Page 90 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
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“Come on,” Magnus urged the horse he was riding.
He was racing towards Clan Gunn, pushing his horse hard, hoping beyond hope that he’d find Ciara there. Because if she was not at her father’s castle, he did not know what lengths he would go to in order to find her.
Until he laid eyes on her, and she was safe, he would not rest. There would be no obstacle he would not overcome, no line he would not cross, no enemy he would not slay, to bring her back to him. He would find her—he would not consider any other option.
And if she was safe at home, he would heave a sigh of relief, get down on his knees in front of her, and beg for another chance.
He was a fool to have ever doubted their connection and the way he hoped she felt about him.
When he found her, he would do everything in his power to show her just how wrong he was. If she would see him and give him an opportunity to explain, he would vow to her toneverlet her down again or avoid his feelings.
* * *
The sound of hooves following them was getting louder, closer. Ciara could hear Ewan cursing from the front of the carriage, urging the horses faster.
She knew it made no difference, but she leaned her full body weight against the back of the carriage in an attempt to slow them down. It was all she could think to do. Helplessness swirled within her, and she pleaded with the universe for those horses to catch up to them.
Not letting herself consider the possibility that those hooves were not saviors, she listened intently to the thundering clip-clop of the hooves, urging them closer.
“Alexander!” she called when one of the horses, carrying her brother, finally pulled up to the side of the carriage. “Help me!”
“They cannae help ye like I can!” Ewan roared from the front. “I’m savin’ ye, Ciara!”
With another cry, the carriage came to a shuttering stop. Ciara let herself feel a small bit of hope—something had blocked their path.
“Release her to us,” her father’s voice ordered from the front, and that little bit of hope blossomed.
Her heart swelled with relief. Someone must have found her handkerchief, and her family had come for her. They were going to save her, and this horrible night would be over.
When Ewan didn’t respond, her father spoke again, his voice ominous and cold. “Release me daughter.”
“Ye sold her to that monster! She needs me to protect her,” Ewan screeched.
The carriage wobbled slightly, presumably as he leaped down from his seat.
“Stay in there,” Alexander ordered, before he drew his sword and dismounted his horse.
For a few tense moments, Ciara listened to the sounds of fighting from outside the carriage, but when she heard Ewan’s manic laughter, she couldn’t stay in there any longer.
The carriage had grown suffocating in the wake of the attempted kidnapping, and she needed more air. She needed to see what was going on, couldn’t stand the uncertainty any longer. And if the worst happened, she needed a way to escape.
When she gingerly stepped out of the carriage, her heart stuttered again. Her father and brother were locked in a tense battle with Ewan. They were both skilled fighters, but Ewan was crazed and desperate. He fought like he had nothing to lose, as if he were comfortable with this being his final stand.
He swung his sword around with wild abandon. He was unpredictable, and that made him infinitely more dangerous.
Ciara crept closer to them, wondering if there was any way to help. Two versus one should have been over and done with, but her family had far more on the line.
Her father caught sight of her then and called out, “Ciara! Get back!”
But those few seconds of distraction cost him. She watched in horror as Ewan’s sword struck her father right in the stomach.
“Faither!” Alexander and Ciara cried in horror, both racing towards their father.
Her brother reached him first, immediately tearing his shirt to staunch the bleeding. Tears blurred her vision, but she moved quickly to the front of the carriage, where they’d been fighting.
She saw his chest moving, but it was weak.
