Mairin was too mortified to ask Maddie any of the questions swirling around her mind. She sat there, numb to her toes, while the battle cry rose from the courtyard and then the sound of hundreds of horses thundering across the land drowned out everything else.
Then her gaze flickered across the discarded dres on the floor. He’d torn her dress. Her wedding dress. After every other bewildering thing that had occurred this day, the dress shouldn’t have upset her so. But tears welled in her eyes, and before she could call them back, warm trails trickled down her cheeks.
Maddie left her to replace the linens on the bed. She bustled around the chamber, though it was clear she had no task to do.
“Please,” she whispered to Maddie. “I just want to be alone.”
Maddie eyed her dubiously, but when Mairin reinforced her request, Maddie reluctantly turned away and left the chamber. Mairin stayed on the bench for a long moment, her knees huddled to her chest as she stared into the dwindling fire. Then she got up to wash the stickiness from her body. When she was done, she crawled onto the bed and huddled underneath the clean linens, too tired and distraught to worry over Duncan Cameron’s army.
Ewan led his men over the hilltops and down the steep southern boundary of their lands, his two brothers flanking him. Another rider had ridden furiously to give Ewan an update. Cameron’s men were approaching without delay.
There would be no time to stage a surprise attack, and in truth, Ewan had no desire for one. He rode with the might of his entire army, save only a contingent that remained behind to guard the keep. There was no doubt they’d be outnumbered, but the McCabe soldiers made up in might what they lacked in numbers.
“They’re just over the next hilltop, Laird,” Gannon said as he drew up his horse in front of Ewan.
Ewan smiled. Revenge was at hand.
“Let’s greet Cameron on the next rise,” Ewan said to his brothers.
Alaric and Caelen raised their swords into the air. Around them, the shouts of their men echoed sharply across the land. Ewan spurred his horse and they raced down the hill and began the climb to the next. When they topped the rise, Ewan called a halt as they stared down at the assembled might of the Cameron army.
Ewan scanned the Cameron soldiers until finally his gaze lighted on his prey. Duncan Cameron sat high in his saddle, dressed in full battle regalia.
“Cameron is mine,” he shouted to his men. Then he glanced sideways at his brothers. “ ’Tis time to deliver a message.”
“Kill them all?” Alaric asked mildly.
Ewan’s nostrils flared. “Every last one.”
Caelen rotated his sword in his hand. “Then let it be done.”
Ewan gave the battle cry and urged his horse down the hill. Around him, his men took up the cry and soon the valley echoed with the thunder of horses. The McCabes descended like avenging hellfire, their savage cries enough to frighten the souls of the dead.
After a faltering hesitation, when it wasn’t clear whether they meant to attack or run, Cameron’s men surged forward. divmet in a clash of swords at the bottom of the hill. Ewan slashed through the first two men he encountered with a deft swing of his sword. He could see the surprise—and the fear—in the eyes of Cameron’s men. They hadn’t expected to encounter a fighting force such as Ewan’s, and Ewan derived unholy satisfaction from that fact.
He glanced quickly to check on his men. He needn’t have worried. Caelen and Alaric were cutting a swath through Cameron’s men while the rest of his soldiers dispatched their foes with expert speed and agility.
Ewan set his sights on Cameron, who still hadn’t dismounted his horse. He stood back, watching his men and barking orders. Ewan single-mindedly cut a path through Cameron’s men until only two soldiers stood between him and Cameron.
He dispatched the first with a slice through the man’s chest. Blood gleamed crimson on his sword as he swung it around to meet the last obstacle to his goal. The soldier glanced warily at Ewan and then back at Cameron. He raised his sword as if to meet Ewan’s advance, but at the last moment he turned and fled.
Ewan’s lips curled into a satisfied smile at the sudden fear in Cameron’s eyes.
“Get off your horse, Cameron. I’d hate to spill the blood of a steed as fine as he.”
Cameron raised his sword, gathered the reins in his other hand, and kicked his horse forward. He charged at Ewan, letting out a bloodcurdling cry.
Ewan deflected the blow and twisted his sword, lifting Cameron’s right out of his hands. It went sailing through the air and landed with a sickening thud into one of the fallen bodies a short distance away.
Ewan spun to meet the next charge, but Cameron never slowed. He spurred his horse to faster speeds and raced across the terrain. Away from his men and from the battle.
As Ewan turned to battle another foe, he snapped his teeth together in fury. Coward. Bloody coward. He’d deserted his men and left them all to die while saving his own arse.
Ewan gave the order for his men to finish it, and he began working his way back toward his brothers. The Cameron soldiers were woefully outmatched.
The remaining commander of Cameron’s ill-fated army evidently came to the same conclusion. He yelled retreat, and his men didn’t just retreat. They fled.
The commander, unlike Cameron, wasn’t a coward. He didn’t flee. He urged his men to beat a hasty retreat and he fought valiantly at their rear, offering his protection—as pathetic as it was—so they could escape to safety.
Ewan signaled his men to give chase, and he turned his sights on the commander.