Page 63 of The Highlander's Fake Wife
The deerhound immediately rose, trotting back to Òr before sticking herself directly to Olivia’s side. Arthur closed thedistance between them, arm immediately slinging around her shoulders protectively.
“B-Bhaltair,” she managed to stammer out. “B-B-Bhaltair is–!”
An arrow whizzed passed them, striking the trunk of a tree mere feet away from Arthur’s head. He immediately pushed Olivia to the ground, gesturing Maesie to lay on top of her while he scanned the area. A second arrow struck Òr’s hind, and the stallion let out a braying shriek, rearing back as his hooves flailed angrily in the air.
“Steady, Òr!” Arthur’s hand shot out, grasping for the arrow before snapping it at its base. Only an inch of wood remained in the beast’s flank–a problem to be dealt with later–and he quickly slipped his own bow off the saddle. Eyes darting around the forest, he did his best to follow the trajectory of that second shot, slipping his own arrow from its holster and lining it up.
His fingers drew the string. He exhaled, and let the arrow fly. It soared across the grove and dove between the brush, and for a terrible moment, Arthur wondered if he’d somehow miscalculated. If his obsession with Olivia had caused him to be reckless. But a pained groan followed soon after, sending a wave of relief flooding throughout him. “Ye better come out now, or I’ll send me hound after ye!” Arthur snapped.
The bushes rustled. Arthur held his breath, feeling Olivia’s pained stare on his backside. “Arthur…” Her voice was so weak, pleading with him for…for something. For what? To leave this bloodied grove, to not add another body to the pile he’d created?Arthur shook his head, pulling back his string once more and aiming it at the approaching stranger. He looked surprisingly old for someone with such accuracy, shocks of white hair covering his head while his face appeared worn down from time. Arthur’s arrow stuck out from his chest, but even so, he held his bow at his side; as if he thought he had any chance of firing it again.
“B-Bhaltair,” Olivia sobbed, a pang of recognition in her voice.
Arthur’s gaze narrowed, string still taught and arrowhead pointed at the stranger’s head. “Yer part o’MacCulloh’s clan,bodach?”
He nodded, visibly growing weaker as blood soaked through his vest.
“How’d ye find us?” Arthur snapped. “Who organized ye and yer wee group o’ eejits?”
Bhaltair shook his head, groaning as his trembling arm finally lost hold of his bow. He slumped against the back of a tree, causing a pained gasp to escape Olivia’s throat. Arthur glanced behind her, taking in her terrified expression, the absolute heartbreak forming behind tear-stricken eyes. He released his bow and pulled his sword out once more, approaching Bhaltair with another snarl. “Why? Why would ye betray Olivia like this?”
A pained laughter escaped Bhaltair’s throat. “Sh-She…betrayed her clan, first. I thought letting her go…b-but that was amistake.” He managed to straighten slightly, spitting blood in the laird’s face. “Should have killed her when I had the chance.”
Arthur grasped the man by the hair, lifting him upright as his sword pressed against his neck.
“Arthur, no–!” Olivia’s body crashed into his, causing Arthur’s blade to take a small bite out of Bhaltair. Her arms wrapped around his waist, sobbing hysterically as she tried to speak in the man’s defense. “H-He’s already dead. Please–I cannae bear to watch more o’me family die by yer hand.”
Family. Even now, she considered this snake-in-the grass family. With a frustrated growl, Arthur removed his sword from the man’s neck, watching with some satisfaction as he crumpled to the ground. He quickly disarmed the man of any hidden blades or dagger, then tore the arrow from his chest, greeted with a gush of blood as payment. Bhaltair wheezed distressingly, hand grasping out for any modicum of comfort. But Arthur stepped away, Olivia tucked under his arms and clinging to his side as they ensured the last assassin didn’t get away. She buried her face into Arthur, unable to hold back another wave of sobs.
It was up to the Laird of MacDonnell to ensure there were no survivors.
They rode back to Marsden keep in silence, both on top of Airgiod while Òr hobbled behind. Arthur had dug Olivia’s arisaid out from their packs and bundled her within it, placing her in thefront of the saddle while he rode behind her. His arms grasped the reins and squeezed protectively around her body, acting as an additional line of defense against any other MacCullohs in the area. The forests rolled into hills, then jagged mountain faces; it wasn’t long before Arthur was greeted by the sight of the valley once more.
He urged Airgiod to maneuver down the slope quickly, commanding Maesie to remain behind with Òr as to ensure Olivia arrived as quickly as possible into the keep. They thundered across the bridge and sprinted through the gate, propped open so as to allow lingering guests the freedom to leave when the saw fit. Arthur navigated through a number of horses and carts going the opposite direction as he, and as he approached Marsden’s castle, he slid off the saddle before Airgiod could come to a complete stop, arms grasping Olivia’s waist before pulling her into his embrace.
“Arthur–?” Alison moved to greet them first, expression quickly changing from bemusement to panic at the sight of Olivia. “Arthur, what happened?!”
Arthur tried to remember how to form words. His body was still in the fight, still slashing and hacking through flesh to ensure Olivia was safe. He flinched away as kinfolk tried to reach for her, nearly cracking one’s leg as he came too close.
Duncan approached next, leaving Alison to disperse the crowd. “Arthur, breathe. Yer back behind walls–no one can reach us.”
Arthur inhaled sharply, clutching Olivia tightly as he managed to squeeze the breath out of his tightening chest. “MacCulloh attacked us. Close to yer border–someone told them where we were going.”
Duncan nodded, brow set and expression cold. “Were ye followed?”
“Nay.”
“Any injuries?”
“One of our horses got hit,” Arthur said. “He’s lagging behind with Maesie up the valley.” He blinked, the rush of battle beginning to seep out of his body. Still, he held fast to Olivia, ensuring no further harm would cross her path.
“Me warriors ken what Maesie looks like,” Duncan reassured. “We’ll ensure they both get in safely.”
“All the attackers are dead,” Arthur added.
“Nay surprise there,” Duncan commented lightly. “How many were there?”
“T’was at least a small band’s worth of men. Possibly had the deceased laird’s man-of-arms among them, but,” Arthur shook his head. “I made sure he stopped breathing before we came here.”
