Page 57 of Only a Highlander Will Do

Fiona’s heart stumbled. She drew a ragged breath, then another. Tears spilled past her lashes. She shut her eyes against a rising tide of grief.

He was dead.

The fairy garments had not saved him. Nor had any of her appeals to the fairy legions. The man had never truly been a father to her until that moment. And now he was gone.

*

Tormod broke into a run, taking the stairs two at a time. He had to stop Alex. If the man escaped, the danger to Fiona and all the MacLeods would continue. The wild look in Alex’s eyes before he had fled told Tormod that Alex would always be filled with vengeance.

None of them would have a moment’s rest, and all of Alastair’s plans for peace would fail.

Tormod ran faster. He raced down the hallway, through the great hall, and out of the manor house. His gaze passed over the courtyard as he came to a stop. There was no sign of Alex, but the battle had ended. In the aftermath, some stood guard, but the rest of his men helped the remaining MacDonalds separate the wounded from the dead.

At the sight of him, Alastair hurried to Tormod’s side. “Where’s Alex MacDonald?”

“He has to be here. I chased him from the dungeon.”

“The men and I would’ve seen him,” Alastair replied with a deep frown. “The laird is missing as well.” With fingers to his lips, Alastair sent out a shrill whistle. He signalled a dozen men to join the two of them. “What would you have us do?”

Tormod started barking orders. To the men closest to him, he said, “The two of you, close the gates.” He motioned to the men on his right. “You go in pairs to search the manor house. The rest of you, search the outbuildings.”

The others sprang into action, executing his commands. “Alex MacDonald!” Tormod’s voice rose, filling the courtyard, echoing off the stone walls. If Alex was not out here, that meant he’d never left the manor house. Tormod startled as a thought struck him. Instead of exiting the stairwell on the main floor, what if the man had kept on going?

Tormod’s gaze shot back to the manor house. That had to be where Alex had gone. “I might know where to find him.” He raced back inside the manor house with Alastair at his heels. At the landing of the second floor, Tormod paused, searching for some sign of the MacDonald’s presence. No sounds came to him, but a breeze issued from the chamber at the end of the hall.

Tormod and Alastair raced there to find the shutters thrown open. Just then, scrambling sounds came from above. “He’s on the roof.” Tormod wasted no time climbing through the window. He pushed past the pain in his injured arm to pull himself up onto the slate roof.

“I knew you’d never let me go.” Alex stood halfway across the rooftop with his back to the west chimney. The wind whipped across the top of the manor house, ruffling the younger MacDonald’s dark hair against the collar of his bloodied shirt.

“You’ve lost, Alex,” Tormod said, his tone even, steady. “The king must decide what your fate is to be now.”

“Nonsense. Nothing has changed. I’m not going anywhere with you. My father and I will continue to rule the MacDonalds and make you rue the day you were ever born a MacLeod.” He took two steps backwards.

“The battle is over. We have rescued Rowena and Fiona’s father.” Tormod walked slowly towards him, his hand on his sword.

“The battle is over but not our clan war,” Alex scoffed.

“Look around you.” Tormod’s hand encompassed the view for miles as well as the courtyard below. “There’s no one here to help you. The MacLeods have you surrounded. You have nowhere to go. Surrender. Things will go easier for you if you do.”

Anger blazed across Alex’s features a moment before he drew Tormod’s recovered dagger and slashed at Tormod’s chest.

Tormod jerked back out of harm’s way.

Alex twisted and ran towards the crow-stepped gable.

Finding his balance again, Tormod ran after Alex, refusing to let him get away. Just as he reached the edge of the roof, Tormod grasped the MacDonald’s shoulder, stopping him.

Alex snarled. He turned and struck out with his dagger, slicing Tormod’s chest and at the same time kneeing him in the groin.

Agony and pain shot through Tormod and he released his hold on Alex, staggering backwards, trying to keep his footing.

Alex reached the gables and used them as stairs, heading down towards nothingness.

Forcing the pain back, Tormod sucked in a breath and lunged for Alex as he jumped into the space beyond the gables.

Tormod’s hands came up empty as he slammed against the stone roof, his gaze following Alex. The MacDonald hurtled over the edge towards two horses and a rider waiting below. He landed with a thump on one of the horse’s backs, then took the reins from the man who had appeared out of nowhere. The man turned his gaze up and smiled. It was the laird of the MacDonalds. He had arrived just in time to save his son.

A cry of frustration tore open Tormod’s lips. He couldn’t follow the man over the side, not if Tormod wanted to live. His fingers bit into the stone rooftop as he watched the father and son ride towards the wall where a secret gate had been opened to allow them to escape.