Page 9 of The Highlander's Twisted Deal
“Hold yer tongue!” Laird MacCarthy roared, his face spasming. His fist flung out, heading for her face.
Ava saw the blow coming a fraction too late and froze, wincing against the pain that would soon explode across her head.
It didn’t come. The blow didn’t land. She heard the sound of flesh on flesh, knuckles hitting something softer than her nose, and she risked opening her eyes.
Laird McAdair was there, covering the distance far quicker than she would have expected for such a large man. His huge hand closed over Laird MacCarthy’s fist. The motion seemed effortless, but she saw MacCarthy’s arm wobble with the effort, and sweat beaded on his forehead. The enemy laird kept his face smooth with a light, almost amused smile on his lips, but Ava heard bones grating in Laird MacCarthy’s hand.
“Now, now, MacCarthy,” the enemy laird reprimanded. “I hope ye arenae taking it upon yerself to damage me property. I should hate to have to teach ye a real lesson.”
He shoved Laird MacCarthy back, and the man nearly lost his balance. He clutched his bruised hand to his chest, his gaze flickering between Laird McAdair and Ava.
“I couldnae give her to ye even if I wanted to,” he snarled. “Do ye ken what she is, McAdair? A woman of the night. She charges for her services, even though we can get those services for free.”
Ava blanched, automatically glancing over at her mother. Niamh was ashen-faced as if all the color had been drained from her. She was standing with Elsie now, the two of them clutching each other as if they were holding each other up. Ava saw, rather than heard, her mother give a low moan of pain.
I’m sorry, Ma. Ye were never meant to ken that.
She rounded on Laird MacCarthy, meeting his eyes directly. “Aye, well, I think ye ken that no lass would ever sleep withyefor free.”
This earned her a ripple of laughter from both sides. She glanced up at Laird McAdair, who was coolly inspecting his blade, unmoved. In one fluid movement, he leveled the tip at Laird MacCarthy’s chest.
“Irrelevant,” he said brightly. “She’s coming with me, as is the lad ye couldnae bother to train properly. Now, Laird MacCarthy, I do hope ye arenae going to take it upon yerself to damage me property again. And ye will be good to yer people, eh? Although after ye tried to trade their women for yer own life, I’m nae sure ye will easily win their respect again.”
Laird MacCarthy’s gaze flickered to and fro as if finally understanding that he was alone. Even the most fervent of his soldiers had shuffled away from him.
He shifted from foot to foot, his head whipping around to see who would back him up, stand by him. Nobody met his eyes.
Ava met Laird McAdair’s eyes. He was looking at her appraisingly but not in quite the leering, butcher-at-a-meat-market way she’d been dreading.
“Well, now, unless ye want that cowardly thief to kill ye, I suggest ye come with me,” he said calmly. “I willnae drag ye, but I cannae guarantee yer fate if ye choose to stay behind. Or run off into the woods, alone,” he added as if it were an afterthought.
Ava flushed and said nothing. Not bothering to check whether she was following, Laird McAdair turned on his heel and strode through his men, heading for the shady forest path that had brought them there.
After a second’s debate, Ava followed. She didn’t risk looking back either.
4
Callum heard her quick footsteps following him and allowed himself a small smile. He hadn’t been completely sure that shewouldfollow him. The fact that she’d snuck into a clan from which she was banished, knowing full well that the penalty would be death, showed that she was either remarkably brave or horribly stupid.
The boy, Marin, was following, too. He looked miserable—as any boy who’d just had all his faith in his laird ripped away from him would—but Callum wasn’t worried. Marin would find the McAdair clan a much more honorable one. At least, they’d teach him how to actually use a weapon.
Lachlan had fallen into step beside the boy, talking to him in a low voice.
They plunged into the shady, green forest, the fading afternoon light dappling through the foliage above. There was no worry of MacCarthy men following them—Callum had killed any fight in them as surely as if he’d killed the men himself.
Actually, no, he corrected himself with a sly smile. Laird MacCarthy did all that for himself. Fool that he is.
“Slow down!”
At first, he was so startled at the demand that he nearlydidslow down. Ava appeared beside him, breathless, her hood pulled up to mostly cover her vivid red hair.
A pity,but a practical choice.
Red hair would stand out a mile in the greenery of the forest.
“How may I help ye, lassie?” he responded cheerfully, keeping his pace even.
“Ye dinnae own me,” she snapped. “Ye cannaeowna person.”
