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

coming. He watched in shock as the blazing arrows landed on the Cameron tents throughout the camp, on their supply carts and their war machines, wreaking havoc.
    One arrow hit their trebuchet and it exploded into flames.
    Cries rose and men scattered, batting at flames and running for water.
    Dominic bit back a smile.
    Brilliant.
    Brilliant strategy.
    Who was running the defenses from the ramparts?
    Whoever it was, they would be joining his elite team of warriors…if they all survived this.
    With the Camerons distracted, Dominic and his men raced through the woods toward the sally port, the secret gate that led into the castle. Dawn was just breaking as Dominic pulled a stone from the wall and pulled out the hidden key. He fit it in the lock. It creaked as he turned it.
    The door had not been used for decades and the gate had rusted. There was a mound of dirt blocking its path. Dominic set his weight against the bars and pushed it open. It took a while to create a passable gap.
    He eased through and his men followed.
    Liam was the last through. He set his shoulder to the grate to push it closed. It resisted. “I’ll lock it,” he said. “You go on.”
    Dominic nodded and sped up the stairs, through the second and third gates, which opened and locked using a series of hidden levers.
    They emerged in the larder, behind a shelf of crockery and raced through the castle halls into the bailey. Then they bounded up the rampart steps.
    Dominic stopped short.
    Maggie—glorious and fierce, with her hair streaming out behind her—stood by Ewan, barking out commands.
    And his men were obeying her.
    It took a moment for this to sink in.
    He cleared his throat.
    She whipped around. Her eyes widened and her lips parted. Damn, she was beautiful in the soft morning light. A flush rose on her cheeks. “Dominic.”
    “Maggie. I…what are you doing?”
    Apparently she did not care for his tone. She set her fists on her hips and snapped, “Mounting the defense of your castle.”
    He glanced at the small trebuchet, one they kept for defense and target practice, and then at three small bundles wrapped in rags. Oddly enough, they…hummed. “Ah… What…what are these?”
    She grinned. It was a heinous, evil, wicked grin. “A wake-up call.” She turned to Ewan. “Are we ready to launch?”
    Ewan glanced at him for guidance—Dominic shrugged—and Ewan nodded.  “Let’s do it.”
    The trebuchet released its first strange missile. As it flew through the air, the rag wrapping it whipped away. The missile fell dead center in the enemy camp. But before it landed, Maggie was already repositioning the catapult and placing the second missile gently in the cup.
    A yowl rose from the camp below. Dominic glanced that way and his eyes widened. Camerons scattered, hither and yon, howling and batting the air around them.
    “Fire two,” Maggie warbled. Her tone held far too much glee.
    She quickly re-sighted and fired the third and final missile. In short succession, those missiles landed on either side of the camp with similar results.
    “What, may I ask, did you send them?” He had to ask. Whatever it was, it was ingenious and evil. The Camerons were in chaos.
    “Just a little something sweet.” Like her smile. He longed to kiss her but this was hardly the place.
    “What?”
    “Beehives,” Ewan said.
    Dominic looked out at the field again and his lips quirked. A chuckle rose up within him, and then a laugh. It rang across the ramparts and over the bee-infested lea.
    Below, Torquil Cameron glared up at him. And then he shook his fist.
    And then, of course, he howled and swatted at his neck. But it was far too late. The bees had found him.
     
     

CHAPTER TEN
     
    Battle was invigorating. Maggie found it suited her well. And not just because she’d spent a lot of time studying the history of military strategy, but because it was a damn lot of fun anticipating an enemy’s move and squelching it before it could come to fruition.
    She