Sixteen

“Amber,” someone whispered beside her.

Amber squeezed her eyes tight. She didn’t want to leave the warm nest of her quilts. For the last week—e’er since she could rise from her sickbed and make the journey to the castle—she’d been staying at the keep. Verily, ’twas much cooler here in the mornings than in her cottage.

She’d resisted the move, of course, but Lachlan had said she either moved to the keep and her own bedchamber until the wedding, or he would move in with her at the cottage. And into her bed.

Niall also had an opinion. ’Twas her duty, he said. She was to be lady at Castle MacPherson, and the clan expected to see her there.

Sighing, she opened her eyes. The light coming from the cracks around the shutters was thin, making it just past daybreak. Ian hovered near the side of her bed.

This was her duty too. She pushed up on her elbow. “Is someone sick?”

Ian had a funny look on his face, and she frowned, fully awake now. She sat up and swung her legs over the edge. “Ian, what is it? Is it Breanna?”

“Nay, it’s Father Odhran.”

Her brows rose. No one had seen Father Odhran since he’d locked himself in the chapel the day Murray shot his arrow into her.

“What does he want?” she asked, praying he wasn’t sick. She’d have to tend him, and he would resist. She didn’t want Gregor or Lachlan’s foster brothers to hear the names he’d call her.

“I didn’t speak to him. I was up early helping Osgar with the birth of the foal.”

“Oh, has it arrived already?”

“Nay, not yet. Osgar thinks maybe in a few more hours. But I was getting water from the well, so we’d have lots on hand if we needed it, and I saw Father Odhran in the bailey. ’Twas still dark.”

“Well, maybe he was tending someone?” He was still the MacPherson’s priest, even though the clan had turned their backs on him.

“I doona think so. Amber, he had someone with him.”

A chill ran down her spine. “Did you see who it was?”

“Nay, I stayed hidden, but I could see he carried a bow.”

Amber rose slowly from the bed, her heart pounding. Lots of men carried bows.

When Ian squawked and turned away from her, she remembered she wore only her shift. “Och, sorry,” she said, grabbing the blanket from her bed and wrapping it around herself.

“We should tell the laird.” He peeked over his shoulder to make sure she was covered.

“Aye. They’re planning to start the sweep today with all the clans, looking for Machar Murray. They may already be up.”

She slipped on shoes before crossing to her door. When she pushed through into the candle-lit hall, she walked straight into Lachlan and Gregor. Lachlan steadied her and pulled her close. Amber couldn’t help closing her eyes and breathing him in. He smelled fresh, with a hint of the lavender that was pressed into the soap.

“I thought I heard voices. What’s the matter?” he asked, his warmth seeping into her. She liked being wrapped tight in his embrace. It was too easy to let herself lean on him.

“It may be naught,” she said, “but Ian was up early to help with the mare, and he saw Father Odhran. Lachlan, he wasn’t alone. I doona know anyone who would spend time with the priest after what he did, let alone in the middle of the night.”

“Would he have been called out to give last rites?” Gregor asked, wrapping a second blanket around Ian’s shivering shoulders.

“Possibly. But if someone was sick or hurt, why wouldnae they have woken me? The clan knows I’m available anytime.”

“How long ago was this?” Lachlan asked.

“Maybe an hour,” Ian said. “I would have come sooner, but Osgar needed my help with the mare.”

“Did you see who it was?”

Ian shifted his feet. “Nay, it was dark and…for some reason I hid behind the well. Something was wrong. All I know is it was a man with a bow, and he seemed to be in charge.”

Lachlan tensed against her. “In what way?”

“Well, the father looked hesitant, like he was nervous, and the other man didn’t. The father had to run several times to catch up.”

“What direction were they headed?”

“Toward the chapel. I didn’t see them go inside, but I heard the door shut.”

Lachlan squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “You did well, lad. Thank you for telling us. You can go back to the stables now, but make sure the door is barred just in case, aye?”

“Aye.” He returned the blanket to Gregor before leaving.

Amber watched Ian go, then turned to Lachlan. “I’m coming with you.”

“Nay. ’Tis safer in here.”

