That explained the missing second guardsman—Duncan knew she’d left the castle with two men. He would have one of his men ride back to find him.
Duncan met the old man’s stare, looking him full in the face, intending to demand restitution for the men’s families. Instead he felt the jolt of recognition.
Hell.
He saw the shock returned on the other man’s face and realized he was not alone. The older man was one of the Mackintosh warriors Duncan had rescued from certain death during the battle of Glenlivet—Malcolm was his name.
“You’ve come back,” Malcolm said, his voice filled with awe.
“You know this man, Malcolm?” the captain asked.
Jeannie’s head lifted from its place buried in his chest at the sound of the younger man’s voice. Duncan felt her body go rigid. “It’s him,” she said, her fingers gripping the leather of Duncan’s cotun. “It’s the man who tried to abduct me.”
Duncan went cold. Ice cold. The urge to grab the man by the throat and squeeze until his eyes bulged raged inside him.
Sensing his thoughts, Jeannie put a restraining hand on his chest. “No. It’s over. I just want to get home and see my daughter.”
The young captain seemed to sense how close he was to death and took a few steps back.
Duncan’s fists clenched at his side, the muscles flexing up his arms and across his shoulders. A man who dared to hurt a woman—and not just any woman, but his woman—did not deserve mercy. In two strides he’d reached the man and drew him up by the neck. He tried to break free, but Duncan’s arms were as rigid as steel. The Mackintoshes reached for their weapons, but Duncan’s men lunged forward—the point of their claymores a sufficient deterrent.
“Give me one reason I should not kill you,” Duncan seethed.
“She’s mistaken,” the coward gasped. “I don’t know what she’s talking about.”
Malcolm Mackintosh tried to intervene. “We did not mean the lass any harm. We want no trouble.”
Something in the man’s voice pulled Duncan’s gaze away from the captain’s. He read the silent offer. Let the lad live and I will keep the secret of your identity. It wasn’t much of an offer. If all of the witnesses were dead no one would be left to tell Duncan’s secret.
“Duncan.” Jeannie tugged on his arm. He gazed down into her upturned face, into the pleading green depths. “Please.”
His fingers gave one last squeeze before he tossed the man away from him. The young Mackintosh landed, gasping, on his ass.
Duncan turned to Malcolm. “Go. But if he comes within a mile of the lady again, he’s dead.”
Malcolm nodded and said in a low voice, “Welcome back, captain. I never believed what they said of ye. No one who saw ye fight that day did.”
Duncan acknowledged the man’s loyalty with a nod. He heard the young captain rustle to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye he saw him bend over and…
Before anyone else realized what was happening Duncan reached for thesgian dubhin his boot and in one smooth, unerring motion threw.
There was a loud thump as the blade found its target, followed by a strangled grunt from the captain.
The young captain wobbled, the hilt of Duncan’s knife firmly in his neck. The pistol he’d slid from his waist and pointed at Duncan’s back wavered in the air before dropping to the ground.
A moment later his body followed.
Chapter 15
It had happened so fast. Jeannie still couldn’t believe how quickly Duncan had reacted. She hadn’t even been able to open her mouth to shout a warning before his knife was sheathed in the other man’s neck, finding the small unprotected area right below his throat and above the edge of his mail.
The flash of fear she’d felt for Duncan paled in comparison to the awe and admiration that had followed after his near effortless dispatching of the threat and cold accuracy. She’d never seen him fight before and if the dark, ruthless look that had come over him was any indication, she could see how the Black Highlander had earned his fearsome reputation.
His instincts were amazing.Hewas amazing.
She put her fingers to her mouth. She could still taste him on her lips. The kiss had been brief, but poignant. In that one kiss he’d conveyed more emotion than in the entire three weeks since he’d returned. It had not been a kiss in lust or anger, but of something far deeper—of aching tenderness and poignant reminder of feelings long submerged.
But the truly shattering part was that she hadn’t wanted him to stop. Her feelings had been right there—on the edge—ready to catapult into danger.
