Page 37 of Only a Highlander Will Do

She stopped, gazing at her home then screwed her eyes shut, trying to obliterate the terrible sight before her, but the image had been seared into her mind. She opened her eyes. Her breath ripped from her chest. A shriek erupted from her throat as she watched first one wall of Ulster Castle collapse, then another.

Another cannonball fired. Spurred on by the need to rescue her servants, Fiona surged forward down the hill despite the danger. Noise boomed all around her as stones from the castle tumbled onto the ground. Then as though moving with surreal slowness, the remains of the tower collapsed into the side of the dower house. The dower house seemed to crumble before her eyes, stone by beloved stone, until all that remained was a pile of reddish-brown rubble and dust. A wave of grief came over her, nearly knocking her to the ground. She staggered, but kept upright.

The sound of her ragged breathing pounded in her ears, and mingled with the thrumming of her heart as she skidded to a halt in time to see Alex MacDonald and his men behind the dust and rubble. “It is only just now daybreak,” she cried out, dropping to her knees, trying to control her churning emotions. “My father said I had until today to settle his account with the MacDonalds.”

Alex MacDonald came towards her with an evil smile on his face. “That was your father’s promise to you. Not mine. All this isn’t about money; it’s about power and control. That is why I decided to destroy your home and everything you care about. You chose to marry the MacLeod. Now you have nothing.”

Fiona couldn’t hold back the tears that came to her eyes, but she drew a deep breath and forced the emptiness aside even as a jolt of apprehension took its place. “Where is my father?” She forced the words past her numb lips. “Where are my people?”

Alex’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Your father is dead. And your servants . . .” He turned back to look at the collapsed structure behind him and shrugged. “I doubt they survived.”

Fiona closed her eyes and tried to regain control of her emotions. Now was not the time to lose herself to the pain and agony that threatened to consume her. She had to think.

Once again, she heard the pounding of hoofbeats behind her and startled, suddenly realising that if Alex MacDonald stood before her, then someone else was behind her. She opened her eyes and twisted. Her breath caught at the sight of Tormod and his army bearing down upon them.

Alex leapt forward and grabbed her by the hair. “Come with me. I will have you yet.” He jerked her off her feet.

Fiona twisted in his grip, gaining just enough leverage to bring her foot down hard on the inside of his foot, then she clutched her hands and aimed them at his groin.

He cried out in pain, instantly releasing her.

She scrambled away just as Tormod swooped in. For the span of a heartbeat, he looked at her. She saw fierce possessiveness in his eyes and her heartbeat fluttered. Then he turned back to Alex as he held his sword before him. “Get yourself to safety, Fiona.”

Alex recovered from her assault and drew his sword.

Fiona didn’t turn and run. Instead, she hurried past Alex, towards the crumbled heap of her home. If anyone had survived the destruction of the castle and dower hose, it was up to her to help them.

*

Tormod’s warrior instincts flared as he stared down his enemy. He tightened his grip on his sword, waiting for Alex to make the first move. If it was a battle the MacDonalds wanted, then that’s what they would get. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his men with their pistols, swords, and targes, as every instinct, every muscle waited to strike.

In the next moment, Alex leapt forward and Tormod’s throat vibrated with the roar of a battle cry as savage and old as his Highland ancestry itself. The air echoed with the sound of the cath-ghairm as the warriors from both clans flung themselves into battle.

The air around them was choked with dust as Tormod cleared his mind of all else except survival. He brought down his sword, slashing, blocking, slashing again as he battled foe after foe who stepped in front of Alex MacDonald, trying to protect the laird’s son from harm.

Only a few moments had passed since the first clash of swords and already the ground was red underfoot. Tormod blocked out the sight, staying focused on the task of capturing Alex MacDonald. It was the only way to stop the bloodshed and destruction. Perhaps then, with something to barter with, his brother, Alastair, could finally negotiate a truce, if not peace.

Tormod’s sword flashed as the sun began to rise above them. He’d just sent one attacker to the ground when another charged. Tormod brought his blade up to block a powerful thrust by an experienced warrior. At the blow, a sharp ringing of steel filled the air, and it took Tormod a moment to recover his momentum to strike again.

His sword arm was aching, his body bruised, cut, but despite the pain he pressed his assault. His sword clashed against his enemy’s once, twice. The man’s eyes filled with wild rage as he gasped for breath, watching MacDonald men fall all around him. But Tormod kept attacking, as he watched Alex slip farther away from him.

Tormod clutched his sword. He balanced on the balls of his feet and prepared to fight until he made his way to Alex MacDonald one way or another.

*

“Help!”

Fiona heard the frantic calls for assistance from someone beneath the rubble that was once her home. Her hands were shaking, and her breath came in rapid spurts as she searched the crumbled wreckage for survivors. The air around the piles of stone was still choked with dust and the smell of gunpowder still lingered in the air. She brought the skirt of her dress up to cover her mouth, blocking out the acrid scent. The tumbled stones made for uneven footing as she climbed up over a pile to reach the corner of the dower house where the kitchen had once been located.

“Help!” The sound of a voice was stronger now.

“I hear you.” She started shifting stones away from a pile. “I am working to free you. Hold tight and have faith.”

“Fiona? Is that you?”

She recognised Mrs Bagley’s voice. “I’m here. I’ll have you free soon. Are the others with you?”

“Aye. Higgins and Ginny are both here. Higgins is hurt. His leg is bleeding, and Ginny was knocked senseless by a falling stone when we took shelter in the cellar, but she still breathes.”