“And did that not work to your advantage?” Hargrave demanded in a bewildered tone. “It is my opinion that the Blairs were rewarded most generously for their aid in delivering to me what I thought was the carcass of Thomas Annesley.”
“More than two score Blairs lost their lives that day.”
“Through no fault of mine,” Hargrave said dismissively. “You know as well as I that it was the Carsons who set my ships—as well as their own—alight. We nearly capsized with the weight of the additional men, even though they abandoned their armor on the beach.”
The rusting English armor, hidden away in the old house…
“But,” Hargrave continued, “it appears I was misled. The body shown to me that day in the woods was not Thomas Annesley’s. I want him—and his son—delivered to me, now.” He paused. “Swiftness may perhaps be rewarded with more mercy than I had originally intended.”
“Thomas Annesley isn’t here!” Marcas shouted.
The Englishman pointed a finger at Marcas. “Deny me again. Deny me once more and I will have your precious son shot in the head. Right here before you.” He held Marcas’s gaze a moment longer.
Harrell Blair drew the man’s attention back to the crowd on the green. “Marcas speaks the truth, Lord Hargrave. We’ve nae seen hide nor hair of Annesley since the day we found him dead.”
“We didn’t find him dead, though, did we?” Hargrave said in a smooth, poisonous tone. “If he wasdead, I wouldn’t be in this godforsakenbogwith muddiedboots!” He paused, as if to compose himself. “Thomas Annesley is here, you mark my words. He knows I am coming after him through his bastard children, and he is trying to stay one step ahead of me. But that ends tonight.Tonight.”
He surveyed the crowd. “Who will go? Who will go and fetch the men who have revisited this wrath upon you? Hmm? No one? No one at all willing save your townsfolk? Yourkin,” he sneered. His query was met with silence broken only by the cry of a babe. “Very well, then.”
He looked to the soldier standing closest to him in the outer ring. “Kill one of the men. I care not which one, only do it quickly.” A cry went up from the crowd, some of the folk stood, drawing the ring of soldiers close like the drawstring of a sack.
“Do it!” Hargrave shouted.
A high-pitched scream cut through the chaos, bringing silence once more before a single, long, mourning wail of horror. The crowd pulled away to reveal a woman bent over the still form of a man prone, an arrow sticking awkwardly from his head.
“Now, I’ll ask again,” Hargrave said with an air of patience. “Who will go?”
There was a beat of silence, and Hargrave turned once more to the soldier and opened his mouth.
“I will!” a man shouted and stood, holding his arm in the air. “Lachlan knows me well. I’ll go.”
Hargrave looked to Harrell, who shook his head subtly.
“Oh my, that’s not good.” Hargrave looked at the soldier and gestured to the volunteer. “Shoot him, as well; he cannot be trusted.”
“Nae! Nae!” Harrell shouted frantically.
Finley and Kirsten clutched each other as the big man stumbled backward in vain, while the soldier stalked toward him calmly. The Englishman stopped, lowered the crossbow to step into the stirrup, and set the bolt…
The women at the window turned their heads to each other and squeezed their eyes shut as the jarring clack-swish of his weapon sounded. There were more screams.
“I didna mean for you to shoot him!” Harrell cried, his voice breaking. “I only meant he was Lachlan’s mate. He might have…he might have…”
“I knew exactly what you meant, Harrell. And that is why he is dead.” Hargrave seemed to consider the visibly distraught man for a moment, and then he looked directly at the raven-haired woman at Harrell’s side. “How silly of me. Of course. We shall send her.”
“What? Nay! She’s me only—”
“Your only child, yes. And once betrothed to Lachlan Blair, wasn’t she? I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. The perfect choice.”
“Nay,” Searrach pleaded, grabbing her father’s shawl. “Da, nay. I canna face him. I’m afraid.”
“I’ll go,” Harrell offered. “You know you can trust me above all.”
“That I can,” Hargrave allowed. “You proved that by alerting me to Lucan Montague’s visit to your town. But Lachlan Blair wouldnotlikely trust you.”
“I can convince him,” Harrell pleaded. “I can—”
“I’ve made my decision,” Hargrave announced. “Your daughter will do my bidding or I shall let the soldiers take turns with her here on the green.” He returned his attention to Searrach. “You have two hours to return with Lachlan Blair and Thomas Annesley and not a moment more. If you fail, I will kill everyone in town, including your father. Then I will find you. And when I do, you’ll wish you had chosen the soldiers.”
