Page 58 of The Beast of the Highlands
Flynn had scowled. “I willnae have any king comin’ through me gates. So, yer da might as well use them.”
Keira had hurried away excitedly to write the invitation that would bring Laird Dunn here. And as the dining room door had closed behind her, Flynn had not been able to resist a sly grin of his own.
Now, the day of the dinner had arrived, and so had Laird Dunn. As requested, he had entered via the rear gates, oblivious to the fact that his men had been sent out into the woodland, and the front portcullis had been lowered. A handful of Dunn soldiers remained, but Flynn’s men were waiting for the signal to dispatch them.
To limit any suspicion further, Desmond had escorted Laird Dunn directly to the private dining room, taking him through a maze of hallways that had no windows onto the central courtyard, and the closed portcullis.
As for Philip Johnson—Desmond had brought the intercepted letter back to the castle last night, meaning there would be no English soldiers to come to Laird Dunn’s aid.
“How do ye like yer venison?” Flynn asked, seated at the head of the table in the smaller, private dining room. The feasting hall might have been more dramatic, but he knew he needed to contain any possible conflict.
And there are lads stationed outside both entrances…
Laird Dunn dabbed at his mouth. “Delicious. Me cooks cannae get it this tender.”
He was a portly man with a ragged mop of brown hair flecked with gray. His cheeks were permanently red from too much ale and whiskey, and his nose was bulbous and misshapen after one too many battles, while his lips forever seemed to be slicked with some kind of grease.
“They roast it for hours.” Flynn smiled politely, and turned to Keira, who sat on his left. “Would ye care for another drop of honeyed wine?”
Keira shoved her glass toward him. “Fill it to the brim. We’ve much to celebrate.”
“As ye prefer.” Flynn poured it himself, having informed the serving staff to remain in the kitchens.
Laird Dunn chewed on another chunk of meat, the juice spilling down his chin. “We ought to get talkin’ about this weddin’, else we’ll reach the end of our dinner and we willnae have said a word about it.”
“Before that, I have a surprise for ye. A wedding gift, or a dowry, or whatever ye care to call it.” Flynn sipped his tankard of ale, if only to hide his eager smile.
Keira shrieked in delight. “I hope it’s jewelry, or a pretty gown, or a slide for my hair.”
“Desmond!” Flynn called. “Would ye bring in the wedding gift?”
A few moments later, the dining room door opened. Desmond blocked any view of Autumn as he stepped inside, elongating the satisfaction of seeing Laird Dunn and his daughter’s faces fall.
Finally, she appeared, looking like a fiery vision in a bodice of dark red silk and coral petticoats, with a garnet necklace glinting at her throat. Her long, blonde hair had been braided into a high bun, where a garnet circlet sat, making her seem like a true queen of vengeance.
Keira dropped the glass in her hand, the entire thing shattering on the floor. “Nay… This cannae be… Ye… Ye were dead! I saw yer grave! I heard the shot that killed ye with my own ears!” Her startled eyes looked like they might burst out of her head. “This is a trick! This has to be a trick!”
“I assure ye, it isnae. Miss Montgomery is alive and well, though nay thanks to ye.” Flynn stood and drew his broadsword from behind the nearby drapes where he had hidden it. “If ye wanted her dead, ye should’ve done the deed yerself. But that isnae yer way, is it?”
Laird Dunn had gone very still and very quiet in his chair. “What have ye done, lass?” He pointed a shaky finger at his daughter. “I have nay part in whatever she’s schemed.”
“I hoped ye would try to the lay blame at Keira’s door.” Flynn grinned, and took the letter to Officer Johnson from underneath his plate. “But this tells me all I need to ken, Laird Dunn. Ye wanted me lands, so ye struck a deal with a Sassenach soldier. Ye gave him yer daughter, and a promise of wealth, in return for stabbin’ me in the back. Fortunately, I saw the blade comin’.”
Laird Dunn shot to his feet, fumbling for his own broadsword. “If ye’d been in that carriage, as ye were supposed to be, I wouldnae have had to go to the bother.”
“What?” Flynn’s eyes narrowed as he watched Laird Dunn’s face turn more and more purple with every second. Evidently, the fellow knew he was defeated, and wanted to land one last blow.
It was ye? Ye killed them?
Laird Dunn swung his sword clumsily, swiping glasses and plates and tankards off the table. “All these years, and ye never thought to look at yer neighbor for answers. Who do ye think attacked yer ma and da’s carriage? I wanted their lands, even then, so I did what I had to.” He swung again, prompting Flynn to take a step back. “But ye and yer brother were supposed to be in the carriage, too. I’ve spent all this time, thinkin’ of a way to get what I want. And I willnae let ye take it from me again!”
“Guards!” Flynn hollered, raising his sword to parry one of Laird Dunn’s awkward thrusts.
The two entrances burst open, and a stream of soldiers poured in. Desmond, Willis, and Natters led the charge, bearing down on Keira who had backed herself up against the wall.
Meanwhile, Flynn dealt with Laird Dunn, sweeping his sword up to counter the older man’s heavy swings. Laird Dunn might have known, inwardly, that he was beaten, but he was not going to give up without a fight.
“Ye vermin!” the Laird screamed as he rushed Flynn.
