Page 83 of Wedded to the Twisted Highlander
“Nay one,” Duncan answered, his voice pitching at the blade nicked his neck again.
“Dinnae insult me intelligence,” Thomas hissed. “Laird Chalium is a clever man. Ye said it before. He wouldnae have attacked and nae taken some prize, even if it wasnae the one he was initially after. So, I’ll ask once more before yer blood smears the floor of this hall. Who did Laird Chalium take?”
Duncan’s face suddenly contorted in disgust. “Ye had to go and ruin everything. If the wench was in the castle, Chalium would have taken her and left the rest of us be. She’s the one he wanted and paid a hefty price for.”
“What is the price ye put on me happiness and future?” Thomas snapped as he pressed the blade harder to the man’s neck.
“Chalium took?—”
“Olivia,” Astrid’s voice boomed through the Great Hall.
“Nae now,” Thomas barked over his shoulder as he returned his attention to Duncan.
A devilish smirk spread across Duncan’s lips, and malice flickered in his eyes. “I’d listen to what the lass has to say,” he whispered so low that Thomas had to lean close to hear him.
“Go on then, what’s this about?” Thomas called to Astrid.
“Olivia has been taken by Laird Chalium,” she announced.
Anger swirled and festered within Thomas for long enough. All he could see was red as he ended Duncan’s life and watched the body collapse into a heap on the floor. The sound of Astrid’s scream did little to ease his inner turmoil.
“Prepare for war,” he ordered. “I’ll have Chalium’s head on a spike before the sun rises over his lands.”
“Thomas, ye cannae. Think about Olivia,” Astrid pleaded. “If Chalium sees ye comin’, he willnae hesitate to kill her. Ye didnae want her blood on yer hands.”
“Then tell me what to do that makes any sense,” Thomas hissed as his frustration boiled over. He flipped the sturdy oak table as if it were nothing but a nuisance.
“Maybe there is a way we can get her back,” Astrid said, dropping her shoulders.
The happiness that had lit up her face just moments ago vanished. It was the defeat pooling in her gaze that rattled Thomas.
“I ken what ye’re thinkin’, and the answer is nay,” he barked.
“Ye and I both ken what that man wants,” Astrid argued.
“And what? I’m to cater to his every whim? I dinnae think so. I willnae bend the knee.”
“I’m nae askin’ ye to,” Astrid said as she moved closer to him and cupped his face in her hand.
Thomas craved her touch—he felt like it was the only thing holding him together.
How could he have missed the signs? Was Duncan right about his priorities being mixed up?
Thomas couldn’t think straight. He needed fresh air and something to take out his rage on. Archery wouldn’t do, no. He needed something far more violent and bloody.
“Barricade the castle,” he commanded. “Nay one comes in or out. I want eyes on every corner. If Chalium so much as sneezes, I want to ken.”
He felt a hot flash of guilt as a commotion at the entrance drew everyone’s attention. A young clansman, out of breath and flushed, pushed his way through the crowd.
“Me Laird, I beg yer pardon,” he said, his eyes wide with excitement. “But there’s a messenger at the gate, askin’ to speak with ye. He bears the colors of Clan Chalium.”
Thomas’s expression darkened as he wiped the blood from his dirk and stepped forward, eager to do it again. “Chalium dares to send a message now? Bring the man to me. I’ll see him laid next to the traitor at me feet.”
The thud of heavy boots and the clinking of armor bounced and echoed through the halls. Thomas folded his arms over his chest and stood taller the moment the messenger entered the Great Hall. How he wanted to lunge at him and rip his throat out.
Was he one of the men who came into his castle and stole his sister away? The thought provoked his ire.
He arched an eyebrow, daring the messenger to come closer.
