Highland Warrior by Heather McCollum (the rosie project TXT) 📗

Step four: hit where unprotected. Joshua ducked and kicked the man’s shin with the side of his foot. Leaning the other way, he swung around his other foot to hit the other in rapid fire. Dishington lost his balance, grunting as he fell hard onto the ground.

Joshua stepped his one bare foot on the man’s leather-clad chest, placing the majority of his two hundred pounds square over his lungs so that Dishington gasped. As he managed to clear the gravel from his eyes, he stared up to the sight of Joshua’s ballocks and jack hanging over him in utter disrespect.

“Fok,” Dishington spit out, gasping for air as Joshua pushed down harder.

“Ye have lost, Dishington.”

“I am not dead,” he said, swiping at Joshua’s leg.

Joshua lifted it, setting his heel back down, but this time on Dishington’s jaw, making his head turn to the side so far that if he continued, the pressure would break his neck. “Not yet, but it can be remedied if ye wish.”

Dishington struggled to lift his legs but could not reach Joshua, who continued to twist his head to the side. Joshua glanced over to Patrick. “Release her now.”

“I will not,” he said. He had dragged Kára before him, a dagger at her throat to prevent her from pulling away. “He is not dead.”

“That was not the contest,” Joshua said. Step five: make the enemy think they had won. War was built on deception. He raised his voice. “I have won, Lord Robert. Order her release, and I would talk with ye about my services.”

He felt the movement before he looked, knowing Dishington had decided it was better to die than lose and live. Before Robert could answer, Dishington kicked his legs over, rolling toward where Joshua smashed his face into the ground. Joshua let him rise, but before he could run at him, Joshua punched him directly in the nose with a jab and then swung his other fist around to hit his jaw, making his head swivel the other way. Dishington hit the ground and did not move.

Joshua turned back to Patrick. “One step and she is dead,” Patrick yelled.

“I have won,” Joshua said evenly. “Let her go, and I will go inside as your father’s servant.” He would, giving Kára and her people time to escape. Then he would find his way back to Caithness eventually. Nothing but death would stop him from finding Kára again.

He did not move his gaze from the blade at her throat, but his voice rose for Robert’s ears. “They will attack, Robert Stuart, if harm comes to her. Brutality against a child and a woman will not be tolerated by the people of Orkney.”

“A hundred weak peasants against a fortified castle means nothing,” Robert yelled back.

Joshua raised his fist in the air, jabbing thrice. Calder mimicked it with the torch Joshua had left with his clothes so the Hillside warriors could see. The leaders of the small groups set up to attack from each of the sides of the fortress passed along the order with their own torches. Arrows were lit by lads running between the groups. Before another insult could form on Robert’s tongue, arrows shot through the dark night air, balls of fire flaming with their pitch-soaked ends in a high arch from all sides.

Bloody good hell. The Hillside warriors had followed orders and followed them well. Pride pushed Joshua’s numb lips into a smile. Maybe if they set the whole place on fire, he could feel some of its warmth.

Shouts came from within as the arrows hit areas where Robert’s men kept their dry peat and haystacks. Apparently, they hadn’t built covers over them like he’d suggested. Several fireballs fell upon the thatched roofs of some of the smaller buildings inside the wall.

“They are trained, Lord Robert,” Joshua said, his voice booming. “Trained by the Horseman of War!” Even as he spoke, he kept his gaze centered on Kára and the soon-to-be dead man who held her. “And if one drop of her blood is spilled, you and your family will perish tonight.”

“Traitors to King James!” Robert yelled, his eyes wild as the fire leaped up behind the walls. “He will send troops.”

“To pay their respects at your mass grave?” Joshua yelled back. “Or will ye release the woman and let me walk into your fortress alone, sending these hundred trained Orkney warriors away?”

Joshua forced himself to breathe, ignoring the slicing wind. Behind him, he heard Torben swear. What did he have to damn? He wasn’t standing naked in freezing temperatures. Joshua shifted his weight, wishing for action to warm his muscles. Perhaps he would rush Patrick and kill him in an effort to stay warm.

“You will pay for your treachery,” Robert said, pointing down at him. Then he looked to Patrick. “Release her.”

“No,” his son answered, his lips in a snarl. He still held Kára before him, her wool cloak barely covering down to her knees.

Robert disappeared from the top of the gatehouse to leap down the ladder. He strode out the gate yelling, “I said release her and take the Horseman!”

“And ye will let her go with her people,” Joshua said.

“No!” called Torben behind him, but Joshua did not take his eyes off the situation before him. Kára in the arms of a man bent on raping her and Robert Stuart, a sadistic strategist who had no respect for the Orkney people.

“What are you doing?” Calder yelled.

“Ending the rule of Robert Stuart, my bastard father,” Torben called, making Robert momentarily shift his gaze away from Joshua.

His father? Torben was a Stuart bastard? No wonder his mother wanted Robert dead with such vehemence. Had she been his mistress or raped?

“No,” Calder yelled. Joshua waited until Patrick also looked past him to glance over his shoulder. What he saw made his stomach clench. Torben swinging the torch wildly, the signal for complete attack on Robert’s palace.

A roar rose behind them as the Hillside warriors rushed forward. More lit arrows flew high overhead like