Highlanders Collection. Ann Lethbridge

where he is.’

      Nairna wanted to take his hand, to reassure him, but something in his expression made her hesitate. Alex stretched and gave her a nod in greeting.

      ‘When I was out walking this morning, I saw torchlight in the hills,’ she told them. ‘Do you think any of Lord Harkirk’s men might have followed us?’

      Bram’s face tensed, and he exchanged a glance with Alex. ‘It’s possible.’

      ‘I’ll inform the men,’ the chief said. ‘If it is an attack, send a runner to Locharr and alert the Baron that we may need his help.’ He turned to Nairna. ‘Tell Laren—’

      ‘She’s already gathering the women and children.’

      ‘Good.’ The chief glanced back at Callum, whose eyes were open. The man had clenched his hands together; from the expression on his face, he’d understood what they were saying.

      ‘I’ll need your help guarding the women and children,’

      Alex ordered his younger brother. ‘Even Lady Marguerite.’

      Callum gave a slight nod to show that he understood, and though his hands were shaking, he managed to take the sword his older brother offered. Nairna wasn’t so certain whether or not the man was capable of guarding anyone, but she understood it was a way of protecting Callum, by keeping him with the others.

      Nairna led the men down the stairs and outside to the place where she’d seen the torchlight. By now, the sun had risen, but the sky remained dark with clouds.

      Bram and Alex climbed up to the top of the gatehouse, but Nairna saw the threat as soon as they did. Not a few raiders, as she’d suspected.

      Instead, an army of men had spread out in the valley, their chainmail reflected in the light like hundreds of silver coins.

      Lord Harkirk had brought his soldiers. And with him were Lord Cairnross’s forces.

      This was what he’d been waiting for.

      Dougal clenched his dirk, hiding behind one of the huts as the MacKinloch archers began firing arrows against the English. The frightened cries of children were shushed by their mothers as Nairna and Laren helped them go into hiding.

      The dark scent of soot brimmed within the air and a flaming torch shot through the sky, landing upon a nearby roof. The dry thatch blazed and Dougal moved further away, to find his own position of safety.

      The last time the English had come, his brother Alex had shoved him down in the storage cellar with Lady Laren and the girls, as if he were naught but a bairn. They didn’t believe he was capable of fighting.

      Not this time. Dougal refused to stand back like a coward, hiding with the women. He could drive his blade into a soldier’s ribs, the same as any of them. Now that he was four and ten, he was old enough to help his brothers. If he slaughtered a dozen Englishmen, they’d finally stop treating him like a child.

      Men shouted as the flames began to spread, and the clang of swords rang within the courtyard. Dougal found a place behind a wooden cart, out of the range of the arrows, while he decided the best place to launch his own attack.

      Best to wait for the right moment to strike out and remain hidden until then. His kinsmen had already begun to attack the English, their battle cries roaring amid the chaos.

      A tightness constricted in his lungs and sweat coated his palms. But he wasn’t afraid to fight. No, soon enough, he would run out and join the MacKinlochs. For now, better to stay here and wait for one of the English to come closer.

      A flash of movement caught him by surprise, and an arrow shot past him, embedded in the cart only inches from his face. Dougal dived beneath the cart, his heart slamming within his chest. He’d never seen the English soldier approaching from the back side of the fortress. How had the man slipped inside?

      Dougal gripped his dirk, a bead of sweat rolling down his face as the soldier drew closer. He had to make a decision. His pulse quickened, a thick terror rising in the back of his throat.

      But then, abruptly, he heard the sound of a dog snarling. Seconds later, his enemy’s knees buckled beneath him. Dougal rolled out from under the cart and saw Bram’s wife Nairna holding a stone in her hand, her dog Caen at her side. She’d struck the English soldier across the head and the man lay motionless, blood streaming from his temple.

      ‘Take his sword,’ Nairna ordered. ‘And all of his weapons. Quickly, before he wakes up!’

      Her face was grey and she looked as if she were about to be sick. Though he’d been trained to fight, Nairna knew nothing about it. She didn’t belong here.

      ‘Go back with the other women,’ Dougal told her as he seized the unconscious soldier’s sword. ‘You shouldn’t be near the fighting.’

      ‘Neither should you,’ she said. ‘Come back with me.’

      He was about to argue with her, when another motion caught his attention. In a blur, his mind and body seemed to separate. Another soldier ran forwards, his weapon aimed at Nairna. Though Dougal tried to cry out a warning, the words smothered in his throat.

      Instinct took over and he rushed forwards, driving the sword into the man’s stomach. The blade sank deep within and Dougal staggered backwards, suddenly aware of what he’d just done.

      He didn’t hear Nairna’s words, nor did he know what was happening around him. Blood covered his hands and he couldn’t seem to take a deep breath. His ears rang, his vision blurring.

      Bile rose up and he ran to a corner of the palisade wall, heaving up the contents of his stomach. Humiliation was a bitter taste upon his tongue, for he’d just shown Nairna his cowardice.

      Moments later, a gentle hand rested upon his shoulder. ‘It’s all right, Dougal.’

      But it wasn’t. He’d never killed a man before, never known what it was to see the look of shock and death within a man’s eyes. The pieces of his boyhood fell away in that moment, and he understood what his brothers had meant when they’d wanted him to stay clear of the battle. It wasn’t a glorified fight for honour, for death could come at any second, without warning.

      He wiped his mouth, realising that his duty right now was no longer to defend their clan and fight. He needed to bring Nairna to safety.

      ‘I’ll take you back to the others,’ he said. ‘You need to stay with the women and children.’

      His brothers would want that. He would join with Callum and they would form their own defence for those who were too weak to defend themselves.

      Bram fought off the faceless soldiers, knowing that they were outnumbered. Numbness settled over him and he fought to keep his movements controlled.

      Letting the invaders seize control of their lands wasn’t an option. And though his rage was rising with every man he struck down, he couldn’t afford to release his emotions. He had to keep his family safe.

      The armies had formed a perimeter, nearly surrounding their fortress. If they managed to encircle Glen Arrin, it was over. He didn’t know whether the English intended to kill them all or show mercy upon the women and children. It was doubtful that their lives would be spared, unless he could get them away from Glen Arrin.

      Bram swung his claymore hard, connecting with another enemy, bringing him down. He saw his chance to break free of the fight and raced towards the keep, hoping to find a way to get the women out, with Dougal and Callum’s help.

      He stopped short when he caught sight of Gilbert de Bouche, the Earl of Cairnross, entering the gates. Cairnross strode into their broken fortress with the arrogance of one who owned it. He surveyed the land, seemingly satisfied with the burning huts and the bodies littering the ground.

      Bram didn’t move. In his enemy’s eyes, he saw the man who had tormented him. His claymore grew heavy, his weariness sinking into his bones. This man had ordered boys flogged because they were too weak from hunger