Page 18 of The Heart of a Highlander
Ada gaped. That was an impossible shot! Maximilian’s life would be in danger! “Brothwell, nay!” she burst out, but he did not even glance at her.
“That’s at least five hundred steps,” one of the men complained.
Brothwell cocked an eyebrow. “If ye dunnae believe ye can do it—”
“I can make the shot,” announced a deep voice. It seemed to be coming from the shadows near the stone path leading from the courtyard to the woods.
Ada’s pulse spiked as she squinted into the darkness. Guards rushed toward the voice, one of them holding a torch, and when they raised it, flames illuminated the angry face of a complete stranger. Behind him, stood William, a bored expression on his handsome face and a dagger in his hand, which was positioned across the stranger’s throat. The dancing flames flickered over the man’s neck, showing a line of blood trickling from a cut. As she took in his appearance, she noted he also had a busted lip and nose.
She looked sharply at William, her mind whirling with the unanswered question of whether her instincts about him were right or if she was a fool. Considering the fact that he had hunted down a man and brought him to Brothwell like a prized sheep to the slaughter, she was starting to think she was being foolish.
“William,” Brothwell boomed, “what a pleasant surprise. Where are the guards who were to accompany ye?”
William shrugged. “I could nae say, Brothwell. They were too slow and held me back. I had to leave them.”
Brothwell scowled. Ada felt her mouth pull into a smile, which she immediately fought. Perhaps she was not all wrong about William. He shoved his quarry, who she could only assume was Thomas Fraser, forward toward Brothwell’s guards. Thomas stumbled, righted himself, and then snarled as Brothwell’s guards caught him by both his arms.
Brothwell released Ada to step forward, nearly face-to-face with Thomas, who looked boldly at Brothwell. “I have waited a long time for ye to come for me. Ye were coming for me, were ye nae? Since I had her?”
Thomas growled low in his throat. “Aye, Brothwell. I was coming for ye. Where is Lisette?”
“Dead,” Brothwell replied, emotionless.
The only woman named Lisette who Ada had ever met was an Englishwoman whose father, Baron Gastillion, was one of the King of England’s favored men.
Thomas surged forward and grasped Brothwell’s neck, but his guards were quick and dragged the man back as he let out an inhuman cry.
“I did nae kill her,ye fool,” Brothwell snarled. “She killed herself. Live with that, as I do. Take him away,” Brothwell commanded. “I’ll deal with ye later, Thomas.”
The man sagged in the guards’ grips as he was being dragged away, and Ada’s heart twisted for him. She could not help but look to William with anger for bringing the man here, but the momentary flash of raw pain she saw in William’s eyes, before his expression went blank, appeared genuine and heightened her confusion about what he was doing here.
“Now that we’ve dispensed with that,” Brothwell said, clapping his hands together with a look of glee, “let us see who among ye can make the shot. Go line up at the other side of the courtyard.” With those words, he clutched Ada’s arm once more.
Dread filled her. Not only was it a long shot but they did not have the brightness of day to help keep their aim true. Terror danced across Maximilian’s face. She jerked out of Brothwell’s grasp and tried to run for Maximilian, but Brothwell stopped her easily with a hand around her throat.
“Ada!” Maximilian shouted and tried to wriggle out of the guards’ grasps.
She coughed and sputtered and struggled to pry Brothwell’s fingers from around her throat as Maximilian shouted from what was rapidly sounding like an increasing distance. Her hounds barked, and tears filled her eyes. Suddenly, William was before them both.
“Ye’ll kill her,” he said with a quiet but forceful calm. She could just make out his racing pulse at his neck, which was the only indication he was affected at all.
“Aye, ye’re right, of course. I lost my temper,” Brothwell said, his breath fanning the back of her neck, and then he released her.
Dizziness washed over her. She started to stumble forward, but William caught her in his solid, warm embrace and brought her into the circle of his arms. They were like bands of steel across her waist, but she didn’t mind it. For one moment, she felt safe, locked there with the heat of his body seeping into her own cold skin.
Oh my…
His heart was thudding so fast it felt like a galloping destrier. Had he been scared for her? She glanced up and over her shoulder, and her gaze met his. There was an emotion there, in the depths of his hard blue eyes. It was one she was familiar with, for she’d seen it in her father’s eyes for years: protectiveness.
“Release her,” Brothwell commanded William, then to a guard he said, “Go fetch an apple for the target.”
The tension that rippled through William at her stepbrother’s command was visible and unmistakable, and it somehow made Ada feel better, as if he would do anything to keep her safe. But of course he would! He wished to use her as everyone else did.
“Dunnae fash yerself for yer wee friend,” William said, giving her a squeeze on her upper arm before relinquishing her. “Brothwell,” he said, stepping away from her, “I’d like to suggest ye allow Ada to decide who gets first shot. If we shoot all at once, the arrows could hit each other instead of the target.”
“Aye,” Ada hurriedly agreed. “An excellent point.”
Brothwell eyed them both but then shrugged. “What do I care? ’Tis amusement all the same, and I suppose ye have a point, Wolf. Ada?” Brothwell looked to her.
