Kieran refused to indulge the man with small pleasantries and lies; he did not deserve them after what he had done. He was in Kieran’s castle now; any slight Kieran could throw at him would never make up for the way Reginald had treated him in the past.
Stone dropped a kilt on the floor in front of him, sniffing in disdain.
It was Bailey’s kilt.
Kieran reeled at the sight of it, his vision turning red with rage and despair.
“Your friend’s kilt. A sign of his… ah shall we say, sudden demise,” Stone said, smiling ferociously. There was no humor in his eyes, no guilt or regret. There was only satisfaction in that cruel smile.
Kieran found himself unable to breathe; Bailey was dead, and it was his fault. If he had only sent a rescue party sooner, he could have avoided this outcome. His grief threatened to overwhelm him. It felt as though a hand had him gripped around the throat, cutting off his ability to breathe and concentrate.
The imaginary hand around his neck tightened its hold on his throat; Kieran knew that if he did not pull himself back to the here and now and compose himself, that he would lose all control of himself and slit Stone’s throat where he stood.
He closed his eyes briefly, counting slowly in his head as he inhaled and exhaled deeply. When he felt calmer, Kieran opened his eyes, narrowing them as he perused Stone.
There was no use crying over Bailey at that moment; Vivien had to be his priority now. He could grieve Bailey later when all was said and done, and Vivien was safely ensconced in his arms again.
Kieran only wished he had some insight into where she was if she was even alive.
Had Tilly managed to rescue Vivien already? Or had her mission failed?
Kieran clenched his teeth; he could not bring himself to believe that Vivien was dead, too. He would not allow himself to.
“Ye overstep yer position in my country,” Kieran grated out through his clenched teeth.
Reginald burst out laughing, a shrill, mirthless laugh, as he bent over, his breath coming in gasps as he continued to guffaw loudly.
“You are a jester, Kieran,” Stone said, once he had finally managed to control his laughter.
Kieran cocked an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest.
“But that is neither here nor there,” Reginald continued, examining his fingernails as though Kieran were not standing in front of him, anger and resentment coursing through his veins with his blood flow, pumping through his heart as he stared at his enemy.
“See, my job here is to take control of this area,” Reginald pursed his lips as he scrutinized Kieran.
“This entire area will be under British occupation within the next week. We will be taking jurisdiction here. I do apologize for it, but it is the Crown’s wish. You understand, don’t you?”
That vile smile crossed Stone’s face again.
“Like hell, ye will,” Kieran all but growled the words, “This land has belonged tae the MacBride clan for generations. We willnae give it tae ye. We will fight ye; rest assured. This is my land, my clan.”
Reginald chuckled, “That is very endearing of you to say, but I am afraid that there is no way in which the Crown will not take this land off you. You are at the Crown’s mercy – there is nothing you can do to change the decision that has been made.”
“I highly doubt that,” Kieran replied, hands fisted at his sides, “Ye will regret this; I can promise ye that much.”
Stone shook his head in mock consternation.
“Is that so?” he asked, his tone lighthearted, as though he did not take Kieran seriously.
Kieran crossed his arms over his broad chest again, raising himself to his full height. He refused to humor Stone with an answer, choosing instead to simply stare him down. The little man was no match for Kieran’s bulk; he could snap the man in two easily if he had half a mind to do so. He fought his urge to do just that; if Stone were dead, he had no way of knowing whether or not Vivien was alive, never mind where she was being held.
He had to exercise self-control; there was no other way to get through this debacle.
“You should know that I am fully aware of your affair with my wife,” Reginald raised his voice, as though hoping someone would overhear him and spread the news through Kieran’s clan like wildfire. “You have dishonored not only yourself with your actions, but me as well,” Stone raised his voice even further, his face turning red with fury as spittle flew from his mouth.
The man had lost control of his own emotions, Kieran noted. He was truly angry at the fact that Kieran and Vivien had found each other.
“You will rue the day you touched my wife for the first time,” Stone all but shouted as he glared at Kieran, “I promise you now – neither one of you will escape the harshest punishment I can possibly lay against you. You dishonored her, too, you filthy heathen. Her reputation will never be able to recover from the public knowledge of her being a whore and a traitor. And you – I will make sure you are sent to the gallows for your own insubordination and befouling of my wife’s body.”
