Page 73 of The Highlander’s Defiant Bride

The clang of steel echoed off the hills as the sun climbed higher in the sky. Destiny stood beside Cameron, her chest heaving, her sword arm barely holding steady. The Mackenzies pressed harder now, their fury burning hotter than ever, and for the first time since the fighting began, she saw the weight of exhaustion in Cameron’s movements.

He was bleeding from a slight gash along his left shoulder. His breath was ragged as he cut down yet another attacker. Still, he fought, steady and relentless, but she could see he was nearing his limit.

“Fall back,” Gavan shouted from behind them. “We can no longer hold them.”

Cameron turned, his eyes wild. “Hold the line,” he countered.

But even as he spoke, Destiny saw their line bending under the force of the Mackenzie charge. A dozen more enemies surged forward, and then, riding through the commotion like the spectres of her worst fears, came her father and the Mackenzie laird.

Her heart turned to ice.

The two men rode in front of their men, unscathed and confident. The laird’s voice boomed over the clash. “Munro. You’ve lost. You delivered one of ours to the Crown, and now you’ll pay the price.”

Cameron raised his sword, his stance grim. “Your quarrel is with me, not my people.”

The Mackenzie laird sneered. “You are always so noble, but it is too late for that. Your people will suffer; they will watch you die and then witness your wife taking her place beside my son.”

Destiny’s breath caught. She stepped forward, fury surging through her fear. “I would rather die.”

Her father’s cold gaze found her through the haze. “So be it,” he said flatly. “If you will not obey, then your death will serve as warning enough.”

Cameron staggered back a step, panting, his grip wavering on the sword. Destiny caught his arm. “You cannot fight them all,” she whispered.

“I can try,” he rasped.

The Mackenzie archers drew back their bows, their arrows aimed high. Destiny threw herself in front of Cameron, arms outstretched. “Nay!”

And then a sound cut through the chaos.

A horn. Low, deep, and rolling like thunder over the glen.

The Mackenzie ranks hesitated. Heads turned. From the eastern ridge came the glint of sunlight on steel as row upon row of armoured men appeared, the royal banner whipping in the wind.

Destiny’s heart leapt. “The king’s men,” she whispered.

From the front of the column, two riders broke away—Kenzie, his plaid streaming in the breeze, and Alastair beside him, tall and unyielding.

Kenzie’s voice rang out over the field. “In the name of the king, stand down. The Mackenzies are hereby charged with treason and rebellion.”

Panic rippled through the Mackenzie line.

Cameron drew a shuddering breath, the spark of life flaring in his eyes again. “Kenzie,” he murmured.

The royal muskets fired, the volley tearing through the air in a deafening roar. The Mackenzie men who had aimed their arrows at Cameron and Destiny dropped where they stood, their formation shattering.

Cameron seized the moment. “Now,” he roared, his voice breaking with effort. “For Foulis!”

The Munros surged forward with renewed fury. Destiny stayed beside Cameron, her blade flashing, every ounce of strength she had left poured into that final charge.

Her father wheeled his horse, shouting orders to retreat, but the Mackenzies were already scattering as royal soldiers poured down the slope.

Destiny caught sight of her father one last time, his face pale with rage and disbelief as the king’s men closed in. Their gazes met across the chaos, hers steady, his hollow. Then he turned and fled, swallowed by the press of retreating men.

And just like that, it was over.

The clang of battle faded to silence. Cameron dropped his sword, his body shaking from exhaustion. Destiny turned to him, tears cutting through the grime on her face.

“You did it,” she whispered.