Page 33 of Awoken
She didn’t understand why he was helping her—not when he’d refused her earlier. It made no sense to her at all. Her mind felt tied up in knots of confusion. Even Lady Drew had turned into an ally in the end.
Images from her encounter with MacKinnon assailed her then, and she shuddered. With the door bolted from the outside and only a cumbersome shield as a weapon, she’d have had little chance of getting away from him.
What would have happened if Campbell hadn’t burst in?
Her savior finished saddling his mount and turned to Leanna, motioning her over. Without a word, she sprang up onto the saddle, brushing aside the hand he held out to assist her. She was grateful that he’d appeared when he did, but after what she’d just endured, she wished for no man’s touch tonight.
She could still feel MacKinnon’s hand on her, roughly kneading and groping her flesh. She wished to bathe in scalding water and scrub her skin raw, but that ritual would have to wait.
If her dismissal bothered him, Campbell showed no sign. Instead, he merely took hold of the reins and led the horse from the stables.
The moon nearly full overhead, they made their way around the base of the broch toward the South Gate. The clip-clop of the courser’s hooves upon the cobbles sounded obscenely loud in the night’s quiet, and with each yard, Leanna grew tenser. To calm herself, she heaved in deep breaths. The cool night air, laced with the scent of pine and peat-smoke, relaxed her just a little.
She didn’t understand how Campbell was going to get them out of the broch. He was MacKinnon’s right-hand, but that didn’t mean the guards at the gate were going to let him pass, especially with her.
Yet the warrior didn’t appear remotely worried. He walked with a long, confident stride, his gaze sweeping his surroundings. Leanna did note though, that his free hand rested upon the pommel of his sword. He was ready for trouble.
Up ahead, hove the South Gate. The guard tower on this side of the broch was much smaller, and the gate was half the size of the one to the north—only wide enough to let through one horseman at a time.
Two leather-clad figures bearing spears stood before the closed gate. They watched the travelers approach, light from the nearby burning braziers highlighting their wary faces.
“Campbell.” One of them greeted MacKinnon’s right-hand. “What are ye doing? Isn’t that MacKinnon’s lass?”
“Sorry about this, Glen.” The scrape of steel echoed through the night as Campbell drew his claidheamh-mor in one fluid gesture. “But ye and Clyde are going to have to step aside.”
A heartbeat later the point of that gleaming broad-sword was pressed against the guard’s heart.
The warrior—a young man with heavy-lidded dark eyes—swallowed hard. “Ye will swing for this, Campbell.”
“That may be … but not tonight. Drop yer spears … both of ye.”
Glen did as bid, the weapon thudding to the ground. However, next to him, Clyde didn’t budge.
“Drop it.” There was steel in Campbell’s voice as he drew a dirk with his free hand. “Or after I skewer Glen’s heart, I’ll cut yers out.”
The menace in his voice was so real that Leanna shivered. She believed him—and so did Clyde, for he lowered his spear to the ground a moment later.
“Good lad,” Campbell said softly, motioning to the guard house to their left. “Now move along.”
Both young men glared at Campbell, their eyes bulging with outrage, yet they did as bid. He was their superior after all, Captain of The Dunan Guard, although tonight would be his last in the role, and this his last order.
“If ye make a squeak before we are through the gate and on our way, I’ll personally come back here and cut yer throats … don’t doubt I will.” Campbell told the men as they filed inside the narrow space that was furnished only with a couple of low stools and a lantern.
Both guards remained stonily silent, and the moment they were inside the gate house, Campbell swung the door shut and bolted it. He then went to the wooden gate and heaved up the iron bar that kept it locked.
He shoved open the gate with a shoulder before going to where Leanna and the horse still waited a few yards back. Wordlessly, she shifted back in the saddle, giving him space to mount, and then he swung up in front of her.
“Hold on,” he said, his tone grim. “This will be a wild ride.”
Reluctantly, Leanna did as bid, wrapping her arms around his waist. Then Campbell gathered the reins, and they bounded forward, through the gate and into the night.
16
Not the Best of Men
THEY RODE SWIFTLY down the moonlit valley, the outlines of great spruce and pines rearing overhead, and the thunder of the horse’s hooves in their ears.
Leanna clung on, her jaw clenched, while the courser stretched into a full gallop. It was risky to ride this fast at night, but they were fortunate, as this stretch of road was good and the moon lit their way. Campbell had clearly chosen the fastest horse in the stable, for the beast ran as if pursued by hounds.