“How do you know? You thought the castle was safe too. If that was Machar Murray, it means he’s been hiding next to us this entire time. He could have come into the keep whene’er he wanted.”

“I have men at the entrance to the keep and in the great hall at night. I doona take your protection lightly.”

Her eyes widened. “Do you have them outside my door too?”

“Nay, but that’s a good idea.”

She pulled out of his embrace and scowled at him. “I’m coming with you. If someone gets hurt, I should be there.”

“Be where?” Callum asked, walking toward them down the passageway.

Darach, Kerr, and Gavin came through the stone archway at the end of the hall that led to the stairs going up to the next level.

So, it would be her versus all six of them. She balled her hands into fists and set them on her hips, ready to do battle.

“Ian spotted Father Odhran with someone who carried a bow,” Lachlan said. “’Twas still dark, but he thinks they went into the chapel.”

“You blocked the tunnel from there, aye?” Darach asked.

“Aye, but maybe Murray dug more than one. He’s tricky and thorough. He had two tunnels running from the barracks.”

“If they’re inside already, we canna get to him easily. They willna let us in,” Callum added.

“They’ll let me in,” Amber said.

“Nay!” Lachlan wrapped a tight arm around her waist.

She pushed against his chest. “You canna tell me what to do, Lachlan.”

“Aye, I can. I’m your laird and about to be your husband.”

“You told me not to call you laird, and I can still change my mind about being your wife.”

He shoved a hand through his hair. “Amber, I’m not putting you in danger again. I canna. He almost killed you last time. You didn’t see how close the arrows were to your head.” He gently touched the bandage she still wore beneath her shift and blanket. “Or this one to your lungs and heart.”

“You need me.”

“Aye, I do.” He cupped her cheek. “I need you alive.”

“Get Father Lundie,” Gregor said. “Say that he wants to talk to Father Odhran—priest to priest. He should be there to witness what happens, so he can send a first-hand account back to Rome. We doona want the Church siding with Odhran against Amber. Father Lundie must see that he’s addled.”

“I’ll go in with Father Lundie,” she said, then quickly added, “we all will. Father Odhran willna be able to resist telling Father Lundie, telling all of you, how foul I am.”

“Amber, I’ll not put you in—”

“You’d rather leave me here?” she asked Lachlan, stepping back from him. “Who knows what other secret tunnels into the keep we’ve missed? At least if I’m with you, you can keep me safe.”

“She sounds like Isobel,” Kerr said with a sigh and shake of his head.

Gavin put his hand on Lachlan’s shoulder. “Aye, she does. But what she said makes sense, Brother.”

Amber lifted her chin and met Lachlan’s frosty blue eyes. “You can wait for me to dress, or I’ll come in my shift. It’s up to you.”

His nostrils flared, and he stared at her, his face grim. “Go get dressed.”

* * *

Lachlan walked quickly through the bailey, which had been slowly and quietly emptied on his orders. Warriors had taken the villagers’ places, and the dogs were standing by. He held Amber’s hand in a tight grip and scanned their surroundings. Without needing to be asked, his foster brothers and Gregor, all armed with their weapons and shields, had formed a protective circle around them. Father Lundie lagged behind the group, struggling to keep up.

They’d discussed the plan in the great hall before Father Lundie arrived. While he was integral to their success, they didn’t want him to be in conflict over what might happen. His job was to assess Father Odhran, and get him talking—which meant having to hear all the horrible things he’d say about Amber—and get them inside the chapel without a fight.

They would take it from there.

They slowed as they neared the chapel, and Father Lundie caught up. Lachlan felt a twinge of remorse as the older man huffed and puffed. Amber slipped a supportive arm around his back and clucked with concern.

“Doona worry yourself, lass,” Father Lundie said. “’Tis good for me to get my heart pumping once in a while. I spend too much time sitting on my backside nowadays.”

“Aye, ’tis important you take regular walks, Father, twice a day, if you can. And you should make a habit of reaching up to the sky and then touching your toes several times too. ’Twill keep your muscles and joints limber.”

He patted her cheek. “You’re a lovely lass and a good match for Laird MacKay. I couldnae be happier for you both.”

“Och, you haven’t heard me curse yet or rebuke someone for being careless. I’m afraid I can be quite ill-tempered.”

