Kane didn’t say a word as the five figures rode towards him. As Alice cleared the field, he prayed to God that she stayed away like he’d told her. If she didn’t, he was going to punish the disobedience out of her after he killed the MacLeod bastards.

There was no a doubt as to who was on his land. The colors and the arrogant smirks on the dirty men in front of him told him all he needed to know.

He could have waited and asked them questions. Like why they were killing his clansmen? Or why they were on his land to begin with? He could have—it’s what any laird with a lick of sense would have done.

But all he could think about was the fear that had entered Alice’s eyes when she’d realized something was wrong. MacLeods were entitled sons of bitches. If they saw Alice, they’d take her—and not pleasantly.

“Kane,” one of the men said stonily. His eyes flickered around the area, most likely searching for the rest of the Shaw clansmen who guarded the lands. None of them were out today because he’d specifically told them to stay at the keep.

Kane had planned to take Alice on a tour of the lands. They were his pride and joy, the most precious thing he possessed. Sharing them with her had been the only thing he could think of that she might find interesting. He’d wanted their time together to be private, with no one bothering them.

He knew without a doubt he could kill these men by himself—if he didn’t have a woman to worry about.

“The MacLeod sends his greetings,” another one said, a redhead. He was pudgier than the rest of them.

“Does he?” Kane gave them each an assessing glance. God, the MacLeods have really fallen. The men were not in shape. They looked like lads with a stick as they held their swords, and they were as cocky as a damn rooster. He’d take too much pleasure out of ridding his lands of these pathetic men.

“Aye, he—”

There was a scream. A scream that was all too feminine, all too close, and all too Alice. Heat surged through him as the men’s attention snapped in the direction. They all grinned.

“Looks like Robert found something—” The redhead didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence. Kane urged his horse a few steps forward and slammed his arm out. He caught the redhead on the arm with his sword, elbow connecting with a blonde man’s face simultaneously. The two went toppling to the ground, leaving one on the saddle.

The battle was short-lived. The one on the saddle, a dark-haired lad, surged into a gallop toward Alice. Kane knew that if he didn’t do something about the two men groaning on the ground, they’d show up in the middle of the battle, and it’d only make the odds worse for Alice. But Alice was in immediate danger. The men on the ground could be taken care of later, after he got his woman to safety.

The scene that met him had him seeing red.

Alice had just fallen off her horse, a blonde man he hadn’t noticed standing over her. His knife was crusted with old blood, and parts of it glinted like a warning to Kane. Alice was trying to get to her feet, but every time she stood, he’d just shove her back down, laughing. The fury in her eyes was blatant, and he felt a brief moment of pride—until the man knelt down, pressing the blade to her throat.

Bloodlust surged through him.

With a roar, he leapt off his beast, swinging his claymore over his head and striking at the man closest to Alice. The man stumbled back, bone crunching, and the blonde from earlier came at him. Kane rolled forward, placing himself between Alice and the men. He ducked under the attacker and swung again. His claymore caught flesh.

The two men he’d previously struck down came charging over the hill. He groaned, especially when he felt Alice’s tiny body stir behind his. When her slender hand touched his arm, he wanted to murder someone. She was too innocent to see this, to see death.

“Alice,” he hissed, “I’m going to distract them. I want you to take my horse and get to the keep. Find Brodrick and tell him what’s happening. Do ye’ understand?”

Her short, gasping breath fell on his shoulder. He could feel her tremors from behind him, and his heart clenched.

“If I take the horse, you’ll be alone. I will not leave you to your death!” she said fiercely. One of the men came at him, and Kane growled, bracing himself for the impact. He couldn’t swing with his body guarding Alice so closely, especially since the two of them were on the ground. Kane knocked the man’s sword out of his hands, then quickly dragged Alice to her feet, shoving her farther behind him.

“Do no’ fight me on this, lass. Go, damn you,” he snarled. He didn’t give her a second glance. Two of them came for him at once.

The battle had begun in earnest.

* * *

Saeran watched in horror as two men came at Kane with the speed and strength of a bull. He dodged them, moving with a grace that couldn’t be real. He grabbed one of them by the hair, throwing him into the ground. The rest of them came, and he took care of them with ease, not even breaking a sweat.

She couldn’t make herself get to the horse. That’s what he was waiting for—she knew it. He wouldn’t kill a man in front of her. Instead, he was going to wait until she was gone, tiring them out, and make them weak.

The ferocity of his movements, the precise dictation of his claymore and the way it sliced through the air held her still. Fear climbed in her throat, even though she knew that Kane would be victorious in this fight.

She also knew why he was called The Lion of the Highlands.

