Page 32 of To Win a Highlander’s Heart

Silas gave a fierce growl as he came at her, slashing in an arc towards her head. Isolde easily blocked the blow. When Silas came at her again, their swords crashed, the sensation reverberating through her body. She ignored the pain in her left arm and pressed her attack.

“It seems fitting that I should finish you off after you tied me up and left me humiliated in my tent. Your new friends cannot help you now.”

Isolde stared at the man, torn between anger and mirth and fear. They’d left her no choice but to tie them up so that she could escape. Just as she had no choice now about sending these men to their maker. Silas lunged, and she spun to the left before coming back around with an undercut that caught him off guard. He screamed as her sword swept along his abdomen. He dropped his weapon and clutched his injured midriff, then fell back, allowing the other two men to advance.

She assumed her fighting stance as the two men came closer. She focused on the enemy, determined not to let these men past her so they could get to Gwendolyn. No doubt they intended to kidnap the laird’s wife and hold her hostage until Alastair declared his fealty to the English king. Only Isolde stood in the way of letting that happen.

The two men she recognised as Jasper and Henry. Their gazes locked with hers as they slashed violently at her. She stumbled back, catching herself before she fell. She twisted right, evading a blow that could have easily taken her leg. Even so, the two men fighting together forced her backwards. They bared their teeth, showing their delight.

In the next moment, Rowena was beside her, wielding her own weapon and dressed in a leather garment that fitted her body like a glove. No longer did she wear a skirt, but breeches. Her sword struck out, deflecting Henry’s blow while Isolde turned to confront Jasper. Metal to metal, their swords rang a peal of power and violence until the two men lay defeated.

In the momentary silence, Isolde heard the familiar sounds of battle coming from the courtyard where the castle’s men had engaged the English who had not made it through the castle doorway. Isolde turned to Rowena. “Return abovestairs and protect Gwendolyn at all costs.”

“What about you?” Rowena asked breathlessly.

“I must help the guards.” She took a step towards the door before Rowena caught her arm, forcing her to turn back towards the young woman.

“Before you go . . .” Rowena’s features filled with remorse. “I was so wrong about you. Please, forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Isolde said, stepping away. Protecting those she cared for was what she’d been trained to do. She clutched her sword and emerged into the courtyard as the sound of battle filled the air. “It is time to show these Englishmen what a Scottish lass is made of.” Isolde shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet and prepared as two men rushed towards her.

For a moment, her gaze shifted to something moving along the tower on her left. A woman dressed in a white, flowing gown, with a gold band at her hips, stood between one of the crenellations and aimed a bow at the warriors below. Who was this woman? Was she friend or foe?

In the next moment, an arrow struck the chest of the man before her. Then another arrow followed, hitting another Englishman. Who she was didn’t matter as much as the fact she appeared to be on the MacLeod side. With a quick nod of approval, Isolde turned back to the battle before her just as two men charged.

Isolde dispatched first one then the other, but two more replaced the fallen Englishmen. Lieutenant Collins must have brought the entire company with him this time. As if her thoughts had conjured him up, he appeared out of the corner of her eye, fighting the castle guards. Isolde attacked the two men before her, until they lay at her feet. She drew a tight breath, trying to determine where her help was needed most amongst those who still fought, when Lieutenant Collins saw her. His eyes flared in surprise that quickly slid to anger, even hatred.

“I thought I saw you at the window the other day, but I dismissed what I saw as an illusion created by the snow and the chilling cold.” The lieutenant’s mouth curved into a lethal smile. “It will be an added bonus to kill you this day while also taking the laird’s wife hostage.”

A cold sickness settled in the pit of Isolde’s stomach. She’d been correct about his motives. “You’ll never get past me to get to her,” Isolde said with as much bravado as she could. Her injured arm was aching and she felt her energy fade as her earlier battles took their toll.

Drawing on everything she had inside her, Isolde held her sword in her right hand and gripped her sgian-dubh in her left, then waited for the lieutenant to attack. When he did, she met his stroke and blocked it. He came at her again with a powerful arc of his blade. Isolde feinted to the left and slashed the lieutenant’s thigh with her blade, drawing blood.

The lieutenant did not cry out in pain, but his eyes flared with fury. He slashed at Isolde over and over again like an injured animal no longer able to contain his savagery, willing to sacrifice all for the sake of cutting her down.

Isolde’s heart pounded in her ears as fear crept past her guard. The man was erratic, making it almost impossible to predict his moves. If she were going to walk away from this conflict, she needed to do something and fast. Tapping into reserves of strength she didn’t know she possessed, Isolde advanced.

The lieutenant’s eyes widened in surprise. Their blades came together with such force that sparks flared. The two swords locked together at the hilt. Isolde wrenched the sword from Lieutenant Collins’s grasp, sending it arcing wildly across the courtyard and onto the packed earth.

The motion set her opponent off balance and he fell to the ground several yards away from his sword. He stared at his weapon in shocked disbelief.

Isolde used his momentary distraction to finish the deed as she poised her blade at the soft tissue of the lieutenant’s neck. If he moved, the sharp edge of her blade would end his life. “Do you yield?”

Lieutenant Collins remained silent as his chest rose and fell with the force of his breathing. “Aye,” he finally replied.

At the lieutenant’s words, the fighting in the courtyard stopped. “Do you swear that you will leave here and never return? Or send other troops to battle for you?”

The lieutenant’s gaze turned mutinous. “Very soon, not even the MacLeods can avoid what is coming.”

Isolde pressed her sword more firmly against his throat, drawing blood. “Your word, Lieutenant. Swear you will not return.”

“I promise never to return to Dunvegan,” he spat out.

“And?”

The lieutenant’s gaze hardened. “I will not send any further men to battle the MacLeods.”

Isolde lifted her sword and the lieutenant twisted away. He staggered to his feet, gathered his sword, and limped towards the gates with his men behind him.