“He’ll come for me.”
Chauntleroy chuckles. “Oh, I hope he does. I’ll have him and his band of Norsemen hanging from my walls by sunrise. And then?” he grins wickedly. “And then I’ll be having you and taking you until you give me that heir. Do you understand me, you little—”
“My lord!”
He whirls as the guard comes charging into the room, panting and out of breath.
“I’m busy!” he bellows at the man, rage clouding his face. “Whatever you’ve come here to—”
“My lord, we’re being attacked!”
Chauntleroy’s scowls. “What?”
“My Lord Chauntleroy!” Another guard comes running into the room, also out of breath. Chauntleroy snarls at the man.
“Now what?!”
“We’re being attacked, my lord!”
Lord Chauntleroy growls lowly. “As I’m informed right now, you simpleton.” He swears, shaking his head. “Who is attacking us?”
The answers come at the same time, but they aren’t the same answers.
“Highlanders!”
“Vikings!”
The two guards blurt the words out over each other before they whirl to look at each other in confusion.
“What?!” Chauntleroy hisses. “Well which one is it!?”
“It’s the other highland lords, my lord!” The first guard says stiffly. “We saw the banners of McAuley, Bruce, Ballentyne, and McDougall!”
My heart begins to soar.
The first guard frowns. “No, my lord, on the western wall, we’ve just seen the banners of the Viking marauder Tor Odinson! On horseback, my lord!”
My heart jumps into my throat, my whole body buzzing with excitement at what I’m hearing.
“Well it’s not both,” Chauntleroy spits. “So is it the lords or is it the Vik—”
“My lord Chauntleroy!”
A third guard comes tripping into the room, puffing for air.
“What is it?!” he naps.
“My lord, we’re being attack—”
“I’m aware,” Chauntleroy spits in disgust. “Now which is it?! Highlanders? Vikings?!”
The third guard blinks, glancing at the other two men before swallowing and looking Chauntleroy right in the eye.
“It’s both my lord. They’re all attacking us.”
A glow starts to burn inside of me, and very quickly, my heart starts to swell.
He’s come for me.
Chapter 15
Tor
I roar as I go smashing through a cluster of terrified looking guards, scattering them like matchsticks. I whirl, snarling as I block a weak thrust of a sword before taking the man’s head off with mine. I spin again, bellowing as I advance on the other few guards, when suddenly, they’re throwing their swords down.
“Yield! Yield!” one cries, actually sobbing as he falls to his knees.
“Mercy!” another begs in a whimpering tone.
I have half a mind to kill them all anyways, just for being on the side of the man who took my love. But that way leads to the demon inside of me taking control, and that won’t be happening today. Instead, with a snarl, I kick them both over onto their backs, growling menacingly as I stand over them, pointing at them both with my sword.
“Where,” I snarl, rage burning fierce in my eyes.
“The girl!” I bellow when they’re silent.
“T-the Lord Chauntleroy’s tower!” one whimpers out in a simpering tone.
These men are cowards—frail, week cowards. That said, this was no fight. This was a toppling. Chauntleroy’s sell-sword army of paid fighters that he’s bought in secret for his desire to conquer the highlands hasn’t arrived yet. And after Malcolm, Hamish, Callum, and Lachlan all sent ravens to that very army mentioning how united a front there was against Chauntleroy and what would happen if they set foot in the highlands ready for war, I very much doubt they’ll be seeing these shores anytime soon.
Instead, we found a castle manned by untrained boys, drunk soldiers, and shocked guards. The idea that Chauntleroy thought he could make war on the entirety of the rest of the lords of this land is laughable, even if he was paying for an army. When we’d overrun the defenses in about four minutes, it was Erik who growled about having made deals with the other lords for their help, when it was easily apparent, we could have taken the whole castle ourselves. But these truces aren’t just about now. They’re about a future with us living on this land as neighbors to these men.
I snarl at the simpering guards before whirling and bolting for the stairs. I take them two at a time, my hand clenched tight around the pommel of my sword. My blood is on fire with rage as I prepare to tear the man who stole my woman away from me in two. Three surprised guards put up a weak counter to me, but they all fall under my sword, my stride barely slowing as I storm higher and higher, towards where he’s got her.
The door to the room at the top of Chauntleroy’s tower splinters under my wrath, metal hinges shrieking and wood shattering as the door goes tumbling inside in four pieces. I roar as I storm inside, and when my eyes lock on to the screeching Chauntleroy as he scurries away, grabbing Rhona with him, my teeth flash white in a snarl.