Chapter Twenty-Four

Losing her battle to free herself of Torsten’s grip, Isobel shouted, “Ye willnae make it out of here alive.”

“Then neither will yer husband.” With his free hand, he pulled out a pistol. Her throat closed and she couldn’t breathe as he raised the weapon and aimed at Grant, who was currently obscured behind the man he was fighting.

With no weapons and not able to reach Torsten’s knife, she struggled more furiously so he couldn’t aim at her husband. While flailing, she unfastened the pin on the back of her necklace and prayed it would be sharp and long enough to do some damage.

After disengaging the clasp, she clenched it in her fist, pin protruding from her fingers, and stabbed Torsten’s neck, the chain just giving her enough slack to reach him. The tip pierced the sensitive spot just below his ear, sinking in, and his whole body tensed.

Her weapon was small, but she’d aimed for the place Alex had taught her. “When ye are desperate, strike here.”

Blood gushed from the wound, covering her hand then spilling onto the front of her gown before she had a chance to withdraw.

Torsten’s grip loosened and he dropped his gun when he clasped his neck to stop the flow. She was about to dive for one of his weapons when he struck her and she stumbled. Blinded with pain, she fell to her knees while Torsten drew his sword and sliced toward her.

Flinching, she ducked her head, as if the small gesture would be enough to save her from the killing blow. At the clash of metal, she looked up to find Grant standing between Torsten and her and had blocked the strike, saving her life.

“I gave ye the chance to live a good life.”

“I amnae going back without her.”

“’Tis true, because ye willnae be going back at all.” The pure rage that spewed from Grant’s lips sent chills through her—the warrior taking over, suppressing the man who sought peace at all costs. And for the first time since she and her maid had been attacked as children, she felt protected and had faith someone else would keep her safe. She wanted to cry with the blessed peace that washed over her.

Torsten held his sword aloft, planting his feet solidly on the ground. Desperation and fury sparked in his eyes—the man obviously knew he was done for and his only option was to take out as many of them as he could before he went down. She’d seen it before. That’s when men truly became dangerous.

And if she didn’t move now, her husband might trip over her, giving Torsten a chance at a killing blow.

Unable to crawl in her skirts, she dove and rolled to the side, muck spattering on her dress. At a safe distance, she stumbled to her feet as Ian appeared and pulled her farther away. He called out to Grant, “I’ve got her.”

She made out his slight nod as he stared at Torsten. Grant swayed slightly as he moved into position to brace against the Campbell bastard’s first blow. Her husband was apparently injured, but Torsten still clutched at the side of his neck and struck with one hand holding his claymore. Grant easily deflected the strike and followed through, nearly knocking the arse’s weapon from his hand.

“She’s a criminal,” Torsten spat.

“Nae. She is my wife, and ye will never lay another hand on her.” Although she couldn’t see Grant’s face, she heard the confidence as her husband’s shoulders straightened.

Moving his hand from the neck wound, Torsten clasped his blade with both hands. Blood gushed from the spot, staining his once pristine shirt. After thrusting his claymore forward, a clang erupted as the metal collided, and both men stumbled back with the force.

Seconds passed as each tried to anticipate the other’s next move. Everything slowed as Torsten hurled his sword at Grant, pivoted, and bolted toward her, drawing his knife as he lunged forward.

Ian pulled her back, and the other MacDonald men appeared between her and the attacker, shielding her just as Grant tackled him to the soft ground.

Grant and Torsten struggled to stand. Her heart stung with fear and helplessness upon seeing Grant’s pale face as he wobbled before gaining his footing.

Torsten lunged with the knife in his blood-soaked hand, but Grant ducked and blocked the blow. The weapon slipped from the arse’s grip and tumbled to the earth. Grant punched Torsten’s cheek and he stumbled. Grant struck again and again. One last time, and the man she’d feared would harm her friends, family, and husband, collapsed to the ground.

She ran for Grant, throwing her arms around him as the stinging in her eyes gave way to a trail of tears down her face. His arms circled her, holding her tight, wrapping her in security and warmth. He hugged her like he believed he’d never see her again. Not wanting to move, she held on with abandon, not caring what went on in the world around them, confident that the rest of the MacDonald men were keeping an eye on Torsten to ensure he posed no more danger.

Grant staggered, almost losing his balance.

She stepped back. “Are ye hurt?” Placing her hands on his head, she gazed into his eyes. They were glazed over and his pupils were dilated, indicating he’d not escaped the day without injury.

“’Twill be all right when I get ye home.” He tightened his hold on her. “I’m tempted to lock ye and Ian up in the dungeon for no’ listening to me.”

“Ye might be dead if we hadn’t come.”

“Aye, but I would have kenned ye were safe. I thought ye were gone when ye offered yerself for me. If ye ever do anything like that again, ye’ll never be allowed to leave Cairntay.”

“I dinnae want to leave anyway. As long as ye are there, I have everything I need. I have ye and our baby to watch over now. ’Tis all I want.” She took in the carnage, but also the MacDonald men who had put her safety first. And she trusted her bairn and she would be protected.

There was nowhere else she wanted to be but at her husband’s side, with Clan MacDonald at her back.

The smile that came to Grant’s lips warmed her heart, reminding her that he had become everything. She blinked slowly, her heart racing as she let the emotion spill from her soul. “I love ye, Grant MacDonald.”

He inhaled and for a second she worried she had cursed them, that giving voice to what she’d been feeling these last few weeks would destroy her.

“Say it again.” He took her hands and peered into her eyes, intensity erasing the clouds in his gaze.

She swallowed. “I love ye.”

Then, he was pulling her in, coiling his arms around her as his mouth claimed hers in a kiss that said he felt the same.