Stolen By The Scottish Rogue (Kilts & Kisses 2)

Malcolm doesn’t swear, or yell, or go off. He just takes a breath, his face hardening.

“Ready my men and—”

“Already done. Hamish is marshaling your defenses along with your captain of the guard. But we should really get the both of you away from—”

“I’m not leaving my castle, Callum,” I growl.

He nods, smiling darkly. “I thought you might say that. But Ailith should—”

“Neither am I,” I spit.

Malcolm turns, his eyes blazing into mine. “Ailith—”

“I’m not,” I hiss. “And if you think for a second you can send me away from you during something like this, you are sorely mistaken.”

The room goes quiet, and slowly, I watch Malcolm’s face pull into a grin. He pulls me close, leaning down to kiss me softly.

“That’s my queen.”

I bite my lip, looking into his eyes. “Indeed I am.”

Callum clears his throat.

“I’d get dressed, my friend. And while you’re at it, pray for a damn miracle.” He growls, stroking his chin. “We’re going to need—”

“My Lord McAuley! Lord Bruce!”

One of Malcolm’s men comes charging breathlessly into the room. His eyes are wild—that is, until he spots me. At which point, his face goes red as his eyes widen.

Malcolm’s low, fierce growl, however, has him jumping and tearing his eyes away as his face pales.

“Mind where you look,” my husband hisses dangerously. “What is it?”

The poor man swallows thickly, his eyes wide as he takes a shaky breath.

“Ships, my lord!”

“Yes, I know. Lord Carl—”

“Not his.” The man grows even paler as his eyes dart between Malcolm and Callum.

“Viking ships, my lord.”

Oh God…

“What?” Malcolm growls.

“Marauders, my lord. Crimson sails.”

Malcolm swears, looking away.

“Tor Odinson,” Callum hisses.

“Ready the men,” Malcolm growls at the guard, his jaw clenched. The man nods, whirling and running back down the corridor as my husband turns back to his friend.

“So much for that miracle,” he grunts. Callum nods, but he’s already whirling and dashing away.

Malcolm’s eyes dart to me. “Ailith—”

“I’m not leaving you,” I say, my voice tight as my hand finds his and squeezes.

He smiles wryly. “My headstrong bride.” He sighs. “Fine. But I do need you to do one thing.”

I raise a brow, and his eyes burn into mine.

“Put some clothes on.”

Chapter 12

Malcolm

This is not good. Carlson’s forces I could hold off for years if I had to. Him hiring mercenary forces is unexpected, and certainly shortens that timeline. But it’s not a death stroke. There’d be time to send for allies, or for Hamish or Callum to call in their own forces.

…But Tor Odinson’s fleet changes everything. And if it’s bloody Vikings and Carlson, I’m not sure what chance we have to even last the night.

I turn and level my gaze at Callum.

“We’ve had worse odds, haven’t we?”

Callum’s face hardens, his eyes fierce. And he’s about to open his mouth, when suddenly, there’s a sound like thunder outside, followed by a roar and a giant flash of light. All three of us glance at each other before we’re running for the terrace. My pulse races as we tumble out, Ailith’s hand in mine, and I freeze at the scene in front of me.

Gods…

The ocean is on fire—roaring flames burning across the surface, lighting up the night sky with red and oranges. There’s the sound of men screaming and yelling, and it takes me a second to realize what I’m looking at before suddenly, it clicks.

The boats closest to the shore of Falmer Island are those of Lord Carlson—I can recognize the crest on the sails. Beyond them though are the sleek red-sailed warships of the Viking Tor Odinson, and my jaw tightens at the sight. Vikings and the mercenary army of the man whose bride I stole.

…This is not good.

I frown, my battle-trained eyes taking in the scene. And suddenly, I pause.

“Callum—”

“Aye, I see it too.”

Ailith frowns as she turns to me. “What aren’t I seeing?”

For a second, I almost don’t want to believe it, because it doesn’t make any sense. But there it is, happening right in front of our eyes.

Out on the water, close to shore, are both Carlson’s ships and those of my own forces. Beyond them, Tor’s massive fleet of marauder ships are bearing down hard on the lot of them. Except, in any scenario you could imagine, Tor would be laying waste to everything in sight—my forces and Carlson’s.

…That’s not what’s happening though.

There’s another sound of thunder as the cannon mounted to one of Tor’s ships blasts a ball of flaming pitch across the bay, and I watch as it goes slamming into one of Carlson’s boats, eating it ablaze.

“Malcolm, what—”

“He’s only attacking Carlson,” I say, almost not believing it. But again, there it is, right in front of us. Tor isn’t laying waste to the whole damn bay full of ships. The bloodthirsty marauder is specifically targeting Carlson and ignoring my own ships.

“What the bloody hell is going on,” Callum growls, his hand tight on the hilt of his sword.