Page 25 of The Laird’s Wicked Game (Highland Scandal #2)

KYLIE HALTED, HER gaze narrowing as she peered down at the shadowy barmkin. Like the braziers upon the walls, the torches hanging from chains below were starting to gutter—and some of them had gone out.

Visibility was poor, yet there was no mistaking the silhouettes of men who crept across the courtyard.

Instinctively, she dropped to a crouch. Standing up on the walls, outlined by the sky, made her far too easy to spot.

Breath held, she scrutinized the figures for a few moments. Since she’d been outdoors for a spell, her eyes had adjusted to the dim light. As such, she easily made out half a dozen of them. But as she looked on, more emerged, crawling like wasps from what appeared to be an open drain directly below her.

Her pulse started to thump in her ears.

She was the only one who’d seen them. The guards were all facing the wrong way, looking out to sea and land for any sign of trouble—not realizing that danger was right behind them .

I must raise the alarm!

There was a bell tower above the gates, yet that was too far away. She’d never reach it in time. She had to do something though—if she didn’t, the broch would be overrun.

Her breath gusted out of her before she drew in another, deep, lungful of air. Fear clutched at her chest as the moments slid by—and then she mastered it.

Exhilaration swept over her. Fire ignited in her gut as fierce determination swelled under her breastbone. A door inside her gave way, and on the other side, she found her voice, her courage.

A moment later, she screamed, “To arms! Enemies within the walls!”

Her warning shattered the pregnant silence, ripping through it like a whetted blade. It boomed off stone and would likely have echoed deep within the broch. Even so, Kylie wasn’t taking any chances. “To arms!” she bellowed once more, with such force that her throat hurt. “Enemies within the walls!”

Chaos broke loose.

The guards on the wall swiveled from their posts, drew their weapons, and dashed along the wall toward the nearest steps. Moments later, warriors, most of them half-clad yet bearing weapons, burst from the barracks.

The ring of steel and the grunts of fighting men then rose into the air.

Kylie remained crouched there, watching the Guard take on the men who now swarmed the barmkin. However, her pounding heart stuttered when she recognized one of the intruders. His long pale hair made him stand out amongst the others, as did the fluid way he fought .

And as she looked on, Tormod MacDougall thrust his dirk into a guard’s chest and twisted viciously, before kicking him to the ground.

And then, as if feeling the weight of her stare, he glanced up at the wall.

Their gazes fused for one long moment—before Tormod smiled.

Kylie’s already racing heart lurched into her throat. The expression was sinister, and the violence that bloomed in his pale eyes made her feel as if she’d just plunged headfirst into an icy loch.

Tormod tore his attention from her then, and she let out a relieved gasp. She rose to her feet and backed away from the edge of the walkway. Hades. She needed to get to safety.

Nonetheless, her gaze remained riveted on the man who’d once been part of the Dounarwyse Guard. Rage started to pulse in her gut. Here was the bastard who’d tried to rape her sister, who’d threatened her, even after Rae had flogged him. Someone needed to drive a dirk through his malicious heart.

Moments earlier, Tormod had been fighting his way through the press toward the tower house, but he now swiveled and headed toward the nearest set of steps. Men were fighting halfway up, but he shoved them aside, sending both friend and foe tumbling, and took the steps two at a time.

Kylie’s breathing caught, her heart kicking hard against her breastbone.

Christ’s blood, he was coming for her.

Rae raced down the steps of the tower house, dirk in hand. Upon hearing the woman’s scream—a warning that had catapulted him from his bed—he’d yanked on his braies and boots, hauled on a lèine, and raced from his bedchamber, shutting Storm in behind him.

Fortunately, he hadn’t been sleeping.

Instead, he’d been awake for hours, waiting for the treacherous dawn and Kylie’s departure. After their last conversation, they’d barely spoken. He’d informed her of the ferry from Craignure to Oban, and that his men would accompany her, but apart from that, they’d avoided each other.

And now she was leaving.

But Rae’s thoughts weren’t on his lover now. Kylie would still be upstairs, as would his sons. Hopefully, they all had the wits to stay there, to lock themselves away in their bedchambers.

All he could think about was that intruders were in his broch. How the devil did they get inside? Over the past months, he’d been focused on keeping the people of the nearby village safe, as well as the crofters who lived on the hills around Dounarwyse. The Ghost Raiders had managed to get into Moy Castle, but his broch perched high with sheer grassy slopes and perilous rocks below. He’d never imagined anyone could scale these walls.

In the entrance hall below, he met two of his men who, like him, were heading toward the door. “Stay here!” he barked. “And prevent anyone from entering the tower house.”

Not waiting for their response—for he knew they’d heed him—he shoved the heavy door open and burst outside.

Beyond, he found the barmkin filled with fighting men.

Growling a curse, Rae’s gaze swept the melee. He couldn’t see his brother amongst the guards. His attention shifted then to the guard tower, his breathing growing shallow when he saw that the door was open.

The enemy was within .

Without thinking, he skirted the edge of the fighting, heading toward the guard tower. Jack and his family lived on the top level. They were trapped. He had to get to them.

One of the intruders blocked his way then—a beast of a man with a bullish jaw. Rae engaged him, their dirks slashing as they tried to get under each other’s guard. Rage caught fire in his blood. These shit-eaters were trying to take his broch—his home. He’d dedicated his life to protecting these walls, and he’d give it to keep them safe. He didn’t know who these attackers were, or who’d sent them, but he was going to make each one of them pay.

His huge opponent tried to kick him then, attempting to knock him off balance before going in for the kill. But Rae sidestepped his heavy boot, rammed his dirk into the warrior’s gut, and twisted.

The warrior’s agonized scream ripped through the barmkin. He crumpled to his knees, bending double. Rae didn’t bother to finish him off; someone else would surely do that. Instead, he yanked his dirk free and dove for the open door to the guard tower.