“God judges the heart, lass, and I can see you have a good one.”

Amber’s lip trembled slightly before she firmed it up with a deprecating smile, and Lachlan’s heart broke a wee bit at seeing this strong woman vulnerable.

“Father Odhran doesn’t think so,” she said. “He hates me for aiding the lasses—especially when they’re giving birth. I’m afraid he’ll say terrible things about me.”

“’Tis important I hear him out, Amber, and try to help him. It doesn’t mean I condone what he’s saying or find an ounce of truth in his words, aye? Hold fast to what you hold dear and believe in Lachlan and the other lairds. They’re good men, and they believe in you too.”

Lachlan pulled her beneath his shoulder and whispered in her ear, “Aye, we do believe in you, no matter what that foul priest says or does. Doona forget that, even if we say otherwise in order to get inside the chapel.”

She nodded, and Lachlan released her but stayed close.

Father Lundie walked through the group, up the stairs to the chapel’s door, and banged on it. The men stepped away from Amber as if they distrusted her—they wanted to encourage Odhran’s rant by showing a divide among them. Gregor had crossed his arms over his chest in disapproval, and Kerr held his fingers by his side in a sign to ward off the devil.

“Father Odhran,” Father Lundie called, his voice kind and concerned. “’Tis Father Lundie from Clan MacKenzie. We met a few years ago at the summer festival in Inverness. May I speak with you?”

They listened for any sound. Naught. Father Lundie tried the door, but it was locked. He knocked again. “Father Odhran?”

“Go away!” the priest yelled from inside, desperation and madness reverberating in his tone. Father Lundie looked at the lairds with alarm. Gregor twirled his hand in a circular motion, encouraging the priest to continue.

“I’ve travelled a long way to see you,” he said through the door. “Gregor MacLeod asked me to come. Everyone’s worried about your well-being…and your concerns about the MacPherson healer. I’d like to speak to you about her.”

The priest spoke truthfully, even though he knew the lairds had their own agenda.

“She’s a witch!” Odhran yelled.

“Aye, ’tis what Gregor and the others told me you’d say. ’Tis a serious accusation. It deserves to be discussed face-to-face, doona you think? The lairds would like to bring Amber before you—before us—prior to her marriage to Laird MacKay. You can understand their concern, aye?”

More silence. Lachlan ground his teeth at the delay. It wasn’t working. The longer they stood here, the farther away Murray could be running—or setting up the perfect shot to kill Amber. His eyes scanned the top of the buildings again.

He was about to draw his sword and use the heavy steel to hack open the door, when he heard the hinges creak. His gaze dropped, and Father Odhran, looking haggard and unwashed, poked his head out.

He hissed when he saw Amber. “Get it away from me!”

Lachlan stepped forward, his fists like hammers. Rage burned hot at the insult to Amber and overrode his careful planning.

The monster had done enough damage to Lachlan’s adopted clan. Now he harbored Machar Murray too? He needed to be put down.

Gregor grabbed Lachlan’s arm in a tight grip. “Calm down, Son. Father Odhran’s concern is justified. Let him have his say, and we’ll make our decision. If it’s true, you canna marry her, no matter how much you want to. Right, Father?” He directed the last at Father Lundie.

Father Lundie sputtered, his brow furrowed. “If it’s true, aye, but ’tis a grave accusation he makes. You canna claim someone is a witch just because they’re a healer. We need women like Amber to help us when we’re sick.”

“Not if it subverts God’s will,” Gregor said. “She alleviates the pain of childbirth.”

Lachlan’s eyebrows rose, and he stared at his foster father. How difficult had that been for him to say? Gregor would have given his life for Kellie’s on the birthing bed. He must want to gut the priest as much as Lachlan did.

Gregor squeezed his arm tighter, and Lachlan realized the contact was no longer about restraint but about helping Gregor get through what he had to say next. “Ask her how many women she’s saved who should have died for Eve’s sin? ’Tis their cross to bear for tempting Adam.” The words must feel like the worst betrayal to Kellie.

“I’m not convinced,” Lachlan said. “The priest is addled as Amber said. ’Tis rumored he tups with goats.”

