Chapter Twenty-Eight
The camp woke all at once.
Shouts tore through the night behind them—first confusion, then recognition, then pursuit. Steel rang. A horn blared, sharp and urgent, cutting across the valley like a blade.
“They’re about,” Shamus called from the shadows ahead. “This way!”
Lachlan did not slow. Claire’s hand remained locked in his, her grip firm despite the uneven ground as he pulled her through the narrow line between tents. Firelight flashed across canvas and faces—men turning, pointing, reaching for weapons.
“Stop them,” came a command from somewhere behind.
Too close.
Lachlan shifted, drawing Claire tighter to his side as a soldier lunged from the darkness. Steel met steel—one swift strike, a turn of the wrist—and the man fell back with a strangled cry.
“Keep moving,” Lachlan said.
Claire did as he bade with no hesitation or faltering. Pride surged as he guided her toward the outer edge of the camp.
They broke into open ground. The valley stretched ahead, dark, uneven, treacherous, but free of torches.
For a heartbeat it looked like escape. The pounding of charging horses quelled hope it would be easy.
Shapes moved along the ridge, cutting across their path, blocking the slope leading them back toward Raven’s Berry.
“Bollocks,” Shamus muttered.
“They’ve closed the north pass.”
Lachlan’s gaze flicked quickly left, right, calculating. “Then we donna take the pass,” he said. “We take the glen.”
“’Tis steep.”
“Aye.”
“And narrow.”
“Aye.”
Shamus grinned despite the danger. “Then t’will suit us.”
Lachlan turned to Claire. “Stay with me,” he said.
“I will,” she replied. The certainty in her voice struck deeper than it should have.
They veered sharply, cutting down into the darker slope where the land dipped into a narrow glen. The ground fell away quickly, forcing them into a fast, controlled descent, loose stone shifting beneath their boots.
Behind them hooves thundered.
“They’re coming fast,” one of the men shouted.
Lachlan did not look back.
“Faster,” he said.
The glen narrowed as they descended, the walls rising on either side, the wind cutting sharper through the confined space. Shadows swallowed them, broken only by slivers of moonlight slipping through the clouds.
Claire stumbled. Lachlan caught her immediately, his arm tightening around her waist, steadying her before she could fall.
“I’ve got ye, Claire,” he said.
“I know,” she answered, breathless but steady.
He did not release her. They ran closer than before, his hand firm at her side, her steps matching his as best she could over the unforgiving ground.
Behind them, the riders split. Some remained above. Others dropped into the glen.
“They’re no’ giving up,” Shamus called.
“They willna,” Lachlan replied.
Not now.
Not when they had come this far.
The glen twisted ahead, narrowing further until only two men could move side by side.
“Here,” Lachlan said sharply.
They slowed just enough to turn. To face the pursuit.
“Hold them,” Shamus ordered, already stepping into position.
“Just long enough,” Lachlan answered.
“Ye’re no’ leaving me again,” he said.
She met his gaze and nodded.
A rider burst into the glen, dismounting before his horse had fully stopped, blade already drawn.
Lachlan met him head-on.
The clash rang loud in the confined space, steel echoing off stone. The man pressed hard, aggressive, driven by momentum. Lachlan held, turned the strike, drove him back.
Another followed.
Then another.
The glen filled with movement.
With sound.
With violence.
Claire pressed back against the rock wall, heart hammering, watching as the men formed a narrow defense, holding the choke point with brutal efficiency.
She should have stayed behind.
Should have waited.
Should have—
No.
There was no time for such thoughts.
A man broke past the line to her left, slipping through the narrow gap as two others engaged Lachlan and Shamus.
Claire’s breath caught for a mere moment. She grabbed a loose stone from the ground and hurled it with all her strength. It struck the man’s shoulder, throwing him off balance just enough for one of Lachlan’s men to intercept and drive him back.
The man crumpled to the ground. Claire’s chest rose and fell rapidly as the chaos around her reigned.
“Stay back,” Lachlan called, not turning.
“I am helping,” she shot back and continued to lob rocks at the men.
A horn sounded again from above.
“They’re circling,” Shamus shouted. “We willna hold long.”
Lachlan’s gaze snapped upward to the ridge. They were being boxed in.
“Move,” he ordered. “Now.”
They pushed deeper through the glen as the ground leveled slightly ahead.
The trees thickened providing cover and a chance to escape.
Claire ran beside him, breath ragged, her strength pushed to its edge—but she did not slow.
“Quickly, they have guns.”
A man pointed a weapon at them.
“Lachlan,” she cried as she shoved him to the side.
A shot rang out.
Claire’s body jerked.
Lachlan felt it before he saw it. “Nay—”
He turned, catching her as she faltered. Her breath hitched. She touched her side and when she held out her hand it was covered with blood.
Rage exploded through him.
“Go,” he shouted to the others. “Go now.”
“We’re no’ leaving ye—” Shamus began.
“Go!” Lachlan roared.
Shamus hesitated, then nodded sharply. “We’ll draw them off.”
He turned, leading the others away, crashing through the trees to pull the pursuit with them.
Silence fell brief and fragile as the sounds of pursuit shifted. Lachlan lowered Claire carefully to the ground, his hands already moving, searching the wound.
“It is not deep,” she said quickly, though her voice trembled.
“Donna speak,” he said, his tone rough with barely controlled fury. He pressed cloth to the wound, his movements efficient but far from calm.
Her fingers found his sleeve. “Lachlan—”
“I have ye,” he said, the words low, fierce. “I have ye.”
Her gaze held his, even now, even like this. “I knew you would come,” she whispered.
The words struck deep this time, he understood what they cost her. Lachlan leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching hers as he secured the bandage.
“I’ll no’ lose ye,” he said.
Not promise. Not hope. Something deeper within him. They were tethered now, connected.
Claire’s breath steadied and she glanced at their surroundings. The forest closed around them, the night pressing in once more to cloak their location. They were not running, they were holding.
And whatever came next, they would face it together.