Chapter Eighteen
Elizabeth watches from the tower she’s locked in and fears for her sire’s life.
Tears filled her eyes as she watched her sire dismount his horse and slowly stride over to stand in front of MacTear, Loki and Thorn following him at a slight distance. The crowd finally quieted as everyone strained to hear what was being said. Elizabeth bit back tears so she wouldn’t miss a word.
“Where is my daughter? Release her now, MacTear.”
“Are you addled, Grant? She’s not here. We already discussed this. Go search the Norseman’s land.” MacTear stood on the platform in the middle of the courtyard, but her father was so tall he could nearly look him in the eye anyway. MacTear began to ramble. “Or go to the baron. He already tried to steal her once. He must be the guilty party. I’m your neighbor. I wouldn’t act against you.”
Dead silence from the crowd.
Her father merely looked at him. It must have been one of his severe looks because the bastard couldn’t stop his rambling. “Had I any knowledge of her location, I would have told you when we met a few hours ago. I searched but found nothing, so we returned to the castle for rest and the midday meal.”
If it were possible for a man to squirm while standing, MacTear was attempting it. He looked as uncomfortable as anyone she’d ever seen, but he held his position.
Her father’s voice came out in a dead serious tone his children had all learned to dread. This time Elizabeth silentlyapplauded. “I know she’s here, you bastard,” he bellowed, stepping closer to MacTear. “Release her now or the battle will commence. I just sent for five hundred more warriors to add to the two hundred I brought with me.” Elizabeth knew one of his usual tactics was to overstate his numbers, but she suspected he probablyhadsent for more warriors.
MacTear’s hands came up, his palms facing her father. “Alex, your worry has turned you daft. I swear to you she’s not here.” The courtyard was the quietest it had been yet, MacTear’s entire clan waiting for her father’s response.
Elizabeth leaned out the window as far as she could and bellowed, “Papa! Papa! I’m here! Please! He has me locked in the tower.”
Her father looked up at her, but the crowd remained quiet. “There’s confirmation of your lie. I’ll ask you one more time, MacTear. Release my daughter, or face my wrath.”
“Go home, Grant. The priest has already married us. She’s mine now.”
“Nay, he’s lying, Papa. Never! Never will I marry him.” Her voice carried across the courtyard.
The next sound to meet her ears was of all the Grant warriors unsheathing their swords at once. “One to one, MacTear. I challenge you for my daughter. Here and now. You have one minute to choose your weapon.”
The crowd began to stir, and MacTear pulled his sword out as he jumped off the platform. But rather than meet the challenge like a man, he attempted to move away. Her father pursued him, of course, and MacTear pretended he wouldn’t fight back. He practically dropped to his knees—then brought his sword up, aimed straight at Alex’s midsection.
Elizabeth screamed.
It was happening again, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Chapter Twenty
A daughter’s love for her father never fades, but eventually a younger man enters the picture. And there’s plenty of saving to go around.
Lizzie paced inside, listening to the battle sounds, which had steadily dissipated. Daw and Phil were peeking out the door, keeping her abreast of everything. “My father? Is he still standing?”
Daw turned around, grinning. “Shite, no one could stop him. Why are you worried? The battle is mostly over.”
“Do you see Gil anywhere?”
“Aye,” Phil said. “He was just up on the battlements. He stopped three of MacTear’s men from pouring boiling oil on your sire.”
“Boiling oil? On my sire?” That was it. She couldn’t wait any longer. She pushed past the two, shoving the door open, and charged through the courtyard, grateful she had trews on instead of a gown.
The men were so tall, she couldn’t see over many of them, but the Grant warriors recognized her and opened a path up for her straight to her father. “Papa! Papa!”
She ran toward him, tears blurring her vision as she finally reached him. He stood by the gates, giving orders to his men. “Papa!”
Her father opened his arms to her, and she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and blubbering unlike she’d ever done before. “I was so frightened watching you fight.”
Once she was a wee bit calmer, he set her feet back on the ground and checked her over. “Did he harm you, lass? Any of them?”
“Nay, Papa. I’m fine.”
