Page 81 of The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

Niamh swallowed hard, trying not to show how the words had stung. “And ye are?”

“I am Laird Fergus MacTavish.” His expression was cold, and his smile was vicious, tainted with hatred to the point it seemed a madman’s smile. “And I am the man who will destroy yer husband.”

“Ye… why?”

“Why nae?” He sneered. “Yer husband has been a thorn in my side fer years, even afore he became a laird. His father was weak, and I could have conquered him easily. But he sired strong sons, and they’ve defied me and thwarted me ambitions fer power time and time again. ‘Tis unacceptable.”

Niamh swallowed. “And what has that tae dae with me?”

Fergus MacTavish laughed, and it was a cold, ugly sound, like the voice of a demon. “Alistair is a warrior born, but his heart is his weakness. I want tae destroy him, and I want him tae suffer, and the best way tae accomplish that is tae make him watch, helpless, as I tak’ everyone he’s ever loved from him. And when he is drowning in despair, helpless in his rage and grief, then will I watch the light fade from his eyes as he destroys himself. And, if I am feeling merciful, I may offer him the knife tae cut his throat with.”

Niamh shuddered in horror. “Ye… ye’re… a monster.”

“So ye would say.” Fergus MacTavish laughed again. “But ye’re his woman, and such words from one o’ Alistair’s playthings mean less than curses on the wind tae me.”

“Then ye plan tae kill me?” Niamh swallowed hard, to hide the terror that thought caused her.

“Soon enough. But only when Alistair arrives tae save ye. ‘Tis me one regret, that I’ve never been able tae watch him, the look on his face, when he loses those he loves, or when they’re in danger, and he realizes how helpless he is tae protect them. This time, I wish tae see it.”

“This time?”

“Aye.” MacTavish sneered at her. “Did he tell ye? That I killed his first beloved, and his faither?” He bent close. “I did, fer all I made it appear that bandits had done the deed. I killed them, and I watched the light fade from their eyes. I killed his father first and made her watch. She was so frail, so frightened. I let me men play with her, afore I delivered the final blow. But alas if I’d stayed tae see Alistair’s face, he would have had proof ‘twas me. He might have actually convinced others among the Highland lairds tae ally with him. I didnae want that, so I left the bodies fer him tae find.”

Niamh fought down her own fear, listening as he continued, pleased to boast.

“I had hoped tae poison ye at the wedding. He would have been devastated tae realize he couldnae protect ye, nae even in his own stronghold. It might have even broken him. His braither is too loyal tae claim his lairdship afore Alistair dies, so he would be too easy tae destroy. A pity ye realized something was wrong.”

He sneered at her again. “I dae hope ye and Alistair liked me little gift. I couldnae leave a failure tae live. Nae as if she mattered, she was naething but a foundling.”

The casual way he spoke of murdering a child made Niamh’s stomach churn violently. This time, she made no effort to restrain it. She doubled over and threw up everything in her stomach. It wasn’t much, but she at least had the satisfaction of watching Fergus MacTavish jerk back with a snarl.

The blow to her face was much less pleasant, but as she nursed the bruise, she heard the scuff of his boots on stone, followed by the closing of the door. Once he was gone, she breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted no more of his poisonous words.

And she wanted to give him no opportunity to realize the truth, the truth she’d begun to guess on the long ride, nibbling on her bland travel rations.

While Fergus MacTavish would guess it was a woman’s ‘delicate disposition’, most likely, but Niamh feared her illness came from another source entirely.

She had been so tired recently, so sensitive to certain foods and smells. So easily nauseated. The first day or so, she’d thought it no more than a passing illness. But now…

She had not had her moon cycle on time. She should have had it two or three days before, shortly after she and Alistair had begun to be fully intimate.

Her hand went to her stomach, a gesture that might be seen as seeking comfort after being sick, but which held another meaning to her.

If Catriona’s advice and wisdom were correct, then there was a very good chance she was carrying Alistair’s child.

If that was the case, she dared not let Fergus MacTavish even suspect it. He would take far too much delight in forcing her to lose the babe, or worse, cutting it from her in front of Alistair. She would not let that happen.

She had no idea if Alistair even knew where she was, if he was searching for her, or perhaps now riding to her rescue. But until she saw him again, she would do everything in her power to protect the precious life she suspected she now carried.

A child. She’d feared it so long, but now that the possibility was real, now that she might actually be with child, she could only think one thing.

Me sweet bairn, if truly ye exist as a new life within me, I promise ye I will dae everything in me power tae ensure yer safety. I will give ye the best chance o’ living that I can.

CHAPTER FORTY

Within two candle-marks of his return from the witch’s glen, Alistair was on the road again, Ewan and a dozen of their best warriors mounted beside him. Ewan, to his credit, asked no questions. He simply helped Alistair into his battle gear and ordered the men onto their horses.

Alistair would have ridden at a gallop from his castle to MacTavish’s fortress, but he forced himself to set a pace the horses could actually manage. There was no point riding the beasts into the ground, or laming them permanently through misuse. No sense in driving the men so hard either. He wanted them fit for battle when they arrived, not exhausted from the hard ride.