Chapter Thirty-Two

It was not a battle waiting for Kaid, and for that he was thankful.

The men, all dressed in the earthy green tartan of the MacKenzie and surrounding clans, were off their horses by the time Kaid and the women arrived.

“Is this the MacLeod clan?” a tall man with red hair asked.

Kaid stood at the head of his people, his body tense. “It is.”

“And ye have our rightful laird?” the man asked.

Kaid turned over his shoulder to find Torra watching. “Aye,” Kaid answered. “We do. And we mean to help her into her rightful place. Is it yer intention to offer yer allegiance?”

The man bowed his head. “Aye, all of us mean to see her take her proper place as laird once more.”

Kaid beckoned Torra toward him with a subtle nod. She drew a deep breath and approached with measured steps until she stood before the man.

He immediately dropped to his knees in the lush grass, as did the hundreds of men behind him.

It was a sight to behold, so many highlanders bent on reverent knee before the laird too long denied to them. Kaid’s heart swelled for Torra, and for the people she would lead.

But there was more than just pride in his chest.

There was hope.

He looked down beside him, where Delilah watched with tears shimmering in her eyes.

And there was love.

He held her waist and together they watched the red-haired man lift his head.

“Yer father, the former laird of the MacKenzies, was a good man,” the man said. “He raised ye with a good heart. When he died and ye disappeared, we thought ye’d been killed.”

“I’m sorry.” Torra placed a hand under his chin.

“I’m only sorry for the ten years we spent without ye.” The man’s voice carried with the force of his passion, and Kaid knew he spoke for all to hear. “The ten years of murder, rape, and theft brought on by a man no’ deserving of the title of laird. I, Callum MacKenzie, will fight until my final breath to see ye restored as the rightful laird of the MacKenzies.”

He took her hand in his and pressed a fierce kiss to her knuckles.

The MacLeods’ applause behind Kaid thundered through his soul. They too felt hope and victory singing through their veins.

Though the process took time, Kaid waited until every man had sworn fealty to Torra. By the time they were done, the sun had begun to sink into the jagged distant hills behind them and left the afternoon light rich with red and golden orange.

It glinted behind Torra, framing her in the same gilded light as the painted figures he’d seen of the Virgin Mary, as if God himself ordained her as laird to her people.

“I think it best we battle at night,” Delilah said. “The longer we stay here, the more likely Seumas MacKenzie will find us. After all, they did.”

She nodded toward the MacKenzie clan.

Callum looked in their direction, having obviously overheard them. “Aye, we heard from other travelers which way ye’d passed. If the bastard has any spies about, they most likely know already.”

Kaid nodded. “They willna expect us during the night.” His chest swelled with pride at Delilah being his. Not just his lover now, but soon to be his wife. Surely there was no finer wife to be had. No woman more talented, more intelligent, more exquisitely beautiful.

Two riders appeared in the distance, coming from the direction of the inn.

“The man and woman who found ye,” Kaid said to Callum. “Where are they?”

“They were going to the inn to meet ye,” Callum replied. “Have ye gone by already?”

“Aye, but they werena there.” Kaid pointed toward the riders. “But it looks as though they’re still arriving in time for the fun.”

Within several minutes the two riders arrived together. The first slipped from his horse easily and managed to catch the second when she tumbled from hers.

Aye, definitely Donnan and Leasa.

“Start preparing yer men for battle,” Kaid said to Callum. “We ride out within the hour, before we lose the last of the light.”

“Ready?” Delilah asked.

“Aye,” Kaid replied. “It’s time to put Torra back in power.” He caught her hands in his. “And we’ll save our Claire.”

• • •

Many lives were at stake, but it was the image of a child which sent energy flaring through Delilah, powerful enough to guarantee victory no matter the foe.

She would save Claire, even if she did so at the expense of her own life.

Their large group moved through the forest toward Edirdovar. The red stonework could be seen above the treetops, growing larger and larger as they closed in on their target.

While Sylvi led the other female spies, Delilah stayed by Kaid’s side per his insistence.

She knew if it were up to him, she would not have come.

She also knew he realized she would never allow herself to remain behind.

