Page 38 of A Wife for the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #3)

“Push one more time,” Lily urged, her voice steady even as her heart continued to pound in her chest.

Clara bit hard on the folded towel, her body straining. Her muffled groan filled the small room, sharp and pained. Brigid rubbed her palms gently over her shoulders in an attempt to soothe her.

Then, at last, the baby slid into Lily’s waiting hands.

Relief washed over her.

“Ye did it,” Lily breathed. “Ye did so good, holding back yer screams like I asked.”

Clara threw her head back, the exhaustion in her breathing clearer than anything.

Lily looked at the baby and then back up at Brigid. “It looks healthy.”

“Do ye hear that?” Brigid asked, squeezing Clara’s hands gently.

Clara raised her head to respond, but before she could, the baby’s cry pierced the air, loud and shrill.

The women froze in shock as the sound echoed off the thin walls. Lily felt her stomach twist. There was no way the man at the door did not hear.

“What is that?” she heard him ask almost immediately.

Timothy’s voice followed quickly. “‘Tis nothing.”

The man did not believe him. “Are ye hiding them here?”

Fear gripped Lily, and she shoved the baby into Brigid’s arms. “Hold the bairn. Cover its mouth if ye must.”

Brigid nodded and cradled the child, pressing a towel against its tiny lips.

The man’s voice grew harsher. “Get out of me way, ye cripple.”

Lily stiffened.

Then, Timothy’s voice dropped, low and cold. “Ye shouldnae have said that.”

A harsh sound split the air, like steel driving into flesh.

Clara whimpered on the bed, but Lily was already moving.

She rushed to the door and pulled it open slowly.

Then, she stepped into the corridor and down to the entrance just as the man collapsed.

Blood spilled across the floorboards. Timothy stood above him, breathing hard, a bloodied blade in his hand.

He looked up at Lily, the smile on his face growing. “That was close, was it nae?” he muttered.

Lily nodded.

“Laird MacKane is outside, taking care of the others this one brought with him. But…I heard the cries of the bairn,” Timothy added.

“Aye, ye have a healthy baby. Clara is all right too, although she is quite tired.”

Timothy’s smile grew even wider, and a victorious chuckle escaped his lips. “I’m a faither.”

“That ye are.”

Timothy laughed again. “Is it a lass or a lad?”

Lily opened her mouth to respond when movement flashed behind him. “Timothy!” she screamed.

He didn’t turn fast enough. Lily watched in horror as a sword punched straight through his chest.

His eyes widened in shock as he looked down at the blade, then back at Lily. The attacker yanked the blade free, and Timothy crumpled to the ground, coughing out blood.

“Nay!” Lily cried.

The man who stabbed him kicked him to the side and stepped forward, his shadow long in the doorway.

“Fancy meeting ye here, Lady MacRay.”

She swallowed as Nathan’s face came into full view.

Her blood ran cold. She stumbled back, her hand flying to her mouth. “‘Tis ye,” she whispered. Then, her voice hardened with rage. “Ye’re the traitor.”

Nathan smirked. “I really, really daenae like that word.”

Lily’s eyes flashed. “Ye’re the one giving orders to these men. Telling them where to go.”

He shrugged, as if it were nothing. “Well, ye didnae make it very hard, did ye?”

Anger burned hotter than fear in her chest. “What did we ever do to ye, ye traitorous bastard?”

Brigid gave the baby back to Clara and stepped in front of Lily. She threw out her arm, shielding her. “Stay back,” she shouted, her eyes never leaving Nathan.

Nathan chuckled. “If ye ken what is good for ye, ye’ll stand aside, Lady MacKane.”

“Or what?”

Nathan smiled darkly. “Or I give the word. Fifteen of me men are outside, fighting yer husband as we speak. I daenae think ye have the upper hand here.”

Lily swallowed hard. “Ye’ve been behind everything, have ye nae? The archer in the woods. The whispers that I am a witch. Ye spread those lies.”

Nathan only lifted an eyebrow.

Her eyes dropped to his leg, where a bandage was wrapped around his thigh. Her breath caught. “It was ye last night, too, was it nae? Ye tried to kill me in me own room.”

