Page 52 of Kilty Plea
“Why are ye here, Abbot?” she asked in a clear voice.
The man glanced at her again, then made a flicking motion with his fingers and turned his attention back to Payton. “I had a meeting with a group of men in Oban. I was hoping, if ye found therewardspleasant enough, Sir Hunter, ye might consider returning with me to the Abbey, and leading those men.”
“These men. They’re the kind who are willing to follow orders that might no’ be exactly…legal?”
The Abbot shrugged, a knowing glint in his eye and a smug grin on his lips.
Payton wanted to break him.
The arsehole was not only recruiting more bandits, but assumed Payton would be so grateful for being given Flora, he’d do aught the Abbot requested.
Ye are grateful for Flora.
Och, aye, he was, but not enough to help this bastard with aught.
Calmer now, he stepped around the table until he was within reach of the Abbot.
“Let me ask ye a question,” he said in a deceptively mild tone. “If ye are hiring more bandits to do yer bidding—travel about the Highlands, finding lonely and unsuspecting lasses, then murdering their families and bringing the women to ye—why’d ye ask the Hunters to help rid ye of the last band who worked for ye?”
The Abbot smirked and leaned back, completely at ease. Payton must’ve convinced him he was only curious, and that Flora’s favors were worth compromising his honor.
“That scum thought they kenned better than I did. Theirleader”—the Abbot flicked his fingers dismissively—“demanded another wife, since he’d used up his first one so quickly. He said he’d go to the King himself. I had to have them removed.” He grinned. “And now I have ye instead.”
“Do ye?” Payton growled, the moment before his fingers wrapped around the man’s throat.
He had the satisfaction of seeing genuine fear race across the Abbot’s expression before Payton’s fist smashed into the man’s nose. When the bastard slumped in his hold, Payton dropped the unconscious body across the table.
“Payton!” Flora cried, throwing herself into his arms. “That puir woman!”
“Aye, lass,” he agreed, turning to find his brother standing with his palms on the table, peering at the man he’d only just been chatting with, incredulity on his face. “Daniel?”
“Was that man as evil as he sounded?”
“Eviler,” Payton assured his brother, with conviction. “I’ll be taking him to the King to face justice. His Majesty needs to ken no’ just of the Abbey, but the bastards the Abbot has been hiring to do his dirty work. This is bigger than me—someone will have to be sent to the Abbey to divide the resources and ensure the lasses are compensated, and that nae one will take over the place.”
Thank duck, Flora was nodding. “And ye’ll need me to go along with ye, aye? Because ye cannae stand to be parted from me?”
Payton grinned. “That too. And because I’ll need yer testimony, if ye’re strong enough to share it, lass.”
“Aye.” She looked grim but nodded. “If it’ll help the others, I will. No’ all of them are lucky enough to be given to a man who’ll help them find and raise their brothers.”
St. Bart’s arse crack, he loved this woman!
“Thank ye, Flora,” he rasped, gathering her in his arms. “Thank ye for allowing me to save ye.”
Her lips twitched. “Thankyefor loving me, Payton.”
Daniel cleared his throat. “Should I go find someplace to lock up this man?”
“I was thinking the storeroom down in the kitchens,” Payton confessed, nudging the Abbot with his toe. “When we head to court, I’m taking a contingent of MacIntyre warriors, and I dinnae care what Da or Rupert have to say.”
His brother was nodding. “They’ll no’ stand in yer way. I’ll take him down there now and find someone still sober enough to stand guard.”
“Aye, but no’ yet,” Payton hurried to say. “I have an important task for ye first.”
Daniel lifted a brow. “More important than securing this bastard?”
Payton looked down at the woman in his arms. “I love ye, Flora, and want to spend the rest of my life with ye.”
