“What is it?” Kuresh asked.
“I’d hoped for Sutherlands, not Munroes. Seems the lass’s betrothed has sent men to keep watch over her.”
“She is a prize?”
“Hair the color of the desert, eyes the color of crystal.”
“She would bring much gold in Constantinople.”
“Here, she’ll bring death if we doona silence these men.” The choice had been made then—dead men couldna talk.
On the count of three, Jamie and Kuresh rushed from the trees, surprising the Munroe soldiers. Kuresh moved off to the left, and Jamie stalked straight ahead. Two challenged Jamie, and he quickly cut the first down, circling the other, the taste of blood already in his mouth.
“Why have ye come here?” he asked.
“Do ye not know?” the soldier countered, blocking a blow from Jamie’s weapon.
“If I did, I wouldna ask.”
“Helen Sutherland rode through yer gates tonight.”
“And how would ye know that?”
“We followed her from Dunrobin Castle.”
The warrior’s answer left Jamie confused, for what sharp-witted man would let a lady escape and ride so far away from her home? When Kuresh appeared behind his rival, Jamie lowered his weapon, surprising the Munroe soldier. Of course, Jamie had no intention of killing him anyway; he needed information.
“What are ye doing?” the warrior asked.
“Letting ye live.”
“I dinna ask for mercy.”
“Aye, but I’ll give it. Ye’re worth more alive than dead.”
Kuresh smashed the soldier in the back of the head with a wooden club he carried on his weapon belt. The man staggered forward, dropping his sword, then sank to his knees.
Jamie kicked his weapon out of reach and moved in with a length of rope, tying the man’s hands behind his back. Jamie whistled, and four more MacKay soldiers emerged from the trees.
It took several sips of ale for the wounded Munroe warrior to recover from the blow to his head, but he finally opened his eyes, acknowledging Jamie with a nod.
Jamie had situated him in front of the fire.
“I’ll have yer name,” Jamie demanded.
“Duncan Munroe, nephew to Laird Munroe.”
Had God given Jamie the foresight not to kill this man? For if he had cut down the laird’s nephew, it would have started a war between the MacKays and Munroes. “God’s grace is with ye tonight.”
“I doona believe in grace, I believe in myself.”
Kuresh chuckled. “I thoughtallHighlanders feared God.”
Jamie shook his head. “This is no ordinary Highlander. He’s a bloody heathen from the isles. Leftovers from the days of Vikings.”
Once again, Kuresh laughed. “All Highlanders have Viking blood running through their veins.”
Duncan climbed to his feet suddenly, glaring at Kuresh. “What the fook is he?”
