Page 34 of Marry the Highland Villain
Conall materialized out of the night, his expression thunderous with fury. With a snarl, he backhanded the second man again, slamming him into the wall. Then, he spun and caught the guard holding Brigid by the throat.
“Let. Go. Of. My. Bride. Now.”
CHAPTER 12
Conall heard Brigid gasp,but it was a dim sound against the roaring of his blood in his ears. The world was hazed with red fury.
He’d gone for a walk to enjoy the cool evening air, and to contemplate his plans for the following day. It had not escaped his notice that the wedding was upon them and that his bride-to-be’s sisters had not yet arrived. However, Brigid had not asked him to delay the wedding as he’d thought she would.
He’d been pondering whether to order the delay anyway or wait to see if the women arrived in the morning when he’d heard Brigid’s voice, raised in fright and pain. He’d thought the castle was being attacked, perhaps by Laird Auchter or bandits of some kind.
Instead, he’d found his men—his own, trusted clansmen—threatening his bride. He’d even heard one of them say thathisdecision didn’t matter, that his bride was not welcome, regardless.
That alone would have infuriated him. But to arrive and find them threateninghisbetrothed… Conall could not recall ever having been so angry.
The man in his grasp tugged at his wrist and made a feeble choking sound. Conall flung him aside in disgust, then backhanded the second guard once again, sending them both crashing against the hard stone wall as he turned to look at Brigid.
She was rumpled, her hair tangled and her eyes wide with fear. On her arm, Conall could clearly see the imprint of the hand of the man who’d held her. It would most likely bruise—and badly.
He stepped closer to her. “Are ye wounded, Brigid?” he asked tenderly, kneeling down beside her.
Brigid drew in a shaky breath. “Startled,” she said, her voice weak. “Frightened, a wee bit. But otherwise fine.”
She tried to smile, but the unsteadiness of her voice, as well as the pallor of her face, belied her statement. He watched as she rubbed her aching arm, almost as if she didn’t realize she was doing it.
She was hurt. The realization stoked his anger anew.
“My Laird…” One of the guards pushed himself up. His face was contorted with fear. His companion was silent, white-faced, and gasping through a bruised throat. “My Laird… we were…”
“Ye were what? Plannin’ to harm someone I’d claimed as my own? Intending to disregard the decision of yer rightful Laird?” It was hard to get the words out through his tightly clenched jaw. “Ye think I’d permit any man to do either and live to tell the tale?”
Both guards gasped and shrank back against the wall. Conall felt his lip curl in disgust.
Brave enough to accost an unarmed and helpless lass, but nae brave enough to face me like the men and warriors they’re supposed to be.
“Well?” he demanded. “Have ye nothing to say for yerselves?”
“My Laird,” said one of the men, somehow finding the courage to speak. “She’s Auchter’s kin.”
“There’d be little enough point in her standin’ as a guarantee for peace were she nae,” Conall sneered, looking contemptuously at the two men.
He waited, but no other excuse was forthcoming—probably because there was none good enough to satisfy him, and well they knew it.
He snorted, bitter disappointment mingling with the rage that burned like hot coals under his skin. “Ye’re a disgrace to Clan MacKane, and I’d rather be stabbed in the gut than be served by such faithless cowards.”
“My Laird, ye cannae… We were just…”
Conall’s last thread of patience snapped like an overworn cord.
“Save yer last breaths for yer maker, for it’s clear ye’re eager to meet him.” The words came out in a snarl, and both men blanched with terror.
“My Laird…”
But Conall was in no mood to hear excuses. They had disregarded his decision and commands. He had killed men for far less, and he didn’t care about the scent of mead that suggested they were drunk.
The idea that they might be drunk enough to ignore their duties, as well as his commands, only angered him further.
“M-My Laird…”
