Highland Hunger by Hannah Howell Page B

shaking, and had soiled himself. Raibeart shook his head. It was hard to believe that such a coward had done so much harm.
    “I dinnae ken!” The man’s voice was high and tremulous. “Ne’er met him and wasnae told anything about him.”
    “Then how did ye send him the ones ye captured?”
    “Took the prisoners north to a wee cottage and his men came and took them away.”
    MacKay told Cathal every step taken, from holding the prisoners while a message was placed in that cottage to meeting the laird’s men and the coin he was paid for each prisoner. The laird who had turned the hunters from a few groups of superstitious men into a true threat was very careful to keep his name and his whereabouts a deep secret. The only thing MacKay said about the man that might prove useful was the fact that every message and every prisoner was sent north of Dunmorton. Raibeart leaned against the wall, pressed his hand over his wound, and tried not to be too disappointed at the lack of information as he watched Cathal sink his fangs into the man’s throat, drink his fill, and then snap MacKay’s neck.
    He watched the laird toss the body aside and then joined the others in looking at the unconscious woman on the bed. Raibeart hoped they decided what to do with the woman soon for his legs were trembling with a growing weakness. Although he had fed on Angus and the wound the man had inflicted before dying had ceased to bleed, Raibeart decided he had lost more blood than he had realized. Either that or Angus’s blade had done more than pierce his skin, injuring something inside him that could require more blood and more time to heal. It pinched at his pride that he appeared to be the only one who had suffered a serious wound, but he told himself not to be an idiot. They had saved the Lost Ones and killed the ones who knew the secret of MacNachton blood. His wound and even his pride was a small price to pay.
    Cathal moved to the side of the bed and said, “Your enemies are dead. Ye are safe now. Una and Allana sent us to get you.”
    Raibeart nearly laughed when the woman opened her eyes, sat up, and looked around. “Una said ye could swoon beautifully whene’er ye wanted, but I hadnae realized how verra skilled ye were at it,” Raibeart said and smiled when the woman looked at him, a sharp intelligence clear to see in her light green eyes.
    “Some of it was real,” she said in a low, husky voice that immediately drew the interest of several of his clan. “The fool bled me and I always swoon when he does that. Cannae abide seeing my own blood.” She looked him over. “Ye appear to have lost some blood yourself and so can see that observing the bleeding of others doesnae trouble me much at all.”
    Raibeart held up his hand when Cathal started to move toward him. “The bleeding has stopped. Lost a lot of blood, however, and I may be wounded inside. I shouldnae be feeling as weak in the knees as I do,” he admitted reluctantly. “But I can get to the horses unaided.”
    “Ye will accept some help,” said Cathal, and then he looked back at Madeleine. “We are here to free you and take ye to Cambrun. Ye are one of us, a MacNachton by blood. ’Tis time to meet your people.”
    And this one had the look of a MacNachton, Raibeart thought as they all left the bedchamber, pausing only so that Madeleine could spit on the laird’s body. She was a little taller than most women, beautiful, and had long, thick black hair. He accepted a supporting hand from Jankyn as they made their way out of Dunmorton, listening to Madeleine’s whispered tales of her mother’s lovers. The description of the man her mother had believed was her father certainly sounded like one of his kinsmen. There was a good chance that Madeleine would find some close family at Cambrun.
    His heart skipped in his chest like some untried lad’s when they reached the horses and Una rushed to greet him, her worry over his wound clear to read on her face. Raibeart