Marcus shoved to his knees. He peered through the bushes. Riding like hell hounds toward them were seven Campbell warriors.
Seven, his mind repeated calmly. Not an army like that in his dream. Only seven.
He leapt to his feet.
"Who are they?" Elise called.
His hand shot to his side. Bloody hell, he'd left his sword at the keep. Foolish mistake. Marcus swung his gaze to the two warriors sent to guard the women. He made out the red of their plaide behind bushes thirty feet down shore. He glanced up the mountainside at Brahan Seer. Why were no warriors charging down the hill? They must have seen the riders.
Elise scrambled to her feet and Marcus whirled. He shoved her to the ground. "Do not move!" He turned back to watch the Campbells approach.
The women shrieked. Those on the shore raced for the water, joining their comrades who had taken to deeper waters.
"Marcus!" Elise cried.
He looked to see her standing, then glanced at the oncoming men. His heart thumped wildly. Had they seen her? Marcus grabbed her wrist, yanking her back to the ground.
"Nell," she said, struggling to rise and pointing to the right of their hiding place.
Marcus looked. There, sleeping soundly on the shore, lay Nell, a young maid who had only last week begun working in the castle. Despite the ruckus, she didn't stir. Marcus recalled that she was deaf in one ear. His heart leapt into his throat.
"Do not move," he ground out, and turned back to peer through the bush.
The other women had swum safely to deeper waters. Someone cried out Nell's name, but the girl didn't wake. Marcus looked at the Campbells. Two of the seven comrades reached the women's clothes and halted. More shrieks came from the women as they swam farther from shore. The two Campbells scanned the frantic women but made no move to pursue them.
One of the Campbells said something indistinguishable. Marcus strained to make out the other's response but without success. They continued to scrutinize the women, their attention moving farther to the right where Nell lay. They would see her in an instant. Marcus stood and stepped around the bush into full sight. He took two paces in the direction of his warriors' hiding place.
"Look!" one of the Campbells shouted, and the other turned in Marcus's direction.
Marcus spied a large piece of driftwood. He hurried the few paces to the wood and snatched it up. He kept his gaze on the Campbell who had called out as he snapped off two small branches and dropped them. Four of the five remaining Campbells joined their companions.
"Ha!" one of the newcomers exclaimed. "The MacGregor thinks to bring us down with a stick of wood."
The man unsheathed his sword and kicked his horse's belly. The beast lunged forward. The man bore down upon Marcus and swung his sword. Marcus deflected the blow with the driftwood as the horse shot past, and pivoted full circle, hitting the man across the back with the wood. A loud crack sounded and the man fell to the ground limp. Two more Campbells spurred their horses toward him.
He sprang forward, headed for the fallen Campbell's sword. He reached the weapon with a dive, barely missing the sweep of an oncoming rider's sword. The Campbell barreled past while his companion wheeled his horse hard right to intercept. The Campbells nearest the shore shouted and two more of them shot toward Marcus.
Marcus sprang to his feet, his steel meeting that of the man who had cut him off. Marcus faltered a step under the power of his opponent's swing. The man parried left, smiling as though already tasting victory. Marcus saw the man's fingers tighten around his mount's reins and, just as the horse turned, Marcus thrust his sword into his midsection. He twisted the weapon, then yanked it free.
The man cried out. He clutched his belly and slumped forward in the saddle. Blood gushed despite the arm he wrapped around himself. Marcus leapt forward and grabbed his shoulder. The Campbell swatted at him, his blood-soaked arm leaving a streak of blood down his arm, but Marcus's fingers found purchase, and he yanked him from the saddle.
Marcus grabbed the pummel and pulled himself into the saddle in time to see his two men close in on the Campbell warrior who had shot past him. The man gave a violent slap of reins against his steed's rump in an effort to elude them. John lunged forward, swinging the blunt side of his sword across the horse's knee. The horse stumbled, then fell to his knees, throwing its rider. Marcus wheeled his mount around to face the two Campbells who were nearly upon him when the thunder of hooves rolled down the mountainside. He cut his gaze to the left and saw a dozen MacGregor warriors speeding downhill.