Page 56 of In Bed with a Highland Beast

“What is it?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “What is the matter?”

“Lucia,” said Alaric. “She went after the Ravencloaks.”

It was all he needed to say for any trace of sleep to disappear from Evan’s gaze. Suddenly, he was entirely alert, ready to step right into the role of the laird.

“Get ready,” he said. “An’ gather the men.”

Alaric nodded, pulling Evan into a quick, tight embrace. He didn’t know how he would ever do anything without his brother.He didn’t know how he would have achieved anything without his support.

Hurriedly, Alaric headed back to his chambers and prepared for yet another battle, before rushing down to the courtyard and grabbing a few select men among the guards who would be going with them. He wished he could take as many men as were in the castle, but he couldn’t leave the place defenseless. If anything, he figured Callum and the Ravencloaks may find it as the perfect opportunity to attack, thinking that the MacGregor forces would be diminished by going after Lucia.

When Evan joined them, Alaric jumped on his horse and led the group out of the castle walls and into the darkness of the night. Isabeau and Bonnie both stood by the doors, watching them leave with matching looks of concerns on their faces, and Alaric wished he could tell them something to reassure them everything would be fine, but he couldn’t even convince himself of that. Fear and doubt both gnawed at him. There was no shedding the fear that something may have already happened to Lucia. There was no taking the image of her, lying dead on the ground, out of his mind.

There had been no word yet from Evan’s search parties regarding the whereabouts of the Ravencloaks, and so their group searched blindly for a while. Dawn began to break in the horizon, bathing the land in a cold, blue light, and the more it took them to locate the gang, the more Alaric began to lose hope. Could it be that they had already left, he wondered? Could it be that they had captured or killed Lucia and that had been enough for Callum to abandon his quest for Alaric?

Perhaps he had already satiated his bloodlust and thought going after him wasn’t worth it when he had the support of an entire army behind him. But if that was the case, Alaric didn’t know how he could possibly go on living with himself, knowing he had not saved Lucia on time.

I kent she would dae this. I kent, deep down, an’ I still allowed it.

He should have posted a guard outside her door, at least, or have had a few of them watch her and report to him. Lucia was capable and she could slip out of many people’s notice, but she, too, was human. If he had tasked everyone with keeping an eye on her, this would not have happened.

Just as Alaric began to despair, his fear getting the better of him, he caught a glimpse of glowing flames in the distance. He knew a campfire when he saw one, and so he pulled his horse to a stop, raising his hand so the men behind him would do the same. Silence suddenly fell around them in the woods. All the men were holding their breaths, adrenaline coursing through them just as it did in Alaric’s veins.

“We continue on foot,” he said and everyone dismounted, leaving the horses to the last two guards in the group. Evan walked towards him, falling into step next to him as the two of them began to move at the head of the group, his eyes keen, scanning the area around them for any signs of hidden danger.

“Dae ye think it’s them?” Evan asked.

“It must be, right?” said Alaric. Who else would it be so deep in the woods? Travelers, even the most experienced ones, had neither reason nor desire to hide like this. It was easy to get his hopes up and think that he had finally found the Ravencloaks, but the closer they got to the camp, the more his fear grew, tearing him up from the inside.

What if he got there and found Lucia dead? He could not even fathom such an outcome. He could not imagine his response to such a tragedy. Even though he had lost many people in the past, this seemed like the kind of loss which would ultimately break him.

Evan must have sensed it in him, this fear, this hesitation to get any closer, as he placed a gentle hand on Alaric’s shoulder, urging him forward. Alaric was grateful for it. Even that small gesture was enough to propel him, to give him the simple push he needed to take those last few steps and make it to the clearing.

The moment he stepped past the last line of the trees, it was clear to him that they were all Ravencloak men, all of them donning the usual dark cloaks that identified them as part of the group. But the sight before him made Alaric’s heart stop. Lucia was right there, bound and surrounded by Callum’s men as he loomed over her, blade in hand.

With a roar, Alaric rushed into the clearing without a second thought. Around him, the MacGregor men did the same, attacking the first Ravencloaks they found on their way, and the battle among the two parties erupted so suddenly that everyone seemed confused at first, a little uncertain of what to do or whatwas happening—everyone but Callum, whose gaze instantly fell on Alaric and knew it for what it was; an attempt to save Lucia’s life.

In all his years, Alaric had never seen a battle as vicious as that one. Both sides were out for blood, the conflict much more personal after everything the Ravencloaks had done to the MacGregor Clan. Their soldiers threw themselves in the midst of the battle with no hesitation, with nothing but the desire to protect the clan and avenge the last attack, the men clearing Alaric’s path so he could get to Callum.

Alaric saw Callum’s blade flash in the light of the dawn as he raised it, ready to take Lucia’s life. She was trapped in his grip, surely weakened by the fight that must have ensued between them. No matter how much she fought him, thrashing and kicking at him, she couldn’t escape his grasp. Alaric cried out as Callum brought down his sword, his strides long and fast and desperate—and just enough to get himself close to Lucia in time to block Callum’s sword at the last moment, stopping him from taking her life.

To his surprise, Callum laughed as though he was delighted, the sound cutting through the chaos around them. Alaric’s ears buzzed with the rush of blood, with the battle cries of his men, with the shouts and the pained groans as men were injured and killed around them. But that laugh rang out over everything else, and Alaric knew he would never forget it.

“Well, ye came,” Callum said, taking a few steps back, much to Alaric’s relief. As long as he was far away from Lucia, then hedidn’t have to worry about her. “Ye came, even though ye ken now what kind o’ lass she is. She told ye, did she nae? That’s why she came here on her own.”

Alaric didn’t grace that with an answer. Callum was only taunting him and Alaric was not going to give him the satisfaction of appearing affected. Instead, he only assumed the stance for an attack, planting his feet firmly on the ground as he adjusted the grip on his sword. Then, he waited, though he didn’t have to wait for long. Callum was an impatient man and soon attacked, rushing towards him with a snarl, his features contorted into a mask of rage.

Alaric met the first blow with his blade, the sound of steel against steel deafening in his ears. Callum was putting his entire strength behind the attack, but it was more than that—his bloodlust had gotten the better of him, and Alaric didn’t know if he would ever reel it back. It made him less cautious, that much was true, but it also gave him the kind of dangerous edge that came with the hatred and lust for blood he carried within him.

Before Callum could attack again, Alaric swung his sword and delivered an attack of his own, only for Callum to block it and swiftly attack again, the tip of his sword moving dangerously close to Alaric’s neck. With a grunt, Alaric attacked again, aiming for Callum’s stomach next, but he was quick enough to jump back and avoid the blow before Alaric could cut him down.

The blows they traded were brutal, full of hatred for each other. Alaric was also losing himself in the battle, and he knew that he had to end it soon. Both of them were already tired, panting anddripping sweat, but they barely allowed each other to breathe as they fought, eager to bring the fight to a vicious end.

Taking a few steps back then, Callum laughed, shaking his head. “It is rather ironic that ye will die much like yer parents did. They died at the hands o’ the Sassenachs, did they nae?”

The words were meant to cut deep, and they did. It was one of those wounds that Alaric knew he would carry forever within him; the death of his parents at the hands of the English, a loss so great and unfair that it had left him reeling. He knew what Callum was trying to do, though; he was trying to taunt him, to force him to stumble and make a mistake, and Alaric was not going to give him the satisfaction.

“Ye’re nae Sassenach,” he pointed out.

---