Utterly fearless, Jamie stood his ground against the mob. “You lads have been drinkin’. I suggest ye go home and sleep it off.”
The bearded ringleader sported an official-looking blue tam, with a creased top and a bushy white feather that was identical to the one Gideon had worn in the throne room. He brandished a wooden club like he used it on a daily basis. “We dinna want any trouble, m’ lairds. Just hand o’er the witch’s emissaries.”
Duncan, our human shield, took a nearly imperceptible step forward. “These lasses are under our protection.”
Shouts of dissention assaulted us.
“But they’re consorts o’ the witch!”
“My son’s got the croup!”
“And my livestock died!”
“’Tis witchcraft, I tell ye!”
“Hand ’em over!”
The ringleader advanced on Jamie, edging him back toward his brother. “I’m afraid we canna do what ye ask, yer highness. People are missing. Roddy MacPhee, and Robert Ennis’s wife, Millie. The kingdom will no’ be safe until the evil is cast out.”
The princes could not prevail against six burly, drunk men. Under certain circumstances, they might’ve been able to handle three apiece, but without weapons—not to mention the burden of having to keep us away from the mob—it was impossible.
Then several things happened at once. The ringleader and Jamie leapt toward each other as a man my father’s age charged Duncan, who braced for impact and then propelled the man through the air—like a rag doll. The old guy landed in the street with an overly loud thud and writhed with pain. He wouldn’t be jumping anyone again for a long time.
Three others rushed Duncan so that he crashed between Vee and me. As one burly dude punched Duncan in the jaw while another guy kicked him in the gut, the third raised his club high into the air like a major league ballplayer. With a sneer, he swung squarely at Vee’s head.
Her scream pierced the night.
In the final second before contact, Jamie lunged toward her and shoved. The blow meant for her cracked against the side of the prince’s head, and he slumped to his knees.
An instant later, Duncan—still fighting two of the attackers—smashed into me. His elbow crushed my diaphragm, knocking me off balance as my vision blackened around the edges. The golden cobblestones rose to meet me as darkness swallowed them up.
I came to my senses on hard ground to the sound of running feet and the sight of Duncan standing over me like a grizzly bear. Four men, including the old guy, lay in a crumpled heap at his feet. Another took off as the first group of guards rounded the bend.
A short distance away, Jamie sat on his royal rump near the unconscious ringleader. A small trickle of blood flowed from behind his left ear and down his neck. Vee pushed herself away from the wall where she’d ended up and stepped toward Doon’s future king. With a shaky hand, she reached down to assess his injuries.
“Don’t.” He snarled the word through clenched teeth. Irritation oozed from his every pore as he jerked away and lumbered to his feet. He pointed toward Vee, who regarded him with wide-eyed shock. “Duncan, get her back to the castle. The both of them. And do not let them out of your sight!”
“Aye.”
As Duncan turned around, I forced myself into a sitting position. The throb in my shoulder informed me that I would have a wicked bruise in the morning. Catching my breath, I looked up and steadied myself once I met the young prince’s eyes.
He knelt and smoothed a lock of hair from my cheek with the rough pad of his thumb. “Are ye all right, Mackenna?”