Odhran pushed the door wide and waved his arms. A stench came with him. “I ne’er did such a thing in my life! Look at her! She has Lucifer all over her! She was made to tempt a man. She’ll tear away your soul, Laird MacKay, and feed it to the devil himself.” He stepped forward but still held the handle. “Strip off her clothes, you’ll find his marks. The places he sucks on her. I saw her fornicating with her goats. Both of them at once.”

Amber puffed out a shocked laugh. “God’s blood, you’ve lost your mind. Your brains are naught more than stewed oats.”

The priest released the door, his hands out like claws, and ran toward her. He’d barely taken two steps before an arrow struck him from behind and protruded through his chest.

He fell toward Amber.

Lachlan barreled into her an instant later. They flew sideways to the ground and kept rolling, his big body shielding her as more arrows flew through the space where she’d been standing.

Controlled chaos erupted as the other lairds and their men stormed the chapel. Lachlan heard the thud of arrows hitting shields and the clang as the portcullis dropped, but he knew it was useless. Murray would never have revealed himself if he didn’t have an escape route from the chapel—most likely one that exited into the woods, or they would have seen him crossing the empty field by now.

“Amber, are you hurt?” he asked as he frantically pulled her behind a barrel. He turned her over, looking for blood.

“Nay, Lachlan. I’m all right.”

“Your shoulder, then.” He propped her up against the barrel and pulled her top aside to see the bandage. “God’s blood, it’s bleeding again.”

“Not much. Verily, it was worse yesterday after training with Adaira.”

“What?” He knew Adaira had hurt Amber’s nose, but he had no idea she’d hurt her shoulder as well. He closed his eyes and took a moment to breathe. “When this is over, I’ll train her.”

Amber opened her mouth to protest, but he waylaid her. “Just until you’re healed,” he said. “You doona want a permanent injury. You know that.”

Her shoulders sagged. “Aye.”

“Laird MacKay,” Hamish yelled, running over.

Lachlan signaled to him to give them a minute, then helped Amber up. “This is the last time, lass, I swear. You are not a warrior. I doona want you in the line of fire e’er again. If you died, it would devastate me and the clan. I’ll do what I’m trained to do—fight. You stay back and do what you’re trained to do—heal. Are we agreed?”

She nodded. Lachlan wrapped his hands around the side of her head and lifted her up for a kiss. Her mouth opened under his, soft, warm, and she melted into him. When he pulled back, her eyes swam with tears.

“We’ll bring the wounded to the keep, same as last time. Murray will have a way out, and he’s probably rigged the tunnel. Send stretchers to the chapel.”

“Aye.” Her hands clenched his arms. “Lachlan, stay safe.”

“I will. Murray is not going to ruin my wedding.”

She laughed, then sobered. “Nay, I’ll be the one doing that, I’m sure. You’re addlebrained to want to marry me.”

“No one else, Amber.” He kissed her again and walked her to Hamish, placing his body between her and possible arrows from the chapel.

To his second-in-command, he said, “Keep everyone in the great hall, and station warriors both inside and out. If they have to leave, provide an escort. ’Tis obvious we missed a tunnel here. We may have missed one in the keep as well. And I want men guarding the stables while the foal is being birthed. Keep an eye on Ian and Adaira in particular. Or anyone else Murray may use to blackmail us.”

“What about the villagers?” Amber asked. “I need Mary here, and I want Ian’s sister, Breanna, to be found.”

“Aye, good idea.” He turned to Hamish. “Have the men go door-to-door to make sure everyone’s all right. Tell them to stay locked inside until they hear from us that it’s safe to come out.”

“Lachlan!”

Looking up, he saw Darach on the steps with his hounds, Hati and Skoll. The others were already inside.

He gave Amber one last hug, inhaling deeply. Her warmth, her softness, the way she smelled of fresh air and lavender, imprinted on his senses. Then he released her and strode away—and didn’t dare look back.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he drew his sword, even though he knew the area would already be secured.

The chapel was an open room with carved columns about every ten paces, depicting angels, demons, saints, and sinners. They supported the arched, stone roof and framed the sanctuary. A large crucifix hung on the wall behind the altar, and a statue of Mary holding the Christ child was off to the side.

