Page 84 of Laird of Wrath

Some people were still dancing, unaware of what was wrong. Others were running around the courtyard, trying to get inside. And in the middle of it all, his guards were yelling at each other, those standing on the curtain walls shouting orders to those below.

It didn’t take him long to understand what was wrong. After all, there was only one explanation for this.

Barclay.

His blade was in his hand within moments. He looked around him as more people realized they were in danger and they all began to run, almost trampling each other.

“Slow down!” he shouted, trying to be heard over the chaos.

There was so much noise—screams, cries, the thud of boots on the ground. Dust flew up in the air, dancing in the firelight, creating a dense fog he could not easily see through. His eyes itched. His lungs burned. Every breath made him choke, and yet he kept shouting, hoping his people would listen.

“Inside! Get inside! Get the bairns!”

With a grunt, he turned to face the curtain walls, through which the enemy was trying to enter. His men fought valiantly, but there were only so many of them. Their forces had been depleted. Laird Barclay’s men were more prepared for this than they could ever be.

“Callum!” Hudson’s cut through the air.

Callum turned to see his friend running toward him through the sea of people that were trying to get into the keep.

Hudson pushed his way through, colliding with the bodies in his way, stumbling, then catching himself. Callum ran to him, meeting him halfway, and reached out a hand to grab his shoulder.

“It’s Barclay,” he said.

Hudson nodded. “Aye. But we’re ready for him. Well…as ready as we can be. The walls, they’ll hold.”

“Aye,” Callum echoed, though he wasn’t certain he believed it. “I need ye to do somethin’ for me. Take care of Rhea, Sienna, and Mabel.”

“Of course,” Hudson said, giving him a firm nod. Then, he looked around, searching. “Where are they?”

Callum looked around as well, scanning the courtyard. The women were nowhere to be found.

“Look for them,” he instructed. “I’ll do the same.”

They split up, each man going in a different direction. Callum kept his eyes peeled for any sign of the three women, or at least for Lara, who was bound to know where they were.

And yet, no matter how much he looked, he couldn’t find any of them. The crowd was a flash of faces, a hurricane, people rushing past him in a panic. The courtyard was lit orange by the firelight, but even the bonfires weren’t enough to reach the farthest shadows, those places that were cloaked in darkness.

“Rhea!” he called.

An enemy soldier suddenly appeared before him. It seemed that Barclay’s men had slipped through the castle’s defenses.

Callum looked around, noticing that many more had flooded into the courtyard.

He cursed under his breath just as the man lunged for him with a cry, his blade raised high. He planted his feet on the ground, steeling himself for the collision. When the soldier reached him, he easily parried the first blow.

The man was tall and lean, his eyes wide and wild as he dealt one blow after the other. He was fast, tireless. Callum had the advantage of size, a wall where the other man was an arrow, but he wasn’t quite as fast. Parrying took a lot more effort, so he jumped back, trying to put some distance between them.

It gave him the time he needed to deliver an attack, swinging his sword high and bringing it down in an arc with a shout. The man jumped back at the very last moment, but Callum followed him, giving him no time to recover before he thrust his sword forward, catching him on the shoulder. The man fell down with a cry of pain.

Callum spun on his heel and ran off, searching for the women once more. He didn’t care about the soldier. He would either bleed out or he would be killed by one of his men. Either way, Callum couldn’t bother with him, not when Rhea’s life was in danger.

The courtyard was fire and dust, the air already carrying the coppery tang of blood. Callum was instantly transported back to the battlefield, back to the middle of war. Rage coursed through him. The longer it took him to find Rhea and the others, the angrier he became with Laird Barclay.

How dared the bastard attack his home? How dared he put the people he loved in danger?

I’ll find him, and I’ll kill him with me own hands.

“Callum!” Hudson’s voice echoed across the courtyard once more.