Page 52 of To Win a Highlander’s Heart

A shiver of fear moved through Isolde. Once the lieutenant stopped his horse, she would most likely face her death.

*

Orrick didn’t stop to think about what he was doing. After dismounting, he reached for his sword and ran straight into the heart of the battle, desperate to reach Isolde. He headed towards the tower where he’d seen her last.

He didn’t break his hurried stride as he cut down one soldier after another, desperate to reach her. At the tower he battled two men before he came upon a third dressed in a brown robe, like that of a monk. The man was unarmed. Instead of slicing him down, Orrick sheathed his sword and gripped the man by the throat, pressing him back against the tower wall. “Where is Isolde?”

The man stared at Orrick, his mouth slack.

“Where did the lieutenant take Isolde?” Orrick repeated more harshly.

The man motioned to the right with his eyes.

Orrick released the man’s throat. “More details.”

After sucking in a breath, the man frowned and rubbed his throat that now bore the red imprint of Orrick’s hand. “You’ll never catch Lieutenant Collins in time. He took the girl to the cliffs to execute her.”

Orrick sent out a shrill whistle, calling Phoenix to his side. “Where is the lieutenant’s tent? Show me. Quickly.”

“This way.” The man darted ahead of Orrick and led him past several tents until they reached a larger, grander one. “What are you looking for?”

Orrick forced the man inside the tent’s opening. “The quiver the lieutenant took from his captive.”

“Over there,” the man said, pointing to where the container of arrows lay atop a small desk.

Orrick scooped up the quiver and put it over his shoulder before grasping the bow, then turned for the door.

“You’ll never catch them in time,” the man in brown robes called as Orrick pushed the tent flap open.

Without a hitch in his step, Orrick kept going. The man obviously didn’t know the will of a MacLeod when someone they loved was in trouble. Outside the tent, Phoenix waited. Orrick was up in the saddle and heading towards the cliffs, forcing the pain that constricted his chest away. He would not allow himself to have doubts. Isolde needed him.

Behind him, a second set of hoofbeats sounded. With his hand on the hilt of his sword, he turned to look behind him. White hair whipped about a woman’s head as she raced to catch up with him.

When she was beside him, matching his speed, he shouted, “Who are you and why are you here?”

“We haven’t been formally introduced, but I am your . . .” She paused as though searching for the correct words. She finally shrugged and shouted back, “I am your relative. Alastair, Tormod, and I came to help you and the Nicolsons fight the English.”

“Alastair and Tormod are here?” Orrick demanded in a loud voice so she could hear him over the horses’ hoofbeats. “How could they know?”

“I told them,” the woman said, skilfully navigating the patch of rocky ground they came upon in that moment. “I have been following Isolde for the past few weeks.”

Orrick frowned. “Why?”

The woman’s brows knit as though searching for something she’d never considered before. “As a bow-woman myself, Isolde intrigued me. As an outcast from her people, I felt sympathy for her, knowing myself what that feels like. I want to help you, if you’ll allow it.”

“Aren’t you needed back at the battle?” Orrick kept his gaze fixed on the land before him.

“Alastair, Tormod, Graeme, and Isolde’s brother have things well in hand. You, on the other hand, might have need of me.”

“Then, I thank you in advance for your assistance,” Orrick said with a hitch in his throat.

“You care for Isolde.”

“Aye. She helped me rediscover who I am.” Yet it was more than that. She’d taught him to trust himself and his abilities again. Her presence repaired a heart that first his father, and then warring had damaged. She challenged him to be a better brother, warrior, and man than he had been before. “I can’t stand by and let something happen to her, not even if I have to fight the entire English army to get her back.”

The woman smiled. “Then it is good you are not alone. I am Aria MacLeod.”

“I might have guessed you were a MacLeod. I can see similarities in the lines of your face.” He gave a nod of his head in greeting. “I wish we had met under better circumstances so that I might get to know more about you.”