Page 134 of Bride of Mist
Chapter 33
Killing Feiyan was the hardest thing Dougal had ever done.
He hadn’t really killed her, of course. He’d used the flat of the blade, ensuring that not a drop of her blood was spilled. There was no pain. No injury. Just a harmless caress of blunt steel.
But even that innocent gesture felt like drawing a dagger across his own heart.
Fortunately, the lass collapsed against him. Whether it was from his instructions or simply shock, her performance was convincing enough to inspire a chorus of astonished gasps from her clan folk. Indeed, so convincing was she, for a moment Dougal was unable to breathe.
Quickly, before Gaufrid had a chance to discover his hostage was alive and unharmed, Dougal gave a subtle nod to the Laird of Rivenloch.
On his cue, Laird Deirdre let out a cry of rage. “Forward!” she commanded. “Storm the gates!”
“They can’t be serious,” Gaufrid chortled as the Rivenlochs spurred their horses forward.
“Idiots,” Morris sneered.
“Where do they think they’re goin’?” Gaufrid said.
A moment later, as Rivenloch approached the gates, Fergus assured Gaufrid, “No worries, m’laird. They won’t get past the guard.”
“Right,” Morris agreed. “And if they do, they’ll be met by a courtyard full o’—”
“Shite,” Fergus muttered. “Shite!”
Dougal concealed a satisfied smile. Their scheme was working.
“How the devil did they get through the gates?” Morris wondered.
“Someone opened them,” Fergus ground out.
“Who?” Gaufrid growled. “I’ll murder the traitor.”
Feiyan stiffened in Dougal’s arms. He gave her a warning squeeze. It had to be torture for the lass, pretending to be dead, unable to see what was happening. But if Gaufrid saw that she was alive, she’d become a hostage in earnest, and the next guard tasked with slitting her throat would actually do it.
Despite the Laird of Rivenloch’s virtuous speech about not negotiating with outlaws, Dougal knew from speaking with her last night—when he’d finally convinced her of his innocence and they’d come up with this daring plan—that Laird Deirdre would sacrifice all she owned before she’d let harm come to one of her clan. The Warriors of Rivenloch would fight to the death for Feiyan.
“Don’t worry, m’laird,” Morris said with confidence as he sauntered to the inner wall overlooking the courtyard. “An army’s standin’ ready for them in the yard.”
Gaufrid joined him at the wall.
“See, m’laird?” Morris said. “The mercenaries are goin’ to—”
Gaufrid, joining Morris at the wall, spat out a foul curse.
Morris echoed the curse.
Fergus shoved his way between them to see what was happening. A primal growl of frustration rolled up from his throat before he bit out, “Go.”
With a spate of vile oaths, Gaufrid and his minions fled along the wall walk to the far end of the keep.
After they’d gone, Dougal whispered, “Ye can join the livin’ now. ’Tis safe.”
Feiyan opened her eyes in alarm and sprang back to life. “What’s happening? My clan…”
“They’re fine,” he assured her. “Everythin’s goin’ accordin’ to plan. Here.” He reached inside his gambeson and handed her the dagger she’d lost.
She frowned down at it. “How did you…?”
