Page 67 of The Laird's Wicked Game

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 thegaping 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 intotheir 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.