A Hellion at the Highland Court (The Highland Ladies #9) - Celeste Barclay Page 0,119

retribution was for either wife, even if he’d intended it for Laurel.

“For my sister!” Monty howled as he stood in his stirrups and barreled toward Matthew. The force that came with the speed from his horse made Monty’s sword spear Matthew clean threw. Monty twisted the blade before yanking it out. He spat at the dead man as he fell from his horse. With Donnan at Monty’s back and Graham at his, Brodie led them out of the fray as the Lamonts arrived at the riverbank. The momentum of their charge carried one man after another over the berm. There was little the defenders had to do but watch.

“Waste of bluidy good horseflesh,” Donnan quipped with feigned regret.

The first wave of battle was brief but intense. Brodie looked down at his side to find blood soaking through his leine. He’d barely felt the wound but realized it was more than a nick. It would have to wait until he was certain that any enemy who survived and came ashore wasn’t long for the living. He discovered more opponents than he would have liked ended up in the bay alive. But his archers picked them off, firing from the shore and the battlements. They cut down the handful who climbed the banks as they stood up. Used to daylong campaigns, Brodie found it unnerving to secure his victory in a matter of hours. He rode the battlefield as his men searched for survivors, both friend and foe. They helped the wounded to the keep and gathered the bodies for those who would mourn. When none of his men or his comrades remained, he looked at the destruction left in their wake.

Laurel hadn’t been wrong to name it a massacre. But no regret tugged at him. No doubt niggled at the back of his mind. He knew he would ride into his bailey to find his wife, sure that she and his people were safe for yet another night. He’d done his duty as best he could, and he would never regret serving his clan.

Thirty-Five

Laurel’s patience expired. While she and the staff rushed to feed the villagers, find places for them to sit and sleep, and shuttled food out to the men, Colina remained absent. Laurel eventually ceased asking Aggie to tell Gara to work. The woman found excuses to stand in Laurel’s way or force Laurel to go in a different direction. After the fourth time, Laurel called the woman’s bluff, and Gara came out the loser. Instead of taking a detour, Laurel barreled past Gara, knocking the maid onto her backside. Rather than help Gara up, Laurel glared at the woman.

“Be glad I only carried blankets. You wouldn’t have been so fortunate if I carried something scalding. You move for me, not the other way around.” Laurel tried to keep the peace, but she wouldn’t let Gara or any servant believe Laurel demurred to them. She didn’t wait to see if Gara stood. She already knew the hateful things the woman likely thought about her, but Laurel didn’t have the time to care. Between Colina not assisting as a member of the laird’s family should, and Gara being awkward, Laurel would accept no more nonsense.

Laurel heard a piercing whistle, the whinny of several horses, then the clash of steel on steel. She didn’t hesitate to make her way across the bailey and up to the battlements. The Lamonts and MacDougalls weren’t attacking the keep, instead meeting Brodie’s forces head-to-head. Laurel didn’t fear arrows flying toward her like she would had it been an attack on the castle. She ran along the battlements until she could see Brodie atop his horse. She watched with morbid fascination as he swept one man after another off their mount, their corpse left in his wake. The last time Brodie fought was the only time she’d seen Brodie fight, and she’d been more focused on defeating David Lamont.

Laurel watched in awe as Brodie wielded his claymore with one hand when he had to steer Lann and defend himself. Other times, he swung his sword with the power that came from both arms while Lann moved with commands from Brodie’s legs. She’d been proud of Teine’s fearlessness, but she knew her horse wasn’t trained to do nearly half of what Lann did. He and Brodie were a single entity, relying on one another but fighting as one. Brodie had aptly named his steed Blade.

When the battle shifted toward the river, and Laurel could no longer spy