Page 35 of The Highlander’s Fake Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #4)

A rthur barely registered the scream before his body moved on its own accord.

He practically threw himself onto òr’s back, kicking his heels into the beast’s side as the pair lunged into the brush.

òr snorted breathlessly, spurred on by the rising panic in Arthur’s chest. One hand grasped the horse’s reins, the other reaching toward the hilt of his sword.

“Olivia!” He shouted out, bursting through the thicket before charging towards the first unfamiliar face he spotted.

The man had his axe held over Olivia’s splayed body, though it quickly fell behind him as his wrists were sliced through by Arthur’s sword.

He let out a pained scream, cut off by a bloody gurgle as the sword pierced through his chest, next.

Maesie’s snarling pulled Arthur’s attention next, bounding between the small group of men and shearing their ankles as they tried to catch her with the blunt or blade of their weapons.

She even managed to take one to the ground, snapping into his neck as her muzzle dyed with blood.

Arthur pulled on òr’s reins, directing the horse to circle around Olivia as he held his sword aloft. The few remaining warriors exchanged nervous looks, with one daring to hold up his sword and charge forward. “Maesie, release!”

A snarling howl followed after, Maesie abandoning her gasping victim before lunging at the approaching warrior’s ankle.

He screamed out as her teeth clamped down, and with a furious shake of her head, he toppled to the ground, neck exposed for Maesie to exploit.

His companion reared back to slam his axe into the deerhound, but Arthur’s sword got there first, catching between the weapon’s head and twisting it out from the warrior’s grasp.

A sickening squelch followed after, the man’s head rolling across the forest floor, and Arthur quickly turned back to Olivia.

She had managed to stand with òr’s help, trembling arms wrapped around the stallion’s neck for support.

Her bow was abandoned a few feet away, string snapped and visible nicks taken out from its frame.

Someone had managed to reach her with a weapon; Arthur’s anger boiled over as he stabbed his sword into Maesie’s victim, limbs trembling before going deathly still.

The forest fell eerily quiet, the occasional sound of a warrior’s final breath breaking through. Maesie’s snarling had quieted to low, throaty growls, and Arthur offered her a reassuring pat on the head. “Good girl, Maesie. Return.”

The deerhound immediately rose, trotting back to òr before sticking herself directly to Olivia’s side. Arthur closed the distance between them, arm immediately slinging around her shoulders protectively.

“B-Bhaltair,” she managed to stammer out. “B-B-Bhaltair is–!”

An arrow whizzed passed them, striking the trunk of a tree mere feet away from Arthur’s head.

He immediately pushed Olivia to the ground, gesturing Maesie to lay on top of her while he scanned the area.

A second arrow struck òr’s hind, and the stallion let out a braying shriek, rearing back as his hooves flailed angrily in the air.

“Steady, òr!” Arthur’s hand shot out, grasping for the arrow before snapping it at its base.

Only an inch of wood remained in the beast’s flank–a problem to be dealt with later–and he quickly slipped his own bow off the saddle.

Eyes darting around the forest, he did his best to follow the trajectory of that second shot, slipping his own arrow from its holster and lining it up.

His fingers drew the string. He exhaled, and let the arrow fly.

It soared across the grove and dove between the brush, and for a terrible moment, Arthur wondered if he’d somehow miscalculated.

If his obsession with Olivia had caused him to be reckless.

But a pained groan followed soon after, sending a wave of relief flooding throughout him.

“Ye better come out now, or I’ll send me hound after ye! ” Arthur snapped.

The bushes rustled. Arthur held his breath, feeling Olivia’s pained stare on his backside.

“Arthur…” Her voice was so weak, pleading with him for…

for something. For what? To leave this bloodied grove, to not add another body to the pile he’d created?

Arthur shook his head, pulling back his string once more and aiming it at the approaching stranger.

He looked surprisingly old for someone with such accuracy, shocks of white hair covering his head while his face appeared worn down from time.

Arthur’s arrow stuck out from his chest, but even so, he held his bow at his side; as if he thought he had any chance of firing it again.

“B-Bhaltair,” Olivia sobbed, a pang of recognition in her voice.

Arthur’s gaze narrowed, string still taught and arrowhead pointed at the stranger’s head. “Yer part o’MacCulloh’s clan, bodach ?”

He nodded, visibly growing weaker as blood soaked through his vest.

“How’d ye find us?” Arthur snapped. “Who organized ye and yer wee group o’ eejits?”

Bhaltair shook his head, groaning as his trembling arm finally lost hold of his bow.

He slumped against the back of a tree, causing a pained gasp to escape Olivia’s throat.

Arthur glanced behind her, taking in her terrified expression, the absolute heartbreak forming behind tear-stricken eyes.

He released his bow and pulled his sword out once more, approaching Bhaltair with another snarl.

“Why? Why would ye betray Olivia like this?”

A pained laughter escaped Bhaltair’s throat. “Sh-She…betrayed her clan, first. I thought letting her go…b-but that was a mistake.” He managed to straighten slightly, spitting blood in the laird’s face. “Should have killed her when I had the chance.”

Arthur grasped the man by the hair, lifting him upright as his sword pressed against his neck.

“Arthur, no–!” Olivia’s body crashed into his, causing Arthur’s blade to take a small bite out of Bhaltair. Her arms wrapped around his waist, sobbing hysterically as she tried to speak in the man’s defense. “H-He’s already dead. Please–I cannae bear to watch more o’me family die by yer hand.”

Family. Even now, she considered this snake-in-the grass family.

With a frustrated growl, Arthur removed his sword from the man’s neck, watching with some satisfaction as he crumpled to the ground.

He quickly disarmed the man of any hidden blades or dagger, then tore the arrow from his chest, greeted with a gush of blood as payment.

