Page 54 of Highlander’s Curse (The Daughters of the Glen #8)

Thirty-eight

Y ou said it yerself, Colin, the MacDougall has over a thousand men. Be reasonable. We’ve perhaps fifty here at best, and that’s if we include Hugh and old Walter.”

Colin stared into his food, doing his best to ignore the logic of Andrew’s argument. He wanted nothing to do with logic at this moment. He wanted only to storm Dunstaffnage and rescue Abby. The thought of her being held captive in a time and place not her own was more than he could tolerate.

“Abby is my wife, Drew. My Soulmate. I canna leave her there.”

Drew rose from his spot at the table and moved to kneel beside his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Believe me, Col, I ken the depth of yer feeling. We’ve already sent a messenger to Dun Ard. We’ll gather the men we need. You must be patient.”

“I’ve no taste for patience!” he yelled, banging his fist against the table. He knew it was a childish, petulant act that would serve to accomplish nothing, but his anger was all he had left standing between him and total despair.

“Sit down and calm yourself, or you’ll bust that wound open again.” Drew’s wife, Leah, marched toward him, her expression clearly brooking no argument. “Lean over here and let me have a look at—”

“Dinnna touch it!” both he and Drew cautioned at the same time.

Leah’s exasperated sigh expressed her irritation every bit as much as the exaggerated roll of her eyes. “How about you give me credit for a smattering of good sense, yes? I have absolutely no intention of touching this wound. I only want to see for myself that he’s healing properly.”

His sister-in-law’s touch carried with it the ability to heal, but she paid a heavy price for the use of her gift. What she healed, she took upon herself for a time. Neither he nor her husband wanted to see her go through that process.

“My head is fine. The wound will heal in time.”

“Your head is hard, that’s what it is,” she countered, taking her seat next to her husband’s chair. “As you say, it will heal on its own. Unless you bust it open having one of your temper tantrums.”

Drew patted his shoulder again before returning to sit next to his wife.

“I ken yer need to do something, Col. But realize, there is a safer way. Safer for you and safer for yer lady. Blane will likely arrange an emissary from the MacKiernan to the MacDougall to negotiate for yer Abby’s release. Once we hear word of—”

“Begging yer pardon, laird Drew.” A small boy ran into the great hall, stopping only when he reached the table across from Drew. “The wall guard asked that you come down. We’ve riders asking access to the keep. They say they’re kinsmen of yers. Two men, but one is injured.”

Colin was out of his seat and halfway to the entry door before the boy had finished speaking. It could be anyone. He had no reason to believe it was Dair and Simeon.

No reason but blind faith in the power of the Fae.

Drew was close on his heels as he hit the steps leading to the wall walk. He practically flew up the narrow spiral stairs, bursting through the door and not slowing until he could peer over the wall.

“Dair!” He recognized his kinsmen immediately.

“Thanks be to each and every one of the saints,” Dair called back. “Let us in. Sim needs attention, and I’ve news of yer wife.”

Colin took no note of the stairs he skipped over in his rush to get down from the wall walk. He threw himself headlong into the race, stooping to clamber under the rising gates to meet the horses inside the gate wall.

“Where is she?” He grabbed the reins that had fallen from Simeon’s hand, noticing for the first time the blood soaking the other man’s shoulder.

“Perhaps an hour’s ride from here. We were bringing her to you when she was taken from us.”

They’d reached the stairs, and others crowded around now, hands reaching up to help Simeon from his mount even as Dair swung his leg over his horse and turned to face Colin.

“Taken by whom?”

Dair shook his head, his mouth drawn in a hard line. “I dinna ken the bastard’s name, but he was no a stranger to her. He did that to Simeon with some wee weapon he carried. Yer lady called it a gun.”

“Flynn.” Colin spat the name, cursing the very air the filthy Nuadian breathed. “Can you take me there?”

“Oh, aye, I can. I’ve only the need of a fresh horse and a good sword.” Dair laid a hand on his shoulder, none of his usual humor in evidence. “But I must warn you, Colin, she’s been hurt.”

Colin’s stomach knotted. “What happened?”

“One of MacDougall’s men attacked her when we made our escape. She fought him and took a boot to her ribs for her trouble.”

A white-hot rage gripped Colin’s guts, twisting and writhing inside him, pressing him to action.

“I want the man. I’ll have his bowels for dinner for what he’s dared. Once she’s found, you’ll lead me to him and I’ll make him pay for what he’s done.”

“Sorry, my friend.” Dair shrugged. “Any payment you take from that one will have to come in the next world. I had the pleasure in this one.”

Colin clenched his teeth together to hold back a primal bellow of frustration. “Painfully, I hope?”

“Oh, I’d imagine so,” his friend answered, lifting his hands in front of him to mimic the quick gesture of snapping someone’s neck.

It would have to do.

“Drew!” Colin yelled, but his brother had already reached his side.

“I heard. I’ve sent for the stable master. My men are at yer disposal, brother. My men and my own self as well. We’ll find her and we’ll bring her home.”

Colin broke toward the stables at a run. They’d find her. He just prayed to whatever gods cared to listen that they’d find her in time.