Page 82 of Tempting the Highland Devil
“I am so sorry, My Lady,” Isabella murmured. This time, her voice was tiny sob and that made Yvaine stiffen. Without thinking, Yvaine rushed towards her in panic.
“What has happened? What are ye sorry for?”
It was then that the man standing behind Isabella stepped out of the shadows. Yvaine’s eyes widened when she saw the knife pressed into Isabella’s neck.
“I am so sorry,” Isabella sobbed again as Yvaine stepped back three paces, her throat preparing her scream.
The scream tore out of her a little before the man lurched forward and delivered one blow to the side of her head. It knocked Yvaine unconscious immediately and silenced every other thought running through her mind.
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Arran hid in plain sight, waiting for the right moment to attack. There were three men at the cottage near the riverbank. They arrived hours after he had camped out in the wild with his men.
The blond one standing with his back to Arran barked out orders at the rest of them. Arran could not fully hear what he said in Gaelic, but he suspected it had to do with their failed attempt at kidnaping his wife.
The other men were dressed in black like the bandits he had captured during the feast. Arran was certain he was on the right track.
“Me laird,” one of his guards spoke to gain his attention. “Somethin’ doesnae feel right, me laird. These men dinnae seem like bandits.”
“Let us wait and see what they are up to,” Arran advised before he signaled for his men to stay quiet.
The blond one spun around abruptly, and his gaze landed right on the place where Arran hid with his men. Arran’s breath hitched in his throat. His panic was evident as he tried not to make a sound that would alert these men. He had to stay as quiet as possible.
He is suspicious of something,Arran thought as the man kept his eyes steady on the shrubs covering Arran and his men. When the leader of the men signaled for his men to span out around the bushes, Arran knew it was time to attack.
“Now,” he yelled in Gaelic, drew his sword, then jumped out of hiding to attack. The immediate return war cry that erupted from their leader alerted the rest of his men, and soon, Arran and his men were surrounded.
Arran aimed for their leader while the rest of the two opposing clans fought. Every man fought with all of their might. Steel clanged against steel with every attack and dust from the thuds of their feet on the ground twirled around the skies. The sun glistened dimly in the horizon, and gave birth to the golden-yellow cast of dusk setting in.
Arran leaned back, dodging his opponent’s blow then he rammed his elbow into the man’s face after his helmet tumbled to the ground and exposed his head. That one blow brought Arran’s opponent to his knees. Arran did not think of anything else but his determination to win this fight.
Once Arran thrust his knee forward and delivered another brutal blow to the man’s groin, the man dropped to his knees and cried out from pain.
Arran’s sword pierced the man’s neck next, and Arran stared into those deep blue eyes gleaming with anger and chaos like Arran had never seen.
“Ye sent the Laochra after my wife repeatedly. Why?” he questioned as he held the sword poised to the man’s neck. “Tell me why!”
The man burst into a loud cackle that shocked Arran and made him recoil a little.
“Ye really think I have the power and resources to buy the Laochra loyalty? Think about it, Laird MacGregor, why would I need to do that?”
“Tell me what ye ken. Who is yer master? Who sent ye?”
Arran’s men had rounded up all the other of their opponents and forced them to their knees now. He could taste victory, and all he had to do was find out who the real leader of these men was.
Arran waited for the man’s reply, his muscles and nerves snapping with the force of tension that sank its teeth deep into him. He pressed his blade closer to the man’s neck till he saw blood seep out of the cut on his skin.
Applause echoed from behind Arran just as he was about to speak again. He turned sharply to see Laird O’Neil come out of the bushes with over a dozen men behind him.
Arran stiffened, and his brows drew into a deeply, furrowed frown as he stared at the man. “I must say, I am deeply impressed, Laird MacGregor,” Laird O’Neil said as he walked down the steep path and reached where Arran had apprehended the bandits. “Ye came this far without fear that ye might start a war by invadin’ me land.”
Arran did not withdraw his sword as he stared at Laird O’Neil intently. He had never thought of this man as an enemy. He had never thought of him at all, and after O’Neil saved Yvaine the last time, Arran had considered him an ally.
Laird O’Neil’s smirk widened as Arran withdrew his sword from the man on his knees then aimed it at him. O’Neil soldiers all drew their swords and faced Arran too. Tension snapped in the air between them, and somewhere in the distant skies a rumble of thunder echoed.
“It was ye all along? Ye tried to kidnap my wife and hurt her? Ye have been behind all of this?”
Laird O’Neil arched a brow before he stared down at the blade poised on his neck. “I have done naythin’ wrong,” Laird O’Neil answered after a while.
