Page 34 of Hunted By the Cruel Highlander (Lasses of the Highland Hunt #1)
“Get away from me bride!” Hector growled.
Lewis’s surprise turned into delight. “Oh, this is perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
“I said, let her go,” Hector said, his voice deadly calm.
“Nae a chance.” Lewis pressed the knife against Gabriella’s throat. “Do ye ken what ye did to me?” His voice started as a whisper, but quickly rose to a roar. “Do ye ken what ye destroyed?!”
Noah appeared through the trees, two hands wrapped around his dirk, his face grim with purpose. He raised the blade high over his head, ready to deliver a fatal blow, but Hector raised his free hand, stopping him in his tracks.
“Nay. Step back,” he ordered. “This is personal.”
Noah paused only for a moment, long enough to take in the entire scene, and nodded once before retreating. Hector, however, knew they wouldn’t go far.
He took a step forward, his eyes locked on Lewis.
“I had everythin’!” Lewis growled. “A profitable business, connections that reached from Glasgow to Edinburgh! I was somebody! But then ye decided to play savior!”
His voice dripped with venom. “Ye went after me suppliers! Me contacts! Every man who’d ever done business with me suddenly found themselves with a choice—deal with an angry Scottish laird or step away. I went from being a respected businessman to living like a bloody animal!”
“Ye were never a businessman,” Gabriella spat. “Ye were a monster.”
“Monster?” Lewis’s lip curled. “I provided a service! Until yer precious Laird decided to play God! Now, look what he’s reduced me to!” A mad gleam entered his eyes. “Now, ye have to learn what it feels like to lose something you care about. Just like ye did to me.”
Hector took a single step forward, and Lewis’s lips stretched into a grin.
“That’s it, come closer. I want ye to have a good view when I slit her throat.”
Hector smiled, and it was the most terrifying expression Gabriella had ever seen. “Ye’re going to die today, Lewis. The only question is how much pain ye’ll experience first.”
Lewis’s laugh was rich with anticipation. “Is that supposed to scare me? I’ve been dead inside since ye destroyed me life. At least now I get to take both of ye with me.”
“That’s where ye’re wrong,” Hector said softly. “Ye see, Lewis, ye made one critical mistake.”
“Did I?” Lewis pressed the knife just a fraction harder against Gabriella’s throat, drawing a thin line of blood. “Because from where I’m standin’, this looks like the best day I’ve had in months. Two for the price of one, ye might say.”
“Ye underestimated me determination.” Hector’s voice dropped to a whisper that somehow carried more menace than any shout. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
The change in Lewis was immediate. His cocky grin faltered as he finally seemed to register the cold promise in Hector’s eyes—the look of a man who’d killed before and would kill again without hesitation.
“Stay back!” Lewis pressed the knife harder against Gabriella’s throat, but his voice had lost its earlier confidence. “I’ll cut her again—I swear I will!”
“Aye,” Hector said conversationally, taking another slow step forward. “Ye probably will. But here’s what will happen next—ye hurt her again, and I’ll spend the next hour tearin’ ye apart piece by piece. Ye kill her, and I’ll make sure ye live long enough to regret it.”
Lewis’s breathing grew ragged. “Ye’re bluffin’. Ye willnae risk her life.”
“Won’t I?” Hector tilted his head, studying him like a hawk studying a mouse. “Tell me, Lewis. In all yer years of dealin’ with Highland lairds, have ye ever kenned one to bluff about blood debt?”
The color drained from Lewis’s face as the truth of that statement sank in. Highland justice was swift, brutal, and absolute.
“I—ye cannae—”
“I can. I will.” Hector took another step forward, close enough now that Gabriella could see the deadly calm in his dark eyes. “The only question is whether ye’re smart enough to let her go and die quickly, or stupid enough to make this last.”
Lewis’s hand trembled around the knife, sweat beading on his forehead. “This isnae how it was supposed to go.”
“Nay,” Hector agreed. “Ye were supposed to be clever. Instead, ye made the mistake of threatenin’ me bride.”
Something in his tone—the absolute certainty, the promise of violence—finally broke through Lewis’s arrogance. The knife wavered at Gabriella’s throat as panic set in.
“She’s nothin’!” Lewis screamed. “Just a whore I found in a tavern! Why would ye destroy everythin’ for her?”
“Because she’s mine,” Hector said simply. “And nay one touches what’s mine.”
That’s when Lewis made a fatal mistake. Rage overrode his fear, and he shifted his grip on the knife, raising it to strike down rather than slit Gabriella’s throat.
Hector moved like lightning, covering the distance between them in two quick strides. His hands closed around Lewis’s throat, lifting the smaller man off his feet with terrifying ease.
“This is for touchin’ her,” he said, his voice utterly calm despite the fury burning in his eyes.
The knife slipped from Lewis’s fingers as he clawed at Hector’s hands, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. His feet kicked uselessly as his face turned purple.
“And this,” Hector continued, his grip tightening, “is for terrorizin’ her.”
There was a sharp crack, and Lewis went limp.
Hector held him for a moment longer, making sure he was dead, then let his body drop to the forest floor like a heap of refuse.
The sudden silence was deafening. Gabriella was frozen, staring at Lewis’s motionless form.
“Gabriella.” Hector’s voice was gentle now, all traces of violence gone as he turned toward her. “It’s over, lass. Ye’re safe.”
Gabriella gasped as everything that had happened crashed over her at once. She tipped forward, but Hector was there before she could fall, catching her against his chest and holding her tight.
“I’ve got ye,” he murmured against her hair, his arms like steel bands around her trembling form. “I’ve got ye, and I’m never lettin’ go again.”
Gabriella buried her face in his shoulder and finally let herself cry—great, shuddering sobs that seemed to tear from her very soul. But she was safe now. She was home.
“I feared ye wouldnae find me in time,” she whispered when she could finally speak again.
Hector’s arms tightened around her. “I’ll always find ye, nay matter how far ye run or who tries to take ye from me.” His voice was fierce with promise. “Always, Gabriella. Always.”