Page 63 of Marry the Highland Villain
“Holdenson. Ye’re nae welcome here.”
Laird Auchter stopped in front of the gravestone, his eyes sweeping over it before coming to rest on Conall.
“I guessed ye might be here,” he said in a lazy, unhurried tone, which only served to make Conall even angrier.
How dare he disturb me here, of all places. Anyone would think the man was deliberately tryin’ to provoke me into breakin’ our truce, and, if I’m nae careful, he might very well succeed.
“I dinnae care what ye guessed,” he said tightly. “Get off my land.”
Laird Auchter laughed, a cold, cruel sound that echoed in the air and made Conall’s stomach clench with both rage and apprehension. “And what will ye do if I dinnae? We’re bound by a truce, an’ ye cannae attack me. Ye ken that as well as I do, MacKane.”
The truth of the man’s words left a bitter taste in Conall’s mouth, as if he’d swallowed bile.
“Fine,” he said, refusing to rise to the bait. “What is it ye want? State yer business, then be gone.”
“I wanted to see if my granddaughter had followed the suggestion I made. The order, rather.” Holdenson’s lip curled in derision. “It appears she didnae, which means I’ll have to take care of her after I’ve finished with ye.”
The cold, sour feeling intensified.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Conall asked, his hands curling into fists by his sides as he battled to control himself.
“It means I’ll have to see that she dies after I’ve killed ye,” the older man said with a careless shrug. “It was a simple enough order I gave. If she cannae obey it, she’ll have to die.” His ugly expression sharpened, cold and cruel.
“My daughter was a disgrace to her bloodline, marryin’ a pirate,” he continued, his eyes cold. “And ’tis clear to me now that her daughters are nay better. When I first learned of their existence,I had thought perhaps they could be of use to me. But now that I ken better, I’ll have to see the lot of them eradicated.”
Conall’s hand clenched on the hilt of his sword.
“Ye want Brigid dead?” he said incredulously. “When ye were the one who sent her to me?”
“I expected her to kill ye, or be killed by ye,” Holdenson snorted. “I should have realized she was goin’ to be a disappointment, but I didnae think she’d stoop so far as to marry a man like ye.”
Conoll’s sword felt cool and reassuring under his fingers. He held onto it as if it were a lifeline as the other man spoke.
It was exactly as he’d suspected, then. Auchter cared nothing for his granddaughter; she was nothing but a pawn to him, to be used and then disposed of. When he’d sent her to Conall, he’d been sending her to her death, and when Conall had failed to oblige him in that respect and had married her instead, Auchter had been forced to find another way to be rid of them both.
“’Twas my choice how to claim the blood price,” Conall pointed out, even though he knew his words were futile. There was no reasoning with a man like Eric Holdenson. “And ye dinnae care about her, so dinnae pretend that ye do.”
“But I will pretend to care.” Holdenson smiled coldly and drew his blade, which glinted ominously in the morning sunlight, the sound of it ringing like a death knell in the air. “Ye see, when Ikill ye, and the Highland Gathering calls me to account for it—if they do—I will tell them I did it to save my granddaughter from the fate of bein’ shackled to ye. That ye died, but nae afore ye violated her. I’ll tell them that she hated bein’ married to ye and that she died of the shame.”
The words cut deep, even though Conall knew they weren’t true. He couldn’t focus on that now, though. He drew a breath as the heat of his anger cooled and settled into icy, focused fury.
Holdenson would regret coming here. Conall would make sure of that.
Conall’s sword hissed as he drew it and dropped into a crouch.
“Threaten me, and I wouldnae care,” he said. “But ye should never have threatened Brigid’s life.”
Holdenson scoffed. “As if ye care any more about her than I do. Nae that it matters. Nay one will care when ye’re both dead, as ye will be soon.”
The last word was accompanied by the scrape of Holdenson’s boot, and Conall ducked as the older Laird kicked dirt up into his face. Most of it missed him, but the dust made his eyes sting and water.
He saw the blurry form of his opponent lunge at him and brought his sword up to block the blow. The worst of it rang off his blade, but the tip cut his arm, and Conall cursed and jumpedbackward to put some distance between them, berating himself for having let his guard down long enough for the other man to cut him.
Focus. I must focus.
His eyes were clearing now, and he drew his dagger with his other hand. He and Holdenson circled each other, both wary, their guards up. The older man’s expression was cruel and confident—a confidence that Conall considered strangely misplaced, given the disparity between them in age and strength.
Does he really think he’s a match for me? Or does he have somethin’ else planned? It wouldnae be beyond him to set up an ambush.
