Keegan glanced at her, catching her gaze. The color of his eyes made her think of a blue flame, so intense and practically glowing with vibrant life. He gave her a faint, warm grin, then turned his attention back to the forest. How she loved his protectiveness and his strength of character.
A quarter hour later, the MacKay and MacKenzie men emerged from the forest. She counted all fourteen of them as them approached. Thank heavens no one had been hurt.
“We saw neither hide nor hair of them,” MacMillan reported.
“’Slud. Where are they hiding?” Keegan muttered. “We ride on, then. Be ever on alert.”
“Aye.”
They all urged their horses forward again, at a quicker pace than before, and were soon enshrouded by the forest. Seona had always been afraid of traveling through this area because of how dark it was, with the thick trees blocking out the sun. The air was cool and dank and smelled of rotting leaves. Some even said the wood was haunted because of the many people who had been murdered here. She had never seen a spirit, but she always got chills here.
Thankfully, the men increased their speed even more once within the wood. She was eager to leave it as well.
As they emerged from the trees, one of the guards on her far right yelled out a warning.
“There they are!” Keegan said. “The bastards.”
Haldane’s archer, Gil, was letting fly his arrows as fast as his arms would move. Two more men were shooting bows as well.
“Kill them!” Keegan shouted.
Most of the men leapt down from their horses and, with swords and targes in hand, charged Haldane’s outlaws. The MacKay archers nocked arrows and sent them soaring toward the enemies.
“Protect the women,” Keegan ordered, then sidled his horse up next to hers. “Seona, get on in front of me.” The look in his eyes was so fierce, she dared not disobey him.
She offered her arm and he dragged her onto his horse. “You hold the reins.”
His basket-hilt broadsword was in his right hand and his targe strapped to his other forearm. He locked this arm around her. She felt safer with the shield protecting her chest and Keegan at her back. But he put himself in far more danger acting as a human shield to her. Haldane would want to move the obstacle to get to her.
“Five of you stay with me and help protect Seona,” Keegan told the guards. “Haldane has a habit of attacking at the rear.”
“Aha!” Rebbie said, off to the left. “Here they are now. Guards!”
Around a dozen men charged them from the opposite direction.
“Saints,” Seona hissed. So many. Haldane must have hired more men.
Rebbie and several of the guards met the outlaws thirty feet away. Men who had been fighting the other contingent of Haldane’s gang soon joined them. Chaos erupted, swords clanged, men yelled out battle cries, vulgar names, and howls of pain.
“Come. Let’s move away from the skirmish,” Keegan called to the five guards surrounding them.
Seona glanced around, wondering where Aunt Patience was… and the maids. Behind her, MacMillan and two other guards had taken the women onto their horses with them. They all quickly moved forward along the road, further from the fighting.
Though Seona hated watching men die, she was glad to see that several of Haldane’s men fell under the onslaught of the MacKays and MacKenzies. The brigands were outnumbered. Keegan was canny to bring so many men with them.
Finally, the remaining outlaws gave up and fled, Haldane and McMurdo with them.
“Damnation,” Keegan muttered. “I should’ve killed him myself.”
Seona shook her head, not wishing to see Keegan engaged in one-to-one combat with Haldane. Certainly, she believed Keegan could best him, being five years his senior and more highly trained, but she didn’t want Keegan in that kind of danger.
“Are you well?” Keegan asked, his warm breath fanning the hair at her ear.
She shivered, relief flooding through her. “Aye. I thank you for protecting me.”
“’Tis my pleasure and a great honor.”
Six of their men were injured—cuts, stab wounds, an arrow protruding from one man’s shoulder—but they all remained on their feet.
“How far are we from Gillenmor?” Keegan asked her.
“About a mile or two. ’Tis over the next rise.”
“Does your father employ a healer?”
“Aye, there are two. I’m certain they will help your men.”
“Mount up,” Keegan called out. “’Tis about a mile or two to Gillenmor. The healer there will see to your wounds. And I thank you for your fearsome fighting skills. You have protected these ladies well.”
As they rode forward, Seona savored Keegan’s warm, hard body at her back. She prayed this would not be the last time she rode with him.
Once they’d topped the rise and Gillenmor Castle came into view in the distance, Keegan helped Seona back onto her own horse. The other women returned to their horses as well.
Seona was glad the danger from Haldane was behind them for the moment, but a new danger grew closer with each step they took toward Gillenmor—her father.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Keegan’s stomach knotted as they entered the dimly lit great hall of Gillenmor Castle, but he didn’t let his unease show. He tried to focus on doing his job, his duty for Dirk and the clan, and not the fact that he was bringing the woman he loved to a place where he might have to leave her. Nay, he would not. He was taking her out of here, one way or another.
“Well, ’tis about time,” a deep, rough voice called out. A man, dressed in the Lowland or English style, stood from his elevated seat at the high table, stepped down and strode forward to greet them. Keegan assumed he was Chief Ambrose Murray, Seona’s father. He was stocky, with gray hair. His clean-shaven face was flushed, either from being too close to the fire or too much whisky. With a narrow-eyed gaze, he inspected Seona first.
“A good eve to you, Father.” She curtsied, keeping her eyes downcast.
Keegan frowned, his instincts going on high alert for he sensed her fear.
“Seona,” Murray said, then lifted his gaze to scan over the faces of those who had come inside. Several of the guards and servants had remained outside, seeing to the horses and making sure the healer attended the injured men’s wounds.
“We brought Lady Seona and Lady Patience home in Chief MacKay’s stead,” Keegan said. “He was injured in a skirmish during our travels. And he sent you a gift.”
“Who are you?” Chief Murray asked in a stern voice, his brown eyes hostile.
“Keegan MacKay, m’laird.” He bowed. “Tanist and cousin of Chief MacKay. I’m honored to meet you.”
“Ah.” He shook Keegan’s hand briefly, then turned his attention to the other men. “And who else do I have the pleasure of meeting?”
“This is Dermott MacKenzie and his brother, Fraser.” Keegan motioned to them. “They are younger brothers of Chief MacKenzie.”
“I stayed here for a couple of nights last year,” Dermott said. “Good to see you again, m’laird.”
Murray shook both their hands. “Aye,” he said in a neutral tone.
Keegan motioned to Rebbie. “And this is Robert MacInnis, the Earl of Rebbinglen.”
Chief Murray’s bushy gray brows shot up and his demeanor switched, almost as if he were a different person. “Earl of Rebbinglen?” He stepped forward and gave Rebbie a long, solemn handshake while studying him. “’Tis my great pleasure and honor to meet you again, Laird Rebbinglen. I remember when you were a wee lad.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Chief Murray.”
“You have the look of your father. How is he?”
Rebbie grinned. “Still as ornery as ever.”
“Ha.” With what might be called a grin, Murray slapped Rebbie on the shoulder, then released his hand.
After scanning the rest of the MacKay party and apparently dismissing them, he motioned those he’d met forward. “’Tis time for supper. Please join us.”