Page 123 of Promised to the Forbidden Laird

“They obey ye easily,” she said.

“They obey clear orders.”

“Men rarely distinguish between the two.”

Roy looked at her, but before he could answer, a horn sounded from the eastern watch: one sharp blast, then two more.

Breach.

The quiet order of the walls shattered. Warriors reached for swords. Archers turned toward the forest. A servant carrying water dropped the bucket, and it struck the stones with a hard wooden crack.

Donaldina’s heart lurched. Roy had already moved.

“Close the outer gate,” he ordered. His voice carried above the sudden noise without becoming a shout. “Archers tae the north wall. Malcolm, take six men below. Nae one enters the trees until the ground between is secure.”

The commands came one upon another, precise and immediate. MacIver and MacNicol warriors answered without hesitation. The gate chains groaned. Boots hammered along the wall walk. Bows rose between the crenellations as men took positions facing the treeline.

Roy caught Donaldina’s arm and moved her behind the shelter of the stone tower.

“Remain here.”

She might ordinarily have objected. The look in his eyes stopped her.

He placed her where the wall would protect her while still leaving her free to see and be seen by the men. Donaldina pressed her back against the cold stone. Beyond the open field, something dark moved among the trees.

The archers lifted their bows.

“Hold,” Roy ordered.

The movement vanished. Wind passed through the pines, making the branches hiss together. For several breaths, nothing crossed the open ground. Then the dark shape appeared again, jerking strangely between two trunks.

Roy narrowed his eyes.

“Malcolm,” he called down. “Dinnae pursue. Circle west and approach from the lower bank.”

Malcolm lifted one hand in acknowledgment. His men divided without speaking, half disappearing behind a rise while the others remained visible near the road.

Donaldina watched Roy. He stood exposed at the parapet, every part of him still except his eyes. Men waited upon his next word. The castle itself seemed to have drawn tight around his attention.

Minutes passed, then Malcolm emerged from the lower bank with a length of dark cloth in one hand. He crossed the field slowly, irritation plain in the set of his shoulders. Behind him, two warriors dragged a severed branch bound with rope.

The cloth had been tied around it in the crude shape of a cloak. A thin line disappeared through the undergrowth, allowing someone farther within the trees to pull it between the trunks.

“There are tracks heading north,” Malcolm called. “One man, perhaps two. They left before the horn sounded.”

Misdirection.

Donaldina let out the breath she had not realized she held.

Roy did not relax.

“Send nae pursuit beyond the marker stones,” he ordered. “Record the tracks. Double the eastern watch and move the next patrol out early.”

The gate remained shut until every section of the wall had been checked. Only then did the archers lower their bows. The alarm passed, though its tension lingered in the air like the metallic scent after lightning.

Roy returned to the wooden board. He crossed out two names, adjusted the eastern rotation, and added a patrol under Malcolm’s command. His hand remained steady.

Donaldina studied his face. There was no triumph, no satisfaction in being obeyed. He was already moving beyond the alarm toward whatever weakness it revealed.