Page 36 of A Virgin for the Icy Highlander
Steel clashed against steel, and the private woodland glade that usually gave Hunter so much peace filled with the sounds of grunts and groans, and the crack of a bone or two. Blood splattered the grass, and teeth dropped to the soil like seeds, but the three men kept coming, despite knowing—by now—that they had no chance of victory.
“The Laird is dead, for pity’s sake!” Hunter growled as he kicked and slashed the men to the ground.
Weariness overtook him as another man fell because his muscles chose that moment to give out.
One of the men—a grizzled old soldier of forty or so, his red hair streaked with white—spat a tooth onto the ground and smeared his meaty hand across his sweaty, bloodied face. “The new Laird wants revenge,” he snarled.
What?
Hunter froze for a second, his irritation transforming into a molten cascade of unadulterated rage.
The war had been won by him, fairly and unequivocally. The new Laird had signed a peace treaty. Hunter had left the man alive for that reason only, and now the man thought he could simply change his mind?
“He has nay right to revenge,” Hunter shot back, recovering his senses.
“He seeks it for his uncle and cousin,” the same man said, “and for the dignity ye took from us all.”
Hunter shook his head. Evidently, he’d been wrong to think that the new Laird—the nephew of the old one—had more sense than this. Then again, it wasn’t the first time he’d been shocked and disappointed by someone from that family. Perhaps he should have known better than to think that would be the end of it.
“Lethimcome then,” he said coldly. “But he’ll suffer the same fate as the rest of ye.”
No longer holding back, letting his fury pour into every step and every strike, Hunter attacked. The first man, who must’ve only been a little older than Hunter, fell before he even knew what was coming for him. His head dropped from his neck.
The second put up more of a fight, holding his sword up over his head to try and withstand the damning blows that rained down on him, but Hunter was too strong, too angry, and too seasoned a warrior for such a tactic to have any effect.
Eventually, the man’s sword shot out of his hand, while Hunter’s arced down in an almighty swing, halving the enemy to the abdomen.
The red-haired man was the only one left. His brown eyes no longer glittered with confidence, but were wide to the whites in terror. He held up one hand in surrender, while the other gripped his sword tighter.
“Ye got lucky,” Hunter snarled while approaching him, bringing the point of his blade to the redhead’s sternum. “Ye get to be the messenger.”
The man’s throat bobbed. “Pardon, M’Laird?”
“Ye get to live, to warn yer new Laird of what will happen if he tries to start this war again,” Hunter replied, digging the point of his blade in just a little. “So, I suggest ye run, in case I change me mind and deliver the message meself.”
The coward didn’t need to be told twice. He dropped his sword altogether as he turned and ran, stumbling and staggering into the woods. The crash and snap of his clumsy footfalls could be heard long after he disappeared from Hunter’s view, and as Hunter listened, he liked to think that the wretch kept glancing back over his shoulder, terrified that Laird MacLogan might actually start pursuing him.
Let this be a lesson that ye’ll heed,Hunter urged silently.
The young Laird MacRannock apparently wished to pick up where his uncle had left off.
Dinnae start this war again; I’m nae in the habit of endin’ bloodlines entirely.
But if pushed, that was precisely what Hunter would do. To secure the safety of his daughter and the wife he might soon have, he would not hesitate.
16
Lilian gaped at Grace, rooted to the spot. Her big eyes were twice as wide as normal and unblinking.
“I think you broke her.” Maddie chuckled, giving her a light nudge on the arm. “Lilian? Lilian, blink once if you can still hear us.”
Lilian’s mouth moved, but no sound emerged.
“It wasn’t at all like what you are thinking,” Grace tried to explain. She was torn between laughing at the effect she’d had on Lilian and shaking the girl gently in case she really had broken her. “It wasn’t my intention for it to happen, but I now know that the Laird is capable of feeling surprise.”
And anger, though not toward me.
Discomfort writhed in Grace’s stomach as she thought of Hunter’s dismissal, how appalled he had been with himself. It stung a little, for she had wanted nothing more at that moment than to see what else he could reveal to her.
