CHAPTER ELEVEN
After leaving Annie at Edinample, Niall had nearly ridden right into a patrol of the king’s men and had been forced to take refuge in the Lomond Hills before rejoining his men—two days later than originally planned—at Balquhidder. The delay had proved a blessing. Not only had it given him time to realize that he had to go back for Annie—and that he would keep going back until she agreed to come with him—his men had also delivered him the location of the third man.
Niall had tracked Callum Campbell to Dunoon—where the soon-to-be-dead man was apparently visiting his sweetheart—and had watched him go inside the inn. Niall would have to wait for him to come out before confronting him. The fewer witnesses the better. But nothing would stop him from finishing this.
Expecting a long wait, Niall had sent most of his men down the street to find some food from another alehouse. He stationed the three men who’d remained around the inn to make sure his prey couldn’t escape. Niall had just taken position himself on a stone fence opposite the inn where he could watch the door when it opened.
What he hadn’t expected was to see Callum Campbell coming out a few minutes later with a woman. And not just any woman,Niall’swoman.
The bastard had his arm around Annie’s neck and was dragging her out beside him.
Niall saw red. Rage unlike he’d ever experienced before descended over him. His first instinct was to reach for his dirk and throw. But with Annie in the way, it would be too risky.
Instead Niall drew hisclaidheamh-mòrfrom the baldric at his back and planned the course of attack that would kill the Campbell scourge and his two companions before they had time to react. As the top of Annie’s head fell well below the bastard’s neck, Niall had a clear path to take off his head. If his blade went through clean, he might be able to kill them all with one swing, using momentum to propel him. At the most, it would take two.
He saw the precise movements play out in his head like a deadly dance. He’d been in this position many times before, although never had the consequences been so dire.
He’d failed Annie once. He would not do so again.
Niall was just about to make his move when one of his men, obviously having seen what was happening, came from around the building to help him. Niall waved him back, but it was too late. Callum Campbell had caught the movement and drew a blade to Annie’s throat.
“Whoever is there, step forward or the bitch dies.”
As if to prove his words, he pressed the blade into her neck until Annie cried out and a thin seam of blood appeared along the milky white skin of her neck.
Niall growled and lunged forward but stopped cold when Annie cried out again in more pain. The blade was digging deeper, and from the look on the bastard’s face, Niall knew he would not hesitate to kill her. The woman who was everything to Niall was nothing to him. Whatever advantage Niall had in skill evaporated into the evening mist. Callum Campbell was in charge, and they both knew it.
“I hear you’ve been looking for me,” the man said with a malicious smile. “Well, you found me. Lucky for me, I found her first.” He leaned down and put his nose in Annie’s hair, inhaling deeply. “I’d forgotten how good you smelled. I carried that scent with me for days. I’m looking forward to having you again.”
Annie made a small sound of terror, and Niall let out a pained sound of frustration, rage, and hatred. His body was teeming, his muscles flexed and rigid with restraint. He felt like a chained lion with its prey just out of reach.
“Let her go.” Niall lowered his sword and stepping forward. “Take me instead.”
“Niall, no!” Annie cried. “They’ll kill you.”
Niall ignored her plea, his focus on the man holding her. He couldn’t look at her; it would only weaken him more.
“Do we have a deal?” Niall said impatiently. Every second that blade was held to her neck was killing him.
“I’ll have to think about it. The bitch might be a MacGregor, but there’s nothing wrong with her face… or her body. I still dream of those ripe paps.” The bastard had a lecherous gleam in his eye as his hand moved up to cup her breast.
Annie reacted as if burned, trying to wrench out of his hold, but it only caused the knife at her neck to dig in deeper. She made a sound like a wounded animal that made everything inside Niall disintegrate. He’d never felt so damned helpless in his life.
He couldn’t fail her again. God wouldn’t be so cruel. Agony twisted through him like a hot blade tearing him apart. He had to think of something.
“Niall!”
He forced himself to look at Annie, unable to ignore her plea, but scared at what he might see. Scared at seeing the fear and helplessness reflected back at him.
But that wasn’t what he saw at all. Instead he saw hatred that burned as hot as his and cold determination. He saw strength, not vulnerability.
He’d forgotten what she’d learned—what he’d taught her. And all at once, he knew what was going to happen. It was as if in that one look, they’d exchanged thoughts.
The bastard didn’t even know what hit him. With quickness and purpose that Niall would praise her for later, Annie found the hilt of the knife he’d given her and moved it straight back into a vulnerable spot in the bastard’s groin.
The Campbell moaned in shock and pain, and the knife he held to Annie’s neck fell to the ground. Annie pushed away as Niall lifted his sword above his head. When it fell, it took the bastard’s life with one clean sweep.
His Campbell companions suffered a similar fate a few moments later when Niall’s men rushed forward, the MacGregor battle cry echoing through the air.