And as soon as he hit the first of the steep, narrow steps that coiled upward, he heard snarled curses and grunts echoing down the stairwell.

Jack had already engaged them.

Tightening his grip on his dirk, Rae raced up the stairs. However, halfway up, a large body collided with him, nearly sending him for a tumble. He slammed himself against the pitted stone wall, his boots digging into the step as a corpse slid past.

A big man with wild dark hair and beard, his brown eyes startled, as if his end had been a surprise, stared up at him. His throat was cut from ear to ear and blood pumped from the gaping wound, running like a stream down the steps now that he lay twitching on his back.

“Rae!” His chin kicked up then as Jack appeared above. His brother wore nothing but loosely tied braies. However, his green eyes gleamed and his expression was feral.

“Are Tara and the bairns safe?” Rae asked breathlessly, reassuring himself that his brother was uninjured.

“Aye.” Jack descended the steps toward him, his lip curling as his gaze grazed the prone figure at Rae’s feet. “They’ve barred the door from the inside.”

“The barmkin is filled with intruders,” Rae replied, fury thundering in his ears. “Let’s deal with them.”

Kylie whispered a curse. Heart galloping, she slammed the stairwell door closed. She’d been hoping to flee the walls down the stairs, yet when she’d opened the door, she heard fighting within: the clang of metal colliding and grunts.

She wouldn’t be escaping that way.

Cornered, she backed across the wide terrace before the eastern walls.

Tormod had scaled the steps and was striding along the wall toward her. He wasn’t smiling now. Instead, the look on his face made her bladder tingle.

“Good morning, little bird,” he called out as he stepped onto the terrace. “How loudly ye sing.”

Kylie clenched her jaw, the heat in her belly reigniting. She was afraid—sweat now trickled between her shoulder blades, and her pulse thumped in her ears—but she held onto her nerve.

Halting at the edge of the terrace, she glanced down. A tide of fighting men surged below her. If she jumped, she’d fall into their midst and surely be skewered by a blade or trampled underfoot.

But if she stayed up here, MacDougall intended to kill her.

There was no doubt.

Dropping to a crouch, she shifted to face him. “Get back, dog!”

Tormod halted, a cold smile tugging at his lips. “Ye are a haughty one, aren’t ye … like yer bonnie sister.” His smile twisted into a sneer then. “But I’m not yers to command.” He lifted his dirk, its blade glinting in the sunlight that now cast him in a halo, for the sun was rising behind him. “Ye ruined our wee surprise though, and ye shall pay.”

He advanced toward her, moving with terrifying, fluid grace.

Kylie didn’t think.

Crouched as she was, it was easy to reach under her skirts and yank the slender blade from its sheath on her thigh. Over the years, Makenna had given her lessons on how to use a dagger, if needed. Like Liza, she’d humored their younger sister at the time. All the same, she remembered Makenna’s tuition well.

Her sister had also told her she was quick. She hoped she was. Tormod was the best of the best. She’d get just one strike, and she had to make it count.

Of course, Tormod didn’t expect the lady to spring from where she crouched and rush at him. He’d thought she’d cower there, while he slit her throat. As such, his step faltered when Kylie leaped.

His ice-blue eyes snapped wide as she stabbed at his groin, throwing all her weight behind the dagger. It sank deep into the softness of his flesh, and Tormod’s roar of agony split the air .

Releasing her blade’s hilt, she flung herself under his swiping blade and rolled across the terrace like a scattered marble.

Her knees skinned, the heels of her hands burning from where she’d saved herself as she fell, she scrambled to her feet, ready to flee. But before she did, she looked back at her attacker.

Face contorted into a rictus, Tormod was bent double, his hands clenched around the handle of the knife as he prepared to yank it free from his groin.

For a few blessed moments, he wasn’t focused on her.

She then marked just how close he was standing to the edge.

In an instant, she made her decision. Seizing the moment, she rushed forward and shoved him hard in the back.

Tormod staggered, lurching sideways as the blade still embedded in his body twisted. And then he fell.

Her heartbeat drumming in her ears, she watched him land amongst the boiling sea of iron, steel, and ladders. An instant later, he was sucked under.

Kylie muttered an oath and backed away from the edge. Her breathing was ragged now. She’d come close to meeting her maker, but she wasn’t out of danger yet. She’d also lost her only weapon and needed to find something else to defend herself with.

The fighting was still going on, and she had no idea who was winning. Men were fighting on all the steps leading up to the wall, and two of them were slashing at each other with dirks on the southern ramparts. It was much easier to see now, for the sun was creeping over the walls and illuminating the center of the barmkin.

She spied Rae then, fighting in the melee below, back-to-back with his brother. The pair were savage, bringing down each attacker that rushed them. Jack had been cut across his bare chest, but he barely seemed to notice. Meanwhile, Rae wielded two dirks, which he used with equal viciousness.

Kylie watched him with awe. She’d seen Rae wrestle with his men, and spar occasionally with a bound blade. But she had no idea just what a formidable warrior he was. She recognized the faces of other men fighting around them too.

It dawned on her then that the Dounarwyse Guard had turned the tide. They were besting the band of intruders.

Driving one of his dirks into a warrior’s chest, while the other slashed across his throat, Rae watched as his opponent sagged and then toppled, blood gushing.

And then, just like that, the skirmish was over.

It had been so furious, so bloody, that the shock of it ending didn’t seem real. Kylie stared down at the bodies littering the cobbled barmkin, a chill stealing over her. Her attention then returned to Rae’s grim face as he stepped away from Jack and surveyed the ruin around him.

“Rae!”

His chin jerked up, his eyes narrowing as he swept his gaze around.

A heartbeat later, he found her. “Kylie!”