Nathan stepped closer. “It was supposed to be quick. A painless death. But ye fought back. So now, I’ll take me time. I’ll make ye feel every bit of the pain ye deserve.”

Brigid screamed. “Stop this right now!”

Nathan brought his fingers to his lips and whistled loudly.

Heavy booted steps sounded outside, and soon, six armed men rushed into the room, their blades ready. Conall followed shortly after, his blade already blooded.

“I didnae finish with ye,” he said as the men turned towards him and the battle continued.

Lily’s eyes fell on Timothy’s body and watched the blood pool beneath him. Her chest tightened with grief.

Conall looked at her, his jaw clenched tight. “I can hold them off, but ye must run.”

She shook her head. “What about Timothy?”

“Ye can help him later, Lily,” Conall said sharply. His voice was firm but gentle. “I promise ye I’ll protect yer sister and this family. But when I say run, ye run. Do ye understand?”

Tears pricked her eyes, but she nodded.

“More men!” Nathan’s voice cracked through the air.

Four more men charged, and Conall lifted his sword from a dead body.

“Run!” he barked.

Lily bolted through the doorway as the clash of steel rang out in the air. She sprinted outside, her breathing ragged.

Fear seized her chest when she turned back and saw Nathan running after her. He was chasing her with full determination, his steps pounding after hers. She zig-zagged, she jumped over a hedge of briars to slow him down, but at last he caught her and tackled her to the ground.

They both rolled across the dirt, her scream tearing through the still air.

Her eyes zeroed in on his wounded leg, and she kicked hard. Her foot slammed straight into the bandage. He groaned in pain, staggering as she scrambled up.

“Ye’ll pay for that!” he roared.

She tore through the woods, the branches slapping her arms as she ran. Her lungs burned, but she didn’t stop.

Nathan ran fast, his fury driving him. He caught her again, his hand wrenching her arm. He spun her toward him and slapped her hard across the face.

Her cheek stung, and she stumbled, choking back a cry.

“Stay down,” he hissed.

“Ye shouldnae have done that,” a voice came from behind, deep and cold.

Lily and Nathan turned at the same time.

Alasdair stood beside a tree, his hair disheveled. His sword was gripped tight in one hand, and his other hand was balled into a fist.

There was nothing on his face but anger.

Nathan released Lily, and she stumbled back. Alasdair glanced at her, the redness on the side of her face stoking his rage.

He should charge forward and tear Nathan’s head off his neck right now. Instead, he remained standing while his man-at-arms gave him a malicious smile.

“So, ye figured it out.”

Alasdair stepped forward, rage burning in his chest. His gaze lingered on Lily, who was rubbing her face.

He looked back at Nathan. “Why would ye do this?”

Nathan drew his sword, the blade glinting. His laugh was sharp. “Is that a serious question? Why would I do this?”

Alasdair moved closer. “Why go to such lengths? Why turn the people against her? Why try to rid yerself of us both?”

Nathan’s grip on his sword tightened. “Because ye daenae deserve this clan. Ye daenae deserve this bride, or an heir. And ye sure as hell daenae deserve me loyalty.”

Alasdair shook his head, his steps slow but steady. “Nay. That’s the lie ye’ve told yerself. But it’s nae the truth, is it?”

Nathan’s jaw clenched.

Alasdair pressed on. “Ye did this because ye were afraid. Afraid I would replace ye with Finn. Ye were terrified that the one thing ye kent how to do, the one thing yer self-importance was tied to, would vanish. Ye couldnae face me like a man, so ye chose the coward’s way out.”

He could see Nathan’s face contort in anger, so he continued.

“Is that how ye served me braither, Nathan? As a coward? Is that why he died?”

“Enough!” Nathan roared and lunged at him.

Their swords clashed, steel ringing loud. The sound cut through the morning air as the two men fought.

“Ye’re nae yer braither, Alasdair,” Nathan snarled between heavy strikes. “Ye never will be. Ye’re just a pirate who was too weak to stay. And now ye think ye can come back? Bring yer pirate friends here and make us bow?”

Alasdair pushed back against his blade, his teeth gritted. “All ye had to do was ask me, Nathan. I never once thought to replace ye.”