His grace. The menacing aura that came from his every pore. Even the men he was fighting began to realize this, backing away from him. Their eyes widened with the realization that they would die by his hand.

Saeran wasn’t going to leave him. It was a coward’s way out, even if everyone here knew he was going to win. He was still in front of her, his huge, thick shoulders flexing with every move. With a quick prayer, she reached forward and deftly slid one of his daggers from around his waist. It was large in her hands, but the training she’d been forced to endure for the past month prepared her for it.

Too bad for her, her thievery drew the attention of the man who’d first came upon her. His eyes raked over her with a lust-filled sneer. Her blood ran cold. Kane became a vague figure in her peripheral as she backed away from him, drawing the man towards her.

She was scared, so scared that her heart was climbing up her throat. But she would not become weak. Being weak had gotten her into this situation. If she’d fought him off as she knew how the first time he came for her, this wouldn’t be happening right now, and Kane would have one less thing to worry about.

As it was, the fight managed to draw enough of Kane’s attention that he didn’t notice the blonde man giving him a wide berth as he ran around the fight, to Saeran. She held the knife in front of her, forcing herself to look weak, terrified.

She was terrified, but she wasn’t as weak as she appeared to be. She might feel like it in front of the large man, but she wasn’t. Brodrick had shown her enough that she could do this.

He leered.

“The MacLeod would like a piece of ye’, I bet. Especially if yer the laird’s betrothed, the lass everyone has been talking about,” he mused, flashing a yellow smile at her. Her blood could have turned to ice. She met his eyes, holding the knife tightly. She didn’t say a word. The smile dropped from his face. “Mayhap I’d like a taste of ye’ myself.”

Then he moved. It was quicker than she’d expected, but Brodrick hadn’t held back with her in the ring. She moved out of his way, letting her body roll into the ground. She slashed outward with the dirk, catching him on the back of his calf. He made a rough sound of pain, and then turned around, sword falling onto the ground.

He planned to have his way with her the second he grabbed her, she realized.

Shaking and more terrified than she’d ever been in her life, she did the only thing she could think to.

Pushing herself to her feet, she waited until he was just in front of her. She met his eyes, then raised her leg.

Her foot connected with his bollocks. He lurched forward, face turning red.

“Bitch,” he hissed. She wasn’t prepared for the hand that came for her throat, or how tight his fingers were when they wrapped around her neck. Her breath cut off as he dragged her to the ground with him, one of his hands pressed between his legs. She couldn’t make a sound, not even to cry out for Kane.

Kane’s dagger clattered to the ground when the man grabbed her by the arms, holding her down by her wrists with one hand. She gasped for air, only finding...nothing. Blackness began to dot her vision, pain slamming behind her eyes.

“Going to pay for that,” he snarled, pulling her head back by her neck, only to slam her back into the ground. The sound that wrenched from her throat was stuck by his hand, and she would have screamed from the pain of it, if she could.

The battle warred on behind her. She vaguely heard Kane’s roar of fury in the background, but the clatter of swords striking against each other did not lessen. Blindly, terror beginning to take over her mind, she used the last of her strength to break free of his hold. She slapped out with her hands, raking him across the face with her nails. Her hand jabbed into his throat. Her other hand reached for the fallen dirk, and when her fingers wrapped around the hilt, tears of relief stung her eyes.

The hope of escape gave her the strength to bring the dagger up and thrust it into the arm that was cutting off her breath. He reared back, howling, and air rushed into her lungs with such force that she became lightheaded.

She didn’t have time to adjust. He came for her, bleeding, and she rolled out of his way. She slammed the blade into his back when he crumpled into the ground. She gasped for breath, the tears finally falling down her cheeks.

He wasn’t dead, but he was stunned.

“Fuck,” a familiar voice snarled. Kane came into her vision. She couldn’t make herself look at him. All she could see was the blood that was pooling out of the man’s back, sliding down the side of his ribs. She swallowed, vomit rising in her throat.

“If I ever see any of ye’ again, ye’ll no’ make it out alive,” Kane snarled.

Thick arms wrapped around her body, drawing her close against Kane’s warm chest. The shock of everything that had just happened kept her still, shocked. Terrified. She met Kane’s eyes, her lower lip trembling as her panting turned into full gasps for air.

She vaguely realized that the fight was over, that Kane was carrying her away from the men who were scrambling away from the scene. The scene where she’d almost died, where Kane hadn’t been there to save her, and she’d had to do it herself.

“Let’s go,” Kane bit out. He mounted, then dragged her up with him, setting her on his lap. One of his arms wrapped around her waist. As they took off, she let the rush of emotion she’d been holding back wash over her.

The pounding of hooves and the wind in her face gave her the cover she needed to let it go.