Page 55 of The Return of the Heir

“I knew if I waited long enough, I would finally have a chance to finish what I started. This time it will not end well for you, I’m afraid. Now that MacLeod knows you’re alive, I’ll have to kill you to torment him even more.” Garrick moved slowly towards her, his blade raised to strike.

Marcus stepped before her, shielding Gwendolyn from his own kin. “If you want to harm her, you’ll have to go through me.”

“You’re a traitor, Marcus MacDonald. Consorting with the enemy.”

Marcus’s features hardened. “The MacLeods are not our enemy. Alastair MacLeod is not his father. He wants what we all want. Peace between the clans.”

“The son bears the stains of his father. Or have you forgotten that the Wicked Man killed my mother and murdered our people when he raided Duntulm village six years ago.”

“And the MacDonalds raided the village that killed Gwendolyn Harris’s parents and her entire clan. They’ve attacked the Campbells countless times, and more recently, they raided the MacLeans of Coll and not only stole their cattle, but raped the laird’s sister. Need I go on? Both the MacDonalds and the MacLeods have done things that neither clan is proud of. Again, I say to you, let the past rest for the sake of the future.”

A rustle of the bushes sounded behind Garrick, catching him off guard. He turned to the sound just as Marcus leapt forward. He kicked Garrick in the chest, the blow knocking the dagger from his hand.

“Intruders! Help! Intruders,” Garrick yelled, trying to alert the guards not far away.

Her heart pounding in her ears, Gwendolyn set the wooden chest beneath a shrub then lunged for the dagger. Instead of gripping the weapon, she was hauled backwards by an arm at her throat.

“Let me go!” Her stomach clenched with a terrible mix of sudden dread and absolute determination to never again be someone’s prisoner. Gwendolyn kicked backwards, hitting something. But instead of breaking free, the deadly edge of a knife pressed against her throat. “You’ll never have Alastair as long as I still draw breath.”

Beatrice.

Marcus snatched the blade Garrick had dropped from the ground and spun towards Beatrice. “Release her. You are no match for me with a weapon.”

“Drop your blade or I will slit her throat.” Beatrice pressed the knife’s edge deeper against Gwendolyn’s flesh. A warm trickle of blood raced down her neck.

It didn’t matter. All that mattered was breaking free. She could not grasp the hidden dagger between her breasts fast enough and use it while Beatrice held her this way. Instead, Gwendolyn doubled her fists and thrust them backwards, aiming blindly at whatever she could strike. She hit soft flesh.

Beatrice grunted in pain, loosening her grip enough for Gwendolyn to draw a breath and wrench away. Marcus moved in, taking Beatrice to the ground.

Gwendolyn backed away. She had to reach the horse, free it and then she and Marcus could escape. She took two steps and Garrick blocked her way. He grabbed her arm, his fingers biting into her tender flesh and yanked her towards him. “You will pay for this, I promise.”

He caught her around the waist with his other arm, holding her so tightly she could not breathe. Marcus and Beatrice were still struggling in the dirt when the sound of footsteps sounded in the direction of Monkstadt House. The wall gate opened and ten men spilled into the darkness. Four carried pistols, the rest were armed with swords.

“Marcus!” Gwendolyn managed enough breath to warn him. Garrick jerked her head back so roughly she saw stars.

“Let her go, Garrick.” A voice came from behind them.

Graeme.

Graeme pressed a pistol to Garrick’s throat, but Garrick didn’t release his hold on Gwendolyn. “If you harm me, the guards will shoot all of you. None of us will survive, but it might almost be worth dying, knowing I took down not only the MacLeod’s two women, but also the great Graeme Duff.”

Four of the guards from Monkstadt House continued forward, their pistols aimed.

Gwendolyn’s fingers were like ice. She felt tears just behind her eyes and she fought them, forcing them back, blinking in an effort not to cry. The world had not been kind to her, but despite the harshness of her life, she’d been able to find the one thing that eluded most people. Love. She had the love of her siblings, and she’d experienced kindness at the hands of Alastair MacLeod. She only wished she could see him one more time, tell him how she felt.

“Ready.” A shout called out. The sound of several pistols cocking filled the air.

Her heart raced in her chest, so loud it almost sounded like hoofbeats in the distance.

“Aim.”

“Stop.” A new voice from behind her was harsh and commanding. “Release them now and lower your weapons.”

Alastair.

No one moved. “Let her go.”

Gwendolyn’s breath hitched. The air stilled as both sides weighed the odds of proceeding. Marcus gained his feet and stepped away from Beatrice, leaving her to struggle up by herself.