Page 68 of A Bride for the Kilted Beast

Following him in was a fearsome looking warrior Diarmaid had never seen before. He was huge and muscular, with long fair hair worn atop his head, a scarred, angular face, and large gray eyes. Once he saw those eyes, Diarmaid realized with a rush of surprise exactly who he must be. It was Aiden, Laird o’ MacDonald, Lillie’s elder brother.

After that, the room filled rapidly with his own men, who by the look of them, had all battled furiously to get this far. But among them were many soldiers he did not recognize who wore what he realized must be the MacDonald tartan. His spirits soared.

Ciarán, ye clever bastard, ye brought the MacDonald army with ye!

“Braither, are ye all right?” He heard his brother’s anxious voice in his ear, and a strong arm went around his shoulders, helping him to rise to his feet.

“Aye, Braither, I just took a wee blow tae the gut, is all. But I thank the Wee Man ye got here in time, and I see ye brought reinforcements.”

Ciarán’s reply was lost as, suddenly, the deafening sound of bells clanging all over the castle rang out. The attack alarm was being sounded!

Over the terrible metallic din that seemed to shake the very walls, the sound of men fighting in the hallways floated into the room. Diarmaid looked over at Murphy. The vicious laird had stopped dead in his tracks, the blood draining from his face, his mouth hanging open as he looked around him in obvious astonishment at what was happening.

Diarmaid then noticed that Odhrán had corralled Maddison into a corner at the back of the room, and he was standing, his sword out, braced to fight. But he made no move to engage at all, despite the number of enemy soldiers surrounding them. His eyes darted back and forth as he surveyed the chaos going on in front of him. Once again Diarmaid was puzzled by his odd behavior. The man appeared to be trying to protect Maddison when he could easily have slain her.

However, Diarmaid had only a few moments to take it all in, for Murphy quakily regained his wits and came at him again with a roar of fury. With his strength and determination renewed by the turn of events, Diarmaid fought the evil laird ferociously.

“Odhrán! Dinnae just stand there, boy. Help me tae finish him off,” Murphy shouted. But to Diarmaid’s continued astonishment, Odhrán did not move to help his father, who appeared enraged as he hacked and struck at Diarmaid with his blade.

At that moment, the bells ceased their clanging, and the sounds of fierce fighting in the hallway outside suddenly filled the air. After a few seconds, several Lennox soldiers appeared in the doorway, engaged in mortal combat with their enemies as they forced their way into the room, bringing the fight with them. The rivals engaged in fierce fighting at once, throwing the room into more turmoil.

Diarmaid was only partly conscious of what was happening, for he was still engaged in furious combat with Murphy, who once again shouted to his son to come and help him. Out of the corner of his eye, Diarmaid saw Odhrán take a few paces forward, but he did not come to aid his father. Instead, he was responding to the approach of one of the MacDonald soldiers. The pair quickly engaged, their blades clashing, leaving Maddison cowering in the corner behind them.

Diarmaid’s heart stopped as, in a flash, Murphy was on her. She screamed and tried to fight him off as he put his arm around her throat and dragged her against him, making her gasp for breath. He could only look on in horror to see that Murphy was holding a dirk to her throat, pressing it into the soft flesh.

“If ye dinnae all get out of me castle now, I’ll cut her throat,” Murphy roared.

By degrees, the fighting stopped, and silence fell but for the panting and groaning of men. “I mean it,” Murphy, threatened again, tightening his grip on Maddison. Diarmaid felt the blood drain from him when a necklace of red beads appeared on his sister’s white throat as Murphy pressed the blade harder.

“Faither, calm down, will ye? ’Tis nae the time tae dae anything rash. Let the lassie go,” came a deep, soothing voice nearby. Diarmaid’s head swiveled, amazed to see it was Odhrán who was talking, in a tone he had never heard him use before. The man’s face was pale and tense, and Diarmaid glimpsed what he thought looked like fear in the man’s eyes as he slowly approached his father.

His heart thumped loudly in his chest as the entire room held its breath.

“’T’would be foolish tae harm the lass now, would it nae? Dinnae hurt her, and we can use her life tae bargain with, eh?” Odhrán was saying, moving closer to his father inch by inch, extending a placating hand towards him, while Maddison was turning blue as she struggled to breathe. Her eyes rolled in terror, crimson droplets trailing down her pale skin and disappearing under the neckline of her dress.

“Come on, Faither, ye’re angry, I ken it, but ye must see it’ll dae us nae good if ye hurt her,” Odhrán continued in a calm voice as he moved almost imperceptibly forward. “Gimme the blade now,” he added, gesturing with his fingers for his father to hand over the dirk.

Diarmaid watched, frozen to the spot, as Murphy’s dark eyes fixed upon his son. For a moment he appeared to be considering Odhrán’s words.

“Nay, ye’ve already made me wait too long tae finish her. I should never have listened tae ye,” his father suddenly spat, lifting his arm to draw the blade across Maddison’s throat.

In a blur of movement, Odhrán suddenly raised his arm and thrust the point of his sword deeply into his father’s temple, forcing it deeper before finally pulling it out.

Murphy regarded his son with a mixture of surprise and hurt as the knife clattered to the floor, and his arm fell away from Maddison’s throat, releasing her immediately. She bent over, gasping to pull breath into her lungs. Odhrán put an arm around her shoulder and gently pulled her away from his father, pushing her towards Diarmaid, who, although stunned by the turn of events, had enough of his wits about him to hurry forward and take her in his arms.

Odhrán looked at his father without expression. Murphy stood for a few seconds longer, his eyes darkening, staring fixedly at his son. Then, the light went out of them, and his body dropped to the floor with a thud. He lay unmoving, obviously stone dead. Odhrán wiped the blood from his blade on his father’s tunic and sheathed his weapon.

He turned to Diarmaid, but his eyes were on Maddison. “Will she be all right? He did nae cut her deep, did he?” he asked, his face creased with anxiety.

Diarmaid was having trouble believing what had just happened. Odhrán had just murdered his own father in front of all of them, apparently without a qualm, and now he was asking after Maddison? He looked over at Ciarán, who met his eyes. The pair exchanged a disbelieving glance before they looked back at Odhrán. Ciarán came up beside Diarmaid then, and Maddison went to him, hugging him tightly.

“Aye, she’ll heal,” Diarmaid told Odhrán, further perplexed by the man’s instant look of relief and the way his eyes tracked her every movement.

What the hell is going on with him?

Odhrán nodded. “Right. Well, there’s nae more reason fer us tae fight now. So, ye can take yer men and leave,” he said matter-of-factly.

Diarmaid could only stare at him in bewilderment. It was hard to believe it was really Odhrán standing before him, speaking so calmly after just having committed the terrible crime of patricide. What on earth has wrought this change, he wondered.