Laird of the Mist by Foery MacDonell

his face and a dripping sword in his hand.
―Do you think to escape me again, Lady MacDonell?‖ he asked as he came closer to Cat.
―Now do not pretend you don‘t remember me. After all, we did share such a lovely moment until your late husband interfered.‖ He was within inches of her with his arrogant smile.
His features familiar, Cat searched her memory and retrieved it. She began to tremble as she recalled him, a Captain Caldwell Camden. Lord Caldwell Camden. An English Lord with a proclivity for rape and murder. She had met him in earlier days, before Prestonpans, before Culloden.
Oh, dear Lord, she recalled. She had met him at Invergarry castle. Laird John had never been openly Jacobite, playing both sides with aplomb. Lord Camden had been a guest there, though a secretly unwelcome one.
After failed attempts to seduce Cat that evening, Carrick caught him ravaging Cat‘s unwilling mouth. They had been bitter enemies since, as he had remained in the area to spy on Laird John, among other Highland lairds.
―Ah, I see that you do remember,‖ he said, triumphant at the sight of Cat‘s revulsion.―Shall we go on where we left off at the castle?‖ He put his filthy hand around Cat‘s throat and pulled her close so that her lips met his. His putrid breath stung her eyes and she choked as his tongue dug into her.
―Leave her, ye bloody Sasunnach bastard!‖ Ian roared, a piece of fallen branch in his hand. With a swift arc from an arm accustomed to a sword, Ian brought the branch down on top of the captain‘s head, which caused Cat to bite a piece of his lip. In response to the useless blow, Camden drew back and slapped Cat full-strength across the face—so hard that she flew several feet before hitting the rocky ground.
―You sorry, pathetic piece of Highland shite,‖ Camden began slowly, his attention diverted to Ian and the blood that splattered as he spoke.―I‘ll see you dead in hell...‖
―Captain,‖ a lieutenant, with a corporal by his side, interrupted him.―All is in readiness, sir,‖ he reported.
―Very well, Lieutenant,‖ Camden answered, his eyes still fixed on Ian.―Hold this man,‖ he ordered them. The two soldiers did as they were told and held Ian painfully in their grip, his arms forced behind his back. His vain struggle was no match for the powerful men.
―I should kill you.‖ He spat blood in Ian‘s face.―You should have gone to Culloden with your dead brother. I would, however, rather see you suffer for a time before I return and send you to join him. You shall never protect that God damned Scottish bitch again. Turn him round,‖ he commanded his men.
Cat was half-aware as she saw the men obey and hold Ian still. Camden took a dagger from his waist and bent to the back of Ian‘s legs.
―This will remind you not to ally yourself with whores,‖ he swore, as he leaned and deftly sliced the backs of Ian‘s ankles. Overcome with pain and unable to stand, Ian fell to the ground and lost consciousness.
―Ian,‖ Cat tried to cry out to him, but her voice was gone. Her last memory as she sank into unreality was the smoke of the burning barn and the cry of ravens overhead.
    ―‗ Tis different than Morag‘s way,‖ Carrick commented to Hamish and Olivia as they stood in the glade behind the witches‘ cottage. They had arrived punctually and were watching the sisters prepare the spot.―They are drawing something on the ground,‖ he said.
    ― Aye.‖ Hamish nodded. He had some knowledge of the ancient ways, having had a grandmother who practiced them.―A five-pointed star—a pentacle. It symbolizes the four elements plus the fifth for spirit.‖
―What does it do?‖ Olivia asked, fascinated with the proceedings before her.
―Aye well,‖ Hamish began, watching a thick mist begin to crawl across the ground around them.―I believe they will use it to summon the elementals from the four directions, then cast a circle to bind them and protect us.‖
―It is time.‖