Page 151 of Bride of Fire
“Archers, disperse along the walls!” she cried. “Guard the doors!”
The archers abandoned the battlements, facing inward and finding the best vantage points to keep the entrance in their sights.
As for the women atop the wall, though they would have no parapets to hide behind when the English streamed in, Jenefer felt they were safer up here than sitting in the great hall, waiting like lambs to be slaughtered.
Apparently, they agreed. Not a single one fled down the stairs. Instead, the determined lasses hefted up what projectiles remained in their arsenal and prepared to launch an attack inside the walls.
For one moment, her breast swelled with pride.
Then, with a brutal punch of its wooden fist, the battering ram shattered the doors. Her chest caved as the breath hissed from her lungs.
The cart keeled over and smashed onto its side. A man who didn’t dodge fast enough screamed as the weighted conveyance crushed his leg.
But what wrenched at her heart, making it knife sideways, was the sight of Morgan down there, in the thick of things. He and his men stood before the doors, baring their teeth and brandishing their claymores.
Too soon, like angry wasps knocked from their nest, the English began to swarm through the narrow opening and over the overturned cart.
She swallowed down her fear and stiffened her spine.I’ve got this,she’d boasted. Now there was no turning back.
At her direction, the women flocked to the section of wall directly above the attackers, lobbing rocks and dropping pitchers on them as they came through the entrance.
Her archers, aided by the disarray the women sowed, performed expertly. They wounded nearly half of the invaders as they slipped through the gap.
The English lucky enough to evade their arrows were met by Morgan’s claymore-wielding giants.
As for Jenefer, she gave herself the singular mission of keeping Morgan safe. She shot at anyone who came within a yard of him, not even noting or caring that she might have killed a man for the first time.
By some miracle, the Highlanders repelled the first wave of invaders and righted the cart again. Once the injured man was carried away, five men-at-arms shoved the cart up against the splintered doors and held it there with their backs.
It wouldn’t keep the enemy out forever. But now maybe Roger would think twice about the cost in casualties if he attacked again. A dozen bodies lay strewn about the courtyard, feeding the grass with English blood.
But one person in the keep wasn’t pleased with the outcome.
“Nay!” Alicia screamed, frowning in fury at the carnage.
Only one thing could make her that angry, and that was having her plans foiled. She must have been counting on the English to seize Creagor and take Morgan. She expected them to rescue her. Which confirmed that it was she who’d misled them, telling them Morgan had committed the murders.
Afire with rage at Alicia’s betrayal, Jenefer drew her bow, aiming at the treacherous woman’s back.
Then she hesitated.
She remembered what Bethac had said. Morgan would never forgive her for shooting Miles’ mother.
Her hands faltered on the bow as she saw Morgan turn toward Alicia, his blade still in hand, his chest heaving, his face grimy from battle.
Still Jenefer fought the urge to slay the woman where she stood.
But Alicia shifted her posture then, enough so Jenefer could see the bundle in her arms.
Alicia had Miles.
He writhed in her arms, bleating to be free.
Jenefer’s heart plunged. Her hands quaked. A knot of horror clogged her throat.
Bloody hell. What if Jenefer had fired that shot and accidentally hit Miles?
Before her grip could slip, before she could do something she’d regret, Jenefer lowered the bow. But her fingers still trembled on the grip. And her gaze as she kept Alicia and Miles in her sights could have pierced steel.
