Page 19 of A Laird and a Fugitive

He marched forward with fire flowing in his blood and cracked the man across the side of the skull, sending him flying. When Caroline turned, there was fear in her eyes—unbridled fear. She was right to be afraid, he supposed, even though part of him wished that there was a glimmer of something more.

Ryan wasn’t a monster. He would have saved Nessa and Tara from the bandits even if Caroline had refused his offer, but he thought this was an opportune moment to get what he wanted. It was evident that she cared for her sisters more than herself. She readily agreed to his terms, and he unleashed his fury.

Running into battle was like freeing himself from constricting clothes. He crashed into the other bandits and the battle passed by in a blur. These men were not welcome in his land, and now they must suffer the consequences. The scent of blood was in the air, and he listened with satisfaction to the crack of bones beneath his fists. The bandits could not withstand his strength, although they made a good fight of it. He had to give them that at least, and in a way it was over all too soon.

But then he turned and Nessa was standing in front of him wielding a blade. He took her measure and knew that she was capable of hurting him. This whole situation was strange. Why had they all left together? Caroline must have known that the world was dangerous, so did that mean that whatever danger remained in their clan was worse?

Ryan was going to have to find a way to tease out the truth because he needed to know what the situation was before he declared open war on them. He tried to talk sense into Nessa as he did not want to fight her, but they were interrupted by a scream.

Ryan turned as Caroline howled. She was hanging off the bandit. The man had murderous intent in his eyes, and if Caroline remained close to him, she would pay the price. Ryan moved swiftly, pushing her away and dispatching the bandit with ease.

He looked down at the dagger in his hand. It was still warm from where it had been held by the other man. If Caroline hadn’t said anything, then it would have been stabbed in his back, and Ryan might well have fallen to the ground. He had been so preoccupied with Nessa that he hadn’t paid proper attention to the other bandit. It was rare for him to make such an oversight, and once again he blamed all the wine he had imbibed.

Then he lifted his gaze and stared at Caroline. Her chest heaved with tense breaths. Vapor left her mouth as she exhaled. Her hair had come loose and spilled around her face, caressing her cheeks. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted. The shawl she wore had been pushed aside during the conflict, revealing the gentle curve of her slender neck.

It was pure beauty amid a sea of violence, and this caused a haze to swim through his mind. She had every right to hate him, and yet she had saved his life.

Why?

The question was persistent in his mind, pressing upon his thoughts like an unyielding weight. She knew who he was and what clan she had found herself in. She must have known about the rivalry between their families. Her father might even have gathered them around the hearth and boasted about how he slew Ryan’s father and brother.

Ryan felt a wave of unsettling malevolence ripple over him. His fingers twitched, and he was tempted to do more killing. Was this some kind of mockery of him? Were they spies designed to discover the secrets of his castle and somehow lead an army of Gilmour warriors through his doors?

He shook the paranoid thoughts from his mind. They wouldn’t have tried to escape if that was the case. She wouldn’t have been so resistant. And yet, there was still the fact that she had saved his life, the life of a man who was by all rights an enemy. He could not work out the logic of her actions, and this would gnaw at him for a while yet. He turned away from them and discussed the matter of the bandits with his guards.

“We cannae allow bandits tae think that they can cross through my territory without consequence. Take these bodies tae the nearest town and make a show of them. Remind people that if they are found trespassing, this is what happens. There is nae mercy,” he said, trying to distract himself from his thoughts about Caroline by retreating to his duty, in which he often found solace.

There had been much tragedy in his life, and he found it easier to cope with the dark thoughts by turning his attention to something else. There was always some detail that required focus, and so he rarely had time to dwell.

There came a sob from the women. Ryan turned and saw the three sisters together, their arms wrapped around each other as though they were one entity. Their heads were buried against each other, and they shuddered and wept with relief. It was a tender sight, one that cracked open his stoic heart and reminded him of a time when he had been part of a family, when he had embraced his father and brother after a successful hunt.

The warmth of the memory enveloped him, but it was almost too painful to feel. It rankled and bristled, and the thought was bittersweet. It did not only bring about a sense of nostalgia, but also a desire for revenge. While he had dealt with a number of Gilmour scouts and small patrols, he had yet to enact a brutal attack on the Gilmour Keep. Such a thing required a great deal of planning, and the execution needed to be perfect. Ryan did not like entering fights he thought he could lose. If he was going into battle, then he would be prepared fully and nothing would be left to chance.

Seeing the girls like this kindled the spark of vengeance in his heart, and he vowed to redouble his efforts to take his revenge. It would be all the sweeter for having waited so long, he thought. Caroline was the key to it all. Yes, however she found her way to his Keep did not matter. Why she brought her sisters did not matter. The only thing that mattered was her name, and her position in the clan.

Now she would be his wife and he could press his claim upon the Gilmour Clan. He would take it all and scour their name from the world, turning everything they had accomplished into ash and building something new atop it. A dark smile swirled upon his lips as he thought about the future, and how by agreeing to become his bride, Caroline had doomed her clan.

As he watched the sisters together, a thought struck him that this would not be the last time they wept together. Eventually, Caroline would understand the repercussions of her decision here, and she might even blame herself for the fall of her clan. She would hate him for it, with every aspect of her soul, but a loveless marriage was a price he was willing to pay for his revenge. She could hate him all she wanted, but she would never get her clan back. The Gilmour name would be erased from history and Ryan would be the victor, honoring his father and brother by finally avenging their souls.

For a moment, pity shadowed his heart. Caroline looked beautiful, even when she was sad. The dim light framed her face in such a way that she seemed ethereal, as though she wasn’t meant for this world. He pushed the thought aside. The effects of the wine were still present, clearly. It played tricks on him, and he wasn’t about to let himself become vulnerable to them.

He cleared his throat, steeled his heart, and then gave the order to leave. His barking words cracked the silent air. The guards who had been ordered to take care of the bandits gathered the bodies together and went off towards the nearest settlement, while the rest escorted them back to the castle.

Ryan’s gaze fell on the women again. They slowly extricated themselves and fell in line with the guards. Tara’s head fell, but Nessa and Caroline remained defiant. Caroline even met his gaze. It was difficult to understand the emotion behind them, but there was something strong, something admirable perhaps, even if she was a Gilmour. And in a way, she should be respected because she had saved his life.

If anyone else had done such a feat, they would deserve an ostentatious reward, but all he could give her was an opportunity to bring ruin to her clan. It was a shame she had to be the victim of it, but someone had to suffer, and the fates had decided it would be her.