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Authors: Hannah Howell
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their men. Only one small page would hold back, hiding until it was over so that he could report the final outcome and let them know if there were any wounded to collect. Avery did not ask if they would bury or collect their dead aswell.
As she watched Cameron’s small force prepare to meet one twice its size, Avery prayed. She prayed that the MacAlpins would not pay too high a price for the folly of dealing with a DeVeau. She prayed the DeVeau men were not willing to sacrifice too many men just to return the mercenary fee to their lord. She also prayed that, if the worst happened, if the MacAlpins lost, she and her cousin would not find themselves back in the grasp of their old enemy.
When the attack came, it came hard, fast, and loud. Avery swayed as if she herself had withstood the first assault. A soft gasp erupted from the ones around her, and she knew she had not suffered that strange reaction alone. Avery doubted anyone could stand silent and still before such a display of force.
Cameron and his men had placed themselves upon a small rise. It was just high enough to give them an advantage, putting them at a height to more equally battle the men on horseback and putting the DeVeau force at a slight but welcome disadvantage. The MacAlpins formed a tight circle, a pair of skilled archers in the middle. If the DeVeau men were not too determined, Cameron’s battle plan could easily win the fight. Avery felt the flicker of hope invade her heart.
It soon became impossible to watch every aspect of the battle, so Avery set her gaze on Cameron and kept it there. She held her breath each time the DeVeaux swarmed toward him, and let it go each time he repelled them. By the soft cries of those around her, she knew that some of Cameron’s men had fallen, but never once did she take her gaze from Cameron. Instead, she simply prayed for the soul of the fallen man and hoped it was a mendable wound that had caused his fall and not the cold touch of death.
Although it felt as if she had stood there praying and watching for hours, Avery knew it was probably more like minutes before the battle turned in favor of the MacAlpins. DeVeau dead and wounded littered the camp, and the enemy suddenly seemed to become aware of how dearly the battle was costing them. One man helped a wounded companion to stumble away from the fight, then another did the same, and another, until it became a hasty retreat. It took all of Avery’s willpower to stay where she was until the DeVeaux had disappeared into the trees; then she saw Cameron sink to his knees. Even as she started toward him, the other women also moved, until they were all running toward the men. Every step of the way, Avery prayed that Cameron was hale or only slightly wounded, that weariness had brought him to his knees and not the weight of impending death.
Chapter Six
With his gaze still fixed upon the dust of the fleeing DeVeaux, Cameron slowly sank to his knees. He found just enough strength to signal a man to follow the DeVeaux and make certain the retreat was a true one; then he slumped. The battle had been short and fierce, but he felt as if it had lasted all day. Leargan panted at his side, assuring Cameron that his cousin still lived, and Cameron decided he could take a moment to marshal his strength before seeing to his losses.
A soft touch upon his arm roused him from his exhausted stupor. Cameron looked up to find Avery looking at him with concern darkening her fine eyes. Guilt lashed him. He owed her his life and those of his men who survived the battle. He should let her go, but he knew he would not. His desire for her and his need to make things right for his sister would not allow him to.
“Are ye wounded?” Avery asked as she looked him over.
“I am nay sure,” Cameron replied; then he began to join her in checking for wounds on his body.
“It appears that all ye have suffered is a shallow sword slash upon your arm.”
“The others?” he asked as he let her
As she watched Cameron’s small force prepare to meet one twice its size, Avery prayed. She prayed that the MacAlpins would not pay too high a price for the folly of dealing with a DeVeau. She prayed the DeVeau men were not willing to sacrifice too many men just to return the mercenary fee to their lord. She also prayed that, if the worst happened, if the MacAlpins lost, she and her cousin would not find themselves back in the grasp of their old enemy.
When the attack came, it came hard, fast, and loud. Avery swayed as if she herself had withstood the first assault. A soft gasp erupted from the ones around her, and she knew she had not suffered that strange reaction alone. Avery doubted anyone could stand silent and still before such a display of force.
Cameron and his men had placed themselves upon a small rise. It was just high enough to give them an advantage, putting them at a height to more equally battle the men on horseback and putting the DeVeau force at a slight but welcome disadvantage. The MacAlpins formed a tight circle, a pair of skilled archers in the middle. If the DeVeau men were not too determined, Cameron’s battle plan could easily win the fight. Avery felt the flicker of hope invade her heart.
It soon became impossible to watch every aspect of the battle, so Avery set her gaze on Cameron and kept it there. She held her breath each time the DeVeaux swarmed toward him, and let it go each time he repelled them. By the soft cries of those around her, she knew that some of Cameron’s men had fallen, but never once did she take her gaze from Cameron. Instead, she simply prayed for the soul of the fallen man and hoped it was a mendable wound that had caused his fall and not the cold touch of death.
Although it felt as if she had stood there praying and watching for hours, Avery knew it was probably more like minutes before the battle turned in favor of the MacAlpins. DeVeau dead and wounded littered the camp, and the enemy suddenly seemed to become aware of how dearly the battle was costing them. One man helped a wounded companion to stumble away from the fight, then another did the same, and another, until it became a hasty retreat. It took all of Avery’s willpower to stay where she was until the DeVeaux had disappeared into the trees; then she saw Cameron sink to his knees. Even as she started toward him, the other women also moved, until they were all running toward the men. Every step of the way, Avery prayed that Cameron was hale or only slightly wounded, that weariness had brought him to his knees and not the weight of impending death.
Chapter Six
With his gaze still fixed upon the dust of the fleeing DeVeaux, Cameron slowly sank to his knees. He found just enough strength to signal a man to follow the DeVeaux and make certain the retreat was a true one; then he slumped. The battle had been short and fierce, but he felt as if it had lasted all day. Leargan panted at his side, assuring Cameron that his cousin still lived, and Cameron decided he could take a moment to marshal his strength before seeing to his losses.
A soft touch upon his arm roused him from his exhausted stupor. Cameron looked up to find Avery looking at him with concern darkening her fine eyes. Guilt lashed him. He owed her his life and those of his men who survived the battle. He should let her go, but he knew he would not. His desire for her and his need to make things right for his sister would not allow him to.
“Are ye wounded?” Avery asked as she looked him over.
“I am nay sure,” Cameron replied; then he began to join her in checking for wounds on his body.
“It appears that all ye have suffered is a shallow sword slash upon your arm.”
“The others?” he asked as he let her
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