Benches had been shoved haphazardly against doors and shuttered windows, which had been wrenched open by the warriors to let in the light. The sanctuary had also been blocked off, with benches piled on top of one another near to the ceiling.

Archers faced the sanctuary for protection as men dismantled the makeshift wall. Other men cleared any side rooms and alcoves. Father Lundie stood with his hands on his head, moaning in agitation at what he would consider a desecration, although at least the altar and Holy Book on top of it appeared to be untouched.

Lachlan approached the others as they discussed their options. Darach held a nightshirt that had belonged to Machar Murray in his hand, and the dogs, who sat beside them, already had his scent.

Callum pointed to a position behind the wall of benches where a desk stood. “That’s the best sightline to the door, and it would allow for his escape.”

Lachlan looked back toward the chapel entrance, imagining Murray standing or kneeling on the desk with his bow drawn and pointed at Father Odhran’s back. Once Odhran had opened the door wide and stepped outside, he was a dead man.

“One shot to the back,” Gavin said. “Then when the priest was down, he had a direct line to where Amber and Lachlan stood.”

Darach squeezed Lachlan’s shoulder. “Glad you’re still with us.”

“Amber too,” Kerr said, his biceps bulging as he crossed his arms over his huge chest. “I still have to prove to her I’m not a weak, mewling lad with my stones caught in her grip.”

“Sorry, lad, we doona have all year,” Gregor said.

The others laughed as Lachlan paced back and forth, too worried and anxious to find humor in anything right now. He knew his foster brothers and Gregor weren’t relaxed, even though they might look and sound it. They were assessing the situation for any traps Murray had left behind, same as he was.

Lachlan had spotted one already and eagerly stepped over the last few benches as the wall came down.

“Please, doona desecrate the sanctuary,” Father Lundie begged.

“We’ll do our best, Father, but you have to stand back. The dogs need to track him. And he’s probably rigged some traps along the way,” Lachlan said.

“Let me retrieve the Holy Eucharist first, then, aye? If there’s any blessed bread or wine, it needs to be protected.”

Lachlan nodded, eyes sharp as he watched Father Lundie approach the altar and pull out a basket of bread, a vial of holy water, and the bible.

When he’d retreated, Lachlan turned back to Callum and pointed out a trip wire across the ground. “I doona think it’s the main one.”

Callum crouched beside it. “Nay, me neither.”

“Let’s find out.” Gregor used his great strength to lift one of the benches and shove it against the wire. A column came smashing down from their left, knocking into the altar and almost hitting Gavin, who jumped back just in time.

Dust rose, and they pulled their plaids over their faces. Father Lundie moaned at the destruction of the sanctuary, while Darach’s dogs erupted into ferocious barking.

“Hati, Skoll, hush,” Darach commanded, and they quieted down.

“Christ Almighty, I wasn’t expecting that,” Gavin said, brushing the dust from his short hair.

“Nay, certainly not for the first trap,” Kerr agreed.

“Och, ’tis the altar,” Father Lundie said, approaching the sanctuary again.

They all looked at him. “What do you mean?” Lachlan asked.

“I’ve seen a few churches that have a hiding space below the altar—built for the priest in case trouble arises. ’Tis possible Father Odhran showed it to Laird Murray, and Murray used it as a starting point for the tunnel you think he built.”

Lachlan approached slowly. “So the column was rigged to fall on top of it.”

“Maybe. Let’s think like him,” Gregor said. “He wants to delay us getting into the tunnel.”

“And stop us from finding it in the first place,” Callum added.

Kerr carefully stepped over the column. “If I didn’t know about the hiding spot, I might crawl o’er the debris and look for him in the back rooms.”

“Aye, and we know he likes to build traps up high—traps within traps—and use poison,” Darach said.

Gregor knotted his plaid over his nose. “Keep your faces covered and doona let anything touch your skin.”

Lachlan covered his face as well. “Divide into teams. Gavin and Kerr, take the priest’s solar. Gregor and Darach, take the bedchamber. Callum and I will remove the debris and see if there’s a tunnel beneath the altar.”

As the other four men disappeared into the rooms behind the sanctuary, Callum and Lachlan slowly stepped over the broken stone and began their examination.

