Page 78 of Beguiled By the Highlander
Where she had come from.
And where she was destined to go.
MacGregor swaggered closer and grabbed her shawl, hauling her to him. “Mind yer blade, lass, I don’t want ye to injure yerself.”
I love ye, William.
Time slowed; and as the sound of Sjor’s frenzied barking faded, primal power surged through her, a power that came from the core of her being and the years of training she had dedicated to the memory of her formidable foremothers.
William had always believed in her. She would not prove him wrong.
As MacGregor’s leering face loomed over her, she swung her head forward, connecting squarely against his nose. At his roar of pain, she thrust the dagger upwards, all but severing his ear, then twisted free from her shawl that he still grasped in his fist.
“Ye pox-ridden MacDonald whore,” he spat. Blood splattered his face and murder gleamed in his eyes, but she hadn’t finished yet. Her only hope of surviving was if she could escape him and secure the castle.
If only she had her claymore and could avenge William in the way he deserved.
Her husband.My love.
She hiked up her skirts and kicked MacGregor between his legs with all her might.
He collapsed to the ground like a felled tree, and reality once again crashed down around her. There was no time to weep for what she had lost. William had loved Creagdoun, and she would protect it in his memory with everything she had.
“Sjor.” Her voice was hoarse as she turned and ran to the entrance that led directly to the castle. With Sjor at her heels, she squeezed through the gap before pulling the door shut, securing the bolts, and heaving the iron bar in place.
Panting, she peered through the window. MacGregor was on his knees, pushing himself forward, and for one heart-stopping moment, his gaze caught hers.
Her death would not be swift, should he catch her.
She turned and raced through the passageway, her erratic breath filling the enclosed space with eerie echoes. By the time she reached the lady’s chamber and bolted the door, her chest was tight and ached so deeply she wondered how she could even breathe through the rock lodged inside her heart.
As she stumbled into the antechamber, Emer emerged from the master’s chamber, looking distraught.
“Milady,” she gasped. “I’ve been searching for ye.” Her eyes widened as she took in her disheveled appearance. “God help us all, what’s happened to ye?”
There was no time to explain. “I must find Patric.”
She rushed from the chamber and found him in the great hall, along with several of the men that had accompanied them from Eigg. As soon as he saw her, he strode over, a harsh expression on his face.
“Emer was concerned,” he began, but she brushed his words aside.
“Malcolm MacNeil is Alan MacGregor. He’s not to enter the castle, Patric. He’s the one who betrayed William, the one—” Her voice cracked, and she hitched in a sharp breath, desperately grasping at her jagged thoughts. Now was not the time to fallapart. “I fear the MacGregors may attack Creagdoun. We must be ready for them.”
Patric didn’t waste time asking her how she could possibly know such a thing. He merely gave a single nod.
“Aye, my lady.” He turned on his heel and the men followed his lead.
Sjor sat at her feet, and she sank to her knees, pressing her throbbing brow against his head. If he hadn’t led her outside, she wouldn’t have discovered the identity of Alan MacGregor, and one way or another, he would’ve gained entry to Creagdoun and taken it down from within.
Her faithful dog had done his part. Now she would do hers.
For William.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Twilight hovered onthe horizon as William finally emerged from the thick of the forest and Creagdoun came into view. Despite his desperate prayers, he hadn’t caught up with MacGregor. And as much as he hoped the man had simply disappeared into the mountains, in his heart he knew better.
As far as MacGregor was aware, William and the rest of the men had fallen in Glen Clah. He’d be expecting his own men to arrive so they could take the castle. And although that plan had been thwarted, it didn’t mean MacGregor hadn’t managed to breach Creagdoun’s defenses.
