Page 45 of Scot of Seduction

“Something ye should ken, Cillian, when ye ask a soldier tae search a man,” Tad said with relish. “A warrior kens tae always hide at least one weapon well.”

Cillian shook, his eyes no longer fixing on Tad as the fear settled in.

“I told ye that ye’d die if ye laid a hand on her,” Bran warned Cillian as he snapped the other blade out of Cillian’s grasp. “Dae it,” he told Tad, handing him that same blade.

“Cover her eyes and ears,” Tad pleaded with Bran. He didn’t need Catreena to hear what he was about to do, to make sure this man could never lay a finger on her again. Wordlessly, Bran nodded.

Tad waited, the dirk outstretched toward Cillian, until he saw Catreena’s eyes and ears covered.

“Trust us,” Bran whispered to his sister. She nodded, then buried her head in her chest, hiding from what was about to happen.

“Goodbye Cillian,” Tad said through gritted teeth. “Something more ye should ken about men in love before ye leave us. They’ll dae anything tae get their woman back.” With these final words, he buried the knife in Cillian’s neck.

“Away!” Bran ordered the soldiers as they strode out of the croft. “Unless ye all want tae end up like yer master.”

Catreena followed her brother out, one hand still clutched in his. The small crowd of soldiers that had gathered all paled at the sign of their dead laird in the doorway. It started slowly at first. One man reached for his horse and bolted, then the rest followed in clamorous cries. No one wanted to be the next man left for dead.

With their horses kicking up dust around them, Bran turned to face Catreena.

“Ye all right?” he asked her in a whisper, kissing her forehead.

“Aye, dizzy, but fine.”

“I ken what ye mean.” He rubbed a similar wound across the back of his neck. “We’ll get ye back tae the castle. We can rest there.”

Catreena nodded. She was shaking all over. She wasn’t ready to admit how afraid she’d been, how terrified she had been of never seeing either of them ever again. That confession could wait for another time. At this moment, she was just trying to hold herself together.

“Well, I suppose ye two need a minute alone now, dae ye nae?” Bran said with a heavy sigh, releasing her and turning to look at Tad. “I’ll get the horses.” He stepped away, calling back at them over his shoulder. “Just dinnae be too long. Ilyssa will kill me herself if we arenae back soon.”

Breathless, Catreena looked at Tad. He stood a short distance away from her, no mark upon him of the man he had just killed to keep her safe.

“Ye could be dead,” she whispered in horror. “Tad, he would have murdered ye. Ye shouldnae have come.”

“Like hell I wasnae going tae come,” Tad declared with vigor and moved toward her. He took hold of her cheeks, turning her face up toward his. “In case ye hadnae noticed, I dinnae want tae live me life without ye in it, little Cat. Nae now.”

“Little Cat, eh?” she repeated, a smile reaching her lips. It was refreshing, to smile and feel free, after all that had just happened in that croft. “I’ve always been that tae ye.”

“Me little Catreena,” he corrected himself, bending down toward her, his own smile appearing. “Mine tae protect.”

“Possessive,” she teased him.

“Very.” He openly admitted with a nod. “I’ll beg yer braithers if I have tae, throw meself at their feet fer their blessings, but after this…” he paused, just long enough to sigh and brush his lips against hers. “I cannae see ye leave me again. Marry me, Cat. Please.”

“I –” Catreena was on the verge of saying yes when Bran’s voice bellowed from the nearest trees.

“Hurry up ye two! Ye may have me blessing, but ye have a lot of other braithers tae ask first.

Catreena duly ignored her brother and reached up to kiss Tad. He stumbled back in surprise at the vigor with which she threw herself at him, then kissed her back.

EPILOGUE

One Week Later

“So, ye bedded our sister?”

Tad felt pinned to the spot under the collective gaze of all the Mackintosh brothers. Alec was the one who had spoken, and the one who definitely looked the most furious. He sat behind his desk, regal as ever, so angry that he was bending the wood of his desk from his grip upon it. His wife, Kira, seemed to be struggling to calm him at all with her hand on his shoulder.

Bran and Ilyssa stood near the window of the room, sharing equal grimaces at the way the news had just unfolded. Evander sat on the edge of his brother’s desk, tattoos flaring on his forearms, his jaw slack. Dunn was sat in the nearest chair, in danger of falling out of it.