“You take that side, and I’ll take this side,” Callum said, pulling up his plaid.

Lachlan nodded and reined in his impatience as he moved cautiously to the right, scanning for any more trip wires along the ground and looking up high for irregularities with the other columns and the arched ceiling. “’Tis likely there’s naught else out here. At least not until we take the broken stone away and try to open the tunnel.”

“Laird MacKay, is there anything else I can do here?” Father Lundie asked, as he hovered on the other side of the downed column.

“Nay, Father. You’ve been verra helpful. Why doona you return to the keep and see if Amber needs assistance?”

The priest nodded and had just left when thuds sounded from the priest’s solar. After a second, Gavin yelled, “We’re all right. Knives shot from the desk when we opened the door.”

“Careful of the tips,” Lachlan answered. “He’s used poisoned thorns before. And careful of the hilts too, just in case. Make sure you doona grab them.”

“Can I put them in my mouth?” Kerr asked.

Callum snorted as he leaned down to look for more trip wires.

“You can put them up your arse, for all I care.”

“Och, ’tis always about the arse with you, isn’t it?”

“Quit blathering and pay attention,” Gregor yelled from the priest’s bedchamber. Then he hollered, “Down!” just before another loud crash.

Lachlan tensed and saw Callum do the same as they waited. Then Darach yelled, “We’re all right! Gregor tripped a trap by mistake. Oil and a lit arrow. Luckily, the arrow hit my shield instead of the oil that had spilled from the smashed container. I put out the fire.”

“Christ Almighty, old man!” Kerr yelled. “Quit blathering and focus on the task at hand before you get us all killed.”

“Shove it, you overgrown ablach!” Gregor yelled back.

Lachlan wiped his brow on his sleeve. It was hot under his drawn-up plaid, and sweat had formed on his forehead. He moved to the back of the sanctuary to examine the large, wooden crucifix. When he looked behind it, he saw scratch marks on the stone wall. “Callum.”

Callum heard the urgency in his voice and came over, taking care with each step.

Lachlan showed him the marks. “They’re fresh,” he said.

“Aye.” Callum wiggled the cross. “And it’s looser than it should be.”

Crouching on his haunches, Lachlan looked for a connecting stud or wire in the stone. “It’s not attached at the bottom.”

“If it fell over, it’s tall enough to land on the altar, and heavy enough to kill.” Callum cupped his hands and leaned over. “Take a look up top. I’ll give you a lift.”

Lachlan put his foot on Callum’s hands and balanced himself against the wall as his foster brother raised him up. He could see the mortar had been chipped away from around the rock. “It looks like a stone has been loosened where the cross is attached to it.” He pulled on the wood and the large block slid toward him. “Aye, it’s coming out,” he said.

Callum lowered him. “So something pushes on the stone from behind. But what? And what triggers it?”

“Most likely to do with the altar. The release of pressure when we take the broken column off maybe? Let’s take the crucifix out just to be safe.”

He moved to the other side and wrapped his arms around it. Callum did the same from his side, and they slowly pulled the heavy cross from the wall and laid it on the floor.

Lachlan examined the stone at the back. “It’s wrapped in some kind of greased material.”

“To make it easier to move?”

“Aye. Or perhaps ’tis similar to the trap that Gregor set off. Fire on top of the altar would deter anyone from going in.”

A door banged shut, and Gavin reentered the sanctuary from the priest’s solar. Kerr was at his heels, carrying a sack that rattled—most likely filled with the knives that had tried to carve them to pieces. He tossed the bag to one of his men. “Take this to Amber. Tell her the blades may be poisoned, and that I caught every one of them with my teeth.”

Lachlan let out a humorless laugh at the jest. It was either that or scream with frustration that Murray was slipping through his fingers—again—while they slowly undid his clever machinations.

“What did you find?” Gavin asked.

“The crucifix’s been rigged to fall on the altar. And possibly to cause a fire.”

“We found a passageway,” Gregor yelled, his voice coming from the other side of the wall. A moment later, light shone through the hole. “It’s rigged back here. Do you want us to spring the trap?”

