Page 38 of The Highlander’s Illicit Bride (Wicked Highland Lairds #1)
“ I ’ll go in with ye,” Finlay said.
Struan shook his head. “Ye’re nae strong enough right now, Braither.” he said. “Ye’ll stay out here with Ewan and our men. Lay siege tae Moy. Keep them focused on the fight in front of them. I’m goin’ tae slip in through the back door and find me wife.”
“Struan—”
He shook his head. “Murdoch daesnae ken Dougal is dead yet. He still thinks he’s got the upper hand. ‘Tis thae only advantage we have right now.”
“I agree,” Ewan said. “I dinnae like it, but I agree.”
“’Tis settled then,” Struan said with a nod.
Struan made his way through the woods and while his men created a distraction, he slipped unnoticed through the back door which as he prayed lead to the kitchen. Wasting no time, he snuck into the corridor but a sound made him hide in a supply room filled with grains.
He paused, his body tightening as he heard the sound of heavy boots running past the room in the corridor beyond.
Struan crept to the door and listened for a moment.
Satisfied the hall was empty, he opened the door and slipped out.
Sword in hand, he moved swiftly but quietly through the corridors of the castle.
The sound of men screaming to one another as they battled sounded distant. But he knew he did not have much time.
Struan searched every room he encountered, growing frustrated that he could not find Isolde. He knew Murdoch would not kill his daughter. Not when she’d been promised to Dougal and Murdoch needed the alliance.
It was only a matter of time before one of Dougal’s men arrived with the news, so Struan gritted his teeth and redoubled his efforts.
He turned a corner and found himself in a long, narrow corridor.
A rounded wooden door sat at the far end.
Thinking it could be the door that led down to the dungeons, he ran.
Pushing through the door with his sword raised, he was surprised to find himself not at the head of the stairs that led down, but in a library.
“Struan Cameron,” Murdoch Mackintosh said, sitting in one of the chairs, crystal glass of wine in hand. “What a pleasure tae see ye again. Have ye come back tae enjoy a bit more of me hospitality, lad?” The man’s smile was slow and wide, and his eyes glittered menacingly in the firelight.
“I’ve come tae claim what’s mine,” he replied coldly.
“And what is it ye think is yers?”
“Yer daughter,” he said. “Isolde’s mine.”
“Lucky fer me, she’s nae yers,” Murdoch said smoothly. “I was able tae rescue her from ye before ye filthy Camerons could defile her.”
Struan’s mind spun wildly for a moment.
He daesnae ken. Murdoch daesnae ken I’ve married Isolde.
The only way was if Isolde had not told him. A slow grin quirked the corner of his mouth upward.
Clever lass.
If her father had known that they’d been together, that he’d claimed her maidenhead, he likely would have killed her for being sullied and unfit to wed Dougal. She’d been smart and kept herself alive.
“Isolde and I wed. And our union was consummated,” Struan said and took a step closer to where Murdoch was sitting. “So, I guess that makes ye me faither in law, eh?”
Murdoch paled and his eyes grew wide as a look of disbelief crossed his face. “’Tis a lie.”
“’Tis nae a lie,” Struan said with a grin. “She’s me wife and she’s been, as ye put it, sullied by a filthy Cameron. We’ve got witnesses tae our nuptials.”
With a howl of rage, Murdoch launched himself out of his chair, pulling a dagger from beneath his tunic in one fluid movement. He hacked and slashed at Struan, growling in rage the entire time. Struan easily deflected the blows and bounced backward, getting outside the man’s reach.
Breathing hard and red-faced, Murdoch glared at him. “I’m goin’ tae kill her,” he seethed. “And Dougal is goin’ tae slice yer braither’s throat. Ye’re goin’ tae lose everythin’ ye love in one night.”
He followed his words with another vicious flurry of slashes.
Struan laughed as he parried the blows. He’d been hoping Murdoch would bring up Dougal.
He turned aside Murdoch’s last slash with his sword, then stepped forward and threw a punch.
His fist crashed into Murdoch’s nose, sending him stumbling backward as blood flowed down his face.
“Oh, by the way,” Struan said and lurched forward. “Ye should probably ken that I already paid Dougal a visit. He’s dead and me braither is free. Ye lose again, Murdoch. Yer ambition always did outstrip yer ability. So now I’m goin’ tae take all ye have left—yer life.”
