Even when Lady Marjorie MacPherson arrived at the inn.
*
“I dinna carewhat state she is in!” Constantine heard her shrill voice permeating the wooden door to Ismay’s room. “Step aside or I will have ye removed,” she continued, likely speaking to Hugh—the only one who would be guarding the door. “Are ye not aware of my men outside that door?”
“Ye should have bought fifty with ye, woman.” On the other side of the door, Constantine smiled at Hugh’s warning. Hell, his steward was unexpected as a summer storm. “I’ll take down twenty easily. It willna even be a fight.”
Constantine went to the door and opened it. He stepped out and shut the door behind him. He set his stare on the woman who tried to cast her stepdaughter back into the kind of life that haunted her eyes.
“Miss MacPherson willna see ye,” he let her know with anger tightening his jaw. “Get oot before I drag ye oot.”
She gasped and threw her hands to her chest. “Do ye know who I am, ye pagan miscreant? I demand—”
He stepped forward, grasped her wrist, and commenced dragging her out. When he had her outside, he didn’t bother looking around at her men. Hugh held them all back with a glare.
“Lady MacPherson, ye will remove Ismay from yer memory. Ye will never see her again unless she wills it.”
“Who will stop me? She is my—”
“I will,” he promised without a doubt in his voice. “She is no’ yer aythin’. Do ye understand?”
“She is to be wed!”she argued.
“Ye speak of Chief MacRae,” he said. “That brute rid Ismay of him and yer vow.”
For a moment, she merely sputtered her disbelief. Apparently, she had not seen or heard from the rat.
“He willna be gettin’ her, and ye willna be gettin’ her inheritance. I wed her. I am her husband.”
Her eyes opened wide and she threw back her head to let out a scream that finally got her men moving, despite Hugh’s death stare warning them not to come near.
They attacked. Constantine held her wrist while he watched his steward put down twenty men. Hugh hadn’t lied when he told her it would not even be a fight. It was over all too soon, leaving Lady MacPherson’s men lifeless in the dirt around the inn.
“Hmm,” Constantine said more to himself than to Lady MacPherson, who was also watching, horrified by seeing all her men fall. “I’ll have to make him more than my steward.”
“He is yer steward?” his captive asked as her last man went down and Hugh turned to her. “He is a monster.”
“Och, he’s tame compared to the rest of my kin,” Constantine let her know, turning back to her. “Anythin’ ye try to do against her willna work. She has been fergiven by me fer killin’ her torturer, Roderick MacDonald. She will heal and bloom in my care. My kin and I will kill anyone who tries to harm her again.”
“I should get his riches! I was married to him fer over twenty years!”
“Over twenty years and he didna believe ye deserved a pence of his riches. I wonder why that is?”
He didn’t wait for her to reply but motioned to her horse.
“Remember,” he said as she pulled herself up on her horse, “if ye want to live, ferget her.”
He watched her ride away, alone and then returned to the inn.
*
Lady Marjorie cursedunder her breath as she led her horse away. How dare an outlaw threaten her? Was he truly Ismay’s husband? It couldn’t be true!
No matter. No lowborn Highland cretin would threaten her twice. She would never forget that Ismay had her money. She would see everyone dead before she gave up.
Bastard.
Chapter Twenty-Four
