Page 5 of The Laird's Wicked Game
“Aye, if ye are confident enough to do so?”
The challenge in his voice was clear, and her spine stiffened in response. The last thing she wanted was Maclean to think he’d hired someone incompetent. “My father hired a tutor for all his daughters,” she replied firmly. “I speak French too and can teach them that tongue … if ye wish?”
The laird shot her an approving look then, and his lips tilted at the corners. “Aye, the quicker ye establish a routine, the better.”
3: FIRST IMPRESSIONS
THE OUTLINE OF a stone tower house surrounded by a high curtain wall rose against the pale northern sky. Dounarwyse broch loomed before Kylie, and her pulse quickened in response. Suddenly, the nervousness that had plagued her on the ride north evaporated.
This was it. Her new beginning.
The journey from Craignure had taken longer than she’d anticipated. She and Maclean had lapsed into silence again after a while. Noon had come and gone, and it was now mid-afternoon. They’d left Dùn da Ghaoithe far behind. The land was more arable here. Perched upon a high grassy hill, with a patchwork of farmland and copses of oak and birch stretching west and north, it was clear to see why the Macleans had built a fortress in such a spot. The broch had wide views out across the Sound of Mull. No one sailing the narrow stretch of water between Mull and the mainland would pass Dounarwyse unseen.
They rode up the incline toward the castle, and the laird urged his courser into a brisk trot, drawing ahead of Kylie now.
And as the mighty walls of Dounarwyse reared above them, a noise greeted her.
A roar—men’s voices, amplified as they echoed off stone. Tensing in the saddle, she peered ahead at where the chieftain had led the way into the castle across the lowered drawbridge. Rae had just passed under the stone arch, beneath the wicked iron teeth of the portcullis under the guard tower, and disappeared into the yard beyond.
She couldn’t see anything as yet, although the noise now assaulted her ears.
The shouting erupted into cheering then, and chanting began.
Kylie’s pulse leaped into a canter. What the devil had they just ridden into?
The garron’s heavy hooves clip-clopped on cobbles as she rode into the barmkin—a wide courtyard that encircled the broch itself. However, her attention didn’t linger on her surroundings. Instead, it traveled to where two men were brawling with bare knuckles, egged on by a crowd of guards.
“Cease this!” The roar of Maclean’s voice made Kylie’s breathing catch. The man she’d met at Moy, and the one who’d escorted her from Craignure, had been restrained—this one was not. His unleashed temper was blistering.
The raucous cheering cut off as the warriors watching the brawl whipped around to face their laird. Their expressions turned slack with surprise. His arrival had slapped the grins off their faces. The entertainment was over.
However, the two fighting men ignored him. One—tall, lean, and fair-haired, his face twisted with rage—drove a heavy punch into his opponent’s belly. The burly man with receding dark hair wheezed like a winded carthorse. A moment later, the two of them were rolling on the ground.
Snarling a curse, Maclean swung down from his courser and stormed toward the pair. The onlookers hurriedly drew back to let him pass.
All the while, the two brawling men still paid him no mind. If anything, the blond warrior grew even more savage. He’d now gripped the dark-haired guard around the neck and was throttling him.
Panic caught Kylie by the throat.Mother Mary, he means to kill him.
Another tall figure strode into the fray. Jack Maclean had also dismounted and was making a beeline toward the brawlers. But his elder brother reached them first. The laird grabbed the fair-haired warrior by the collar of his leather vest, yanking him hard. However, the man was still fixated on choking the life out of his opponent—whose face was now going an alarming shade of purple.
Cursing again, Maclean drew back. An instant later, a heavy booted foot collided with the warrior’s ribs. And this time, he paid attention. A rasped oath echoed through the barmkin as the man released his chokehold and lurched sideways.
Jack was on the fair-haired warrior then, hauling him roughly to his feet! “Explain yerself, MacDougall!”
The man snarled at his captain, only to find himself in a headlock. He paid Jack little mind though. His attention was on the man he’d been fighting. “I’ll end ye, Bryce,” he shouted. “I swear it!”
His opponent wasn’t listening. Instead, the man rolled onto his side and vomited.
The chieftain stepped close to the man Jack still held fast. He then grabbed a handful of the warrior’s long pale hair and yanked his head up so their gazes met.
Once again, Maclean’s savagery cowed Kylie a little. Even from a few yards away, she marked the murderous glint in his green eyes. She’d had no idea the man possessed such a temper.
Silence fell in the barmkin. Meanwhile, Kylie’s pulse started to thump in her ears.
Where have I ended up?
“Tormod MacDougall,” Maclean growled. “Ye had better have an iron-clad reason for trying to throttle one of yer fellow men-at-arms.”