Page 87 of The Wrong Highlander (Highland Brides 7)

“I don’t care,” Gavin growled. “I’ll no’ let ye hurt Evina.”

“Ye do as I say and ye can have no’ just Maclean, but MacLeod as well,” he argued with frustration. “And it’s yer birthright.”

“What?” Gavin asked with disbelief. “Ye left MacLeod to me uncle. I’ll ne’er rule there.”

“Nay. I didna,” he assured him. “Tearlach tried to force me to. He came to me after Donnan left with ye and yer mother, and said that if Glenna died, I’d hang for it, but he could protect me. I thought the bastard was finally going to be the supportive brother I needed, but wrangling MacLeod out o’ me was what he was about. He said he’d claim me dead, and save my neck from the noose, but I’d have to sign a new will and make him me heir.”

“And ye did,” Gavin pointed out with disgust.

“I didn’t have a choice, did I?” the MacLeod snapped. “Events were conspiring against me. First Donnan betrayed me by sneaking away with me boy and wife, and then there was yer mother running off and killing herself, and then me brother—”

“Mother did no’ kill herself,” Gavin snapped. “Ye beat her to death.”

“She’d have lived had she stayed at MacLeod,” the man hissed furiously, sending spittle flying past Evina’s face. “Old Betty would have seen her well. She’d seen her back from worse beatings than that one. ’Twas her running off to Maclean with Donnan while sore injured that killed her.”

Evina shook her head slightly with disgust even as Gavin did it fully.

“Anyway,” Garrick added on a sigh. “I did no’ sign away MacLeod on ye. I saved it for ye so ye could return and claim it when ye were old enough to keep yerself safe from me brother.”

“Ye signed it away,” Gavin said heavily. “There was a will naming him as heir.”

“Aye,” Garrick admitted, and then grinned and added, “But I did no’ sign my name, I signed yers.”

“What?” Evina gasped even as Gavin did.

“I signed Gavin MacLeod rather than Garrick MacLeod,” he said patiently. “And Tearlach did no’ even notice. He was too busy pouring himself a drink to celebrate his forcing me to take everything from me boy and giving it to him. I signed yer name, he gave it a cursory glance, no doubt noticed naught but the big G and MacLeod and rolled it up and tucked it away in his chest of important papers where it’s no doubt now buried under every other important paper he’s ever collected since.”

“He’s probably got rid of it by now,” Gavin said with a frown.

“Nay. He throws nothing away. Nothing,” Garrick emphasized. “The bastard hoards everything he lays his hands on.” He paused briefly, and then said with satisfaction, “So ye see, lad, all we have to do is kill yer cousin here, and that old bastard Maclean, and ye’ll have two castles. Ye’ll be a fine rich laird, all thanks to me.”

“Well, if what ye say is true and I need only go claim MacLeod, why kill Evi and Uncle Fearghas?” Gavin asked with a frown. “What do I need with Maclean if I can claim MacLeod?”

“Because yer uncle Tearlach is a useless fool who gambled away and lost most everything at MacLeod except the land,” he growled, sounding furious. “Ye’ll need the wealth o’ Maclean to help ye bring MacLeod back to the state ’twas when I ruled it. And I’ll help ye with that. We just need to kill the girl here, and her father,” he insisted, digging the knife in a little deeper.

“And, o’ course, ye want nothing for this service,” Evina mocked dryly.

“Shut up,” Garrick growled, pressing the knife tighter again.

He was slicing her throat each time, Evina knew. She could feel the blood dripping down her throat. But she didn’t think he was cutting too deep. At least, she hoped not. But noting the anxious way Gavin was eyeing her neck, she began to wonder. Mayhap he was cutting deep. Mayhap there was more blood than she realized, and it just didn’t hurt much because of the situation. Mayhap she was dying as she stood there.

The thought was an alarming one. Evina didn’t want to die. Especially not now. Not when things were just starting to get good. She was about to marry Conran, a man she was quite sure she probably loved . . . maybe. Coward, she thought, and then admitted that aye, she did love the man. And was not that just her luck? Evina thought. To find a man she liked, respected and loved, and then die before she could enjoy it and have a life and children with him?

Well, she’d enjoyed it a bit, Evina supposed. Certainly, she’d at least experienced the pleasure he gave her with his mouth and hands, and yes, even his cock. While that first time in the clearing she had definitely not been a fan of what his manhood could do, she had since learned it was really quite wonderful. It was also apparently quite sizable, she’d learned while talking with the other women at the table this afternoon before Conran had returned. And had that not been an amusing discussion?

Aye, she definitely must be dying, Evina decided. There was no other explanation for why she was standing there rhapsodizing over Conran’s cock when she had a murderous villain at her back, and a knife to her throat.

“Do ye want something fer it?” Gavin asked suddenly, rushing the words out and moving another step closer. She suspected by his anxious expression that it was an effort to get his father to stop sawing through her neck.

“Nay, o’ course no’. ’Tis all fer you,” the MacLeod said at once, but then added in a wheedling tone, “O’ course, with ye having two fine keeps, surely ye can find a little room in one of them fer me, eh? A room o’ me own to live out me dying days in warmth and comfort, with whiskey to warm me belly and a young maid in me bed. That’d be grand after so many years sleeping in the cold and going without. And it seems a fair enough payment fer giving ye so much.”

Evina had been watching Gavin as the man spoke, and twice he’d glanced slowly down to her side and back. The third time he did it was as the MacLeod fell silent and awaited his response. That was when she finally realized he was trying to send her a message. She couldn’t see what her cousin was looking at, but her hands were free. Reaching cautiously down with her left hand, she moved it around and then blinked in surprise when her fingers brushed up against cold metal. The MacLeod had stepped back and to the side each time Gavin had moved forward, and he’d dragged her with him. It seemed they were now standing right next to the fireplace, because Evina was quite sure what her hand had encountered was the poker that hung from a hook to the side of the fireplace.

Moving cautiously, she slipped it off the hook and grasped it firmly and then tried to decide the best way to use it. Jab it into his leg? Swing it over her head and hopefully hit his? Bend her arm, and jam it back into his stomach? She really wasn’t quite sure which was least likely to get her throat slit. All of them seemed rather risky. On the other hand, not doing anything would definitely see her throat slit. There was no way Gavin could prevent it, and sooner or later the MacLeod was just going to do it.

“Well?” the MacLeod snapped impatiently, and took the knife away from her throat to point it at Gavin angrily. “Ye’re a damned fool if ye do no’ listen to me. Now answer me, dammit!” he barked, and started to bring the knife back, only to howl in pain when Evina quickly shifted her hold on the poker, bent her arm and jammed the pointed tip back into his stomach.

The MacLeod released her at once to grab his stomach, and Evina leapt away toward her cousin, who promptly pulled her behind him and faced his father. Hurrying to her chest, Evina grabbed her sword and then whirled to rush back to Gavin, noting that there was blood slipping from between the MacLeod’s fingers. She’d used more force than she’d realized, and actually done some damage with the poker, it seemed. Good.

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