Bhaltair wheezed distressingly, hand grasping out for any modicum of comfort.

But Arthur stepped away, Olivia tucked under his arms and clinging to his side as they ensured the last assassin didn’t get away.

She buried her face into Arthur, unable to hold back another wave of sobs.

It was up to the Laird of MacDonnell to ensure there were no survivors.

They rode back to Marsden keep in silence, both on top of Airgiod while òr hobbled behind.

Arthur had dug Olivia’s arisaid out from their packs and bundled her within it, placing her in the front of the saddle while he rode behind her.

His arms grasped the reins and squeezed protectively around her body, acting as an additional line of defense against any other MacCullohs in the area.

The forests rolled into hills, then jagged mountain faces; it wasn’t long before Arthur was greeted by the sight of the valley once more.

He urged Airgiod to maneuver down the slope quickly, commanding Maesie to remain behind with òr as to ensure Olivia arrived as quickly as possible into the keep.

They thundered across the bridge and sprinted through the gate, propped open so as to allow lingering guests the freedom to leave when the saw fit.

Arthur navigated through a number of horses and carts going the opposite direction as he, and as he approached Marsden’s castle, he slid off the saddle before Airgiod could come to a complete stop, arms grasping Olivia’s waist before pulling her into his embrace.

“Arthur–?” Alison moved to greet them first, expression quickly changing from bemusement to panic at the sight of Olivia. “Arthur, what happened?!”

Arthur tried to remember how to form words. His body was still in the fight, still slashing and hacking through flesh to ensure Olivia was safe. He flinched away as kinfolk tried to reach for her, nearly cracking one’s leg as he came too close.

Duncan approached next, leaving Alison to disperse the crowd. “Arthur, breathe. Yer back behind walls–no one can reach us.”

Arthur inhaled sharply, clutching Olivia tightly as he managed to squeeze the breath out of his tightening chest. “MacCulloh attacked us. Close to yer border–someone told them where we were going.”

Duncan nodded, brow set and expression cold. “Were ye followed?”

“Nay.”

“Any injuries?”

“One of our horses got hit,” Arthur said. “He’s lagging behind with Maesie up the valley.” He blinked, the rush of battle beginning to seep out of his body. Still, he held fast to Olivia, ensuring no further harm would cross her path.

“Me warriors ken what Maesie looks like,” Duncan reassured. “We’ll ensure they both get in safely.”

“All the attackers are dead,” Arthur added.

“Nay surprise there,” Duncan commented lightly. “How many were there?”

“T’was at least a small band’s worth of men. Possibly had the deceased laird’s man-of-arms among them, but,” Arthur shook his head. “I made sure he stopped breathing before we came here.”

A pained wail slipped out from Olivia’s bundle, and Alison quickly returned to the scene. “Duncan, I told our best to go and reinforce the border.”

“Good,” Duncan said. “The last thing we need is the MacCullohs growing bolder.”

“Arthur, the other lairds havenae left, yet–ye’ll need to tell them what happened.” Alison’s voice softened, her gaze lingering on Olivia’s bundled form. “Help me wit Olivia, first. I cannae carry her inside by meself.”

Arthur tightened his grasp, knowing full well what Alison was implying.

“We need to have a meeting, Arthur,” Duncan insisted.

“Olivia will be safe with me wife and her ladies.” He set a reassuring hand on Arthur’s shoulder, looking directly into the bloodied laird’s eye and speaking with a level of sincerity Arthur had never heard from him before.

“I ken yer faith’s shaken, but ye have to trust us. ”

He did. He knew he did, and it was killing him inside. “I’ll find ye in yer office once I ken Olivia is safe.”

Duncan nodded, and Arthur strode past him, following Alison toward the castle as he held fast around Olivia’s bundled form.

Time became a bit of a hazy concept to Olivia. She recalled the sky, the bright sunlight that followed her and Arthur as they rode together across the highlands. She remembered the bodies, the blood, Bhaltier’s younger face as she tried to shoot an arrow at the target…

Then, darkness. The warmth of a beating heart and the body heat of someone she knew would do anything to protect her.

She clung to Arthur’s voice as he held her, as familiar names chimed into a conversation she was only partially aware of.

She nuzzled her head further against his chest, her arisaid acting as another, comforting layer of protection.

But, eventually, a door closed gently behind her, and she felt herself be set across a plush mattress.

As her arisaid was removed from the top of her head, she blinked furiously, rubbing her eyes to adjust to the candlelit room.

Immediately, her eyes found Arthur’s, sitting loudly at her bedside as he quickly inspected her for…

injuries? Distress? Likely both, Olivia decided.

“Listen, selkie,” Arthur spoke gently, as if ensuring he didn’t scare off a deer in the woods. “I need to leave ye in Alison’s capable hands.”

Panic clawed its way up Olivia’s throat. She grasped for something to anchor her, Arthur’s hands immediately moving to take her own.

“Olivia, love?” Alison’s motherly tone immediately caught Olivia’s attention. “He’ll nae be gone fer long. He needs to tell the other lairds what happened, so they can all make a plan to protect ye.”

“I ken ye’re scared right now,” Arthur continued. “But I trust the Marsdens wit me life. So, if ye cannae trust yer judgement right now, put it in mine, instead.”

Olivia’s eyes squeezing tightly. She didn’t want him to leave—she wouldn’t survive if he left her here.

“Do ye trust I’ll return?” Arthur asked. “Do ye trust me to protect ye?”

She did. She truly, sincerely did. Still, Olivia had trouble letting go of his hand, and she exhaled loudly, trying to find her voice. “C-Could ye leave me with a kiss?”

Arthur leaned in immediately, placing his lips gently against her forehead. The sensation lingered long after he’d gently pulled his hand free and crossed the room, leaving Olivia alone with Alison and her fellow ladies.