Blood rushed to her cheeks, and nausea pulled at the edges of her insides as Willow shoved herself up off the bench seat and toward the window. Looking outside carefully, she could see the men who’d traveled with her, as well as her man Finley, rushing forward against a stand of fighters.
They wore the tartan of the Brahanne clan, and Willow froze in place. It was one of these who resided locked up in the dungeons of Castle McCallum. She could not contain the shiver, and her eyes would not budge from the violent sight before her. Men leapt at each other, swords brandished high in the air, only to swing down toward one another.
Brahanne. Dear God, I have heard of their vicious nature.
Willow struggled to breathe evenly, her attention locked on the fate of the men who traveled with her. Several were knocked back, and she could not bring herself to look upon what came next. She shook from head to foot, her mind scrambling for an option that might serve her.
A single prisoner is worth all this? That cannae be what angers them so. Did Magnus?—
The door on the opposite side of the carriage flew open, and Willow yelped.
“Ah!”
When she spun around to see the intruder, unsure of what precisely she would do about it, Willow took in the visage of a man who could only be described as a god of vengeance. The massive figure was built as strong as any she’d seen and then some. He glared with cerulean eyes set against dark slashes of brows, pinched together and low.
Stubble covered the chiseled, angular face, and a downright predatory gleam shone from his stare as he sneered at her. Indeed, it appeared that an exquisite, spellbindingly magnificent god of old was here to claim victory over even these few of the McCallum clan.
“I’ve found her!” He called out, Willow unable to move as the man raked his stare down her form. “Ye will be comin' with us,me lady.”
He knew who she was. He knew her, and where she might have thought this was a simple raid, Willow now understood the terrible truth, which sent lightning through her nerves, shaking her.
The Brahanne clan had come looking for one thing this day.
Her.
2
“Get yer hands off me!” Willow cried out at last as the hulking man took hold of her arm and began to lead her from the carriage.
At first, she was able to easily slip free of his grip, the man’s fingers not sinking deep enough into her wrist to keep her there. But he was quick, much quicker than she might expect considering his size, and he gained hold of her arm once more.
This time, the pads of his fingers dug into the spaces between her tendons, and try as she might, Willow was unable to yank free of him. So, she was forced from the carriage, stumbling as the man dragged her down to the ground and nearly falling headlong into the grass.
“Let go!” She screamed, but Willow was brusquely hauled forward, and the man’s other hand came to her chin, tipping her face up.
“Ye may wish to reconsider yer thrashin', lass.”
Despite the parts of her that wished to fight until she could no longer draw breath, Willow looked forward. There before her in the field to the side of the road were her men. Swords held them immobile as they knelt in the grass. Several bled from wounds sporadically placed across their body, including Finley.
“Nay!”
She rushed forward, held back by the firm grip on her wrist and once more nearly slipping; her momentum abruptly ceased as the man holding her continued to be an immovable force.
From the side, a taller man, looking remarkably similar to the one who held her, approached with little ceremony or mercy. The man was certainly related to the one holding her, and he stood before Willow, invading the space just in front of her face, and glared.
With a glare, the newcomer addressed her. “What have ye done to Melissa?”
She recoiled, not understanding what the man was on about. There had only been a single prisoner brought in by Magnus and his men, and they had professed to have captured a spy from the Brahanne clan. A woman could not be who remained locked beneath the castle.
“I’ve nay idea what ye’re talkin' about.”
Her arm hollered internally as the man holding her yanked hard, forcing her to meet his cruel, demanding eyes.
“If ye lie, lass, I will tear the truth from ye without so much as battin' an eye.”
Willow’s blood chilled to ice in her veins, and her stare flared wide as she shook her head. “I dinnae lie to ye, Brahanne. I’ve nae heard of anyone called Melissa.”
Her words were tinged by the color of fear, and Willow desperately sought to steel herself. These men held her life in their hands and the lives of her men as well. She could not let the innocent souls be harmed for the error of her brother’s ways.