Page 64

brODIE CURSED BEFORE glancing over his shoulder, making sure that Greer was standing safely behind him. Her face was pale and strained, yet her eyes were bright with hope. He understood her reaction, for his heart was pounding so fast that he felt lightheaded.

Could this day have any more twists?

What had started as the happiest morning of his life had now slid into chaos. However, he’d not let anyone take Greer from him—and now that his brothers had arrived, no one would.

Brodie’s gaze flicked then to where Iver and Kerr had pulled up their horses. He couldn’t believe they’d found him so quickly, or so easily. He hadn’t wanted his brothers to follow him, yet he’d never been happier to see them both.

The Mackay riders fanned out and formed a ring around the gathered Forbeses.

They were evenly matched in number, Brodie noted, which was good, as things were about to get nasty.

Their arrival had thrown the Forbes clan-chief momentarily.

For a few heartbeats, he merely stared at Iver’s stone-hewn expression.

Then, Alexander Forbes’s strong-featured face went rigid, and his gaze narrowed. “Ye are a long way from home, Mackay.”

“Aye, well … my brother left on a fool’s errand” —Iver’s piercing midnight-blue gaze snapped to Brodie a moment before returning to Forbes— “So, naturally, I had to follow.”

Heat flushed through Brodie. Understandably, his brother was angry, yet he didn’t have to make this situation even worse than it already was.

But Iver’s attention didn’t remain on Brodie for more than a heartbeat. Instead, he focused on Sutherland. “No blood is going to be spilled here, Malcolm,” he said coldly. “Put away yer dirk.”

In response, Sutherland spat out a curse, his large hand clenching around the hilt of his dirk. “Ye’re wrong, Mackay,” he snarled. “A loch of blood is going to stain the ground before this kirk.”

Wordlessly, Iver swung down from the saddle, as did Kerr. Both drew their weapons and moved to stand alongside Brodie.

Warmth flooded through Brodie at this gesture, his throat tightening with pride. His brothers’ loyalty meant everything to him. Aye, Iver was vexed with him, yet the Mackays of Dun Ugadale stood by each other, through thick and thin.

“This isn’t going to end well, Mackay,” Forbes spoke up then.

“No, it isn’t,” Iver replied.

“Yer clan-chief will hear of this.”

“Aye, no doubt he will.”

Forbes’s eyebrows drew together, fury simmering in his pewter gaze. “Do ye really want to make our clans enemies … over this ?”

“No,” Iver replied, “which is why I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

And then, to Brodie’s surprise, Iver took a quick step sideways, not toward Forbes, but toward him .

Greer cried out then, as Iver swung at Brodie, but it was too late.

Iver’s fist connected with Brodie’s temple—and he fell into darkness.

“No!” Greer screamed, lurching toward Brodie. Iver caught him as he fell, staggering under the dead weight. Kerr leaped forward then, helping to support their unconscious brother.

Greer clawed at them. “Let him go! Let him go!”

She couldn’t believe what she’d just witnessed. When Iver and Kerr had stepped up next to Brodie, she’d thought they were there to support him. But instead, Iver had just thrown a vicious haymaker at his brother, knocking him senseless with one punch.

It was a dangerous blow; Greer remembered one of the stable lads dying after a drunken brawl where another lad had delivered a similar strike.

Terror ripped into Greer. Iver could have killed his own brother.

However, her attempts to get to Brodie were in vain. Iver and Kerr held her off with ease. Both men’s faces were hard masks now, although the looks on the faces of the warriors surrounding them were shocked.

Even her father and Sutherland wore poleaxed expressions.

No one had expected this.

“Fetch yer daughter,” Iver said stonily as he dragged Brodie away toward his waiting stallion.

Greer’s father nodded to his men, and three of them broke away from the group, advancing on her.

Backing up, Greer shook her head. She then reached down and drew her dirk from under her skirts. “Don’t come near me,” she snarled.

The trio of warriors stopped in their tracks, their gazes snapping wide. Seeing their laird’s sunny-countenanced daughter draw a blade on them must have been a shocking sight.

However, their surprise passed quickly, and they continued their approach.

Greer did her best to fight them off, using the techniques Brodie had taught her.

She ripped a hole in the sleeve of one and scored a scarlet line across the hand of another—yet three against one was poor odds indeed, and a short while later, her dirk thudded to the ground as one of the warriors clenched her wrist in an iron grip.

She fought them, snarling and spitting, yet they dragged her away from the Mackays, and toward her father and Sutherland.

The latter watched her incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe he’d agreed to wed such a hellcat.

Good. She didn’t want to marry him, or anyone, if she couldn’t have Brodie.

Meanwhile, Iver and Kerr lifted their brother across the front of the saddle. He hung there limply, like a sack of oats.

Greer choked back a sob. She longed to go to him, yet her father’s men held her fast.

Iver then swung up onto the saddle and gathered the reins while Kerr crossed to his waiting courser.

“Do ye really believe this is enough … that we will all forget this slight, Mackay?” Greer’s father spoke then. His face was still taut, his gaze still burned. “Yer brother needs to pay for ruining my daughter.”

“He has … and he will.” Iver kept his attention on Forbes, as if he was deliberately avoiding looking at Greer. “But this ends now.”

The clan-chief didn’t reply. Nonetheless, his fury shivered through the air like lightning. He wanted reckoning, but he was also a calculating man who knew what his alliance with the Mackays was worth.

