Page 45 of Alec

“Liar. You but cowered here in your stronghold, too afraid to face the king’s wrath. When I left him to journey here, he told me to end you slowly and painfully. Indeed, I should gut you where you stand.” He flipped the blood from his blade before sheathing it. “If I name you my son, however, he shall forgive you all. Come with me now and marry Torra in the chapel where I wed her lady màthair. She awaits you with an eager heart.”

“As I’ve told you many times, I cannae marry your daughter.” Tasgall didn’t react when the other laird bunched a fist and threw a punch, which landed on the guard who stepped in front of him like a living shield. Tasgall steadied the clansman before he said, “Attacking my men shallnae change my answer. ’Tis better you go now, my lord.”

Olivia’s gaze shifted to the rafters, where Alec had his bow drawn and ready to shoot the MacBren. If he did, would the arrow pass through him as if he were a ghost? Or would the spell trap heal him instantly?

“’Tis best I change your mind, you insolent whelp. Where did you hide that tall, pretty whore you paraded in front of me when last I came?” Without looking away MacBren said to his men, “Search this floor and the next for that black-haired wench he facks. Bring her to me alive. I shall use her to school her master.”

Olivia reached out and curled her fingers around Ava’s, which were trembling a little. The other woman gave her a grateful look.

Half of the MacBren’s men brandished their swords and left the hall. At the sound of a screech from outside Farlan surged forward, but a gray-feathered hawk with a coppery breast flew through one of the arches and soared across the room to land on Tasgall’s outstretched gauntlet.

“Damnable creature.” MacBren stared at the large bird. “What do you with birds inside your stronghold? Keep you an aviary here, McKeran?”

“The birds make their home with us.” He lifted his gauntlet, and the hawk shrieked again before flying out of the hall. “Would you call back your men, my lord? The lady you seek, she’s gone.”

“A canny wench.” He seemed happy to hear that. “Now you’ve no reason to refuse my Torra. Accompany me to my stronghold and wed her this very day. I shall name you my sole heir and successor. ’Tis a position every other man in Scotland would murder to possess.” When Tasgall didn’t move he drew his sword. “Refuse me again, McKeran, and I’ll take your head.”

“Our laird doesnae wish to marry anyone, my lord.” One of the guards disobeyed Tasgall’s orders and got between the two lairds. “Begone with you and your bastarts.”

“Kelso, step back,” Farlan hissed, although his expression appeared oddly resigned.

MacBren eyed the guard from his face to his boots and back again. “At least one of your lads possesses a spine.”

“I can part your head from yours, my lord,” Kelso offered, drawing his sword and holding it ready as he approached the laird. “Come and face me, and I shall–” An arrow landed in his right eye with a thud, and he sank to his knees.

As one of the MacBren’s men nocked another arrow to his bow, Olivia bit her lip to keep from screaming in horror.

“No more,” Farlan begged as he caught Kelso in his arms and eased him onto his back. “Och, lad. He’s done for.”

The guard gasped something, and then went limp.

“Pity. Brave, but foolish.” MacBren strode forward, shoving aside the clansmen that stepped into his path until he stood only a few inches from Tasgall. “Shall I tell my archer to do the same to you, or shall you come to your senses?”

Olivia suppressed a wince as Ava’s fingernails dug into her palm. Watching her husband deal with this horrid man was pure torture. Any minute the laird could be killed.

Only he won’t die. He’ll come back. But if that meant he disappeared like the others every time the event cycle repeated, Ava and Tasgall would only have a couple of months to be together—which explained why the laird’s wife was so scared.

How can they live like this?

“I shallnae marry your daughter.” When the other laird punched him in the face Tasgall rocked on his heels but remained standing. “I shall never wed Torra.”

MacBren shook his head and raised his hand. “Archer, aim for his cowardly heart. This is your last chance, McKeran. Oblige me or die.”

“Kill me.” Tasgall didn’t even blink as an arrow flew past his face, so close to his head that his hair flew up in its wake. “Mayhap your archer needs learn where to find the heart.” He pointed to the left side of his chest. “Aim here, lad.”

“Stupit bastart.” The other laird turned on his heel and stalked out of the hall.

Alec and his men dropped down from the rafters and followed him.

Ava fell to her knees, her shoulders shaking, and Olivia knelt beside her to brace her from keeling over entirely. Awkwardly she hugged the silently weeping woman until her trembling stopped and she used her sleeve to wipe her face.

“I’m sorry.” She drew in a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly before she added, “He never told me that he’d be attacked this time.”

“He probably didn’t want you to worry. He couldn’t stop it from happening again, right?” As Ava nodded she patted her back. “Let’s get out of here now.”

Helping the laird’s wife through the back of the blind and down the ladder to the passage, Olivia swallowed hard before she guided her into the hall. Yet instead of seeing Kelso on the floor, only a small puddle of blood lay where he had fallen.

“He actually disappeared,” Ava said through white lips.