Page 24 of Border Lord’s Bride

The words had the desired effect, as the MacKinleys surged to life and reached for their weapons.

"We should send a rider tae alert the clans." Malcolm MacKinley strapped his sword at his hips and grasped his battle-ax.

Lucius nodded. "Send one of your men to ride for the clans. I want everyone prepared for that raiding party this time."

Jacob Insley had entered the great hall and joined the men. "The Insleys will assist ye. We're nae many, but those of us who are here will fight the English at yer side. I'll assemble the men."

Lucius nodded. "My thanks, Jacob."

Elizabeth drew closer. "What can I do? There must be something."

Lucius schooled his features to remain blank. He had to hide from Elizabeth the uncertainty he felt. "Go to the girls. Ask Rose to show you where the hidden chamber is in the cellar. All of you stay inside. No matter what happens. You are safer there than anywhere else."

At her nod, he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. "For luck," he said a heartbeat before he left her there.

They would need all the luck they could get to push back the English with so few men.

The morning light glinted off the mist that lingered in pockets above the melting snow as the English marched in a column across the open grasslands.

Lucius gripped his sword in one hand, his dagger in the other. The English had forty men to the Scots' twenty. He forced his mind to clear and tensed for battle. His horse settled, waiting for the command that would launch them forward. Out of the edges of his vision, Lucius could see the MacKinleys and the Insleys prepare themselves for the mounted charge. Amos, Silas, Malcolm, Jacob, Lachlan, and his other clansmen perched behind him, waiting for his command. Every man he could see was focused on the battle ahead.

Lucius moved the men silently forward. At their approach, one of the Englishmen at the front of the column stiffened like a hound catching the scent of fresh blood. The man twisted toward them. He jerked on the reins of his horse and called an abrupt halt to the forward motion of the column. The man's eyes narrowed. He donned his helmet. A shrill call shattered the sudden silence.

In response, Lucius's throat vibrated with the roar of a battle cry as old and savage as his Scottish ancestry. His kin flung themselves forward to meet their enemies head-on. The men in the first charge brought their targes up and, with the screech of metal against metal, warded off the first strike of the enemy's swords.

The clansmen continued forward, dispatching the enemy, breaking their line as they forced their way up the center of the column. Lucius charged, engaging another horseman in an explosive clash of swords. He deflected the blow, then pulled his dagger free and thrust up into the horseman's side. The body fell. He pulled his weapon free as all around him, his kin wielded lethal blows, sending the English to the ground moaning their defeat as the Scots crippled their offenses.

The acrid taste and smell of war burned Lucius's lungs as he charged forward again. Shouts of the enemy clashed with the roar of the clans. Men on both sides fell from their horses to battle on foot.

A roar sounded behind him. Lucius maneuvered his horse, twisting around just in time to slash open the chest of an Englishman who bore down on Malcolm, fighting on horseback at his side.

" 'Tis thankful I am that the Templars taught ye how tae fight," Malcolm said before he engaged a new foe.

Lucius could only grunt in response as another horseman bore down on him.

"I'll have your head!" cried the Englishman, who appeared to be the leader.

Lucius ducked as the man's blade hacked down in an arc across his shoulders. The motion set Lucius off balance and he tumbled from his horse. Lucius threw himself against the earth and came up instantly with his sword at the ready. Two men rushed forward on foot. The first man battered Lucius's broadsword to cut away his defense. But Lucius managed to block each blow as he palmed his dagger and thrust it through the air into one man's chest. The second man charged. Lucius drew a breath and prepared for the impact of sword against sword. The screech and clangor of steel filled the air, as did the noisy inhalations and exhalations as their weapons came together.

Lucius waited for an opening. Seeing it, he slashed the man's arm. His opponent groaned and dropped his weapon a heartbeat before Lucius sent him to his grave. All around him, his kin did the same. They fought with skill and courage, despite the odds, as the conflict turned in their favor.

Beside him, Amos and Lachlan charged forward as a unit, wielding their axes with proficient skill, carving a path through the enemy as efficiently as though they were chopping down trees.

A roar of rage sounded behind Lucius. He turned just as the leader of these men hurled into him, slamming him to the ground. The man's bulk trapped him momentarily until Lucius brought his knee up to connect with the man's privates.

Roaring obscenities and groaning in pain, the man rolled to the side. Yet another Englishman charged Lucius while he was down, carving a glittering arc through the air with his sword.

Lucius rolled to one side with only a sliver of air to spare as the blade missed his throat and thumped into the soil beneath the snow.

Drawing on all his strength and speed, Lucius leaped up and slashed his new opponent in the front of the legs before forcing his blade down into the chest of the fallen leader, feeling the weapon bite through hard flesh. The man hissed, his gaze connecting with Lucius's.

"He said you'd be an easy conquest." The Englishman grimaced.

"Who?" Lucius demanded. The sounds of the battle din faded for Lucius as he listened to the man's labored breathing.

"All we cared about…was killing Scots and…taking his money."

Lucius dropped to his knees beside the man. "You did this for a few miserable coins?"