Page 46 of The Best of Madeline Grant

“Well, greetings to you, Sela. I’m so pleased you’ve returned to me. You have a tough constitution.”

Uncle Logan and Aunt Gwyneth rode up to join Connor’s mother, adding to the show of strength. It surprised no one in their group, except for Sela, whose eyes grew as large as coins, to see Aunt Gwyneth nock her bow and aim it at Hord.

The look Uncle Logan gave the wee man was a reminder of how he’d earned the title of Beast of the Highlands. “Where would you like her to aim? For your bollocks or straight for your eye? She can make the shot, as I’m sure you’ve heard. She’s the best archer in all of Scotland and England.”

“Are you Hord?” Connor’s mother asked.

The man nodded briefly, but not with conviction. He was clearly afraid of the two women—and rightly so.

“You will bring me that bairn of three summers who you dared to torture, and if you do not, I will have ten of my husband’s men hold you down while I drive my sewing needle into both of your eyes.”

Hord began to laugh, but it was a nervous sound void of humor. “I know not what child you speak of.”

“Aye, you do, you bastard. I want my daughter,” Sela shouted. So angry was she, Connor feared she’d vault off the horse. Connor’s mother shot her a look that he recognized from childhood—although Madeline Grant was known for being kind and even-tempered, she could stop a rampaging boar with one glance. This was that kind of glance. Sela sagged back against him and did not speak again.

“You will bring me the lass named Claray,” Connor’s mother said, “or by the time I count to ten, those falcons over your head will be pecking your eyes out, while Gwyneth shoots her arrow and pins you to your horse. The last man who crossed her had his bollocks pinned to a tree. He did not live to tell the tale. Have I made myself clear?”

Hord nodded but didn’t move, his gaze slowly raising overhead.

Will had clearly been giving lessons to others in the clan, for Maddie Grant whistled and two falcons dropped out of the sky, swooping around Hord’s head, squawking as they did so. Hord bellowed and said, “Get her. Get Claray now.”

Another whistle and the birds lifted back into the air, although they did not go far.

“Is that all you want?” Dee asked in apparent disbelief. “A lass of three summers?”

“’Tis what we came for, and I’ll not leave without her.”

A few moments later, a man emerged on horseback with a wee lass in his arms. Although she did indeed have red hair, her delicate features matched Sela’s. This had to be Claray.

“Mama, is that you?” the wee lassie asked. “Take me away with you. I don’t like it here. Please?”

Sela moaned, and Connor had to wrap an arm around her to keep her from vaulting off the horse.

“Give me the bairn,” Connor’s mother insisted.

Hord said, “You’ll get her, but we’ll take Sela back. Sela, we need you. Come back and I’ll send your daughter to safety with the Grants.”

“Like hell. Let the child go,” Connor barked.

“Mama, please!” Claray burst into a moaning, heart-wrenching cry.

Chaos erupted.

Hord reached for Claray, close enough to wrench her away from the man who held her, and she screamed. “Nay, nay, do not allow him to touch me. Please, Mama. Save me from him.”

The man who held the lassie did his best to comfort her, but her eyes were wild with fear.

This time, Connor could not contain Sela. She jumped off Midnight Moon and raced to her daughter. No one stopped her when she grabbed the sobbing lassie. No one stopped her when she raced back to Connor’s mother and handed the bairn to her.

“Go, please,” she said, her voice hitching. “Get her away from here. Now.”

Connor watched as his parents did just that. He expected Sela to come back to him then.

“Come here, Sela,” Hord bellowed. “Or our men will start killing Highlanders.”

Connor wanted to tell her it was an empty threat. The Channel bastards did not have the numbers to defeat them. But he didn’t get the chance to speak.

“Nay, please,” Sela said.