Page 92 of A Dangerous Highland Affair

“What, what is it?” he asked, taking the vial and fastening it into his sporran.

Then his eyes met hers darkly.

“Hemlock…”

“Gae off me, ye weasel-faced rat!”

Gaie’s voice soared high over both of their ears, as from the cellar, Neacal struggled to mount the stairs.

The wounds Marcas had inflicted on him were red raw, and it felt as if everything, from his elbow to his ribcage, ached.

But hearing Gaie’s cries were enough to spur him on.

Within seconds he was bursting through the trapdoor and springing out into the midst of a heated tussle.

Immediately Marcas, still with his arm around Gaie’s neck, kicked back at Lorcal, almost knocking him over.

“Gaie?” Neacal leaped in to discover a mound of bodies, slumped, and fallen in various shapes around the room.

Despite her position on the floor, Gaie still looked triumphant at her part in overpowering the commander’s men. Beside her, Lorcal scrambled to his feet, sparring with a dumpy straw-haired guard.

Lorcal had him against the floor, and as Neacal approached, he helped him shackle the man to the table.

For a few minutes, it seemed as if they would free Gaie, but then Marcas pushed forward, clutching her throat tightly and pointing a black sgian dubh at Lorcal’s head.

Instantly, Neacal acted, knocking the dagger clean out of Marcas’s hand, with one kick.

Then he turned his face to Marcas, who still had Gaie stuck fast. His burly arms had almost extinguished her breath completely, and her face was beginning to turn blue.

“Ye let her go,” rang out Neacal, jabbing him with the silver sword.

The weight of the dagger worked its charm. The force of the blow simply knocked Marcas over, as Gaie screamed to safety and the waiting arms of Lorcal, by the side of the room.

Lorcal grabbed Gaie tightly and pummeled her out of harm’s way, as Neacal went head to head with Marcas –again.

“It’s just ye an’ me, now, the way ye wanted it!” Neacal flashed as he brought Duncan’s blade up to the man’s eyes.

“It always should have been me an’ ye!” yelled Marcas, pure venom swimming in the pits of his eyes. “My Donald should ne’er ha’ been caught up in it! He was doing as ye said!”

There was a tense pause as Gaie whimpered slightly in the background, still attempting to get her breath back.

A cold, sick feeling crept through Neacal.

“I ken, an’ I regret that,” he said simply. “But it wasnae for ye to take three lives….”

Neacal’s words floated in the air and remained there, unchallenged.

“It was the only way,” hissed Marcas, his light green eyes taking on a darkness that Neacal had never seen before.

“I had to make it stick because yer so slippery Neacal, it’s like trying to catch an eel!” the hate in his voice was so extreme it shocked even Neacal.

Marcas sounded as if he was mad, the whites of his eyes glaring terrifyingly through the gloom.

“Now yer going to pay, Neacal,” warned Marcas, whipping him with his sword.

The heavy black sgian dubh clipped the back of Neacal’s head, pushing him into a duel.

Without warning, Neacal was fighting for his life, thrusting the heavy silver sword as fast as he could towards Marcas’s face.