Page 30 of The Laird’s Unwanted Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #5)

C arswell really was as stupid as Gerald thought him to be.

A desperate man attacked a power bigger than himself to try to protect his ego, but a foolish man sent hardly a handful of men to do so.

He watched the small band of riders draw closer to his keep from the top of the main gate’s wall, the archers already poised and ready to strike.

This time, there was no mistaking them for allies, as the bright scarlet of their heraldry denoted their clan immediately.

If that weren’t enough, the main rider was dressed in apparel far too fancy to denote the upcoming fight; it was a simple enough conclusion that the Laird himself rode at the front.

“Suppose the archers could do away with them right now,” Rory mused aloud, his own bow drawn and strung in anticipation. “Stop them before they even reach halfway across the fields.”

He was right, of course. Carswell’s steeds were visibly struggling to plow through the thick layers of snow, and even from this distance, Gerald could make out their miserable shivering.

These men were ill-prepared for the harsh bite of the north; it truly would be a mercy to end their lives as quickly as possible.

But Gerald wasn’t feeling particularly merciful, denoting as much with a curt shake of the head. “Carswell came all this way to greet us. It would be rude nae to hear what he traveled so far to say to us.”

Perhaps he was stroking his own ego a bit.

Perhaps it would be simpler to rain arrows upon their enemy and be done with it.

But Carswell had made the attack personal the moment he threw Gerald’s wife out into the wilds to fend for herself.

Simply killing him wouldn’t satisfy the Laird of MacLiddel.

He wanted to inflict as much suffering as he possibly could.

The small group finally approached the main gates, flanking Carswell’s horse as the Laird loudly addressed the keep. “I seek audience with Laird MacLiddel! Send that traitorous swine of a man out here to face his punishment!”

Rory’s expression hardened, an arrow aimed downwind to pierce cleanly through Carswell’s skull. Gerald held a hand up, his man-at-arms lowering his weapon as the other kinsmen followed suit. “Bold talk for a man who abandoned his supposed wife to the mercy of the Highlands,” he called back.

Irritation was quick to thicken the supposed Laird’s voice as he cast his gaze directly up at Gerald.

“MacLiddel! How dare ye interfere with another man’s business!

” He straightened his regalia—a pointless attempt at a show of power, given he was covered in layers of furred cloaks—and pointed an accusatory finger at Gerald’s way.

Though the effect was somewhat diminished as a tremble of cold shook the man’s hand.

“Say the word, me Laird,” Rory growled under his breath, his fingers dancing along the string of his bow. “And we will be free of his foolish gab.”

Gerald let out a snort; he almost felt pity for Carswell, the ridiculous bairn.

He’d clearly spoken too loudly to his council and promised far more than he could handle.

“This display of power will be a good reminder for the men,” he replied to his man-at-arms. “One’s bravado can only get ye so far in life.

” He cleared his throat, bellowing once more over the side of the wall, “Leave me territory, Carswell. And I may consider yer insults simply from a place of uncontrollable passion.”

That seemed to rub Carswell entirely the wrong way.

Then again, that had been Gerald’s entire intent.

“Ye insult me clan, MacLiddel! Sending yer snake of a man-at-arms to proclaim ownership over me property! Ye can avoid bloodshed by returning her to me. I’ll even let ye keep that mutt and that littler bastard if ye’d like; she’ll be old enough some day for ye to spawn yer next generation with. ”

Gerald’s temper flared in his chest, his vision briefly flickering red. “Last chance, Carswell. Abandon this foolish endeavor or die at me hand.”

It was clear Carswell’s own fury was building. “Perhaps ye’re satisfied with weak-willed women, but the Carswells demand absolute strength from every clan member!”

Nonsense.

“MacGunn’s bastard of a sister hadnae proved her strength, and thus was sent into the wilds to prove herself!”

Absolute lies.

“And ye interfered with our clan’s traditions with yer uncontrollable lust!” Carswell practically spat the words out from his mouth, though they immediately froze upon hitting the chill, northern air. And that was all Gerald was willing to hear.

He raised his hands for the archers to fire, Rory looking particularly pleased to pincushion Carswell and be done with the entire affair. But then, a small noise shouted over the sudden gust of bitter winds, catching Gerald completely off guard.

“Ye’re a liar, ye bealin’ bawbag!”

Never once had the cold of his territory penetrated Gerald’s skin. But the sound of Mollie’s outcry turned his blood to absolute ice.

“Ye threw me sister over yer arm and tried to toss her out!”

Her little voice rang out below them, somewhere between the main gate and the violent armada of Carswell’s men.

Gerald couldn’t see her, couldn’t pinpoint exactly where she was.

