pouring from his chest and pooling across the mud.
Oscar withdrew his sword and turned away from him. He passed the sword to Lennan, dropped beside Ceana, and cupped her face in both hands.
“Can ye breathe?”
“Aye.”
“Deeply.”
She drew air until the ache beneath her ribs stopped it.
Oscar’s hands moved over her shoulders and down both arms before pressing carefully along her sides. “Where did his blade touch ye?”
“It didnae pierce me.”
He found the dark marks forming above her sleeve. His thumb stopped beside one, and his hand shook once. His gaze then cut toward Bryce’s body before returning to her.
She knew the pressure of his fingers. He used the same careful strength to test each rib through her gown, watching her face whenever he applied pressure.
Wrong moment, Ceana.
Lennan raised his voice over the western lane. “Laird Gilmore is dead. Cast down yer weapons.”
The sound of steel struck the earth as men began to surrender.
“Accept their surrender. Disarm and bind them,” Oscar ordered.
Others fled toward the low-burning pyre, and a Morrag man followed them until Oscar called him back.
“Nay man crosses the burn. Send help to the wounded on both sides.” He kept one hand around Ceana’s wrist as he spoke.
“I can stand,” she said.
He rose with her. Her legs shook under the first step, then folded. He caught her before her knees could hit the ground.
“I can walk,” she insisted.
He slid one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back. “Ye are finished walkin’ today.”
Ceana wrapped an arm around his neck. His heart pounded hard beneath her cheek, and each breath left him unevenly as he carried her through the lower side door. Heather stayed beside them.
David met them in the crowded inner courtyard with dried blood at his temple. When he saw Ceana in Oscar’s arms, he crossed the remaining distance and laid one hand on her cheek.
“Me wee lass.”
“Faither.” She closed her fingers around his wrist. “Ye are alive.”
“And Morrag still stands.” David looked at Oscar. “The inner defense can hold.”
“Lennan will leave men and supplies,” Oscar said. “We cannae lower our guard just because Bryce is dead. Ye never ken.”
David lowered his head. “Ye have me thanks, MacKane.”
“Put me men where the wounded need them.”
Heather led them into a small guardroom off the courtyard. Oscar set Ceana on a bench and remained close while her mother loosened her cloak. Paisley’s embroidered ribbon rested beside the bruises rising on her upper arm.
Heather pressed careful fingers along Ceana’s ribs, then examined her scraped palm. “The blade didnae pierce ye, but ye are badly bruised. Let me clean it for ye.”
“The linen and water belong outside,” Ceana said. “Men are bleedin’.”
“Ye can travel if ye remain supported and rest,” Heather added, her gaze moving to Oscar. “Keep pressure from her ribs.”
Oscar’s hand closed around Ceana’s uninjured forearm.
She looked up at him. “I want ye to take me home.”
He frowned, his gaze flicking to the walls.
“To MacKane,” she clarified. “Please.”
His fingers tightened once, but his gaze stayed on hers. “Alright, wife. I’ll take ye home.”
Outside, the guards bound the surrendered Gilmore men while supplies were passed around. David remained in the courtyard, directing his men, with Heather beside him.
A groom took the reins of Ceana’s mare while Oscar wrapped his cloak around her. He then lifted her into his saddle and mounted at her back, his grip firm. His arm settled around her waist, high enough to spare her ribs, and gently drew her against his chest.
Low smoke still rose from the castle as they cantered onto the western road. The men carried wounded fighters through the gate behind them, and others cleared the ruined lane.
Ceana watched her parents standing together on the other end of the castle gate until the distance blurred their faces. Once the castle began to shrink behind the ridge, she tucked her head beneath Oscar’s chin and felt his hold tighten around her.
Her eyes closed before the castle disappeared.