Page 66 of The Laird's Wicked Game

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 andboots, 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.