The captain took another step closer. “Ye are Macquaries.” A statement, not a question.
Archie and his companions didn’t answer, although their silence was damning.
“Maclean would like a word with ye.”
The Moy Guard closed in then. Rough hands seized Archie, Ross, and Ian. They deftly stripped them of their weapons. They took Archie’s dirk, the eating knife tucked into his belt, and even the small blade he kept hidden in his boot.
Moments later, they were marching south toward the castle that loomed ever larger through the trees. Archie felt the cold certainty settle in his gut.
They weren’t going home from this errand.
And Hamish Macquarie was going to be angrier than a swatted hornet.
The sun rose over the eastern walls of Moy Castle, gilding the barmkin. Thrushes sang in the eaves. The air smelled of hay and horses, and fresh oaten bannocks from the kitchens. It was the kind of morning that promised warmth and gentle breezes off the sea loch.
Craeg felt none of it. All he could focus on was the pulsing anger in his gut.
He stood before the three kneeling men, arms crossed over his chest, gaze narrowed. Rage simmered in his gut. “Why?” The single word cut through the morning stillness. “Why does Macquarie want Hazel?”
The leader—Archie, Black had called him—kept his gaze fixed on the dirt. Sweat beaded on his brow despite the cool air.
“None of yer business,” he grunted.
Wrong answer.
Craeg nodded to Black, who stepped forward and drove his boot into Archie’s shoulder. The man sprawled sideways with a grunt, falling on his left arm. He hissed, clutching at the limb. Clearly, it pained him.
Vindication flashed through Craeg.Good.
“We know Hazel is Macquarie’s daughter,” he said, his pulse thudding in his throat now. “So, try again … and this time, give me something useful.”
Behind him, Hazel stood still and silent, upon the steps leading up to the tower house. He could feel her presence, sense the tension radiating from her. He hadn’t wanted her to see this, but when Black had come into the hall to fetch him, she’d overheard.
He couldn’t stop her from venturing outdoors. He didn’t blame her either. She deserved answers. Deserved to know why these bastards had been hunting her. Nonetheless, he’d have liked to have spared her this.
If things continued in this vein, the ‘interrogation’ would get ugly.
Archie pushed himself back upright, breathing hard. His face had turned ashen beneath his summer tan. Even so, his lips drew into a snarl. “I don’t answer to ye.”
This time, Black didn’t have time to land a blow.
Instead, Craeg moved. He lashed out, his fist catching Archie across the jaw. The crack echoed off the stone walls. The warrior’s head snapped back, and he spat blood into the dirt.
“Macquarie sent three men to hound the daughter he’s never met,” Craeg said, crouching down until he was at eye level with his captive.The morning sun warmed his back, yet he barely noticed. Instead, his temper simmered. He wanted to kill this whoreson, but he needed him to spill his guts. “There’s a reason for that. And ye’re going to tell me what it is.”
Archie’s chest heaved. His companions stayed silent, heads bowed.
Danger crackled in the air.
“Last chance,” Craeg murmured. “Before my methods grow rougher.”
And by God, they would.
Careful,a voice whispered.Ye’re starting to sound like him.
A lump of ice settled in his gut, and the crimson shroud of anger enveloping him receded a little. Queasiness rolled over Craeg then. Aye, his father had possessed a black temper—one that made everyone duck for cover when he unleashed it. One that had terrified him.
Did he want others to cower in fear of him too?