But clearly, Carswell knew exactly where she was, and as he punched across the snow-covered grounds, Gerald suddenly found himself flung over the wall, his hands scrambling to grasp at the jutting stones of his keep.

He aimed his feet directly on top of Carswell’s figure, slamming into him as the man’s arm outstretched toward the barred gate, where little Mollie had pressed herself against.

A terrified scream from the little girl lit the fuse at last, the remainder of the clansmen exploding into action. Arrows rained suddenly from above and below, zipping toward the gaps of the gate in an attempt to pierce Mollie.

By instinct alone, Gerald tore back to his feet and flung his arm outward, hardly registering the arrow’s point embedding itself deep into his forearm.

He had little time to react as Carswell erupted from beneath him, throwing him off-balance as a flash of steel tore free from his sheath.

Mindlessly, Gerald drew his own blade and caught Carswell’s mid-arch, frantically scanning through the bars of the gate for any sign of Mollie.

More arrows whizzed past him, digging into the snow as a few more found purchase in his leg. A tremble ran up the length of his body, and the next strike from Carswell nearly knocked him off his feet. Someone bellowed loudly behind him, chorusing with the sound of howling hounds.

As the sound of crunching snow rang out, Rory’s scarred face briefly flashed past him before he was shoved forward, and with the sudden rush of momentum, Gerald raised his sword and brought it hard down upon Carswell’s.

As his opponent crumpled slightly, Gerald finally caught sight of Mollie; she remained rigid in her place, tears filling her eyes as a swarm of deerhounds circled her.

An arrow or two had found purchase in their bodies, but that hardly seemed to deter them, snarling and gnashing their teeth as they tried to press themselves through the gaps of the gate.

“Get away from the gate, Mollie!” Gerald roared.

The poor girl remained in place.

“Mollie!” Gerald slammed his sword against Carswell’s once more, finding Rory dart around him and take the brunt of Carswell’s counter. He shoved the Laird aside, clearing a path for Gerald as he ran to the gate, the hounds shifting to allow his arms through the bars. “Mollie, look at me.”

Mollie’s face was slick with tears, partially frozen to her face as a terrible wail shattered Gerald’s heart.

“Lamb.”

She looked up, puffy red eyes staring into Gerald’s.

As best as he could, Gerald brought her closer to him, his hands covering her ears as he sang loudly.

The battle raged on behind him, the occasional piercing of an arrow sticking into his body.

And still, he remained singing, keeping Mollie’s ears covered and ensuring her sight was of him and him alone.

Then, suddenly, an angelic face appeared.

The world froze in place as Gerald stared, wondering if his injuries had finally taken hold.

She was ethereal, her hair flowing, touched by curling firelight.

Her eyes were deep and brown, with hints of gold captured in their wide, endless expanse.

His breath escaped in a rush, unable to look away.

At least, until Aileen’s hands found his face.

“Go, Gerald! They’re raising the gate!”

Gerald blinked, brought violently back to reality as his wife fully took the place of the angel. The gate rattled beneath his arms, and as he pulled back, Aileen grabbed Mollie and pulled her into her embrace.

As the pair stumbled back, the gate flew open in its entirety, and he briefly caught sight of Arthur and the gate guards straining against the chain pulley. Nathan appeared soon after, a wooden whistle in hand as a high-pitched shrill shattered the air.

And the Beast of Braeriach was soon joined by his hounds of hell.

They all surged past him as they raced across the snow, Bannock leading the blood-frenzied charge. She lunged across the air and went for the throat of Carswell’s closest warrior, her pack soon swarming his fallen body as others followed suit.

Panic clung to the air as gurgling shrieks rang out, followed soon after by the clang of steel as Gerald’s men acted as support for the beasts.

They rushed from the gate in droves, pushing Carswell’s assault back into the fields as the snow around them was soon dyed scarlet.

That left Gerald entirely focused on Laird Carswell himself, still engaged with Rory between the archway of the gate.

“Carswell!” Gerald’s bellowing threw him forward, an overhead swing shattering the blade in the cowardly Laird’s hand.

Shimmering metal caught the sunlight as Carswell only briefly registered his empty hilt, only to scream out in pain as Gerald’s blade finally dug into his shoulder.

He pushed it further, chewing through bone and severing the man’s arm completely.

It landed in a limp, bloody pile against the snow, Carswell’s screams still filling the air as Rory followed up with an upward slash across his chest. His man-at-arms then kicked the man square in the ribs, forcing Carswell to lurch back into Gerald as he positioned his sword’s point forward and ran the man straight through.

“In yer next life,” Gerald snarled in Carswell’s ear. “Take care nae to cross paths with beasts far bigger than ye.”

Yanking his sword free, Carswell only offered a gurgling gasp in reply before collapsing into a heap in the bleeding snow.