The shush of an arrow being shot was as loud in the silence as a musket ball being fired. Another arrow cut through the air and thunked into the tree beside Torra’s head. One arrow pinned the other into the thick bark by its middle.

An impossible shot.

A shot only one woman would be able to make.

Delilah turned to find Percy’s hooded form sliding another arrow from her back and crouching low in the brush.

A hand caught Delilah’s, warm and strong—Kaid.

“It’s beginning,” he muttered. He searched her face with his determined gaze. “Be safe, my love.” He caught her face in his large hands and pressed a hard kiss to her lips, so fierce the scratch of his whiskers ground against her chin.

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips.

“And I ye,” he growled.

Then he turned from her and loosed his war cry.

Both MacKenzie and MacLeod warriors roared their own cries, the shouts blending together.

Delilah slipped from Kaid’s side to join Sylvi and the other women, who continued onward in stealthy silence with only the hiss of Percy’s arrows. They moved quickly and easily in their black leines and men’s trews. While the women could fight in gowns, battle required more liberating garments.

The guards surrounding the castle grounds were quickly and easily dispatched. There weren’t many.

But MacKenzie knew they were coming. No doubt almost all of his guards were stationed within the walls of Edirdovar, ready to defend the castle.

Little did they know how easy their walls could be breached.

The edge of the forest met them, and beyond it stood their prize. The redstone castle of Edirdovar.

Kaid stepped forward, into the line of sight.

Figures along the top of the castle drew back their bows and Delilah’s chest tightened.

“Torra MacKenzie is the rightful ruler of this castle.” Kaid’s voice rang clear and confident in the thin night air. “If ye willna relinquish Edirdovar to her, we will take it by force to seat her in her rightful place.”

A tall figure appeared at the high edge of the castle, his arms folded behind his back with an arrogance only Seumas MacKenzie could wield. “I welcome ye to try.”

He turned to a man on his right, who held an arrow nocked. “Attack.”

The archer hesitated. Negotiations prior to battle were sacred, even among paid men.

“Attack.” The word came louder, and this time the archer did not hesitate. But Kaid had already melted back into the shadows of the forest with the rest of the force. The arrow shot through the air and landed soundly into the rich soil, the head sunk almost midway to the shaft in the wet earth.

The MacLeod and MacKenzie archers took aim and fired along with Percy. Her confirmed hits were easier to spot. The men she shot did not pitch over the castle, dead or soon to be—they were merely hit in the arm, the hand, disabling them from attacking further without being lethal.

Delilah adjusted her grip on the hilt of her sword, more out of anxious anticipation than necessity. Once they breached the castle walls, she could find Claire.

A glow of light flared to Delilah’s left, and her heartbeat quickened.

It was time.

The pungent odor of sulfur tainted the air, followed by the hiss of a flame catching. Delilah looked to the left, where Isabel’s exotically painted face was lit in a brilliant wash of fire.

Cupped in her palm was the thick round pot filled with gunpowder and plugged with wax. The string jutting from the milky center fizzled and smoked. Isabel grinned and rolled the pot over the cobblestone walkway to the massive wooden door barring their entrance into the castle.

The flame swirled and danced during the pot’s path toward its destination while the gritty warbling sound of clay on stone captured everyone’s attention. The pot bumped harmlessly into the door and remained there for a moment before the flame met the wax.

The flame went out.

A disappointing fraction of a second sucked at Delilah’s spirit before the pot exploded and left fine dust raining down where it had once been.

While the door still stood, a majority of the bottom portion was gone and a large crack had appeared at its center.

One more would do it.

And it was already rolling toward its destination. This one exploded with more expediency than the first, and with far greater impact. Fragments of the door flew into the air and landed on the stone ground with hearty clunks.

Kaid’s men cried out once more and together they rushed toward the open entrance while the MacLeod and MacKenzie archers covered their attack. Delilah let herself be taken with the rush of bodies along with Sylvi.

Everyone caught at the entrance for the briefest of moments, bodies all tangled against one another in haste to get in, until one person pushed free and made room for the next.

The excitement and energy crackled amid the chaos and left Delilah’s pulse thrumming in her ears until all she could hear was the pounding of her heart and the shouts of men.

She shouldered her way into the castle. The barren hall greeted her with memories she did not welcome.

She was finally inside the castle.