Page 73 of Highlander's Captive Bride
“Aye, he has nae chance,” Bellamy agreed, not letting himself think about what could have happened if Daisy had not caught Nadia and he had not known about the imminent attack.
Lachlan was urging several of his men to attempt to scale the castle walls with siege ladders. Bellamy and Jamie watched with satisfaction when they met a sorry end on the craggy outcrop on which the castle stood and in the waters of the loch.
Their shouts and screams split the air as they fell, either picked off by the Murdoch archers at close quarters or their ladders toppled from above by long wooden poles.
When he spotted a small team of Lachlan’s men trying to scale the gatehouse and climb through into the small apertures leading to the mechanism controlling the portcullis—an attempt to open the gates from inside—Bellamy directed the archers that way.
“I’m going down there!” he shouted to Jamie, dashing down the many steps to the courtyard, where a small force of mounted soldiers was stationed in front of the gatehouse to defend against any breach of the main gates.
That now seemed very unlikely, since Lachlan’s forces were quickly dwindling, his attempts to get inside the castle failed and at least half of his men injured or killed.
Bellamy was by now burning with vengeful hatred for his sly foe and eager to get outside and kill him himself. He wanted to be sure the man was really gone this time.
“Horse!” he yelled, rushing to the head of his men.
Almost immediately, a stableman appeared and ran over to him, leading his enormous black stallion. He rapidly passed the reins to Bellamy. Bellamy snatched them up and leaped into the saddle, drawing his claymore and pointing it at the heavens.
“Open up!”
The great chains of the portcullis began their squealing ascent, and soon, the great gates swung open.
“Pearson is mine! Hounds of Murdoch, come feast on yer foe’s flesh!” Bellamy yelled, standing up in his stirrups.
The battle cry echoed from the castle’s stone walls as he and his men rode out in close formation to immediately clash with Lachlan’s remaining men by the gates.
A fierce rout began, with a confident Murdoch force wreaking death and destruction on those of Lachlan’s men who were not already seeking to retreat across the causeway, clearly realizing they had lost the battle before it had even begun.
Warriors locked in mortal combat hacked and sliced at each other amid sprays of blood and the screams of horses and men. Bellamy stood up in his stirrups, his blade cutting through anyone and anything standing between him and Lachlan Pearson.
Lachlan was on foot, and when Bellamy reached him, he slipped from the saddle to face him on the ground. He slapped the horse’s flank, making it whinny and canter back out of danger.
“I could have finished ye quickly from me saddle, Pearson!” he roared, grinning. “But I want to prolong the pleasure of killing ye, ye evil scum.”
Bloodlust taking hold of him, Bellamy assumed a fighting stance, wielding his claymore before him as he closed in on his enemy.
Lachlan made a signal with his arm, and those of his men who could, and had not already fled, fell back across the causeway, clearly intending to rejoin the rest of their now depleted forces. But they were hounded by Bellamy’s soldiers, both on foot and mounted.
Many of the attackers fell screaming into the waters of the loch, to turn belly up and float away.
Apart from a few knots of warriors left slogging at each other near the gates, Bellamy and Lachlan now faced each other across a few yards of paved stone.
“Well, ye couldnae kill me the first time, Murdoch, so I doubt ye’ll be able to do it now!” Lachlan taunted, laughing uproariously at his own wit.
“Ah, but I didnae get to kill ye meself before. This time, I’ll make sure to do the job properly,” Bellamy yelled, moving closer so he could take a good look at his enemy. He wanted to look into Lachlan’s eyes when he twisted his blade inside him and make sure he understood he was doing it for Bridie and Elodie.
As if he could read Bellamy’s thoughts, Lachlan shouted, “A right bonny lass that sister of yers. Very pretty. Too pretty. I couldnae keep me hands off her. But it turned out she liked it in the end, the wee whore!”
He laughed mockingly, his eyes darting with fervid merriment as he weighed his sword in his hand.
Bellamy, his blood boiling at the slur against Bridie, knew his opponent was searching for any inroad for attack. “Ye’ll regret yer filthy words, ye cowardly poisoner of wee girls,” he bellowed, a red mist beginning to coat his vision. “I’m goin’ to carve yer guts out and hang ’em from me battlements along with yer head for the crows to feed on.”
He leaped forward suddenly, smashing his shield into Lachlan’s to knock him off balance, striking down at the man’s neck with his blade. But his foe was fast and sprang backwards, avoiding the blow and answering with a long, thrusting stab at Bellamy’s chest.
Bellamy, powered by vengeful fury, spun adeptly, dodging Lachlan’s blade, which buried itself in his shield. Using the opportunity to destabilize his foe, he did all he could to prevent Lachlan from pulling his blade free, crowding him while at the same time hacking at his neck and shoulders. But Lachlan used his own shield to deflect the blows and managed to pull his claymore free.
“Did ye like the way I sent the lass back to ye, with me bairn in her belly?” Lachlan taunted, launching a fierce attack on Bellamy.
Bellamy hammered back every strike, forcing Lachlan on the defensive. But the man parried every blow with strength and skill that surprised him, standing his ground.
