Page 8 of The Highlander's Twisted Deal
Elsie hated to see the young Laird—he resembled the old Laird more and more with every passing day, and no doubt it brought back painful memories for her.
A fresh wave of anger surged through Ava, and she managed to scramble to her feet, facing the Laird. She was no better off now, of course, but at least she might die on her feet.
“Get back, scum,” Laird MacCarthy spat at Niamh, shoving her back into the crowd, and he rounded on Ava. “And ye…”
“Care to explain what’s going on here, MacCarthy?” the enemy laird spoke up, making Ava jump. What with her impending torture and death, she’d almost forgotten about him.
He strolled forward casually as if they were neighbors chatting over a fence, and he positioned himself between her and Laird MacCarthy, making a triangle.
She felt his eyes rake over her, sharp and assessing, and fought not to shiver. Up close, he was even taller and broader than she’d thought, and she unconsciously rose up on her tiptoes to measure up.
Heaven only knew what Laird MacCarthy, who was barely taller than her and ferret-faced, thought of his worthy opponent. It probably wasn’t good. He swelled a little, obviously trying to puff out his chest and appear more intimidating.
It wasn’t working.
“No, I dinnae,” Laird MacCarthy snarled. “If ye must ken, this… thisharpymurdered me faither, and she’ll be punished for it.”
“I see,” the enemy laird responded, for all the world as if it were his problem to mediate. He almost seemed amused by the whole thing. “Well, lass, what say ye? I am Laird McAdair. What’s yer name?”
“Ava,” she responded before she could say anything sharper.
She met his eyes squarely, although it was a challenge—she had to tilt back her head to look up at him. Up close, his eyes—blue as the sea and sky—were oddly light in his face, almost clashing with his jet-black hair. The man barely even seemed to blink.
“Well, Ava, what say ye? Did ye murder this man’s da?”
“Aye, I did,” Ava spat, and it felt good to finally admit it.
There was a rumble of outrage in the crowd, the MacCarthy soldiers jostling each other and whispering loudly. But there were just as many folks standing still, stony-faced. Men and women who’d had daughters, sisters, aunts, even mothers working in the Keep, women who’d come back changed and not for the better. Women who’d suffered.
None of the Laird’s bastards, though. The man had been careful not to complicate the succession by adding more children to his tally. Most babes were dealt with in the early stages of pregnancy, but there’d been rumors of more…decisiveaction taken against women who didn’t want to give up their babies.
All in all, the old Laird’s murder wasn’t causing quite the stir it should have done. Ava stood tall and straight, her chin tilted up, her head high, and let it all wash over her.
If I hang for this,or worse, it’ll be worth it.
Laird MacCarthy had gone an interesting shade of purple.
“This is none of yer business,Laird McAdair.”
“Oh, but it is me business,” the enemy laird responded, quick as a flash, “because she’s the one I want to take with me.”
There was a heartbeat of silence. Ava was sure she’d misheard. Laird MacCarthy gave his head a little shake, and she wondered if he was mistrusting his own ears, too.
“Her? Nay,” Laird MacCarthy managed. “Any lassie ye like, but nae her. She’s mine.”
“Aye, but she’s the one I want,” Laird McAdair insisted, his eyes widening as if he didn’t understand. “Ye said any lassie I like, and ye made no stipulations before.”
“She isnae yers to take!” Laird MacCarthy lunged to grab Ava’s wrist, but she twisted her arm out of his grip, backing away.
“I’m nae yers, either!” she hissed, her teeth clenched. “Not since I left this clan. Remember,LairdMacCarthy? I’m nae yers to dispose of.”
Laird McAdair clapped his hands together. “It’s decided, then. The red-haired lassie—Ava—will come with me. As for the rest of the lads and lasses here, they’re all welcome to come along with us, back to Keep McAdair, if they wish. I can promise no harm will come to them, just as I can promise that theirformerLaird won’t get in their way.” His sharp, blue-eyed gaze lingered on Laird MacCarthy, who all but wilted before the stare.
“Ye arenae taking her,” Laird MacCarthy insisted.
“Ye cannae stop me from leaving,” Ava retorted, pressing her advantage. For the first time since he’d spotted her, there was hope.
Not, of course, that she would be so foolish as to leave with the strange laird. No, she’d try and sneak off into the woods somehow, but it was anopportunity.
