Slowly, Killian stood straighter. He tilted his head as he studied the effect of anticipation on Marcus. How long it would take before he cracked again was a puzzle Killian looked forward to solving.
"Because ye're a spawn of hell," the prisoner spat, but even he could not mask the tremor in his voice.
"Why did you attack me?" Killian's tone shifted and became sharp and unyielding. His patience had grown thin, and he didn't want to waste any more time in the pit than he had to. He drew his dirk from its sheath with a swift, practiced motion, the blade gleaming ominously in the dim light. He pressed it to the prisoner's throat. The cold steel bit into the tender flesh under Marcus's chin, drawing a thin line of crimson.
"There's a contract for yer life," Marcus answered as Killian pressed the blade deeper.
"Tell me somethin' I daenae ken and I might just spare yer life," Killian said through clenched teeth. It took every ounce of his strength not to run the blade across Marcus's throat. Leah's voice rang in his ears like that of an angel calling from heaven.
"If I failed, another would rise," Marcus mumbled as Killian held Marcus's head, ready to sever it from the body.
"Who? When?"
"Ceilidh," Marcus muttered in a panic. Killian eased his grip, allowing Marcus a bit more room to speak.
"Say again," Killian ordered.
"The next attempt will be at the ceilidh. It is to be a spectacle," Marcus said as Killian stole a glance at Fraser. The words hung in the air like a death knell, striking Killian with a visceral fear.
Panic surged through him like wildfire, igniting the protective instincts that had long made him the laird of his clan. Leah would be there, caught in the midst of it all, her laughter and light now a beacon for danger. The thought of her in peril filled him with a fury that rose like a tempest within his chest.
"Fraser," Killian barked, urgency threading through his voice. "Gather the council. We must prepare. I'll do whatever it takes to protect what is mine."
"And what of him?" Fraser asked, nudging his head to Marcus.
"Put him in a cell. If what he says comes to pass, then he should be rewarded. If what he says turns out to be false, then he shall meet with his grandfaither on the other side," Killian said as his eyes narrowed. His heart raced with the realization that Leah's safety was once again in jeopardy. The thought rattled him more than he would have liked as the implications of the prisoner's words sank in.
Killian watched as Fraser wrangled Marcus out of the chamber and let out a deep breath as the weight of the situation pummeled him. Running his fingers through his hair, Killian struggled as to what he should do. Was calling off the ceilidh the right thing to do? It would keep Leah safe, but that wasn't the purpose of her being here. She was to help him draw out his rivals. Yet, now that her life had been put in danger, he wasn't sure his goals were worth striving for any longer.
I've got to figure out another way… one that willnae put Leah in danger. Perhaps I tell her she cannae come? Nay, we are to announce our engagement; that will nae do. She'll have to be there… in the line of danger. Do I tell her?
How did this get so far out of control?
Killian swallowed hard as he trudged through the mires of his thoughts. He wanted to protect Leah at all costs, but what would he sacrifice to figure out who was trying to kill him?
Killian charged through the stone corridors of the castle, his mind swirling with turmoil. The weight of the prisoner's confession pressed heavily on his chest; each thought igniting atempest of fear and anger. Leah was in danger, that much he was certain of, no matter which way he rolled the dice. The thought of anything happening to her sent adrenaline coursing through his veins that he needed to release or find himself on the verge of insanity.
Killian navigated the familiar halls with the torchlight, casting long shadows that mirrored the darkness brewing within him. As he rounded a corner, he collided directly with Leah, sending her tumbling to the ground. Instinctively, Killian reached out for her, snatching her before she landed.
"Killian?"
"Are ye all right?" he asked, setting her upright on her feet. She pressed a hand to her chest as the wild panic subsided. He pulled in a deep breath as he gave her a once-over. How he wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her there forever. At least in his embrace, she'd be safe.
"Aye, I think so," she answered as she looked around and leaned down to grab the leather pouch from the ground. "Oh dear, that would have been bad had I lost this."
"What is it?" Killian asked, inspecting the pouch in her hand.
"Just some herbs for yer brother. I picked them last week and had them drying. They'll help with his aches and pains once he decides to get out of the bed."
"Daenae hold yer breath for that," Killian said. "Mason hasn't gotten out of that bed in months."
"Which is why he'll need this," Leah said, patting the leather pouch. "He's determined to escort me to the ceilidh."
"He cannae do that," Killian hissed as he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to a private nook. "The plan was for me to propose. How do ye think it'll look if ye come with nae just another, but me brother?"
Killian paused a moment as his words struck a cord within him. Her green eyes widened as concern etched itself into her features.
"Killian? Are ye all right? Ye daenae look well," she exclaimed, reaching for his arm, her touch light but grounding. She looked at him as if he were not a monster but a man in need of solace. "What is goin' through that head of yers?"
