Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 32223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Lord Campbell frowns. “Not a chance that it’s Lachlan. We scuttled every boat in the harbor, and—”
“It’s not Lord McDougall, my lord,” one of the men says quietly, his face white as he swallows.
“Red sails, my lord.”
Lord Campbell frowns in confusion, glaring at the two of them.
“Meaning?” He snaps.
The two men blink, glancing at each other.
“You—you don’t know, sire?” One chokes out.
“Spit it out, man!”
“Vikings, my lord,” the second man croaks out.
My grandfather scowls. “And it’s one ship?”
The man nods and Lord Campbell rolls his eyes.
“There are forty men on this ship armed to the teeth, and you’re saying we can’t deal with one—”
“Not any Vikings, Lord Campbell,” one of the men chokes out. “Red sails.”
Lord Campbell growls. “You’ve mentioned that, and I still haven’t the slightest fucking idea what that—”
“Tor Odinson.”
The three of them turn at the sound of my voice to see me grinning widely.
“The red sails,” I hiss as I turn my eyes on the two sailors, who are rapidly paling. “You know what they mean.”
“Who in the hells is—”
“We need to head to deeper water, now,” one of the men says, his voice trembling.
The other shakes his head, his face grim. “It won’t matter. They’ve seen us, and—”
“Who the HELL is Tor Odinson!” My grandfather bellows.
“The devil,” one of the men croaks.
I start to laugh. “He’s the man who’s about to make you wish you’d never left France, Grandfather.”
“Hard to starboard!”
A man’s voice yells it out from up on deck, and the two sailors standing in the doorway whirl and dash back up the stairs. Feet thunder across the deck above, and I can feel the big boat begin to turn.
“Coming fast! Man stations! Prepare for—”
And then comes the crash.
I scream as I go sprawling out of the chair across the floor, wincing as my cheek hits the ground with my hands tied behind my back. The boat careens sideways wildly, the air filled with the sound of wrenching, snapping, and splintering wood. Lord Campbell groans from the floor across the room from me, picking himself up and holding a hand to the cut on his head.
Above on deck, suddenly all I can hear is the roar of Viking men and the screams of Lord Campbell’s men, and the smashing sounds of steel on steel—the sounds of battle.
There’s more screaming, and Lord Campbell pales as he pulls his sword free of the scabbard, swallowing as he backs away from the doorway. The door swings in, and I gasp as one of the sailors from before comes staggering in, a dagger sticking out of his back and his face haggard.
“My lord….”
He tumbles to the ground and goes still, and Lord Campbell turns white.
“You could try your luck swimming,” I sneer.
He whirls, turning his gaze on to me as he snarls. And suddenly, he starts to march towards me.
“Why you little bitch—”
“CAMPBELL!”
The door shatters off its hinges, splintering into the room. And when my eyes fly to the doorway, there, standing tall and fierce with his teeth flashing and his sword bared, is Lachlan.
He storms into the room, Tor, Callum, and Hamish behind him, all with swords drawn and fury on their faces. Lord Campbell lunges for me, and I gasp as he yanks me up, spinning behind me as he brings the blade of his sword to my neck.
“Stay back!” he screeches at Lachlan, halting him and the others. Lachlan’s eyes dart to mine, his gaze fierce as he holds mine, before he turns them back on Lord Campbell.
“I can take him,” Tor growls
“No,” Lachlan growls, shaking his head. “He’s mine.”
His eyes meet mine, and instantly, I know what to do without him saying a word. I swing riotously, thrusting my shoulder back and catching Lord Campbell in the gut. He grunts, stumbling back and swinging the sword wide away from my neck, and the second he does, I go diving out of the way. Lachlan charges, and as Lord Campbell swings his sword wildly, Lachlan roars as he knocks it easily aside. My grandfather swings again, and this time, Lachlan sends the blade flying out of his hands and skittering across the floor before grabbing Campbell by the throat and slamming him into the wall behind him.
“You—you son of a swine!” Lord Campbell brays out. “Our family name besmirched! The land and gold owed—”
“I’d have been willing to negotiate,” Lachlan hisses. “If you’d asked nicely. But you’d didn’t, and now I won’t.”
He slams Lord Campbell against the wall before releasing his grip and letting the man drop to the floor. Callum moves towards me, using a knife to cut my binds, and I rub my wrists as I stand, my eyes locked on Lachlan.
“You laid hands on my bride.”
His voice is low and edged in steel as he rests the tip of his broadsword against Lord Campbell’s throat.