Ailis stood and rubbed her cheek as she watched Donald’s men subdue Jaime and Alexander. Although Alexander said nothing, he had gone a deadly shade of white and his eyes were like blue flames as he stared at Donald with a fury that made Ailis shiver. Only briefly did she wonder if it was her fate or that of his child which stirred such emotion. She then looked at Donald and saw that same expression of anger. Several times she had complained of being used as a pawn. Looking from Donald to Alexander and back again, she truly felt like one, and it frightened her. She cried out in fear when Donald, who still held on to her, stepped up to Jaime and pressed his dagger to her friend’s throat.
“What say ye, ye great witless oaf?” Donald demanded.
“That Ailis MacFarlane carries my bairn,” Alexander answered before Jaime could.
Donald turned on Alexander with a snarl and would have buried his dagger deep into Alexander’s chest if Duncan had not grabbed him by the wrist. Ailis felt weak-kneed with relief. She had really thought that she was about to watch Alexander murdered.
Her concern for Alexander faded quickly when Duncan glared at her, his dagger still clutched tightly in his hand. She tried to step back, but there was no fleeing from his hold. It did not help to tell herself that Donald would not hurt her too badly, that he would gain nothing from her mutilation or her death. The look in Donald’s eyes told her that he was not thinking of his gains or his losses at the moment. To her utter astonishment, Malcolm yanked her free of Donald’s grasp and put himself between her and her enraged fiancé.
“Dinna touch the lass again,” Malcolm said, drawing his own dagger as he prepared to fight his cousin.
“Ye would stand between me and this whore?” Donald was stunned by this unexpected rebellion.
“Aye, I would stand between ye and harming a lass who is with child. There is a crime I will have no part of.”
Duncan grabbed his son Donald by the arm and pulled him away from Malcolm. “We only lose if ye hurt the lass. Aye, and if ye hurt the lass while she is in the condition she is now, ye could do her serious harm. Ye canna mean to kill the lass.”
“I mean to cut the filthy MacDubh seed from her womb,” Donald said in a soft, cold voice.
“Oh, sweet Mary,” Ailis whispered as she covered her stomach with her hands and watched Duncan have a hasty and muttered argument with his son. “Alexander,” she said, but his attention was on the quarreling MacCordys.
“He has no way to help ye.” Malcolm spared her a brief glance while maintaining a close watch upon his kinsmen, including a confused William. “He will soon be dead, lass, and we both ken it. However, as long as I am able, I will stand between ye and them.”
“Why?” She tried not to think of Alexander’s impending fate, but to put all of her attention upon the fate of her child, whom she had some chance of saving. Malcolm was a strange choice of savior, she mused.
“Lass, I may stoop to many things to serve my kinsmen. Aye, and I have. They are my only means of support. Not even the fear of losing that, however, will make me raise my hand against a lass who is with child. God’s teeth, I couldna raise my hand against a lass, bairn in her belly or nay. I have never been forced to this choice before, so I canna promise ye much. I shall try to keep your hulking brute alive so that he can defend ye when I canna.”
“Can I trust ye?” Ailis wished she could look the man right in the eye, but he watched his kinsmen as he talked to her.
“What choice do ye have?” He shrugged. “Your acceptance doesna matter. I can do as I must even without your trust.”
Ailis nodded and decided that silence was a good idea. She did not want to draw any added attention to herself. That would not help her to protect herself and thus her child, and it could make it impossible to gain any chance of escape. She looked at Alexander and wished she could guess what he was thinking or feeling. He was pale, but his beautiful face held little expression.
Alexander felt as if every muscle in his body was pulled too tightly, so hard and consistently did he pull against the two men holding him. He wanted to get his hands on Donald. The urge to put his hands around the man’s thick throat was so strong that it hurt, and for the first time since his feud with the MacCordy clan had begun, it was for reasons other than his father’s death or the theft of Leargan. Alexander knew that he wanted to kill Donald because the man had insulted, threatened, and struck Ailis. That he was helpless to defend her gnawed at his soul.
Malcolm MacCordy troubled him as well, but for different reasons. Alexander was grateful that the man would not allow Ailis to be hurt, but he had to wonder why Malcolm suddenly risked the meager benefits his kinsmen doled out to him. All the possible answers to that question did not make Alexander feel any more at ease. Ailis could use all the help she could get, and he was glad that she had the wit to welcome it no matter who offered it. It did, however, trouble him that the help was coming from Malcolm. He knew it was a bad time to suffer the pangs of jealousy, but that was what he felt when he saw the darkly handsome Malcolm standing where he should be—between Ailis and harm.
“So, ye couldna leave my woman be, could ye?” accused Donald as he stood before Alexander. “Just as your rutting swine of a brother did to Mairi, so ye did to Ailis.”
“I like to think that I did it a wee bit more skillfully,” Alexander drawled, and he grunted as Donald punched him in the side of the head.
A soft gasp of pain escaped Ailis when Donald first struck Alexander. She cried out when he struck Alexander again, then again. Only Malcolm imprisoning her in his arms stopped her from rushing over to try and help Alexander, thus putting herself in easy reach of Donald’s fury. She covered her eyes so that she did not have to watch as Donald beat his prisoner into unconsciousness. When she finally did peek it was to see Alexander sprawled on the ground and Donald giving him one last kick before turning his attention on a glaring, but firmly restrained Jaime.
“Dinna touch him,” she protested, knowing it was wrong to bring attention back to herself, but unable to bear holding quiet during yet another senseless beating. “He will do naught so long as ye hold me. He will even swear to it.”
“Aye,” agreed Malcolm. “Make him swear to it. After all, we dinna want to be seen as less brave than the MacDubhs.”
“What do ye mean by that, cousin?” Donald demanded.
“Well, ‘tis clear that the MacDubhs were willing to let this brute wander about unrestrained, if weaponless. If we canna do as much . . .” He shrugged, leaving the charge of cowardice unspoken, but clearly heard by all.
“I can brave anything some stinking MacDubh can,” snarled Donald. “Aye, and more.”
When Donald made Jaime swear to be peaceful, Ailis gave a huge sign of relief and slumped a little in Malcolm’s hold. She felt guilty over sparing Jaime a beating while Alexander lay bruised and bleeding on the floor, but quickly shook that feeling away. There was nothing she could do to help Alexander. He was an enemy of long standing. Jaime was considered as no more than her bondsman, and she could speak for him.
They made Jaime pick up Alexander, and then they started out of the inn. One of the MacCordy men roughly kicked Angus’s body out of the way. As Ailis was pulled through the doorway by Malcolm, she looked back at Angus, who was sprawled on his back beside the threshold. She nearly gasped aloud when he winked at her, and she found it hard to believe that she had actually seen it. But it gave her enough hope to be brave as she was dragged back to Leargan.
