"Ye should have told me that ere I lost near all I own. Iain isnae here."
"Where did he go?"
"Off with Islaen if ye must ask,” Alexander replied. “She planned to seduce him. Must have worked or they would have returned by now."
"Oh, then t'would most like be awkward to seek him out,” Phelan murmured, frowning slightly.
"Why should ye wish to?"
"Well, Alex, I saw signs whilst I was out riding."
"MacLennon?"
"I fear it might be. There was an effort made to hide the signs and I can think of no other man who wouldst be trying so hard to creep about here without being seen."
"There is none.” Alexander stood up, tensed yet hesitant. “Howbeit, Iain is alert to the danger. They went prepared."
"How alert can a man be,” Robert asked as he too stood up, “when he is enjoying what he hasnae tasted for o'er six months."
"Not verra alert at all."
"Still, he may not appreciate any interruption,” Phelan said, “especially when I have no proof."
"And I cannae say I wish to be privy to my sister tussling with her mon,” Robert drawled.
"An all ye fear is to catch them at it, then we can announce our approach loudly and clearly,” Alex said.
"Ye think ‘tis worth warning him,” Phelan murmured.
"Aye, I do. As we have agreed, who else could it be but MacLennon?"
"None,” Robert muttered. “Best we go then. Hold!” Although Robert grasped only Alexander's arm everyone in Muircraig stilled as the single clear note cut through the air.
"Aye,” Alexander hissed, “I heard it.” He raced for his horse. “The bastard has found them."
"M'lord,” Murdo cried as he hurried forward buckling on his sword.
"Follow as ye can, man. We cannot hesitate,” Phelan yelled as he vaulted onto his horse. “Do ye know the way, Alex?"
"Aye,” he answered as Robert mounted behind him. “We can be there in but minutes."
"Pray God He allows us those minutes,” Robert said as they galloped out of Muircraig.
Islaen fought the blackness that threatened to engulf her and struggled to her feet. She had no time for the luxury of pandering to her hurts. Looking toward Iain and MacLennon she wondered frantically what she could do to help.
She cried out in dismay when MacLennon picked up the wood she had used as a club. Even while she tried to keep a close watch on the fight she searched the area for Iain's sword but could see no sign of it. Then MacLennon struck Iain and she forgot all about the sword. Iain was staggered by the blow, truly helpless, and MacLennon was going for his sword. Trying not to make a sound, Islaen moved towards the rough club MacLennon had tossed aside. She grasped it even as MacLennon, sword in hand, turned towards Iain and smiled gloatingly.
Iain fought to stay conscious. The blow to his head had staggered him. It had also cut him, sending blood streaming into his eyes and blinding him. He was helpless, unable to avoid the blow MacLennon was sure to give him. He prayed Islaen had fled once she had given the signal to bring help. MacLennon did not seem to realize what she had done and Iain hoped that this time the man would die.
As if through a fog he saw MacLennon lunge at him. He stumbled out of the way but felt the tip of MacLennon's sword score his side. The way the man laughed told Iain that the man played with him and he cursed viciously, wishing he had his sword. Naked and rendered helpless, then taunted by a madman seemed a poor way to meet one's end. There was little glory in it.
For the first time in her life Islaen tasted pure hate as she watched MacLennon taunt Iain. It was cruel beyond words to play so with a man. Iain was helpless, could barely see where his foe stood and could not fight back, not even if he had held a sword. Her love had to know that the death stroke would come, had probably braced for it, yet MacLennon tormented him by holding back. It was good that MacLennon sought such a twisted pleasure, for it allowed her time to creep near enough to strike at him, but she loathed the man for it.
When MacLennon stepped back after scoring Iain's thigh, Islaen struck. The man was a lot taller than she but her club was long enough that she could reach his head well enough for a sound blow and that was what she aimed for. Putting all her strength and fury behind her swing, she struck him. Despite the hatred she felt for him, her stomach churned at the sound made when her club struck his skull.
Her dismay faded abruptly when he ceased to stagger and turned towards her. Shock caused her to drop her club when she saw the damage she had done. With such a wound in his head the man should not be standing, she thought, yet he advanced on her. He gave a cry that made her shudder, then hit her. Islaen felt her head explode with pain. She seemed to fly backwards, then landed hard upon the ground. There was another burst of pain in her head and the last thing she was aware of was a scream that sounded as if it was torn from the throat of something less than human.
Despite wiping frantically at his eyes, Iain was unable to fully clear his vision or help after Islaen struck MacLennon and the man turned on her. Hearing the sound of a blow, he echoed Islaen's cry of pain. He took one step towards her, barely able to make out her crumpled form, when he froze. MacLennon seemed to clutch his head, then screamed in a way that chilled Iain's blood. For an instant MacLennon wavered, then collapsed. The ensuing silence was something Iain found as chilling as MacLennon's inhuman cry.
