Page 76 of The Rogue's Bride
Shock turned Boyd’s face slack. “Ye are sending me away?”
Alasdair nodded. “I’ll send word to yer kin in Glencoe. They shall know what ye have done, and that ye are on yer way home.”
Boyd stared at him—and a moment later something ugly moved in his blue eyes.
Without warning, he lunged for Alasdair, his right fist swinging for his face.
Alasdair was ready for him, for he’d been waiting for Boyd to turn nasty when he realized the game was up. Alasdair grabbed Boyd’s wrist, moving back with the blow. Then he brought his knee up sharply and drove it into his assailant’s gut.
Boyd collapsed onto the ground, where he coughed and wheezed as he struggled to regain his breath.
Alasdair turned his attention to Darron. “Escort Boyd south, out of sight of the keep,” he rasped, “and make sure he doesn’t come back. He’s a disgrace to the clan.”
Darron’s mouth thinned, his gaze glinting. “With pleasure.” The captain and another warrior heaved Boyd to his feet and dragged him from the square.
Alasdair watched as they led him away, rage pulsing through him like a Beltane drum.
Caitrin didn’t take her gaze from her husband’s face.
Alasdair was staring after Boyd, his face hard, gaze burning. His skin had pulled tight over his cheekbones. Caitrin had never seen him look so angry.
Heart pounding, she released Eoghan from the death-grip she’d been holding him in. The lad was uncharacteristically subdued, as if picking up on the surrounding tension.
“Alasdair?”
Tearing his gaze from where Boyd had just disappeared, dragged away by the guards, Alasdair met her eye. Around them the people of Duntulm started to talk amongst themselves in low, excited voices.
“Sorry ye had to see that,” he murmured, his gaze softening.
Caitrin raised an eyebrow. “I’ve seen worse.”
Alasdair’s gaze widened, before his mouth curved. “Of course ye have … ye are MacLeod’s daughter after all.”
“Aye … I’ve witnessed my father beat men half to death for crossing him.”
Alasdair huffed. “And there was me holding myself back on yer account.”
Caitrin held his gaze. “I’m glad ye did. Ye have seen enough blood and violence, Alasdair.” She paused then, her mouth curving. “Don’t worry … Darron’s likely to give him a parting gift before he sends him south.”
Her husband smiled then, the expression chasing away the lingering anger in his eyes. “Aye.”
Caitrin turned her gaze then to the young woman who stood silently beside her. Sorcha’s usually sunny face was pale, her eyes bloodshot and swollen from crying. She stared down at her clasped hands, her expression haunted.
“I did nothing to encourage him,” she whispered. “I promise, milady.”
Caitrin’s chest constricted at the pain in the girl’s voice. Reaching out, she pulled Sorcha into a hug, difficult since Eoghan now wriggled in her arms. “I know ye didn’t,” she murmured. “He didn’t need an excuse. Don’t blame yerself.”
“But I shouldn’t have let him corner me.”
“Ye weren’t to know he’d behave so. Don’t worry … ye are safe now.”
Alasdair stepped close to the hand-maid, his brow furrowing with concern. “Do ye need to see a healer, lass?”
Sorcha shook her head. She drew back from Caitrin, extracting Eoghan’s fingers from her hair. The lad had grabbed a handful of the hand-maid’s dark tresses. Meeting Alasdair’s eye she offered him a wan smile. “I’m well, milord,” she replied. “Just shaken.”
Caitrin had worried that the incident with Boyd would cast a shadow over the day. Yet not long after Boyd was dragged away, the fair continued as if nothing had happened. Laughter and singing drifted across the market square once more.
However, there were a few folk who were subdued in the aftermath.
