Page 75 of The Speed of Lightning
Overhead, the fluttery call of a crossbill broke the night. The man looked up, confusion flashing across his face at the out of place sound. A breath later, an arrow punched through his chest. He staggered, then crumpled lifeless into the incoming tide.
Lightning squinted into the treeline and caught sight of Birdy lowering her bow.
Freya clawed to her knees. “Calum?”
He stared, scarcely believing she was there and alive. “Aye.”
She wavered to her feet, eyes blank, steps unsteady. “Calum… you are here. It’s you. You’re here.”
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, tears brimming. “I’m h-hale.”
His gaze swept over her, taking in the bruises blooming on her face, the blood at her nose, the dark marks ringing her throat. “No—you are hurt.”
Her eyes darted to the dead men strewn across the beach, then to the sword still clutched in his hand. Hoarsely she whispered, “You killed him.”
Lightning followed her stare to the lifeless bulk at his feet, the man’s brown eyes glassy, fixed on the heavens. The weight of it pressed down on him, and yet he felt no regret. He had killed like the savage beast he kept caged inside, and God help him, he would do it again if it meant she lived. He had vowed to give her his protection, his blood, his very body. With a groan, he flung the sword into the sand, praying he had not frightened her more than the men who had come for her.
“There is no life for me without you, MacSorley. I couldnae lose you.”
Unflinching, she closed the distance, hurling herself into his arms, burying her face against his neck. His heart battered his ribs as she clung to him, trembling, her whole body shaking with shock.
Desperation crashed over him. He needed to reclaim her, to assure himself that she was here. That she remained his. He wanted to thoroughly kiss her, to keep kissing her until she knew exactly what lay in his heart and mind for her, but he remembered that was not what was between them. So he only held her tighter, breathing in the scent of her hair, the lithe press of her body comforting in his arms.
She drew a shuddering breath and raised a trembling hand to his cheek. “You killed him. You killed him.”
“I’m sorry, I had to do it,” he breathed. “I was out of my mind that I had lost you. That they were about to kill the woman that I?—”
He stopped the words of his confession. He loved her. God knew it. He had always loved her, since the day he held her under their tree. The lump in his throat threatened to choke him.At last, he forced the safer words out. “The woman I vowed to protect.”
Tears streaked down her face. “Oh Calum, your mother. I failed Týr?—”
“Shh.” He gathered her close. “I saw her. There’s nothing to be done. This is what happens in an attack.”
She shook her head fiercely. “Your father will be angry I couldnae make her leave with me.”
The mention of his father cut deep, but he forced a steady breath. “No, lass. His last words were to tell me where you were. He wasnae angry.”
Heartbreak crumpled every feature of her face as she realized what he was saying. She covered her mouth and released a horrified sob.
Beside him, Birdy dropped from the trees, her fingers signing quickly.Your parents did not make it?
He swallowed hard, keeping his voice even. “No.”
Bog came cantering onto the beach, and Freya let out another sob, this one full of relief. The black dog trotted straight to her, rising onto his hind legs. Stricken, she sank to her knees, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face into his wooly shoulder.
Birdy crouched beside her, resting a hand on her back as Rock emerged from the wood with Balder.
Balder’s face was thunderous. “It’s that cur’s son, Stewart. I’m ready, Cù Cogaidh. Ready to train. Ready to fight these cowards.”
He tightened his grip on his sword. Jura might be divided, backward in custom and thinking, but God help whoever gave them a reason to unify.
Chapter 21
INVERLUSSA, JURA - NOVEMBER 29, 1386
All her life Calum had been as familiar to her as the shape of the shoreline. Ordinary, in the way only someone you had known since childhood could be. Calum, one of the vile MacLeans. Calum, the scunner who’d once stolen Douglas MacSorley’s cow. Restless Calum, always running across the island as if chased by the wind. Roguish Calum, who could charm any lass into the marsh for a kiss. They had helped each other, sometimes even stood as allies. But he had always been only Calum. Now… now he was something else entirely.
