Page 68 of The Laird's Wicked Game
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 barechest, 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!”
26: STEPPING OVER THE BRINK
KYLIE REMAINED WHERE she was while Rae raced up the steps to the wall. He then sprinted around the walkway, leaping over the prone body of one of the intruders, and approached her.
She rose to her feet when he drew near. She then staggered, nearly falling over. Cods. Her legs felt like congealed porridge. She’d kept her wits and courage throughout the attack, but now shock caught up with her.
Moments later, Rae reached Kylie and hauled her into his arms.
She clung to him, pressing her face to his chest. Beneath the thin material of his lèine, his skin was slick with sweat and his heart hammered. But he was uninjured. Alive. Relief splintered within her, and suddenly she was weeping. Loud, messy tears.
Lord, she’d never sobbed like this. It was as if a dyke had somehow burst, and years of pent-up emotion gushed forth. There was no holding it back now.
Rae didn’t say a word. He merely held her tight and let her weep against his chest.
And when she was spent, she sagged, limp and exhausted, against him.
“Speak to me, lass,” he murmured then, his breath feathering across her forehead. “What are ye doing out here? Ye aren’t hurt?”
“No,” she rasped, pulling back slightly and raising her gaze to meet his. Rae’s eyes were shadowed with worry, yet achingly tender. “Tormod MacDougall tried to kill me … but I knifed him in the cods.”
Rae’s big body stiffened against hers, his eyes snapping wide.
“I then shoved him over the edge,” Kylie added.
“Ye did?”
“Aye.” She managed a tight smile. “Hopefully, he was trampled after he fell.”
Rae’s gaze glinted at this. He then shifted his attention to the barmkin below. “Tormod was behind this,” he shouted down to where Jack was picking his way through the dead. Nearby, his men had cornered three of the attackers who were still alive. “Can ye see him?”
A pause followed before Jack eventually called back, “He’s not here.”
Kylie’s breathing caught. She disentangled herself from Rae then and moved closer to the edge, scrutinizing the mess beneath her. Her gaze went from body to body, but there was no sign of Tormod. His distinctive long blond hair usually made him easy to spot. “He must have escaped,” she said, even as bitterness filled her mouth. “The way they came in.” She turned back to Rae, to find him watching her, confusion upon his face. “They climbed up through the storm drain … I saw them.”