Page 39 of Only a Highlander Will Do

In the split second of his surprise, Rowena jerked away, racing to Fiona and taking her hand, pulling her back towards Tormod and his warriors.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind them. Alex had recovered from his shock. “You won’t escape me this time,” he said, his voice filled with unchecked violence.

The two women kept running. Fiona could not help it—she looked back to see Alex gaining on them. The look in his dark eyes and the blood dripping from his nose made him seem almost demonic. Terror flooded Fiona at the thought that he wanted their fear. He thrived on it.

Her blood thrumming in her temples, Fiona quickened her steps, forcing Rowena to do the same. They had to reach the safety of the MacLeod warriors. As they neared, the shouts of men mixed with the clang of steel upon steel.

The footsteps behind them sounded dangerously close.

Fiona surged forward only to be jerked back against the solid wall of Alex’s chest.

Rowena stopped as well.

“Keep going!” Fiona cried out.

“You’ll pay for what you’ve done. Both of you.” Alex breathed his hot breath against her ear, causing Fiona to shudder. “I want you to suffer before the end comes. The MacLeods will wallow in misery at your death.” He shifted his arm to encircle her neck, tightening his grip, nearly crushing her throat, cutting off her ability to breathe. If only she could reach the pebble or the hair in her stocking. She could send herself someplace else. Anywhere, even the afterlife, would be better than dying at Alex MacDonald’s hand.

“Release her!” Rowena charged him.

Alex shifted his feet apart, preparing for the attack. He kept a one-handed grip on Fiona as he slammed his fist into Rowena’s head. She crumpled to the ground in a heap.

The world around Fiona danced before her eyes as she tried to reach for her stocking. Her vision narrowed. She gasped for breath. Darkness edged her field of vision, growing larger until she could see only a pinpoint of light. When Alex released his grip on her neck, she collapsed on the ground. Pain exploded at the side of her head. Then there was nothing more.

Chapter Fourteen

Later that evening, Tormod clenched his hands as he turned from the hearth in the solar, shifting his gaze to the four other men present. They were seated about the hearth with tankards of ale in their hands. Alastair had demanded they talk, but all Tormod wanted to do was go abovestairs and find out if Fiona had regained her senses yet. Gwendolyn was at Fiona’s bedside, tending the unconscious woman, and had promised to send word if she woke up.

“Shall we get to the matter at hand?” Tormod asked impatiently, wanting to address the inevitable discussion of going to war with their enemy. “Today’s battle is over, but a larger one looms. I know you wanted to avoid going to war with the MacDonalds, Alastair. But what other choice do we have?”

Callum and Orrick turned to Alastair, awaiting his response, while Graeme stared down at the golden ale in his mug with a frown.

Instead of the frustration and anger that raged through Tormod’s body, Alastair appeared calm, sitting beside the fire with his ankles crossed. He set his ale aside then looked up. “We lost no one in today’s battle, but several of our men are badly injured, and as if that weren’t bad enough, you’ve backed all of us into a corner. We have no choice but to go after the MacDonalds if we want to see our sister alive again.”

“Then why are we sitting here drinking ale?” Tormod didn’t bother to temper his frustration. He wanted to rally the men and go after Rowena as soon as he was certain Fiona would live. “The longer we delay, the more unspeakable things that bastard could do to our sister.”

“Calm yourself, Tormod,” Alastair replied. “Not every solution is solved by attacking it with a bigger stick.”

“Do you not fear for our sister?” Tormod asked.

“Of course I do. But I also know she is not at Monkstadt alone.”

Orrick sat forward. “What do you mean, not alone?”

“When Marcus MacDonald decided to help us against his own clan because of his love for Rowena, I asked him to arrange a secret meeting with his mother and father who still reside at Monkstadt. It was not difficult to convince them to help the MacLeods when they realised Marcus would never return to the fold.”

Orrick frowned. “You turned them into spies?”

“Informants,” Alastair said. “While they cannot help Rowena escape without great danger to themselves, James and Agnes MacDonald can at least see that Rowena is unharmed until we can reach her.”

“Can we trust them?” Tormod asked.

“Rowena could be their daughter-in-law someday. They are highly motivated to keep her unharmed for the sake of their son.”

Tormod sighed as the immediate need to charge went out of him. “I trust you, Alastair. What’s your plan?”

Alastair took a deep breath, uncrossed his ankles, and stood. “My plan was to stop the isles from going to war with themselves and instead focus on the larger political issue that we face with England, but all that must wait now. It’s time to gather the clan support we have and use it in a show of force against the MacDonalds. Until they give up on their vengeance with us, and we stop our revenge on them, we have no hope of gaining our independence from England.”

Tormod allowed himself a glimmer of a smile despite their desperate situation. Alastair could be very diplomatic when he wanted to be, yet he also knew when it was time to fight back. “Which clans will fight with us?”