Page 31 of Kidnapped by her Highland Enemy

Lady McKenna went to her husband and whispered something in his ear, and instantly, the man’s eyes shot to Maisie. Then he sighed and shook his head, “I’m sorry, dear, she must die.”

Her face soured, and she flung her empty goblet, “Then ye find a wife for Geoffrey then!”

Maisie’s mouth dropped, was the woman truly thinking she would be with her son? Was she moon-stricken? Training her gaze back to Lucas, she saw that while his head was still down and looking as if he were asleep, his fingers were working on the ropes binding his middle.

“When we control this land, he’ll have nay shortage of lasses to marry,” McKenna said. “As soon as it is nightfall, we shall kill them and the plan will bear fruit.”

Lucas had managed to undo the rope around his middle and was working on his hand. Maisie knew she had to keep McKenna’s attention on her while Lucas freed himself.

“Is killing us the answer?” Maisie dropped her voice to timid and trembling. She had to draw and keep his attention on her. “I am bearing his child, sir, please daenae kill us.”

McKenna’s brows shot up and he pivoted to look to his wife, then jerked his head to a left doorway. Her face twisted but she left to the corridor beyond and while the two sons played a game between themselves, Maisie hissed a word to Lucas.

“They are gone for a moment. Hurry.”

His fingers worked faster in response and Maisie kept watch on the door with her heart in her throat. Lucas had untied his hands as she heard an escalating argument behind the door and slid a look to Lucas who was now undoing his feet.

He shifted to his knees and removed her feet ties and her hands, before asking. “D’ye still have yer dagger with ye?”

“A second one, aye,” she said, keeping an eye on the sons on the dais. “Right leg.”

He grinned and slipped the weapon out of her boot before he went back to his place, draped the rope over his leg, and wrapped his arms around the post.

McKenna came back in the room and looked at her with pity while his wife swept past them, her nose high in satisfaction. “I am sorry, lass, even with yer unborn bairn, ye will have to die.”

As he said it, men came into the room, bearing rope, sacks and swords, ready to take them away and kill them—only Lucas startled them by darting up, “Ye willnae be killing anyone, traitor!”

He flung himself on McKenna and the two went down in a rolling wrestle while Maisie’s instincts told her to leap to her feet and help. In the heartbeat where McKenna’s men were distracted, she managed to rip a dirk from one of their slack hands.

A meaty hand gripped her by the back of her dress and dragged her back to toss her flat onto her back, then he landed on top of her with a shout.

Maisie gripped her knife, and swinging it up, she caught the side of his head before she managed to roll away from him.

He bellowed just before she sunk the dagger right into his belly then she yanked it out and leaped away from another attacker.

She barely heard Lucas’s pained call as he was fighting off three men at once, his dagger a sliver of iron in his hand as he fought.

Another man leaped as her and her knife slammed up under his ribcage, sending him reeling backward.

Her left fist struck out and slammed into his jaw, fueled by the force of her rage.

Then—bedlam erupted. The doors were flung in, as Barclay soldiers came charging in, Oliver at the forefront. McKenna’s men leaped into the fight while Oliver kicked one of the men from Lucas and threw a sword at him.

Properly armed, Lucas went on a rage-fueled rampage, cutting down men left and right, heading to McKenna, but two men got into his way.

Lucas knocked the first man to the ground and thrust the iron blade into his guts, placed a foot on the man’s chest and pulled his sword free before slashing it down across his victim’s neck.

Pivoting on his heel, Lucas met the ax-blade aimed for his neck but he cut the axe-man down, boxing the ax away before stabbing him with his dagger until he fell twitching at his feet, the man’s axe sliding from lifeless fingers.

The rage, the blood-lust, of battle had descended upon him as he swung at McKenna, who barely dodged the blow meant to decapitate him. Face twisted with hate and rage, McKenna slashed his blade up, but Lucas feinted to the left only to come back and meet him in the middle.

Swords clashing, they thrust and crashed, moving constantly, set on killing the other.

But Lucas’s skill and strength were remarkable, and it was only a matter of time before he disarmed his opponent.

Sweat dripped from his brows, stinging his eyes, but there was no time to wipe it off or to brush his hair back from his forehead.

When their swords locked again, Lucas commanded, “Throw down your sword, bastard!”

“Landless, yes,” McKenna growled. “Poor, yes, but a bastard? Nay, not that.”

“Are you witless? I said throw down your sword!” Lucas said, narrowing his eyes. “I will kill ye.”

“Nay before I do,” McKenna spat.

Unable to take any more, Lucas leaped into sidestep, spun and slashed his blade along the man’s exposed back. McKenna fell to his knees, the sword tumbling from his hands before Lucas grabbed him by his neck.

“Why?” He growled to McKenna. “We were at peace with each other.”

Lucas held him close he could smell the sour tang on McKenna’s breath and the sweat that coated his skin. “Tell me, why?”

“Ye never deserved what ye were given,” McKenna’s hateful gaze bore into Lucas’s. “Ye were spoiled, pampered, and dug for more while yer neighbors begged for scraps. Go ahead, kill me, tis nay as if I wasnae heading to death’s door anyhow.”

“Nay,” Lucas said even while his hand clenched the pommel of his sword. “Ye will be tried and then sent to exile. Oliver, bind him.”

The fighting had stopped with most of McKennas’ men strewn lifeless on the ground. While Oliver was binding him, McKenna twisted, launched away, and grabbed a discarded dirk. Lucas spun back and knocked the dirk away and with a bellow of rage, he ran his sword through the traitor’s gut.

The sound echoed in the room as McKenna’s body slumped to the ground and Lucas stepped away. He turned away, sword dripping, and found Maisie coming to him, her arm bound with strip ripped from her skirt. She came to him and wrapped an arm around him.

Lucas watched as Oliver tied up the last living of McKenna’s men and then, he saw his father Cinead and Angus both wielding bloody swords. He turned to Maisie and kissed her forehead, “It is done, mo chridhe .”

She rested her head on his chest in relief, “Aye, it is, finally, it is.”