MacAllister recovered quickly. With a furious snarl, he shoved Niall back and threw a punch of his own, catching him in the ribs. Niall barely grunted. He came back with a savage right hook, splitting MacAllister’s lip and sending blood spraying across his chin.
The fight turned brutal, both men locked in a vicious struggle. They crashed into furniture, overturned a table, the sharp sound of shattering glass filling the room.
“Niall!” Charlie shouted, but he didn’t seem to hear her.
MacAllister caught him by the collar, trying to force him off balance, but Niall twisted free and drove his knee into MacAllister’s gut, sending him doubling over with a wheezing curse.
“This is what happens,” Niall growled, grabbing him by the front of his plaid and shoving him against the wall, “when ye put yer hands on what’s mine.”
MacAllister coughed, spitting blood onto the floor. He let out a low, breathless chuckle. “So that’s it, then? She’syers?” He turned his head, looking past Niall to where Charlie stood. “Ye really have fallen for the outland whore.”
“Ye bastard,” Niall snarled, drawing back his fist for another strike—
“Stop it!” Angela’s voice rang out, sharp and desperate. “Stop it, both of ye!”
Neither man moved, their ragged breathing filling the space between them.
Charlie gulped, her pulse racing. Niall still had his fist raised, but his chest rose and fell with deep, heaving breaths, his body coiled with fury.
MacAllister gave a bloodied grin. “Go on, Campbell. Finish it. But ye ken well enough that I’ll have ye arrested for assault the moment ye do.”
Charlie could see the war raging inside Niall. His whole body was taut, his muscles trembling with the need to keep fighting. But slowly—reluctantly—he released MacAllister’s plaid and stepped back.
MacAllister straightened. Despite his disheveled state and the blood dripping from his lips, he didn’t look beaten. Instead, he looked triumphant. There was a gleam in his eyes and his bloody grin widened.
“Oh well done, Campbell,” he said. “Well done. Ye have just given me exactly what I need. I couldnae have orchestrated it better myself. I will see ye stripped of yer lands and title for this. And her...” He pointed a finger at Charlie. “I will see her hanged.”
MacAllister straightened, wiping blood from his split lip, his dark eyes gleaming with something close to amusement. Niall took a step forward, his fists still clenched, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.
Charlie tensed, sensing the fight wasn’t over. She could see it in the way Niall’s muscles coiled, his stance shifting as if he were about to lunge again. Before he could, the door swung open once more.
“What, by all the hells, is going on in here?”
Terrance stood in the doorway, his gaze sweeping over the wrecked room—the overturned furniture, the broken glass, the blood on MacAllister’s face. His brows shot up.
Niall flicked a glance at him, then back to MacAllister. Charlie could almostseethe calculation running through his mind. He was outnumbered now. He growled under his breath, then without a word, grabbed Charlie’s wrist, his grip firm. He pulled her through the door, out into the crisp evening air, his pace swift and determined.
“Niall—” she started, but he shook his head.
“Not now, lass.” His voice was tight, barely controlled.
They reached the waiting horse, tethered a few yards away. Niall untied the reins and without a word, clasped her waist and lifted her into the saddle. She barely had time to grab the pommel before he swung up behind her, his arms caging her in as he took the reins.
“Hold on.”
He spurred the horse into a gallop.
