Movement at the edge of his vision made him go still.
Three men, wearing MacDougal colors but moving wrong. Too purposeful. Too focused. Their eyes were fixed on Mhairi with an intensity that made every warrior instinct Alpin possessed scream in warning.
He pushed away from the wall, his hand already moving to his sword hilt.
The men reached Mhairi just as she was helping the elderly woman to her feet. One of them, tall, broad-shouldered, with a scar running down his neck, grabbed Mhairi's arm.
"Come quietly, lass, and no one gets hurt."
Mhairi's eyes went wide with shock. She tried to jerk away. "Let go of me!"
"Ashcombe's waiting." The second man moved to her other side, reaching for her. "And he's not a patient man."
Alpin was already running.
He covered the distance in seconds, drawing his sword as he moved. The sound of steel leaving its sheath made all three men's heads snap toward him.
"Step away from her," Alpin said, his voice deadly quiet. "Now."
The scarred man's hand tightened on Mhairi's arm. "This doesn’t concern you, whoever ye are. The lass belongs to––
Alpin's sword was at his throat before he could finish the sentence.
"She belongs tae nay one." Each word was ice. "And I'm Laird Alpin MacDougal. Ye're wearin' me clan's colors on false pretenses, threatenin' a woman under me protection, and standin' on me lands without permission. So I'll tell ye one more time, step away from her."
The man released Mhairi's arm immediately. She stumbled backward, and Donnach appeared from the cottage doorway, pulling her behind him protectively.
"We were told––" the second soldier started.
"I dinnae care what ye were told." Alpin's blade didn't waver. "Where did ye get those colors?"
"Bought them off a trader two days ago." The third man was younger, barely twenty, and his hands were shaking as he raised them in surrender. "We're just following orders, me lord. The Duke of Ravenscar said––"
"Ashcombe sent ye." It wasn't a question.
"Aye. Said to retrieve his property."
Alpin moved.
His sword flashed in the afternoon sun as he disarmed the scarred man with a quick twist of his blade. The weapon clattered to the ground. Before the others could react, Alpin had his dirk out, the blade pressing against the younger soldier's ribs.
"She's nae property," Alpin said softly. "And the next man who calls her such will lose his tongue. Am I understood?"
"Aye," the young one gasped. "Aye, me lord, understood."
Villagers had gathered now, forming a loose circle around the confrontation. Alpin could see several of his actual warriors, the ones he had sent with Donnach and Mhairi, pushing through the crowd, drawing their own weapons.
"Duncan!" Alpin called. "Take these men into custody. I want them questioned, then escorted tae the border with a message fer Ashcombe."
"Aye, me laird." Duncan moved forward with two other warriors, roughly binding the false soldiers' hands. "What message?"
Alpin looked at each of the captured men in turn, makin' sure they understood every word. "Tell Ashcombe that if he sends men ontae me lands again––in me colors or any other disguise––they'll be returned tae him in pieces. Tell him that Mhairi Munro is under MacDougal protection, and that protection is absolute. And tell him..."
He paused, letting the weight of his next words settle. "Tell him that if he wants tae discuss this matter, he can request a formal meetin' like a civilized man instead of sendin' kidnappers in the night."
The scarred soldier spat blood. "The duke will not stand fer this insult."
"Then let him come himself instead of sendin' others tae dae his work." Alpin sheathed his sword with deliberate calm. "Now get them out of me sight."