If he attacked Iver and his men now, his friendship with Niel Mackay would be at an end. Of course, the Sutherlands were powerful allies too, yet her father couldn’t count on that—not after his daughter’s disgrace.

Greer watched, her heart in her throat, as the Mackay party reined their horses around.

And without another word, or a backward glance, they departed.

Silence settled over the hilltop.

Long moments passed, and then, finally, Forbes turned his attention to his daughter. Two long strides brought him up to Greer, and then he lashed out with his hand, slapping her hard across the face.

Greer cried out, her head snapping back. Fire raced across her cheek. Stunned, she sagged in the grip of the warriors who still held her fast. She couldn’t believe her father had just struck her; he never had before.

“Harlot!” His voice was like steel on rock. “Ye will pay for humiliating me!” He hit her again, and this time Greer tasted blood. Her jaw started to ache, yet she swallowed the sob that forced its way up her throat.

She’d defied him, and this was the price—but she’d not crumble. Instead, she held onto her own rage.

At Iver Mackay, for betraying his own brother.

At her father, for forcing her into a marriage she didn’t want.

At fate, for dealing her and Brodie such a cruel blow.

Sensing Greer’s continuing defiance, the clan-chief’s eyes glittered. He drew back his arm once more, preparing to strike her again.

But, this time, a big hand fastened around his wrist, stilling him. Malcolm Sutherland had stepped close, his face stony, his gaze narrowed. “Enough,” he growled, a muscle flexing in his heavy jaw. “Ye will not hit her again.”

Groaning, Brodie awoke.

Satan’s fiends, his head throbbed piteously.

He rolled over onto his side, his eyes flickering open. Bright sunlight assaulted him, and he raised a hand to shield his eyes. He then slurred a curse.

“Good … ye are awake.”

“Thank Christ. Did ye have to hit him so hard?”

“Aye.”

Brodie went rigid then, memories flooding back in. Pushing himself into a sitting position upon the grass, he squinted up at where Iver and Kerr stood over him. The other warriors of their party milled around, watching him with worried gazes.

His brothers’ expressions were harder to read.

Iver’s face seemed carved out of ice at present. Next to him, Kerr’s expression was shuttered, although his shadowed gaze gave him away.

Brodie growled another curse, red-hot anger quickening inside him as he met Iver’s eye. “What have ye done?”

The laird stared him down. “What was necessary.”

Fury gripped Brodie by the throat. It was hard to concentrate due to the dull throb in his temple that pulsed in time with his heartbeat, yet his mind was clear enough to grasp the gravity of what Iver had just done. The woman he loved was in imminent danger. Iver had betrayed them both.

“Ye left Greer at the mercy of those whoresons,” he snarled, wishing he had the strength in his body to launch himself up off the ground and tackle Iver. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to shove his brother’s teeth down his throat. “How could ye?”

“Ye left me no choice,” Iver answered, his stare never wavering. Hades, his expression was cold. Brodie knew his brother could be brutal when pushed—and he’d even seen his ruthlessness over the years—but he’d never had that pitiless look turned on him. “Ye were about to get yerself killed.”

Brodie’s mouth twisted, betrayal a bitter gall on his tongue. “I was about to cause friction between the Forbeses and the Mackays, ye mean?”

In response, his brother’s fists clenched at his sides. He looked like he wanted to take another swing at him.

Rage pulsed like a war drum inside Brodie. Let him. He’d welcome the pain—anything to obliterate the grief that was cutting him up inside.

He’d lost Greer. Right now, she was with her father and Sutherland. God’s teeth, anything could happen to her—and he wasn’t there to look after her. He wanted to rage at the world with his bare fists.

“Ye acted carelessly, brother,” Iver ground out, enunciating each word with effort. “That confrontation was about to turn into a bloodbath. What good would ye have been to Greer, to any of us, with Malcolm Sutherland’s dirk embedded in yer throat?”

“Don’t ye dare make yer act sound noble!” Brodie pushed himself up and staggered to his feet. The world tilted then, dizziness assailing him. However, he ignored it, instead growling a curse. He staggered toward the nearest horse. “I must go back there … I must find her.”

A hand fastened around his upper arm, pulling him to a sharp halt.

Brodie rounded on his assailant to find Iver in his face. His brother’s fingers dug into his flesh like iron prongs. Iver’s features had tightened, drawing the skin tightly across his cheekbones. “Don’t make me bind yer hands,” he bit out. “I’ll carry ye home hogtied if I have to.”

“Iver.” Kerr stepped up now, his voice carrying a warning. “Let’s not—”

“What were ye thinking going after Greer Forbes … and running away with her?” Iver continued, cutting Kerr off, his gaze boring into Brodie’s. “There are rules, Brodie … rules we all have to live by.”

“Aye,” Brodie growled back. “That’s why ye married a chambermaid.”

Iver’s grip tightened further, bruising now. “Aye, but in wedding Bonnie, I raised her up … I gave her a better life, but ye—”

Iver broke off there, his nostrils flaring. He didn’t continue his sentence; he didn’t need to. The unspoken condemnation still echoed like a hunting horn through Brodie’s head.

But ye have nothing to offer Greer.

A beat of silence followed before Iver let go of Brodie’s arm as if burned. “Thanks to yer recklessness,” he said roughly, “Yer selfishness … ye have ruined her life.”

Seven months later …