Before giving the signal, Alex and Connor’s task was to make certain Glynis and any other hostages would not be caught in the middle of the attack. They crawled forward on their bellies until they were close enough to see the faces of the men gathered around the fires. Alex saw Hugh and Connor’s other uncles, Angus and Torquil.
But he did not see Magnus. Or Glynis.
Alex’s blood went cold as he saw one man come out of a tent that had been set up and another go in. Either that was where the whiskey was—or they were taking turns with a woman. When Alex heard a woman cry out, he was off the ground before Connor grabbed his arm to stop him.
No, Connor mouthed and shook his head. He nodded in the direction Duncan had gone, to tell him that Duncan was closer and would deal with it. The blood pounded in Alex’s head. In his mind’s eye, Alex could see Duncan slipping into the back of the tent and then holding his hand over the man’s mouth to keep him quiet while he slit his throat.
The man did not come out of the tent. Aye, the four of them knew each other very well.
It was not Glynis that he had heard cry out. Alex scanned the rest of the camp, but he did not see her or any other prisoners who would be in harm’s way when they attacked. But where was Glynis? Had she also been in the tent, raped by a dozen men?
Or was she dead?
Alex forced himself to focus on the battle ahead. When Connor touched his arm, Alex made another low bird call to alert the men with Ian and Duncan that it was time. An instant later, he and Connor rose to their feet, shouting the MacDonald battle cry, “Fraoch!”
Their men across the fire echoed their ferocious cry. Fraoch! Fraoch! Fraoch!
Alex channeled his pent-up rage and his fear for his wife into his blade, slicing through one man after another. Battle fever burned in his veins like blue fire. He whirled and swung like a madman, until Duncan’s voice penetrated through the battle sounds around him.
“Connor needs help!” Duncan shouted from across the fire.
Alex turned and saw that Hugh and several of his men were closing in on Connor. Alex leaped to his defense, and the two fought back to back, as they often did. Despite everything, Alex began to enjoy himself. He was made for this. No one could match the pair of them as fighters—except perhaps Duncan and Ian.
Hugh was a strong and cagy fighter, but he was always willing to risk the lives of his men before his own. When it was clear that Alex and Connor were winning the fight, Hugh slipped away into the darkness.
“I’ll get Hugh,” Connor shouted. “Angus is running for their boats—catch him before he escapes.”
Through the fog, Alex could just make out the back of a man running hard for the loch. Alex charged after him and brought him down to the ground, crashing on top of him with a thud.
“Where is she?” Alex shouted, as he sat on Angus’s chest with his dirk against the man’s throat. When Angus did not answer quickly enough, Alex pressed the blade deeper, drawing a line of blood. Enunciating each word, he said, “Where is my wife?”
“On the boat,” Angus gasped.
“Which boat?”
“Hugh’s,” Angus said. “He put her there to keep her away from Magnus.”
“If I find ye laid a finger on her, Angus,” Alex said between clenched teeth, “I’ll come back and gut ye.”
Alex had no time to tie Angus so he picked up the nearest rock and hit him on the head.
* * *
Glynis’s wrists were raw from struggling to get the ropes off, but she kept at it. She glanced over her shoulder at her surly keeper, wondering if there was a way she could get his dirk off him. He had an oil lamp beside him, but the fog was so thick that she could see little more than his dim outline, sitting with his legs propped up on the side of the boat.
Somehow, she must get free and warn Alex and the others before they fell into Hugh’s trap. She had not seen a village or even a cottage when they were sailing to the camp. Once she escaped, she would have a long way to travel before she found someone to help her, but she would walk to hell and back if she had to.
Suddenly, there were shouts and the sounds of fighting on the beach. Glynis could not see what was happening through the fog and darkness, but she had not heard a boat arrive. It didn’t surprise her that the pirates had started fighting among themselves. Hugh and Magnus were uneasy allies. Neither trusted the other, and with good reason.
“Arrgh…”
The horrible gagging sound was close. Was that her guard? Glynis leaned forward as far as the rope would let her and squinted into the darkness at the far end of the boat.
The figure of a man slowly emerged from the night fog, carrying his long claymore blade before him. Even before she could see his face, she knew who it was.
She was alone on the boat with Magnus.
* * *
The others were still caught up in the battle, and Alex could not wait for them. He ran through the dense fog, sucking the heavy air deep into his lungs. When he reached the edge of the loch, he saw a wavering light over the water.
God, no! One of the boats was aflame.
Alex splashed into the water. The three pirate boats loomed out of the fog like ghost ships, dimly lit by the glow of fire on the middle ship. Alex could just make out the carved serpent head affixed to its bow. It was Hugh’s ship that was burning.
He clamped his dirk between his teeth and swam the rest of the way to the boat. He found a rope hanging over the side near the burning bow. As he hauled himself up, he strained to listen, but he could hear nothing over the crackle of flames and the sounds from the ongoing battle on shore. When he rolled over the side into the boat, he fell onto something soft.
A body. His mind whirled at the possibilities, and a cold fear settled in his belly. Magnus must have killed the guard. Through the flames, he caught glimpses of the back of a man. Then he heard a deep, angry voice. Magnus’s voice.
“Ye made a fool of me before all my clan,” Magnus said. “That is why they took the chieftainship from me. They lost respect for me because of you.”
“They took the chieftainship from ye because ye were cruel to your own people.”
Ach, that was his wife—arguing with a vicious man with a blade in his hand.
God help him, Magnus was far too close to her. Alex moved forward cautiously, knowing he would have but one chance. If Magnus heard him coming, he could kill Glynis before Alex could reach her.
“All my troubles started with you,” Magnus said, waving his blade in the air like a madman. Flames were licking at his feet, but he was so enraged he didn’t seem to notice. “I should have dragged ye back by your hair and fooked ye til I got ye with child.”
Alex crept forward, his own rage barely under control.
“Everyone was already laughing at me because of what ye did,” Magnus said. “So when I heard ye didn’t leave Shaggy’s with your father, I went looking for ye. I couldn’t let my wife run off with another man.”
“I’m no your wife!” Glynis said.
Alex sensed Magnus was about to attack her. The fire was so hot now that sweat rolled down his face as he crept closer. He must take his chance soon.
“It was while I chasing after ye that they took the chieftainship from me,” Magnus shouted. “They never would have had the ballocks to do it if I’d been there. Because of you, they took everything from me!”
When Magnus swung his arm back, Alex was already running through the flames.
* * *
“Glynis!”
Everything seemed to happen at once: Glynis heard Alex’s voice shouting her name; a dirk flew through the air and landed with a thunk above her head; and Magnus flung his arms out and arched back, howling in pain.