Page 90 of Kilted Abduction
Fairfax eyed Magnus then turned and looked at the riders on the shoreline, all of them with arrows nocked, just waiting for the command to fire. He licked his lips, fear flashing across his face as he tasted defeat, perhaps for the first time in his life. His grip on Ciara loosened and Magnus thought he was going to agree to his terms. But when he did, Ciara drove her head back with all the strength she could muster. From where he stood, Magnus heard a sharp crack and when Ciara threw herself to the deck, he saw that she’d broken his nose and shattered his teeth. Blood flowed down his face, his appearance like something from a nightmare.
“Bloody whore!” Fairfax screamed.
The English Lord lunged for Ciara, intent on gutting her with his dagger. Magnus moved quickly though, intercepting the man as drove himself downward with a knee to the face that snapped his head backward. Fairfax grunted and staggered backward. He glared at Magnus with pure hate in his eyes and launched himself forward. Flowing like water, as Calum had taught him, Magnus spun around the advancing man’s blade and slashed backward with his sword. The edge of his blade slid along Fairfax’s ribs, rending the man’s flesh.
“Bloody savage!” he cried.
Magnus spun back around and lunged forward, the point of his sword leading the way. Fairfax’s eyes grew wide and his mouthfell open when the blade pierced his chest. Magnus drove it deeper, going harder, until it burst out of the man’s back. He stood with his nose inches from Fairfax’s, staring deep into the man’s eyes as he gurgled and coughed, spraying bloody spittle all over Magnus’ face. A cruel grin touched Magnus’ lips.
“Ye’ll never have her,” he growled. “She belongs tae me.”
With a vicious growl, Magnus yanked the blade free and watched the man’s lifeless body fall to the deck, a scarlet pool growing beneath him. He had just turned around when Ciara, freed from her bonds by Kai, ran to him. She threw herself into him so hard, he almost lost his footing on the blood-slicked deck of the birlinn. But he caught himself and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight.
“Oy, Magnus, look what we found.”
Recognizing Enya’s voice from the shore, Magnus turned to see his sister with half a dozen more men on horseback marching a man whose hands were bound in front of them. His gaze was on the ground, his expression one of defeat and quiet rage.
“Faither,” Ciara said, pain lancing her voice.
Taking Ciara’s hand, he led her from the birlinn onto the shore, where Enya and the other riders had dismounted and stood in a half-circle behind the bound man. Magnus could see the emotions, thick and complicated scrolling across Ciara’s face. Her eyes shimmered with tears while at the same time burning with anger.
“What should we dae with him, Magnus?” Enya asked.
Magnus glanced at Ciara. Her body trembled, her lips quivered, and the tracks of the tears that spilled down her cheeks gleamed in the dim light of the night. Her eyes flicked to him and her mouth opened but her words seemed to fall away as she shook her head. Magnus turned back to his sister.
“Put him tae the sword,” Magnus growled.
As Enya stepped forward, Ciara put her hand on Magnus’ arm. “Wait. Please. Wait.”
“Hold,” Magnus said.
He turned to Ciara and could see her confusion, the mix of emotions on her face. As he looked at her, Magnus realized this decision was not his to make, no matter how much he wanted to end the man for all the misery he’d caused Ciara.
“What dae ye think, lass?” he asked gently.
Ciara’s eyes flitted from him, to her father, then back again as she swallowed hard and tried to gather herself. Magnus gave her a moment to weigh the fate of her father. Eventually, she took his hand in hers and squeezed it.
“I ken he’s evil. He’s cruel and nae deserving of life for all he’s done,” she said softly. “But he’s me faither. Please. Spare his life.”
A brief frown touched Magnus’ lips but he swallowed down his anger, reminding himself that the man’s life was in Ciara’s hands. He was her kin. Despite all he’d done, he was her blood and his fate was hers to decide. Turning away from her, he stepped closer to MacDougal and glowered at him darkly. The man raised his eyes, meeting Magnus’ with a gleam of defiance in them. It was the first time he’d looked at any of them. Magnus’ lips curled back in a sneer. Everything in him wanted to draw his blade and run the man through. But Ciara’s wishes stayed his hand.
“It seems me daughter doesnae have the will tae dae what she should dae,” MacDougal said. “She’s too weak, even now. Too weak tae lead the clan too. Dae ye hear me, Ciara? Ye’re too weak. ‘Tis only a matter of time before another man like Fairfax comes along and takes everythin’ from ye.”
A cruel grin curled the corners of Magnus’ mouth. “Her kindness and compassion are strengths. She’s stronger than ye could ever dream of bein’.”
“Keep tellin’ yerself that. Ye’ll see,” MacDougal sneered. “Ye’ll see. She’s just like her mother—a damned witch, she is. Did ye ken that? That yer mother had some strange power of protection? Protecting herself from other freaks like her invading her mind,” he spat on the ground with disgust. “If I’d kent I married a witch, I would’ve at least chosen one whose gift I could use fer the clan.”
Magnus frowned again, the realization dawning on him as MacDougal’s words sank in. That was why Ciara was immune totheir gifts—it was actually a gift of her own, inherited from her mother. Ciara was like them, likehim. As he glared at the man, he thought of everything he’d done to Ciara. Her voice echoed through his mind, listing every cruelty, slight, and degradation her father had inflicted upon her, igniting a black rage in his heart that threatened to consume him. Ciara deserved better. She deserved to live a life free and in peace, never having to worry about this man returning to her life. His fate should be the same as Fairfax’s.
But her compassion and kindness stopped him from driving a dagger into the man’s chest. Instead, he balled his hand into a fist and delivered a punch to MacDougal’s midsection with all the strength he could muster. MacDougal’s breath burst from his mouth as he doubled over, falling to his knees, wheezing and coughing, gasping for air. Magnus glanced at Ciara and saw the clear shock on her face from what she had just heard. Swallowing her confusion, she offered him a sad smile and a grateful nod. She didn’t say a word to her father, and Magnus could only admire her for it. He didn’t deserve even a sound from her.
“We’ll take him back tae Dunvegan,” Magnus said to Enya. “We’ll throw him in the dark cells fer now and let the king decide what tae dae with the traitor.”
“Aye,” Enya called. “’Tis fitting.”
Ciara put her hand to his cheek and turned his face to hers. “Thank ye.”
“He’s yer faither.”