“Go ahead,” Lachlan said, looking up to see a heavy battering ram swing through the hole.

“Ingenious,” Kerr said.

“He’s masterful at killing, torturing, and raping people,” Lachlan replied, his anger getting the better of him.

“A genius at destroying lives,” Gregor added. “Think what he could have done if he’d wanted to help people instead.”

“Laird MacKay, this is the last, heaviest piece. Should we lift it off now?” Malcolm asked.

“Aye, but let’s use some ropes and keep our distance, just in case.”

They slipped ropes around the broken column, then dragged it off the stone slab behind the altar. “Clear,” he shouted.

He heard a thud and looked up to the hole in the wall.

“That was it,” Darach said a moment later. “The release of pressure triggered the battering ram—or tried to—but we’d already dismantled it.”

“Good work,” Lachlan said. He kneeled at the slab and wrenched it up, as eager to continue as Darach’s hounds were to sniff Murray out. He had a half-hour lead on them.

Lachlan ground his teeth as fear chewed at him from the inside. How could he protect Amber if Murray got away again?

“Let the dogs go first,” Darach said as he called Hati and Skoll over.

“Nay, there may be other traps, and if he makes it out of the tunnel and escapes the net, we’ll need Hati and Skoll to track him. It’s my wife he’s going to come after; I’ll go first.”

Lachlan reached for the torch Gavin carried, but Gregor took it instead. “I’ll go first. My Kellie’s already gone. If I die, I’ll be going to meet her and my three wee girls at long last. You canna begrudge me that. You all still have families to create.” He sat on the edge of the hole, legs dangling down. “I made my family when I brought the five of you to live with me. You’re grown men now. Let me do this for you—for all of you when the time comes.”

Quiet descended. Lachlan wanted to grab back the torch, wanted to race after Murray and take him out for all the harm he’d done to Amber and to Donald—not to mention the rest of the clans. But Gregor was right. He might die, and Lachlan had Amber to consider now.

“I doona know why you’re even thinking about it; it’s not like you have a choice,” Gregor said, dropping the torch down the hole. “I’m bloody well going first.” He grabbed his shield, shoved off the ledge, and landed in a crouch on the tunnel floor.

“’Tis not as if anything could pierce that thick elephaunt hide of his anyway,” Darach said.

Then the sound of arrows being released reached their ears, and Gregor groaned like he’d been hit.

God’s blood!

Lachlan dropped into the hole, his shield out, and rolled to the wall. His brothers dropped in behind him, covering Gregor, who lay prone on the dirt floor. More arrows hit their shields.

Lachlan peered up the torch-lit tunnel, more a lengthy, open room that looked like it had been built and reinforced many years ago—long before Machar Murray arrived—and saw a man jump out from behind a rock, bow in hand, and take off in the opposite direction.

“Murray!” he roared, racing after him, forcing his legs faster, determined to catch the demon of a man who was such a threat to Amber, who had killed his brother and tried to kill him.

“Lachlan, no!” Callum yelled from behind him.

A part of his brain screamed at him to be cautious, to go slow, but that other part, the part that was so afraid to lose Murray again and put Amber in further danger, drove him forward, feet pounding on the dirt, cool air rushing through his teeth.

“Stay to the side!” Callum yelled again, chasing after him. “Step only where he steps!”

Lachlan looked down, his self-preservation finally coming into play, and jumped over another wire just in time—right where he’d seen Murray jump.

“Wire,” he yelled over his shoulder for Callum, his eyes scanning now as he ran, instead of being glued to Murray’s back.

Murray raised his bow arm, and Lachlan brought up his shield just before an arrow struck the wood, then another. Callum loosed one from behind him toward Murray, and Lachlan started running again.

He was close enough to Murray now to see his face—gaunt and dirty—but underneath he could see the remnants of the bonnie-looking man he used to be, which surprised Lachlan, as he’d always imagined a misshapen devil.

The devil smiled at him and leapt forward into a small, dark tunnel, dug out where the room ended, before turning back to Lachlan, his body almost blending with the blackness.

“You canna save her, MacKay. Just like you couldnae save your brother. Amber is dead.”

Then he pulled a lever, and a pile of rocks dropped down from above onto Lachlan.