Peter was a good man, and she couldsee him battling between his vow to her father and his duty to the king.“Edward is your king,” she nudged. “Your duty to him comes before any vow offealty to my father.”
Peter nodded. “Come.”
He took her by the arm, and theymade their way down the stairs and through the crowds of knights and servants.No one questioned them, presuming, she was sure, that Peter had her in hand.
Her heart raced as they came to theinner bailey, where chaos reigned. Everywhere she looked, knights fought Scots,sword to sword. The drawbridge had been lowered, and Scots poured forward intothe bailey. Yet there was something else—or rather someone else—coming to theiraid. She squinted but could not make out the banner, until Peter exclaimed,“It’s the king’s men!”
Iain did not let anyone who got in his way slow himdown. He cut Froste’s and de Lacy’s men down as they came toward him. Most menfell with one easy blow, but a few of his enemies required two. Lachlan was byhis side, and Lachlan ended as many lives as Iain did. Around them, Scots fromthe MacDonald and MacLean clans, along with King Edward’s knights, foughtalongside Iain to destroy the potential usurpers and rescue Marion.
Iain battled his way into thebailey, searching the sea of faces for Marion. Was she out here? Or was shelocked in her room or worse, the dungeon? All Iain wanted was to find her, andas he finished fighting yet another knight, he turned in a circle, trying todetermine where Marion might be in this melee. And as he did, he caught sightof the one man he was certain would know—Froste.
Froste strode directly toward him,sword in hand and a snarl on his face. Blood covered one side where a deep gashwas. Froste sneered at Iain. “You’ve proven to be a worthy opponent.”
“Ye’ve nae,” Iain responded. “Whereis my wife?”
Froste circled his sword inreadiness to fight, and when Iain saw one of his men move toward Froste, Iainordered him back.
“Where is Marion?” Iain demandedagain, his rage flowing through him like a river.
Froste’s mouth twisted into alecherous smile. “Your wife is naked in my bedchamber where I left her afterenjoying her body and killing her.”
Reason left Iain in a blindingflash of red. He charged Froste, as if he’d waited a thousand lifetimes to killthe man. Their swords met in a loud clash, swiveled down in an arc, and thendrew upward once more. As Iain surged forward and then was driven back, he hadto fight not only Froste but himself. He could not let his anguish consume himand defeat him. Froste drove him back ten paces before a deadly calm finallydescended and Marion’s face faded in his mind, along with all noise. Hedefended every strike Froste offered and then turned the tide and unleashed hisrage with one brutal blow after another.
Marion could not see Iain anywhere in the crush ofbodies, and then suddenly, there he was. To her right, near the newly builtstables, Iain battled Froste.
“Peter, come!” She grabbed hishand, and they dashed around fighting men as they made their way toward Iain.Marion gasped at the sight of her husband in a frenzy of fury, deliveringrepeated blows to Froste. Her breath caught in her chest in horror and reliefas Froste staggered and then fell to his knees after Iain sliced through theman’s chest plate with his sword. Froste’s sword clattered from his hands, andas the man looked up at Iain, Iain lifted his sword.
“For Marion,” he shouted, bringinghis sword swiftly back down and ending the man’s life with a clean cut.
When Iain dropped his own sword andfell to the ground, looking up at the sky with his eyes shut, Marion calledout. She ran to him and fell at his knees as the battle continued around them.
He gazed at her in clear wonder andreached out a shaking hand to touch her cheek. “Are ye real?”
Tears filled her eyes and spilleddown her face. “Yes,” she choked out.
Iain crushed her to him, and shecould feel the violent thundering of his heart and trembling of his body.
“Watch out,” Peter shouted, andIain jerked up, bringing her with him. He shoved her behind him, withdrew adagger, and killed the knight attempting to kill him. Wordlessly, he bent down,retrieved his sword, and looked at her. “Stay by my side.”
“I will,” she replied as he pressedthrough the battle, Peter beside him, until they got to the wall.
“Dunnae move from the wall. I willnae leave ye,” he promised.
She nodded and pressed her backagainst the wall, then watched in almost fascinated horror as King Edward’sbanner was raised and cheers erupted from the Scots, Edward’s knights, and evensome of her father’s. Yet the battle raged on until bodies lay thick across thebailey, Iain defending her all the while, alongside his brother Lachlan, whohad joined him and Peter.
Finally, a trumpet sounded andcheers rose again. Iain turned, dropped his sword, and strode toward her. As hehelped her to her feet and she looked out at the castle grounds, she saw herfather with his head hanging, kneeling before the king.
“It’s over,” she whispered.
“Aye,” Iain said. Then his browfurrowed and he reached out to touch her bruised neck. “What did he do to you?”
“It doesn’t matter now,” shereplied through her tears, and then she remembered about the Fairy Flag. Had heflown it? Surely, there had been no need.
“Iain,” she said, “the Fairy Flag…You didn’t fly it, did you?”
He frowned at her as several of hismen came to surround them. “Nay. I did nae even bring it. I had nae a doubt Iwould triumph.” With those words, he pressed his lips to hers and kissed herdeeply to the cheering of his men.
Twenty-Four
