Page 160 of The Highlander's Princess Bride
“Listen ’ere,” Mack started.
“Shut your mouth, or you won’t get paid,” Fletcher ordered. “And your companions won’t like that, will they?”
When Mack subsided with a grumble, Victoria’s small ray of hope died.
“Thomas was my only son and my heir.” Fletcher’s pale gaze was hollow and full of hatred. “None of my success means a damn thing now that he’s dead. You took my family’s future away from me, you bloody whore.”
“Mr. Fletcher, I am sorry for your loss, and I truly regret your son’s death,” she said, struggling to remain calm. “But I assure you that what happened was an accident forced upon me by your son’s behavior. He was responsible for his death, not I.”
Her words were obviously falling on deaf ears. Trying to reason with a madman was a fool’s errand—as his furious expression made clear.
“No,youare responsible. And nowIwill be responsible for your death. Only then will my poor boy rest in peace.”
“Mr. Fletcher, I beg you—”
Two sharpcracks, one after another, echoed through the woods.
“What the hell?” Mack growled, peering back toward the road. “Ye said no one would ken about this.”
“It’s probably one of your men, shooting a prisoner,” Fletcher said.
“You’d better hope not,” Victoria said through clenched teeth. “Lord Arnprior will see you all hang.” The thought of anything happening to Alec or the other men because of her...
“Shut yer gob,” Mack said, shoving her again. “Enough of this bleedin’ palaver,” he said to Fletcher. “Get on with it or give her to me.”
“I have no intention of watching you rut,” Fletcher said with disdain. “But indeed the day is fading, so I must be on my way.”
He waved his pistol at Victoria. “Move over there.”
She glared at him. “No.”
Mack propelled her into a nearby stand of trees and shoved her down to the ground.
“Any last words, Miss Knight?” Fletcher said as he positioned himself a few feet away. “Care to beg for your life?”
She met his lunatic gaze as calmly as she could before finally closing her eyes. She thought of Nicholas, determined that her last thoughts be of him. God, she loved him. To never see him again . . .
A pistol roared, but it wasn’t his. In almost the same instant, it was Fletcher who screamed and something wet splattered onto her face. Victoria’s eyes flew open to see him pitch forward, his mouth gaping and his eyes wide with shock. He went down like a felled tree, missing her by inches.
“Bloody hell,” yelled Mack, whipping around to stare across the clearing.
She followed his gaze and saw Logan Kendrick charging toward them like an enraged bull, pulling a second pistol from his belt. Without breaking stride, Logan fired again, and the thug crumbled to the snowy ground.
Dumbfounded, Victoria stared at the bodies, blood staining the snow around them. Logan had shot Fletcher in the middle of the back and Mack in the center of his chest. The man’s aim had been astounding.
On shaky legs, she started to clamber to her feet.
“Let me help you,” Logan said gruffly. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, her mouth too dry to form words.
“You’re sure.” He swiftly ran a concerned gaze over her, front and back.
“Is he dead?” she finally whispered, pointing at Fletcher.
Logan let go and rolled Fletcher partway over with his foot. Then he went down in a crouch to check the man’s wound and the pulse in his throat.
“No, but he will be shortly,” he said. “There’s nothing to be done for him.”