With a screech of fury, Murdoch threw his chair at Struan. He had to duck to avoid being hit. When he stood up again, he saw the man disappearing through a hidden door behind one of his bookcases. Struan’s heart jumped into his throat knowing the man was going for Isolde.
He’ll kill her, now that he kens the truth.
He pounded down the stairs, hearing Murdoch’s footsteps ahead of him.
Struan reached the ground floor then ran forward, pushing through a heavy wooden door.
He entered the dungeons in time to see Murdoch at the far end.
The man grinned maniacally as he pulled a door open and reached in, yanking Isolde out by the hair.
She squealed in pain as he jerked her to her feet violently.
Her hands were bound, cheeks stained with tears, eyes wild and filled with terror.
Murdoch pulled his daughter in front of him like a shield and held the edge of his dagger to her throat. That slow, evil grin returned to the man’s lips.
“Daes this seem familiar tae ye, Cameron?” Murdoch hissed.
Struan sheathed his sword and held his hands up, palms facing Murdoch. “Let her go.”
“Ye dae remember this, dinnae ye? I took yer bleedin’ sister’s head like this, remember?” Murdoch mocked.
“Murdoch, let go of her.”
“Ye ruined me daughter, Cameron,” he growled, his voice low and cold. “Now ye’re goin’ tae watch me take her from ye.”
“Please, Faither,” Isolde cried. “Dinnae dae this.”
“I’ll give ye whatever ye want. I’ll give ye me lands. Me title. I’ll give ye me entire birthright,” Struan said, determined to leave everything if it meant Isolde would live. “Just… let her go.”
Isolde struggled in his grasp so Murdoch yanked her hair hard, pulling her head back. He pressed the edge of his dagger against her neck. Struan watched in horror as several drops of blood spilled down her ivory skin. His heart raced and his stomach churned wildly.
“Everythin’ I have is yers. Just let her go. Kill me, if that is what ye want.”
“Ye’d really dae that? Ye’d give up everythin’? For her?”
“In a heartbeat,” Struan said.
A cruel, feral grin touched Murdoch’s lips. “Then ye’re weaker than I thought ye were.”
Struan locked eyes with Isolde and gave her a small nod, hoping what he saw in her eyes was a flicker of recognition.
Murdoch grinned at him. But before he could do anything more, Isolde threw her head back and connected with his already shattered nose.
A strangled gasp burst from her father’s throat as he stumbled backward, fresh blood flowing freely down his face.
Struan acted in time, rushing forward and drawing his sword in one fluid movement. Murdoch’s eyes widened and his face paled as Struan drove his sword into his throat. He pushed it deep, the point of his blade scraping the stone wall behind him.
Murdoch sank to his knees gasping and gurgling, fingers clawing at the blade in his throat. With one final glance of fury at his daughter, he fell onto his side and lay still.
Struan rushed to Isolde and pulled his dagger from his belt, quickly sawing through her bindings. He clutched her shoulders and searched her up and down for wounds.
“Are ye all right?” he asked. “Are ye hurt?”
Though tears rolled from her eyes she shook her head. “Nay. I’m fine. I’m all right.”
Struan pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her to him as relief flooded his veins. Stepping back, but still holding her shoulders, he searched her once more. He saw no blood or any evidence of wounds. She truly was all right.
Isolde stared down at her father, a blend of confused, muddled emotions on her face. He couldn’t imagine what she was feeling. Grief? Relief? Some combination of them all?
“Are ye ready?” he asked and took her by the hand.
She hesitated for a moment before tearing her eyes away and offered him a shaky smile but a firm nod.
They made their way through the castle and to a secret passage that led them to the forest outside again.
It wasn’t until they had made their way through the forest and around to the front of Moy Castle that Struan realized things had gone the way he had hoped.
Murdoch’s soldiers were dead, and his own men were raising their arms in victory, their cheering echoing through the night.
“Are ye all right?” he asked gently.
A wondrous smile touched her lips and she nodded. Struan realized the look on her face was of a woman who knew she was truly and genuinely free.
“I’m all right. I’m very much all right,” she said. “Let’s go home.”
“Aye, wife. Let’s go home.”