Page 49 of Plaid Attitude
“Shut up,” hissed Edgar, turning to keep her between Doughall and himself. “Shut up, ye slut.”
“I’m no’—” she sobbed, and Doughall’s heart nearly broke.
“Shhh, sweeting,” he offered soothingly, not allowing himself to look at her face, knowing he’d lose control if he did. Instead, he kept his attention on her captor who stumbled backward to keep her as a shield. “Just relax. Ye’re safe now.”
“Dinnae be making promises ye cannae keep, auld man!” snarled Edgar. “Ye’ll be dead!”
Doughall fought to keep his voice steady and resisted the urge to glance at Coira. “I doubt that. We got here in time to stop a rape, and whatever evil ye had planned.” He held his sword ready, stepping lightly, herding Edgar—who held his daughter tightly—toward a large oak.
Bessetta, however, wasn’t cowed. “They just wanted maps, Da! And the guard schedules. I’m so sorry I believed—”
When the bastard squeezed her, her words cut off with a squawk.
Doughall kept his attention on the man holding her, making sure his tone sounded as disgusted as he felt when he asked, “Ye seduced achildin order to find Oliphant weaknesses?”
“I didnae have to look far, auld man,” Edgar snarled. “Yer castle is riddled with secret passages, and thanks to this dim-witted fool, who thought I actuallycaredfor her, one of yer enemies will pay me handsomely for this information.”
He was mere steps away from the oak trunk, and once he backed into it, Doughall knew he’d have to make a decision. He’d likely throw Bessetta toward Doughall and pull his own blade, but at least Bess would be out of danger.
He carefully placed one foot in front of the other, herding Edgar backward. “The Oliphants have nae enemies.”
“Ye will when they learn how easily they can attack and win yer castle,” Edgar sneered.
Three steps, then two. Doughall’s attention was on the man’s positioning, not his words.
Then Coira was there.
Fifteen feet or so to the side, her blade bloody, her expression a determined scowl. They formed a triangle with him, her, and Edgar as the points, and her appearance startled the other man enough to swing sideways to keep her in his view.
At the same time, Coira called, “Bess! Remember yer arm exercises!”
Doughall had no idea what she meant. Neither did Edgar, judging from the confusion which flashed across his face.
But Bessetta did.
She drew her elbows together in front of her and bent forward, forcing Edgar to follow her. Then, in one thrust, accompanied by a sound which couldn’t be described as anything accept ayodel, she jerked her arms upward and apart, breaking his hold on her.
As she stumbled away from him, Doughall swept in.
He wanted to give the bastard the chance to pull his blade. Hewantedthe satisfaction of the clash of steel, of beating the evil on its own terms.
But he couldn’t risk Edgar not getting what he deserved.
So he aimed his blade at the arsehole’s heart.
He would’ve thrust.
He would’ve ended Edgar’s life, the way Coira had done Arnold’s, in order to save her.
But Edgar didn’t have a weapon now, and Bessetta was safe.
In the moment before his blade would have slid between the younger man’s ribs, Doughall heard his daughter sob something, heard Coira call his name…and changed his mind.
The hilt of his sword slammed against Edgar’s temple and the bastard collapsed into a heap at Doughall’s feet.
Doughall stood there over the pile of shite, breathing heavily, trying to control his anger and fear and horrible sense of helplessness. He squeezed his eyes closed, forcing his breathing to even out, praying his heart would stop pounding hard enough to burst from his chest.
From behind him came whimpering, then soothing sounds, then a sob, and he braced himself to face his daughter’s trauma.
