Page 64 of The Highlander’s Defiant Bride

“Archers!” Cameron’s voice rang sharp and sure across the battlements. “Ready.”

A hundred bows bent in unison, the creak of wood echoing like the drawn breath of a single giant. Cameron raised his hand, holding it steady as the Mackenzies and their ally, the Gunns, pressed closer through the thinning morning mist.

“Loose!”

Arrows blackened the early light as they sailed outward, falling in a deadly storm upon the attackers, splintering shields, dropping men before the ladders could reach the walls. Screams split the dawn, but the drums did not falter.

Despite their arrows, ladders still slammed against the stone. Iron hooks bit deep into the battlements, and new Mackenzie warriors replaced those who had been driven back, shouting their clan’s cry.

“Spears!” Cameron roared. “Drive them back from the walls.”

His men thrust downward, shoving ladders free, spearing those who climbed. The siege towers lumbered closer, their gangways rattling as they locked into place.

A Mackenzie surged over the edge of the wall, axe raised. Cameron met him head-on, his blade flashing in the torchlight. Steel rang against steel as he kept him at bay.

A shout split the air behind him. “Fire!”

Cameron whirled to see a flaming arrow sink into the roof of a nearby storehouse. In moments, the dry thatch caught, smoke curling skyward.

“Buckets to the fire!” he bellowed, his gut clenching. “Do not panic. Hold your posts.”

The men obeyed, splitting off in disciplined lines to beat back the blaze while the rest fought on. Cameron’s heart pounded, sweat stinging his eyes, but he could not falter. Not here. Not now.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement at the base of the wall—women and older men rushing with water, carrying stones, shoving ladders free with poles. Destiny’s doing, he realised, even in the heat of battle. She had rallied them as she said she would.

Pride struck through the fear, but it was fleeting. The Mackenzie towers groaned into place, their gangways dropping against the wall with a thunderous crash.

The true fight had only just begun.

Cameron lifted his sword, his voice rising above the clash. “Munros, with me!”

The cry of “Munro” rose with his own, fierce and unbroken, even as the Mackenzies poured over the walls in a storm of steel and fire.

*

The first arrows struck like thunder, thudding into shields and stone, clattering off the battlements. Destiny flinched as one whistled past her ear, splintering against the wall, but she did not pause. There was no room for fear, not when so many eyes turned to her.

“Keep the water moving,” she called, her voice sharp to cut through the chaos.

She guided a line of women and boys to the well, their buckets sloshing as they ran for the fire building on the far side of the courtyard.

“Straight to the storehouse. Do not spill a drop.”

The thatched roof smoked and crackled, tongues of flame licking higher. She seized another woman’s arm. “You. Fetch more blankets. Soak them, then smother the flames. Go!”

The woman bolted. Destiny spun, scanning the courtyard. The old men and those too weak for battle had gathered near the gates, staring helplessly at the walls. She marched to them, her shawl slipping from her shoulders, her voice cutting firm.

“Do not stand idle. Take stones, broken timber, anything heavy. Line them along the walls. When the ladders rise, you will be ready. You may not wield swords, but your hands can still defend this castle.”

Their eyes widened, but they moved. Bent backs straightened; trembling fingers gripped whatever weight they could carry.

Overhead, the clash of steel rang out, men raging as they fought hand-to-hand. The second siege tower groaned against the battlements, the sound rattling Destiny’s bones. Smoke thickened, the fire at the storehouse spreading despite the frantic buckets.

A small boy clung to her skirts, his face pale beneath a shock of dark hair. “Lady Munro,” he whimpered, “are we going to die?”

Destiny knelt, cupping his cheek in her soot-streaked hand.

Her heart twisted, but she forced her voice to steady. “Nay, lad. We will stand. Look there.” She pointed to the battlements where Cameron’s sword flashed bright, his voice carrying above the storm of war. “See your laird? He will not let Foulis fall. And we will not fail him.”