Page 81 of The Highlander's Pirate Bride

“Drop yer weapons, both of ye.” He turned from the brothers where they stood side-by-side at the fire. Glowering into Aileen’s eyes, his breath came heavily, raw and sour on her face.

“Tell them tae dae as I say.” His sword ripped the lacing at the neckline of her shirt. “Obey me, ye whore!”

She lifted her head and spat directly in his face.

“Nay,” she yelled. “Dinnae lower yer swords.”

With the back of his hand, Sutherland wiped off her spittle.

“If ye wish tae keep the lass alive fer a heartbeat longer, ye’ll throw down yer weapon. Or…” he twisted his mouth in a cruel grin. “D’ye wish tae watch me slit her throat?”

Everard dropped his sword and raised his hands. “Let the lass go free.”

Maxwell hesitated. He would never trust Sutherland.

Aileen kept shaking her head. “Dinnae dae as he says.”

At that moment two guards stormed into the tent. Together they dragged a fragile, thin-shanked, grey-haired man clad in ragged, soiled clothing. They wrenched the old man up, his feet scarcely holding him steady, his head drooping between his shoulders.

Aileen froze. “Faither?”

He looked up, managing a faint smile at the sight of his daughter. One of his rough captors pressed a dirk to his neck and a thin trickle of blood appeared, staining what remained of the collar of the old man’s shirt.

Sutherland studied the old man as he wavered, swaying as he attempted to stay upright. He turned to Aileen, a sly expression on his face. “Now, me dear. Ye must choose. Yer man drops his sword or I give the order tae take yer dear faither’s life. Which is it tae be? MacNeil or MacAlpin?

Maxwell hesitated no further. He flung his claymore down, cursing Sutherland as he did so. “Poxy knave.”

Sutherland moved across to Aileen whose arms were still twisted behind her back. Her face was black as thunder, her breath coming in short panting bursts of fury. Her lip curled as she glared at Sutherland.

“Ye have nay right tae walk this earth with good men such as me faither and Maxwell MacNeil and his braither.” Her eyes were lit with a fierce light as she stared down the man who had tormented her and her father for so many years.

With a sudden sharp twist, she wrenched her arm away and the man who’d been holding her was suddenly empty-handed. Before another breath could be drawn, she’d snatched the small knife from her boot and plunged it to the hilt into Sutherland’s neck, Andrew unprepared for the sudden attack.

He reeled back, hurling curses at her. Then, with one movement he pulled the dagger from his throat, blood spurting, and swung the weapon at Aileen.

Before either could move, Maxwell had scooped his claymore into his hands and with a roar of battle rage he flung himself headlong at Sutherland, running him through with the mighty sword.

The man fell to his knees, his eyes already sightless, the breath gone from his body. He tumbled head-first, dead, at Aileen’s feet.

Aileen froze, mouth agape, her eyes roaming over the body of as if she could scarcely believe her eyes. The guards who had been manhandling her father with so little care, fled from the tent the instant Sutherland fell, afraid for their lives.

Maxwell and Everard dashed to Barclay’s side and were busy relieving him from the chains binding his arms to his sides.

The old man nodded his head. “Thank ye lads. I kent ye would come here sooner or later before that…” He glanced at Sutherland’s prone figure. “…that fiend could attack ye at Barra.”

“Faither!” Aileen dashed across and took him in her arms just as the last of the chains fell away.

She wrenched off her almost-dry cloak and draped it over his shoulders, dabbing at the trickle of blood at his throat. Although she was shaking and shivering, her concern was for her father.

She turned to Maxwell as tears began streaming down her cheeks. “Ye saved us. Ye and Everard. I’ll never be able tae thank ye enough, even if I should live tae the age of two hundred years.”

Maxwell wrapped an arm around her. “Yer thank-ye’s can wait, lass. We’ve needs be gone from this place, in case Sutherland’s men take it intae their heads tae take vengeance fer the death of their laird.”

“Most of them will be relieved. He was a cruel master and was hated by many of his men.”

“We cannae count on that,” Everard said briskly, already stepping toward the opening in the tent. “’Tis past time we were on our way.”

Aileen’s hand shot to her mouth. “But me faither is too weak. He’ll nay be able tae make it down that craggy pathway tae the beach.” Shaking her head, she brushed the tears from her cheeks.

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