Laird of Her Heart (Dundragon Time Travel Trilogy Book 1) by Sabrina York Page A

tried to breach the walls, she had no compunction about giving them a hot oil treatment.
    She scanned the woods in the falling evening, mentally calculating distances between targets and cover. “Ewan, do you have escape tunnels?” Most castles did. Escape tunnels, sapping tunnels and secret sally ports.
    He gaped at her. “Do you want to escape?”
    She snorted a laugh. “No. But we can send our best archers out once it gets dark. They can hide in the woods around the enemy encampment and then, upon our signal, send flaming arrows into their camp.”
    “Flaming arrows?”
    “Tell them not to aim for the men,” she said. They were far too easy to miss. “Aim for their tents and supply stores.” Demoralizing the enemy was rule number one in warfare, according to Richardson. She was so glad she’d read his book. “And target their trebuchet and their battering ram as well.” All those weapons were made of wood. It was probably folly to imagine a few arrows could destroy them, but it didn’t hurt to try. A pity it was too dangerous to send a man into their midst to douse the weapons with oil first.
    But then an idea blossomed. She snapped her fingers and grinned at Ewan.
    “What?” He stared at her, thoroughly bemused.
    “A Molotov cocktail.”
    “A what?”
    “We send the archers in with jars filled with oil, which they launch into the weapons store, and onto those machines. Then follow with flaming arrows.”
    Ewan’s nostrils flared. “You are a fierce lass.”
    “Oh, and I want oil poured on the moat as well.”
    “On the moat?”
    “If we need to, we can light it. No doubt they’ll try to breach the walls with ladders.”
    Ewan shook his head. “Where did you learn all this?”
    She merely smiled sweetly in response.  “Oh, and one more thing. Was that an apiary I noticed by the garden?”
    He blinked. “Aye.”
    “I would like to speak to your beekeeper.”
    His brows knit, but he nodded.
    She clapped her hands. “Well? Come on. Let’s get moving.”
    She had a castle to save.
     
    * * *
     
    Bluidy hell.
    They were too late.
    The Camerons were already here.
    Dominic peered over the rise at a sight that curdled his blood. The enemy had his castle surrounded. Their bluidy blue banners snapped merrily in the wind. Thank God it was nearly nightfall and they weren’t quite set up for an attack. Torquil would most likely wait until dawn. For now, he had his drummers playing and his men chanting and pounding their spears in an attempt to frighten the castle denizens.
    He’d trained his people, warned them what tactics an enemy might take. He hoped they remembered his exhortations. He also hoped that Angus was fleet of foot. That he would bring reinforcements from the other clans. Judging from the army Cameron had amassed, they would need help fighting them off.
    For now, he had to get into the castle.
    It was a damn shame he had his best strategists with him. Between Declan and Liam, no one was better.
    “Come on,” he whispered. Voices carried on the night air. “To the sally port.” It would take them a while, as he knew they had to go on foot, and circle the valley. If they were lucky, they’d get there by dawn.
    As they made their way through the woods, parallel to the enemy’s camp, campfires flared and the Camerons settled in for the night. Dominic knew it was far too soon to feel relief, but he was glad they had not elected to attack at once.
    No doubt, they felt confident that their presence would be intimidating enough to keep their prey on edge all night.
    To his surprise, he saw an arrow, one lone flaming arrow arch from the ramparts and through the sky. It landed woefully short of the enemy camp, thudding impotently into the dirt. His chest clenched. Who the hell was running things on the ramparts? Did they not know the range of an arrow?
    But then, to his surprise, other arrows began to fly—and not from the castle. From the woods. A fiery rainstorm of them. And they kept