Nathan blocked his swing, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild. He looked straight at Alasdair and let out a harsh laugh. “Ye forget, me Laird. I train with ye. I ken every move ye make.”

Alasdair’s chest heaved, his voice steady even as their blades locked. “Aye, ye’re right. Ye ken me moves. But ye ken what else ye were right about?”

He swung hard, knocking Nathan’s sword from his hand. It hit the ground with a clatter.

His voice rose sharply. “That I am a pirate.”

He slammed his boot into Nathan’s chest, and he fell to the ground, gasping.

Alasdair loomed over him. “And one thing ye daenae ken about pirates, Nathan, is that they’re unpredictable.” He kicked him again, each word cutting deeper. “Ye tried to kill me wife nae once, nae twice, but thrice!” His boot slammed into Nathan’s ribs. “That, I cannae forgive.”

He pulled out his sword, ready to end it right there and then, but at the very last minute, another thought occurred to him.

He reached down and pulled Nathan by the hair. If he was going to end this, he needed the spectacle. Nathan clawed at his hands and groaned in pain, but Alasdair didn’t budge. His hands remained fisted in Nathan’s hair as he dragged him out of the woods.

Lily followed in silence, her face pale and her eyes still wide with shock.

Alasdair dragged Nathan into the clearing, throwing him to the ground before the cottage. Conall and Brigid stood near, their eyes trained on the sight. Around them, Nathan’s men watched in uneasy silence.

Alasdair’s voice rang clear. “Take heed, all of ye. This man was yer leader. And this is his fate.”

Nathan coughed blood, but his sneer did not fade. “Ye’ll always be a pirate, Alasdair. Nothing but a lowly pirate. That will never change. Ye’ll never be fit to be Laird. And aye, yer friend will never be fit to be a Laird’s man-at-arms.”

Alasdair looked down at him, his voice cold. “I would love to prove ye wrong. ‘Tis only a shame ye willnae be here to see it.”

He raised his sword and drove it straight through Nathan’s chest.

Nathan’s body jerked, blood spilling from his lips. His eyes went wide, then glazed over. Alasdair pulled the blade free and stepped back, letting him fall to the ground.

The men around them recoiled, fear clear on their faces.

Alasdair turned around. “I should kill all of ye right here,” he growled.

Murmurs rippled through them, and their faces dropped.

Alasdair’s eyes flicked to Lily. She shook her head faintly, her lips trembling. He read her meaning. Daenae do it.

He nodded quickly and looked back at the men. “See? Even after what ye’ve done, she still wishes ye nay harm.”

The men’s eyes darted to Lily, shame weighing their shoulders. Their voices rose to thank her, thick with guilt.

Alasdair raised his sword again, his voice sharp.

“But hear me well. Ye get this grace once . Just once. I hear one more rumor of her being a witch, one more plot, one more whisper… and yer deaths will be far more brutal than his.” He pointed to Nathan’s body.

“Do ye understand me? There will be nay more bloodshed today. But that can change the moment ye decide to threaten her again.”

The ensuing silence was long and heavy until the men nodded and bowed their heads.

“Dismissed,” Alasdair barked.

When the men dispersed, Alasdair lowered his sword and turned to Lily. He reached for her hand, guiding her a little away from the cottage and the dead.

His voice softened. “Are ye all right?”

She nodded at first, but then her face crumpled, and her tears spilled over. “Aye. I just…I cannae imagine what he would have done if ye hadnae come.”

Her voice shook, and her body trembled as the relief hit her.

Alasdair pulled her close, his arm strong around her. She buried her face in his chest, sobs tearing from her throat. He held her tightly, his chin resting on the crown of her head.

“I promise ye,” he whispered, his voice rough, “I will always be there whenever ye need me.”

He continued to hold her in the silence and let her cry against his chest.

He meant what he said. At that moment, his words weighed so much more than the bloody sword in his hand.

“I am sorry, Lily,” he said, his tone softer with each word. “I thought I had to protect ye. It dawned on me just too late that I should have had much more faith in ye in the first place.”

She looked up at him, her eyes red. “Oh well, ye’ve always been a stubborn man.”

“Dinnae ruin the moment,” he countered, as he gently wiped a tear from her cheek.

She smiled. “Thank ye, husband. But we still have work to do.”