Page 44 of Highlander's Secret Heiress
Now Alyth wondered if he had come to any harm because she had a growing feeling of dread inside; something was about to happen, and it was not going to be pleasant. She pulled her skirts up to her knees, ready to take to her heels if she had to.
Laird Robertson was not gifted with such foresight, however, and neither was Alyth’s father. Robertson frowned in irritation.
“What is keeping him?” he grumbled. He looked at a clock on the wall and tutted. “Five minutes late,” his voice was a growl, and he turned to call one of the guards, only to find himself face to face with the last person he wanted to see.
19
Lachlan approached Cairnloch Castle very cautiously. He had told his men not to attack the MacAdams garrison unless they did so first, since he had not come to make war, but to talk peace. He also wished to ask for Alyth’s hand in marriage, and he wanted nothing to get in the way of that because he knew a refusal would break his heart.
However, as they approached the castle he noticed that the guards were dressed in the livery of both the MacAdams and Robertson Clans, and a feeling of deep apprehension came over him.
Something is wrong,he thought, as he went forward to meet one of the guards who was manning the main gate. He greeted the man politely.
“May I speak to Laird MacAdams, please?” he asked, smiling and bowing pleasantly.
“The Laird isnae available, Sir,” the man replied. “His daughter is gettin’ married.”
Lachlan felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. He dropped his calm façade at once, urged his horse forward andgalloped into the courtyard with all his armed horsemen behind him.
Could he stop the wedding before the vows were said, or was he already too late? He had no doubt that Alyth was not entering into the marriage willingly. No, she was being forced into it by her weak and spineless father. Lachlan had a notion that a forced marriage was not valid, but he could not be sure if that was true, and was not willing to take the chance. It was better to be safe than sorry, he thought grimly.
Could it be that she was telling the truth about running away from her betrothed? Could that betrothed be Robertson himself? The thought was dreadful.
The MacAdams and Robertson guards never stood a chance as the Carrick horses ploughed through them. However, when the Carricks reached the entrance to the castle many of the Cairnloch men had risen to their feet and unsheathed their swords, and a fierce battle started in seconds.
Gavin, who had been at Lachlan’s side and heard the guard’s words, managed to shout to Lachlan, “I will take care o’ this! Go an’ stop the weddin’!”
Lachlan needed no second bidding, but dismounted and sprinted into the castle, brandishing his sword ferociously. He asked a terrified maid where the chapel was, and when she told him the way, he ran there as fast as his legs would carry him, knocking down anyone or anything that got in his way.
A dozen of his men were following behind him; they knew that Laird Robertson and Laird MacAdams would not be unguarded, especially on a day like this.
As soon as they approached the entrance to the church, Lachlan saw the minister standing by the door reading a prayer book. He was a small, bald man in late middle age with a kindly air, but at that moment Lachlan was feeling anything but kind.
He took the clergyman by the front of his robe and said, “There will be no wedding today, Reverend. Go and find somewhere safe to hide.”
The man looked shocked, but hurried away without a word. Lachlan crept to a position just behind the door so that he could look into the church without being seen.
He was horrified. Alyth, looking miserable and wearing the ugliest dress he had ever seen, was standing by the side of the man whom Lachlan hated most in the world.
Lachlan had summoned ten of his own guards to stand behind him, while he unsheathed his sword, but when he saw Alyth’s face, miserable and terrified, his rage boiled over, and he roared, “You swine, Robertson! Get away from her, or I will take your ugly head off your shoulders! Get away!”
He did not take a moment longer to think about his own safety, but advanced, his face a mask of fury, while behind him his guards fought the joint MacAdams and Robertson men.
Robertson slowly unsheathed his own sword. He was holding on to Alyth’s hand and gripped it more tightly the moment he saw Lachlan. Evidently, he wanted to use her as a shield against any attack from Lachlan, since any false move could result in her injury or death.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Laird Lachlan Carrick,” he said with a mocking grin. “I am so glad to see you, M’Laird. I have been wanting to send you to hell where you belong for a very long time now, and now you have delivered yourself right into my hands! You may have invited yourself to my wedding, which is very rude, but I forgive you. Look at my bride-to-be. Is she not beautiful? Would you not like to be standing here in my place?” His eyes glinted with malevolent triumph.
Lachlan took another few paces forward, holding up his sword threateningly. He glanced at Alyth, who now looked scared and furious in equal measure.
“Let her go,” Lachlan growled again. “Or I will break every bone in your body.”
“Before or after you take my head off?” Robertson’s words were dripping with sarcasm. “Well, you may try by all means, let me tell you, however, that you will not succeed. You see, I outsmarted both of you once, and I will do it again. It was my men, not the MacAdams’ who raided your castle and I personally killed your wife while you were busy fighting his men.” He flung out a hand to point at Alyth’s father. “My men raided your village and killed the men while dressed in MacAdams’ livery.”
Lachlan was now trembling with rage. “Why?” he asked angrily, taking another threatening step forward.
“Why does anyone fight anyone else?” Robertson said simply. “Because they want something. You have the best and most fertile land for miles around, and I wanted it. I still want it, and I will have it.” His voice was so smug and self-assured that Lachlan’s blood boiled even hotter.
“Over my dead body,” Lachlan’s voice was a snarl, and Robertson replied with an evil snigger.
