Page 6 of The Highlander's Twisted Deal
Callum smiled grimly. “Better that than a thief and a coward. Ye call yerself a laird, do ye? Yet, ye hide behind boys like that. He’s got more bravery in one hand than ye have ever shown in yer entire life. Ye ken why I am here, Laird MacCarthy. Ye stole from me.”
Laird MacCarthy went red in the face. He prided himself on his diplomacy and political tactics, Callum knew, but frankly, he didn’t think the man had enough common sense to light a fire on his own. He acted like a man who’d always been allowed to win at chess and so fancied himself a master of the game.
For example, Laird MacCarthy was only just beginning to realize that by hiding behind his men, by letting a young boy like Marin fight for him, he’d lost the respect of just about everyone around him. His beady eyes darted all around, seeing blank, unfriendly faces, watching his men lower their swords.
Fighting was out of the question for him now. His men might not defend him if he called for it, and that was a breach of authority that a laird could never recover from.
It didn’t help that Callum had gone up in the estimation of the MacCarthy clansfolk now, too, by sparing Marin and making them laugh.
Not, of course, that it had been his aim.
Laird MacCarthy’s fingers twitched reflexively on the hilt of his sword, and Callum knew exactly what was coming. The man needed to regain the honor he had lost, and quickly. That could only be done by…
“Watch out!” a female voice screamed, just as Laird MacCarthy whipped a knife out of his belt, hurling it at Callum.
Now,thatwas somewhat clever. He’d kept Callum’s attention on his main weapon—his sword—but all the while was planning a secret attack. Callum dodged the knife, wincing when it glanced across his forearm, leaving a narrow ribbon of red in its wake.
In a split second, he scanned the crowd to discover who had spoken and spotted the woman at once. A young man with a bloody bandage around his waist—not a fatal injury, but a painful one, he guessed—leaned heavily on her shoulder. She was dressed like a man, in breeches and a shirt with a grimy dark cloak around her shoulders, her hood thrown back to reveal untidy red-gold hair. She had pale skin, and freckles, and was possibly the most fascinating woman Callum had seen in a long while.
No time to think about that, though.
He pounced on Laird MacCarthy, who lifted his sword with a panicked squawk. Not quickly enough, though. Callum disarmed him with a ringing blow, kicked out his feet from under him, and deposited him on his back in the dirt, the tip of his sword resting at his throat.
“I win, I think,” Callum hissed.
Laird MacCarthy swallowed reflexively, fear standing out white on his face. Nobody moved, not even his own soldiers.
Says a lot about their loyalty.If this were me with an enemy’s sword at me throat, me men would die trying to get to me.
“Now, now,” Laird MacCarthy croaked, “I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement. The… the cargo I took, I’ll return it all.”
Callum pursed his lips, pretending to consider. “Ye ken, I’m nae sure this is even about the cargo ye stole from me merchant ships. It’s about thedisrespect.”
Laird MacCarthy shuffled backwards, and Callum let him. The man was defeated, and everyone knew it. Now, it was time for the man to do a little groveling, to rebalance the scales. The aim was never to kill him—killing a fellow laird made a lot of enemies, more than Callum was ready to deal with.
“Well, what do ye want, then?” Laird MacCarthy stammered, sweat trickling down his face in big, clammy beads. “Money? Nay, nay, not money, I see that ye are an honorable man who cares nothing for that.”
Lord, give me strength.
Laird MacCarthy’s eyes lit up. “Ah, of course! Lasses! MacCarthy lasses are the most beautiful in the Highlands—everyone kens that. Ye and yer men can take yer pick. Whichever ye like, they’re yers.”
Momentarily stunned, Callum let the Laird scramble to his feet. “Ye would offer me yer people in exchange for yer mistake?” he asked slowly, noticing that Laird MacCarthy neither met his eyes nor responded.
A hubbub was breaking out, mostly among the MacCarthy people. The McAdairs stayed silent, disgusted and shocked. Callum glanced over his shoulder and met Lachlan’s eye. The man shrugged blankly, his lip curled in a contemptuous sneer.
Marin was on his feet now, standing hunched over behind Callum. His expression was painful to watch.
Betrayal isnae an easy thing to take, lad.
A pang of sympathy made Callum’s chest ache. Only a few moments before, Marin had been ready to die for his Laird, and now, he looked as if he wanted to run him through himself.
Laird MacCarthy was grabbing at the prettiest girls he could see, hauling them forward and shoving them towards the McAdair men. The women were terrified, furious, ready to fight, ready to run, and the MacCarthy soldiers looked sick. Callum guessed that the soldiers had friends here, family, lovers, and it was only a matter of time before one of them put a knife in their Laird’s gut to save his sweetheart.
Laird MacCarthy had done a better job of making his own people hate him than Callum could ever have anticipated. All in all, it had been a hugely entertaining journey.
Better put a stop to this before it goes too far.
“That’s enough, MacCarthy,” he said sharply. “Leave yer womenfolk be. None of me men are permitted to touch them.”
