Page 46 of The Heather Wife
“So are you.”
A hint of wryness touched his mouth. “Mayhap we’ve both run out of words worth speakin’.”
She glanced up at him, ready with a reply—but stopped.
A sound carried through the trees.
Faint at first. Then again. The sharp crack of a twig.
Then another.
Her hand went to her bow without thought. “Did ye hear that?”
Calum had already turned, his expression sharpening. “Aye.”
The stillness around them thickened, pressing close. Then came the unmistakable shuffle of boots—not one or two, but several men moving through the underbrush.
“Raiders,” Sorcha hissed. “They’re in the woods.”
“Back to the keep,” Calum ordered, voice clipped. “Now.”
He started toward the sound—but Sorcha caught his hand, fingers locking tight around his wrist before he coulddraw steel. “No!” she hissed. “Not alone.” Her grip held him fast, fear and defiance both burning in her eyes. “Come—quickly!”
For a heartbeat he hesitated—then she pulled, and he moved with her. Together they broke into a run, boots pounding over frozen earth as the trees closed around them. She didn’t release him, even as branches clawed at their cloaks and the wind whipped through the dark. Only when the crash of pursuit grew nearer did she tear her hand free, swinging her longbow down from her shoulder, gripping it tight as they fled.
The dark shape of the keep rose ahead through the trees, its watch fires flickering faintly along the wall—a beacon she meant to reach. She had to sound the alarm, to send warning before it was too late. Their folk had to know, the warriors called forth before the raiders reached the gates unseen.
Behind them came a shout, rough and close. Sorcha twisted midstride, instinct guiding her hand. She drew an arrow, notched, and loosed it in one motion, sending it flying into the shadow between the trees. A cry split the air—then another.
Calum drew his sword, the steel flashing pale in the fading light. One raider lunged from the brush; Calum met him head-on, blade to blade. The clash rang sharp and cold through the woods.
Another burst from Sorcha’s flank—too close for her bow. She slung the bowstring over her shoulder in one swift motion and drew steel, the blade clearing its sheath with a hiss before she drove it across the raider’s torso in a clean, brutal arc. Blood sprayed, dark against the frost, and he staggered once before crumpling to the ground.
“Go!” Calum shouted. “Sound the horn!”
She sprinted the last stretch toward the outer wall, breath ragged, every sound behind her too close. The keep loomed ahead, torchlight flickering along its ramparts—stone and strength and the promise of aid.
Steel clashed behind her—the harsh ring of Calum’s blade striking another, followed by the shout of a dying man. The sound cut through her chest like a blade of its own, but she didn’t look back. Not yet.
The watch fires along the wall flared closer with every stride. She reached the gate, seized the signal rope, and hauled hard. The great horn bellowed across Strathloch, the low call rolling like thunder over the hills—calling every warrior to arms.
She turned, already running back when Duncan came pounding up beside her, sword half-drawn. Breathless, she shouted what she’d seen—the raiders in the woods, the ambush, Calum still fighting near the clearing.
“Take half the men—secure the wall!” she commanded, not slowing. “Drive the rest to the field—Calum’s out there!”
“Aye, my lady!” Duncan bellowed, turning to rally the oncoming warriors. “You heard her! Shields up—move!” His voice thundered across the yard as men poured from the barracks, steel in hand, forming ranks behind him.
Sorcha didn’t wait to see them fall in. She broke from the wall again, heading back into the fray, the clash of iron and the roar of voices swelling behind her.
Then—a glint in the distance caught her eye.
Across the moonlit field, a figure stood in plain sight, bow drawn taut.
Liam Dunn.
Their eyes met for the briefest instant—hatred and panic flashing in both.Calum's bairn-friend, now a traitor to the clan,raised his bow against her.
She went to move—but before she could, a solid weight slammed into her side, driving her hard to the ground. The breath left her in a rush. For a heartbeat she lay stunned, waiting for the pain—the hot sear of the arrow she was certain had found its mark—
