Page 8 of The Highlander Who Loved Me
She slid the knife from its hiding place. She had to free herself before he lashed out.
The devil’s gaze flickered to her clenched hand. His eyes narrowed. He gave a slow shake of his head. Had he realized she was armed? “Ah, ye’ll let her go. I know ye for the coward ye are.” He whipped a long gun from beneath his greatcoat. “Release the lass. Now.”
“Go t’hell.”
The rifle’sclickpierced the night. A slow smile lifted the corners of the devil’s mouth.
“Wrong answer.”
ChapterThree
The reeking prison of Munro’s hold fell away. Johanna darted from his reach. Beneath her cloak, wetness pooled against her sleeve and a dull throb radiated the length of her arm. Pulling in a breath, she braced herself against the discomfort and kept her focus on the devil in black.MacMasters, Ross had called him. The rogue now had a name.
Training the long gun on Munro’s barrel chest, he prodded him. “Throw down the knife.”
The big man opened his hand. The jagged blade clattered to the ground. MacMasters kicked it out of reach.
“I know ye’ve got weapons in that pile of rags ye call a coat. Off with it.”
“T’hell with ye.” The words rang hollow given the fear in Munro’s eyes. In the moonlight, Johanna couldn’t see if his brow was beaded with perspiration. But she could see the tremors wracking his massive hands, the way he stood, stiff and unnatural, as if he’d locked his knees to stem their knocking.
Her gaze flickered to the gaslight glinting off the barrel of Ross’s pistol. Pity MacMasters stood between her and the weapon. Edging toward the tavern door, she studied him. His eyes betrayed neither cruelty nor mercy as he leveled the gun at Munro’s gut.
“Ye ready to die tonight?” he asked, each word edged with flint. “Ugly way to do it.”
Munro muttered an unintelligible epithet and shrugged his foul-smelling jacket over his shoulders.
“Put it on the ground.”
The filthy garment fell to the pavement. A dullclangconfirmed there’d been at least one knife tucked within the jacket.
MacMasters raked him over with a scrutinizing eye. “What other weapons do ye have on ye?”
Munro fidgeted on his boat-sized feet like a child desperately trying not to soil himself. “None.”
“Ye’re a poor liar.” MacMasters’s eyes seemed to bore through the other man. “Get rid of thesgian dubh. In yer boot.”
“Dinnae be pulling the trigger when I reach fer it.” Munro’s massive shoulders drooped. Crouching, he retrieved the dagger.
“Drop it, Munro, or I’ll put a bullet in yer head.”
The big man pitched the weapon at the devil’s black-booted feet. “So ye know my bluidy name, do ye? Who sent ye? The countess?”
“Ye’ve got more pressing worries.” With a swift step, MacMasters slammed the stock of the long gun against the larger man’s temple. Munro’s eyes rolled up into his head. A groan escaped him as he sank to the ground in a massive heap.
MacMasters whipped around. Johanna took in his movements. Sleek. Graceful. Lethal. Ah, how her readers would swoon over a daring hero such as this man. He came to her, his strides long and sure.
“Did the bastards hurt you?”
“No.” The lie seemed to echo in the night. Concealing her knife in her pocket, she eyed the tavern door. Once inside, she’d have a chance to evade him. Perhaps she’d find a driver for hire, someone who’d ask few questions and transport her to the castle in the Highlands where Laurel’s captor skulked.
She took a step in retreat, then another. Whatever the devil with the brogue was up to, this was not the scene where the hero rides to the rescue. No matter how dashing a figure the man cut in his ebony greatcoat. No matter how his eyes flashed with courage. No matter that he’d dispatched Ross and Munro without so much as pulling a trigger. MacMasters had an agenda all his own.
Dangerous. Deceptive. And possibly, every bit as lethal as Ross and his hulking associate.
Had he come after the book, as well?
Whatever his motives, she couldn’t allow MacMasters to get his hands on the volume Mr. Abbott had entrusted to her. As long as she had that book, she had a bargaining chip. Whoever held her niece wanted the rare first edition, and they were willing to kill for it. Without their prize, she’d be powerless to save Laurel. The child would be nothing more than a burden to be disposed of, a witness to be silenced.
