Page 6 of Highland Sword
At that moment, Sparrow turned into the alley without a glance back at them. The woman slowed for the briefest of seconds, bent down, and reached into her boot. He saw the flash of the knife’s blade as she pressed it into the folds of her coat. In an instant she too had disappeared into the alley.
“You go after him,” Aidan shouted, starting to run. “I’ll stop her.”
She whirled as they stormed into alley. Intent as she was on Sparrow, they’d caught her by surprise. The alley was short and dark, and the brick walls on either side glistened with moisture and slick green patches. Aidan went after the knife he’d seen in her hand, knocking it from her grip as she raised it. His momentum drove him into her, and he grasped her arms to keep them both from falling.
Sebastian raced past them, and she struggled fiercely to wrench her arms free. Her dark eyes flashed. Even in the dank dimness of the alley, her beauty was stunning.
“Let go of me.”
“I’m afraid I—” he started to say but got no further.
Her knee came up sharply, knocking his bollocks halfway to Nairn. As he gasped for air, she nearly connected with another kick to the side of his knee, but he managed to deflect the blow, yanking her booted foot upwards and upending her.
Bloody hell. He was fighting with a woman. She was on the ground for only an instant. Springing to her feet, she glanced once at the end of the alleyway and then dartedtoward her knife, which lay on a tangle of discarded netting along the base of the wall.
Woman or she-devil, he thought, he wasn’t about to let her use him for a pin cushion.
She reached out to snatch up the weapon, but Aidan caught hold of her coat, pulling her back. She spun away, yanking herself free of his grasp and falling on her face as she slid across the ground. Immediately, she was on her knees. She reached up to touch her rapidly swelling lip.
He staggered toward her, wincing at the pain between his legs. He leaned down to take her hand and help her up. Another mistake.
Without an inkling of warning, she reared back and butted him, planting her forehead squarely in his eye and knocking him onto his backside.
He sat for a few moments, dazed. When the cobwebs began to clear, she was gone. He looked around, but one of his eyes was not functioning. He touched it, but it was already swollen shut.
Aidan groaned and struggled to his feet. He scanned the alley with his one good eye, searching for any remnant of his manly self-respect. He spotted her knife and picked it up. Finding his hat where it had fallen, he sagged back against the wall.
A moment later, Sebastian came down the alley with Sparrow alongside of him. He paused by where Aidan sat in a heap, not even trying to hide his smirk.
“Perhaps next time, you should run after the sickly men, and I’ll fight the women.”
CHAPTER4
MORRIGAN
At Searc’s house between Maggot Green and the Citadel Quay docks, the Mackintosh men were tying down tarps on the loaded wagons. Morrigan nudged her horse a few yards down the lane toward the river. With her hat pulled low on her forehead and the collar of her coat turned up, she was doing her best to hide her face.
In the alleyway, she’d held her own and delivered more than the rogue had expected. Still, the cobblestone had left its mark. She couldn’t tell the extent of her injuries, except it hurt to move her jaw. The bloody handkerchief tucked into her sleeve bore the evidence of the cut inside her lip. She ran her tongue along her teeth. She was lucky none of them had come loose.
She’d been careless, but even now she felt the heat rise in her face. A sudden rage had possessed her, and, hot for revenge, she’d been paying no attention to what was behind her. She was unaware of the two men following “Robert Sparrow.” They had to be the same two who’d been speaking with him by the green.
Morrigan took a few deep breaths to calm herself, forcing her mind clear of his face, his voice. The blackguard was in Inverness, but for how long, she didn’t know. Perhaps the next time she came into the city, she’d search him out and finish what she’d intended to do today.
One way or another, shewouldfinish it. She’d killed once. The day they were fleeing their house on Infirmary Street in Edinburgh, she’d driven a knife into a man’s heart to save the life of Maisie, Isabella’s sister. She could kill again. Vengeance called for it. Justice demanded it. She’d do it if only to stop her nightmares. But would she be free when she left him lying in his own blood?
Her neck was already stiffening, and Morrigan rolled her head from side to side, stretching the muscles and thinking about the clash in the alley.
Morrigan was a skilled fighter. Since arriving at Dalmigavie, she’d been going to the training yard an hour before the men showed up four or five times a week. Some days Blair worked with her himself. Other days he put one of the Mackintosh fighters in charge of training her. Knife, pistol, even hand-to-hand, she could hold her own. She had the blessing of Isabella and Maisie. Both of them—and their husbands—agreed it was important that Morrigan be able to defend herself. Their enemies were numerous and too close to ignore. And being inside the walls of Dalmigavie didn’t guarantee their safety either. Only two months ago, Maisie had been stabbed in a stairwell of the castle. She’d recovered fully, thank God, but all of them were far more cautious as a result.
A screech behind her startled Morrigan, and she reached down to find the empty sheath in her boot. Blast, she’d need to have the blacksmith make her another sgian dubh. Two urchins raced up the lane in a running battle, using sticks for swords.
Searc barreled out of his house with Blair on his heels.He stomped around the wagons, pulling at tarps and ropes. With a grunt of approval, he climbed onto his horse and scowled back at Morrigan.
Black eyes peered from under his tall hat and bristling brows, and she fought the inclination to look away. Searc saw, heard, and knew everything and everyone. If he found out what she’d done—chasing a man into an alley and getting into a fight—he wouldn’t be happy. Not that he was ever happy, but it would be detrimental to the trust she’d established with the Mackintosh clan leaders.
They were ready to depart for Dalmigavie. A dozen Mackintosh men—their weapons handily concealed inside coats and saddlebags—lined up behind the wagons.
“Ready, lass?” Blair called to her.
