Page 77 of Highlander of Steel
“Ye were the beast…” Ailis murmured, her heart sinking like a stone.
It was never a wolf or a dog or a boar who had inflicted such savage and fatal wounds on her mother. The beast had been far worse than an animal that merely hoped to feed itself; it was this awful man in front of her.
“I could have killed them both, but I didnae,” he said, almost sounding proud of himself. “I waited until yer real faither left, then I killed yer maither. I let ye live because, at that moment, ye were still of use to me. I didnae tell yer faither what I kent and savored each moment he mourned when he thought nay one was watchin’. I delighted in keepin’ ye from him, though he tried to take ye away a few times.”
Ailis couldn’t breathe, though she was free of the suffocating water. It was all too much to bear, to discover that she had had a father who cherished her and that her mother had died at Laird Ainsley’s hand.
Guilt writhed in her belly, realizing that shewasto blame after all. If she hadn’t been born, her mother might still be alive.
“Then, once I’d figured out a use for him,” Laird Ainsley continued, “I led him to the border and killed him. Blamed it on Clan MacNairn and started a war. A war that I’ll win when I tellour clan that Fraser Lennox escaped his cell while ye, generous soul that ye are, were tryin’ to feed him and that he killed ye. Och, they’ll fight harder than they’ve ever fought before in yer honor.”
Ailis’s lip trembled as she glowered at the man she had thought was her father. “I’m nae surprised she sought love and affection elsewhere, with ye as her husband. Ye’re monstrous.”
Indeed, Laird Ainsley could blame her mother all he liked, insist that he loved her and the betrayal had made him mad, but she had heard stories of him long before he got married. He had always been cruel and bloodthirsty.
“And ye’re poisonous. A corruption in this clan,” Laird Ainsley shot back. “But Murdock will fall in line once he learns of yer death, or else I’ll do the same to his daughter.”
Clearly, there were parts of the story that Ailis was missing where it came to Murdock, but without her brother there, she couldn’t ask him what Laird Ainsley meant. And she likely would never get the chance to find out what sort of brother he had actually been for all these years, keeping her safe without her knowledge.
“Yer power is crumblin’,” she hissed, deciding that if these were to be her last moments, she would make them count. “I only see a desperate, weak man before me. A pathetic creature who would harm bairns and women to make himself feel strong. But ye wouldnae dare to face me husband in a duel. Ye deceive andye trick and ye play sly games because ye’re too afraid of bein’ shown how measly ye are!”
Laird Ainsley rose sharply from the stool, fury blazing in his eyes—eyes that were so unlike her own, now that she considered it—and grabbed the back of her head once again. He clenched a fistful of her hair until her scalp burned.
“Aye, go on, drown me,” Ailis taunted through clenched teeth. “What a cowardly way to kill someone.”
A roar of pure rage tore from his throat as he shoved her head into the bucket with such force that her forehead almost touched the bottom.
He yanked her head out a few seconds later, spitting, “Antagonize me all ye want; I’ll still make yer death slow, until ye plead for a blade.”
“And if ye say one more word, yer death will be more painful than any man has ever endured,” a familiar voice growled.
As Laird Ainsley’s grip loosened on her hair, Ailis managed to turn around in time to see Killian standing in the cell doorway, wearing a look so fierce, so terrifying that even the rats fell silent.
30
“Nay one threatens me wife, and nay one takes her from me,” Killian snarled, lunging forward and grabbing Shawn Lyall by the collar of his shirt.
The older Laird stumbled as Killian pushed him back, slamming him against the damp stone walls.
Clearly, the cretin hadn’t been expecting company, too slow to react. But although he was older and long past his prime, he wasn’t to be underestimated. There was plenty of fight left in the old dog, and fearing his end, he would only become more ferocious to survive.
“She’s nae yer wife!” he spat, recovering quickly. “She’s a dead woman.”
Killian noticed the movement of Shawn’s hand half a second too late, a dirk drawn from the folds of his belted plaid. Twisting atthe last moment, he felt the faint kiss of the blade against his side. A scratch, nothing more, but enough to remind him to keep his wits about him.
“And yer braither will follow!” Shawn hissed, striking again.
This time, Killian was ready for it. He grabbed the man’s wrist and smashed it hard against the wall, over and over, until Shawn had no choice but to drop the blade. As the metal clattered on the filthy floor, Killian managed to wrap his hand around the older man’s throat, fingers slowly squeezing.
“Me… men will… crush ye… for this,” Shawn wheezed, his eyes bulging.
Desperately, he brought his fist up and tried to punch Killian in the cheek. But there was no momentum, pinned as he was, his calloused knuckles glancing off as Killian turned his face while making sure to keep a firm grip on Shawn’s throat.
“Yer men daenae want to do a damn thing ye say,” Killian bit out. “They’re eager to be rid of ye, and they’ll get what they want today. Murdock will be the Laird of Clan Ainsley before the mornin’ is over, and ye’ll be on yer way to a grave.”
A flicker of uncertainty passed across Shawn’s increasingly purple face. “Ye’ve… conspired?”
“Ye gave him nay choice,” Killian retorted. “Yer daughter and I gave ye a chance to end this war for good, but ye couldnae doit. Ye were greedy, and ye were nay laird. A true laird puts the welfare of his people above his own wants and desires.Thatis what Murdock means to do, for his clan and for his daughter. And, aye, for his youngest sister, since he couldnae do aught to spare his other one from yer schemin’ and yer greed.”
