his father had been, built with wiry strength and thinning copper
hair. “Because I’m using ye to set a trap for yer brother. Not unlike my own
brother used ye to set a trap for me.” He motioned to Rory, who looked ashamed
but furious.
“Let them go, Angus. They’re yer
people. Ye are their Laird.” Rory pointed to his brother. “This is between
us.”
“They supported yer mutiny,” Angus
hissed.
“They challenged yer tyranny,” Rory
fumed. “But why punish the lassies and the wee ones? This is no way to—”
A cane crack to the back of the
head dropped Rory in an unconscious heap of armor and limbs. Angus sneered at
his brother’s limp body and turned back to Connor. “After I dispense with you
and Roderick, I’m marching my men north to Straithlachlan to rape his new wife
and raze yer castle to the ground. Then I’ll take back what ye stole from me.”
Now secured to the beams, Connor
tested his iron shackles. They held fast. “Why?” he demanded. “Why attack my
people?”
“Because yer brother murdered my
father. Because you slaughtered my men and captured my Ross bride, who was my
only connection to the monarchy. Yer crimes must be answered for!”
“What about your crimes,
Angus MacKay?” he spat. “The blood of yer people cry out for vengeance. Yer
father was a traitor. He’d have been burned by the Ross had he survived the
battle. Roderick did him a favor by relieving him of his head.”
Anger turned the man’s grey eyes
silver before he reached up and kneed Connor in the gut, again careful not to
spill any blood.
Connor laughed, if somewhat
breathlessly. “Ye’ll never lay yer hands on Lindsay Ross you filthy fuck.
I’ll have yer head first.”
Knowledge flared in Angus’s eyes
and a slow smile spread across his cruel face. “Soft on her, are ye? Perhaps
you’ve already claimed her as a spoil of yer victory against my men.” He
leaned a little farther forward, lowering his voice to a murmur. “Let yer last
thought be of me between her legs, night after night, erasing yer memory from
her mind. Whatever she suffered at yer hands, she’ll suffer three-fold at
mine. Mayhap I’ll have to raise a berserker bastard as my own.” He barked out
a laugh as Connor lunged at him, only to be pulled short by his iron shackles.
“Aye, can ye imagine that?” Angus turned and petted the little girl on her
dark head before reaching for a thick cane. Her reedy whimper left a gaping
hole in Connor’s heart.
A sharp pain tore through his arm,
as Angus brought the cane down on the bend in his elbow. “Avoid his kidneys,”
he ordered his men. “I doona want him pissing any blood.”
Connor kept his eyes fixed on the
terrified gaze of the child as Angus and his men began to beat him in earnest.
“Look away, wee one,” he gasped. “Doona watch.”
Unable to turn her head, she
squeezed her eyes shut and Connor was able to relax a bit. No stranger to
beatings, he gritted his teeth and tried to formulate a plan.
***
Night fell. Hours passed. Panting
and bruised, Connor had begun to despair of finding any scenario that wouldn’t
end with these innocent people dying along with the MacKay soldiers. He
couldn’t live with that stain on his soul and he knew Lindsay would never be
able to look upon him without seeing a monster. Their delicate, blooming bond
would be severed and he would be crushed under the weight of his sins. He
studied the little girl again, who’d cried herself to exhaustion and now lay
limp in her captor’s hold.
There had to be another way.
As he shifted most of his weight on
one knee, as the other was likely broken, a terrifying tingle of awareness coursed
up his spine.
Lindsay.
She was close.
“This little bird is demanding an
audience with ye, Laird.” A fat, dirty man with soot in his graying beard held
Lindsay’s arms in a brutal grip as
hair. “Because I’m using ye to set a trap for yer brother. Not unlike my own
brother used ye to set a trap for me.” He motioned to Rory, who looked ashamed
but furious.
“Let them go, Angus. They’re yer
people. Ye are their Laird.” Rory pointed to his brother. “This is between
us.”
“They supported yer mutiny,” Angus
hissed.
“They challenged yer tyranny,” Rory
fumed. “But why punish the lassies and the wee ones? This is no way to—”
A cane crack to the back of the
head dropped Rory in an unconscious heap of armor and limbs. Angus sneered at
his brother’s limp body and turned back to Connor. “After I dispense with you
and Roderick, I’m marching my men north to Straithlachlan to rape his new wife
and raze yer castle to the ground. Then I’ll take back what ye stole from me.”
Now secured to the beams, Connor
tested his iron shackles. They held fast. “Why?” he demanded. “Why attack my
people?”
“Because yer brother murdered my
father. Because you slaughtered my men and captured my Ross bride, who was my
only connection to the monarchy. Yer crimes must be answered for!”
“What about your crimes,
Angus MacKay?” he spat. “The blood of yer people cry out for vengeance. Yer
father was a traitor. He’d have been burned by the Ross had he survived the
battle. Roderick did him a favor by relieving him of his head.”
Anger turned the man’s grey eyes
silver before he reached up and kneed Connor in the gut, again careful not to
spill any blood.
Connor laughed, if somewhat
breathlessly. “Ye’ll never lay yer hands on Lindsay Ross you filthy fuck.
I’ll have yer head first.”
Knowledge flared in Angus’s eyes
and a slow smile spread across his cruel face. “Soft on her, are ye? Perhaps
you’ve already claimed her as a spoil of yer victory against my men.” He
leaned a little farther forward, lowering his voice to a murmur. “Let yer last
thought be of me between her legs, night after night, erasing yer memory from
her mind. Whatever she suffered at yer hands, she’ll suffer three-fold at
mine. Mayhap I’ll have to raise a berserker bastard as my own.” He barked out
a laugh as Connor lunged at him, only to be pulled short by his iron shackles.
“Aye, can ye imagine that?” Angus turned and petted the little girl on her
dark head before reaching for a thick cane. Her reedy whimper left a gaping
hole in Connor’s heart.
A sharp pain tore through his arm,
as Angus brought the cane down on the bend in his elbow. “Avoid his kidneys,”
he ordered his men. “I doona want him pissing any blood.”
Connor kept his eyes fixed on the
terrified gaze of the child as Angus and his men began to beat him in earnest.
“Look away, wee one,” he gasped. “Doona watch.”
Unable to turn her head, she
squeezed her eyes shut and Connor was able to relax a bit. No stranger to
beatings, he gritted his teeth and tried to formulate a plan.
***
Night fell. Hours passed. Panting
and bruised, Connor had begun to despair of finding any scenario that wouldn’t
end with these innocent people dying along with the MacKay soldiers. He
couldn’t live with that stain on his soul and he knew Lindsay would never be
able to look upon him without seeing a monster. Their delicate, blooming bond
would be severed and he would be crushed under the weight of his sins. He
studied the little girl again, who’d cried herself to exhaustion and now lay
limp in her captor’s hold.
There had to be another way.
As he shifted most of his weight on
one knee, as the other was likely broken, a terrifying tingle of awareness coursed
up his spine.
Lindsay.
She was close.
“This little bird is demanding an
audience with ye, Laird.” A fat, dirty man with soot in his graying beard held
Lindsay’s arms in a brutal grip as
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