Page 74 of A Healer for the Ruthless Highlander
As he pushed his way through the crowd, he continued, “Long ago I called her a witch due to a misunderstandin’. But I’m here to take her back… Unless, of course, ye plan to stop me, MacReid.”
The smile on his lips was lascivious. His eyes bored into hers such that she knew if she survived and he had a chance, he would make her pay for all the threats she had made against him.
“If ye promise to take this witch away, I’ll let her live, Laird Matheson. But only if ye take care of Laird MacReid first,” Maxwell said, glaring at Kenneth. “He clearly doesnae have what it takes to rule this clan anymore.”
Immediately, Jonas drew his sword, as did other guards, who assumed a defensive stance.
The crowd had parted, terrified, as Laird Matheson laughed.
“It will be me pleasure,” he said, drawing his own sword.
“Nay, Kenneth!” Leana screamed in terror.
But Kenneth seemed unmoved. Filled with rage, and with an iron stoicism that made him proudly square his shoulders in a very different way from Maxwell, who yanked Leana by the arm.
“Ye see, Laird MacReid? She doesnae want ye to die before ye do her bidding!” he shouted.
Suddenly, a whistle sounded in the distance, quickly followed by an arrow.
Leana barely had time to back away as the arrow whizzed past her, causing Maxwell to release her as Hunter shouted from a nearby tower, “Leave Miss Healer alone!”
The distraction was enough for Leana to bolt away from Maxwell.
Now that his love was out of danger, Kenneth marched up to the traitor, his anger more evident than ever.
“This conversation is over,” he growled, his sword held high.
Maxwell was barely aware of what was happening. His eyes widened with horror just before Kenneth plunged his sword into his chest and twisted it.
Silence rose like a war cry, enveloping Kenneth, whose silvery gaze promised only one thing: revenge against those who had dared to threaten his one true love.
CHAPTER 24
“I told ye,a woman must always ken how to defend herself!” Valerie yelled at Leana as she grabbed her arm.
Leana barely had time to realize what was happening. There was chaos all around her. Maxwell lay at her feet, still bleeding, his eyes glazed over, while Kenneth threw himself at Laird Matheson. At the same time, Jonas hurried toward them, pushing them away from the confrontation.
As Kenneth’s guards surrounded them, Leana cast her gaze around in search of Hunter and Brenda. Relief flooded her when she spotted them in the tower, safe with the castle guards.
But the fear never left her heart, for she could only think of Kenneth. If any harm came to him because of her, she would never forgive herself.
She watched him intently, but he seemed to know exactly what he was doing. Now that she was safe, he moved with a different kind of ease. Sure of himself, as if he had already won the battle.
Leana was not far behind the two Lairds, so she was able to hear him saying to Laird Matheson, “I was just comin’ to find ye.”
“What for?” Laird Matheson asked, a sinister smile plastered on his face.
Treacherously, he lunged at Kenneth, the movement swift and ruthless, a predator striking in the dead of night.
Leana’s breath hitched, her fingers clenching at the fabric of her dress as dread coiled in her chest. She had heard the stories—tales whispered in dimly lit halls of his unrelenting savagery, of the foes left broken in his wake. Now, she was witnessing it firsthand.
The eyes of Laird Matheson burned with a cruel determination, every motion precise, calculated, meant to inflict damage without hesitation.
Kenneth braced himself, muscles coiled, prepared for the onslaught, but the sheer force of his opponent’s assault made the air crackle with danger.
But his movements, though swift, did not catch Kenneth off guard. Years of battle had honed his instincts, making every attack predictable before it even landed.
He shifted his weight at the last possible moment, dodging the strike with a precision that spoke of experience rather than luck. Without hesitation, he retaliated—his blade finding its mark with an unerring force that sent his opponent staggering.
