Page 9 of Ruining a Highland Healer
Next to him, Noah brandished his own blade, which flashed in the light of the torches. Two against four were good enough odds for him; he had fought with worse, and so had Noah. With him by his side, he knew there was little chance of defeat.
"Unhand her or I will kill all o’ ye an’ then I’ll go after yer laird," Torrin threatened. His blade dripped with blood and so did his hands. His breath came in ragged puffs, rage and indignation coursing through his body and making it impossible to control himself. "Dae ye hear me? Unhand her!"
Reluctantly, the man who was holding Valora let her go, and she rushed to Torrin, who pushed her behind him, using his own body as a shield. She was so close to him that he could feel her entire body trembling against his back, and he reached for her hand with his free one, the one that wasn’t holding his sword—the one that despite not holding his sword, was still covered in blood, thick and tacky. Even so, Valora didn’t shy away from his touch. She held his hand tightly, taking whatever comfort she could from it.
"This is an act o’ war!" Torrin shouted, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword. Laird Keith’s men remained silent, none of them knowing what to say. They were only soldiers, after all, and they were simply following the man’s orders.
Next to him, Noah took a step forward, and so did Laird Keiths’ men in response. With a slight tilt of his head, Torrin turned to Valora.
"Step back," he told her. "An’ dinnae fash. Ye are mine now and I willnae let anything happen tae ye."
Valora hesitated for a moment, before she did as she was told, taking several steps back and removing herself from the makeshift battlefield. If Torrin lost, if those men really wanted to, they could get to her, but he would give his life before he let that happen.
If there was one thing he would always do, that was to protect the innocent. And in all this, there was no party more innocent than Valora herself, who had been thrust into the depths of a situation as dangerous as it was unknown.
Torrin’s blade flashed in the moonlight as he raised it higher, ready to attack. And just as the men threw themselves at him, he took the first step, determined to win.
CHAPTER FIVE
Chaos erupted as Torrin and Noah both flung themselves into the fight, swords clashing loudly in the still night air. There were still people in the castle—many of them, in fact, and Torrin was quite certain they could all hear them, but no one dared interfere—at least not yet. He didn’t need anybody’s assistance, though; he and Noah were more than enough.
Each of them had two men to deal with, and Torrin had no time to check if Noah could handle his. However, he had blind faith in him and his abilities. Torrin’s opponents both attacked at the same time, and Torrin had to duck to avoid their blades before he counterattacked. As he swung his sword, he felt the tip of it graze the chest of one of the men, though the blow didn’t land completely, forcing the two of them to step back from him for a moment and catch their bearings.
Torrin stood straight, his gaze flitting between the two men. The one to his right was the first to attack again, throwing himself at Torrin with the kind of hesitation that was lethal in a battle.
He couldn’t blame him. What did the man have to win from this? The only thing he had to fight for was his life.
Torrin took two steps, closing the distance between them. The man took two steps back, though, maintaining the distance, and Torrin was quick to approach again, until the man had no choice but to jump back to avoid his blade. Behind him, he could hear Noah’s grunts as he fought his own opponents, and the sounds gave him some peace of mind—as long as he could hear him, it meant he was alive.
The Keith soldiers were forcing him and Noah closer and closer to each other, it seemed to Torrin, as though they thought they could somehow close in on them and ambush them. But as Torrin found himself back to back with Noah, they both also found their biggest advantage.
They were at their best when they fought together like this, swapping enemies and working side by side, so used to each other’s strategies and techniques that they moved as one.
It didn’t take long for Keith’s soldiers to realize they had made a mistake. Just as Torrin was about to attack again, three out of the four men retreated, rushing off into the shadows. The only one remaining was the one who had been there originally, holding onto Valora, and Torrin let his sword drop by his side with a sigh. There was no point in fighting the man.
"Ye," he told the man remaining, raising his sword once more to point at him with the tip of it. "Where is yer laird?"
The man hesitated for a moment, but without his fellow soldiers there, there was nothing that he could do. Eventually, he dropped his sword and ran a hand through his dark hair, giving Torrin a shrug.
"He’s long gone," he said. "He left after givin’ us orders tae take Miss MacNeacail."
O’ course he did . . . the coward!
Torrin didn’t know what he had expected. This was precisely how Laird Keith operated, making others do all his dirty work for him while he gave orders from afar, from the safety of his study and his walls. Torrin should have never expected him to be there so he could confront him.
What a fool! Sendin’ his men tae their deaths instead o’ facin’ me like a man!
"Leave," he told the man through gritted teeth. "An’ tell yer laird he can consider our clans at war."
The man hesitated for a moment. Torrin could see him weighing his options, and he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of punishment awaited them all back at Dunnottar Castle. But then, he too fled into the shadows, disappearing into the night.
Once he was gone, Torrin turned to Valora to find her standing on the front steps, watching with wide eyes. Her complexion was pallid, reminding Torrin of a ghost, and when he approachedher, she flinched at first, as if she didn’t know what to expect from him.
He made for a shocking sight, he supposed. He was still covered in blood, now dried and dark like the sky above them. Not too far from where Valora stood, the body of the man he had killed lay lifeless, a stark reminder of his brutality. He would have been more surprised if she had been as perfectly composed, if she had seemed entirely unaffected by everything she had witnessed.
"Miss MacNeacail," Torrin said when she didn’t look at him, but rather continued to stare at the body on the ground. Slowly, Valora dragged her gaze to him, blinking as if in confusion. "Ye’re alright."
It was a statement rather than a question. Valora didn’t quite seem to believe it, at least not at first, but then she drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and some color seemed to return to her cheeks.
