When a Laird Loves a Lady (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 1) (5 page)

Iain led his horse off the street
so they would not be seen. “Froste,” Iain said under his breath as he quickly
dismounted and tethered his horse.

“Aye,” Rory Mac answered, doing the
same. “I saw the snake. What do ye want to do?”

Iain scratched his stubble. Froste
needed to suffer for what he had done to Neil. The question was, how best to
get retribution. Before he could decide, a woman’s scream filled the night. He
scrambled toward the shadows of the side street and motioned for Rory Mac to
follow. He stopped near enough to see but not be seen or heard. A lass with
hair pale as the moon, a face sculpted in determination, and a beautiful body
wrapped in a gown that fit her form rather than hung loose like those the
highland lasses wore, gripped a dagger with her slender fingers. She held it
steady and pointed it at Froste. Behind her, a man lay with his back to the
sky. The man on the ground groaned.

When Froste began to advance toward
the woman and man, the fair-haired Sassenach held her dagger higher. “Do not
come a step closer.”

Iain started, then quickly shed his
shock like snake skin. He smiled in grim satisfaction as he readied his sword
to aid the woman and seek revenge on Froste. It was a stroke of good fortune
that he’d come upon the knight.

“Should we help now?” Rory Mac
asked in a low tone.

“Hold for one moment. We will use
the distraction the woman is sure to provide to our benefit.”

Rory Mac frowned. “Why do ye
think—”

“You wouldn’t dare stab me,” Froste
snarled at the woman, cutting off Rory Mac’s question.

“I most certainly
will
stab
you in the heart if you come closer,” she snapped. “I’m offended that you believe
I would lie.”

Iain gave Rory Mac a triumphant
smile while biting back a burst of laughter at how outrageous the woman’s
comment, given her situation. The Sassenach looked as though she meant it true
enough to Iain.

Froste offered her a bored look,
and when he did, the Sassenach, to Iain’s astonishment, turned the dagger on
herself and held it to her throat. “If you or any of your men move again
without giving me your solemn vow that you will not kill this man”—she motioned
to the man on the ground—“I will slit my throat, and you’ll not get what you
most want.”

Now this was a most curious plan.
Iain exchanged an amazed look with Rory Mac. With the bold claim she’d just
made, he hoped the woman knew what she was doing.

“And what is it I most desire?”
Froste asked.

“Me,” she answered promptly and
without a trace of boastfulness. “And you want me alive, to be sure. It
certainly makes it easier to acquire the land you covet from my father if I’m
alive, now doesn’t it?”

Iain felt himself gape. Marion de
Lacy was alive? And she was no cold, proper Sassenach after all, and she most
certainly was not weak. His wonder vanished with his next breath. She was
alive, and she would soon be his wife.

“Iain, is—”

“Aye, that’s my bride,” Iain
answered, fierce anger now flowing through his veins as he determined how to
most effectively attack Froste while ensuring Marion would not be harmed.
Marion waved her dagger in the air, stealing Iain’s attention for a moment.

“I’ll have your vow to let the Scot
go,” she demanded in a voice of steel, as she tilted her head toward the form
on the ground.

As Rory Mac hissed in disbelief
beside him, Iain found his gaze drawn briefly to where the man lay. He was
dressed in a plain wool cloak, and whoever the man was, he’d taken pains not to
be noticed. Was he here for Marion? Had she planned to escape marrying Froste?
Iain found he hoped so.

As one of the knights moved his
hand to his weapon, Iain’s thoughts raced forward, establishing a plan in his
mind. He nudged Rory Mac. “Ye take the two men farthest from us. I’ll get
Marion and take out Froste and the other knight.”

Rory Mac nodded.

“Now!” he said in a fierce whisper
as the knight closest to Marion lunged toward her.

Iain surged forward, withdrawing
his sword and closing the distance between himself and the knight who had
grabbed Marion. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight of him, and her dagger
flashed
upward, then hovered as if she wasn’t sure who was the greater threat. In a
rush, her lips pressed grimly together, and she plunged her dagger into the
knight’s arm. The man roared, drawing his sword up to counter. Iain knocked the
sword away with his own, then brought his blade down to finish the knight. He fell
to the ground in a heap.

Iain glanced over at Rory Mac, who
had already felled one knight and was engaged with the other. Iain looked away
just in time to see Froste launching toward him. Behind Iain, Marion screamed.
Iain raised his sword once more and his weapon met Froste’s in midair, the
sound of metal against metal echoing in the night. They withdrew, circled each
other again, and met once more in midair, but Iain spun, brought his sword down
quickly, and struck a blow to Froste’s back.

He stumbled and cursed, but
straightened. He stared hard at Iain, as if he only just realized who Iain was.
The knight wiped a hand across his face and moved his sword from one hand to
the other, his gaze moving from Iain to behind him where Iain could feel Marion
hovering near his feet. He had no idea what she was doing until suddenly she
moved to his side, her bloody dagger in her hand. He barely knew the woman, but
he already respected her courage.

“What are you doing in England,
MacLeod?” Froste thundered.

“I came to speak to yer king
regarding David’s release, and now I’m here to collect my bride, Lady Marion,
by orders of yer king.”

Beside him, Marion stiffened, but
he could not chance looking at her to see her face and being distracted.

“You sniveling, lying swine,”
Froste bellowed. “I’ll see you dead before I let you take Marion anywhere.”

“And I’ll see ye quiet,” Iain
growled. He rushed forward as Rory Mac came at Froste from the side. Rory Mac
knocked the sword out of the unsuspecting knight’s hands, and Iain shoved his
open palm into the man’s throat. Froste doubled over, gasping. Iain pulled
Marion to him, shifted her behind him, and kicked his foot into Froste’s
stomach to send him sprawling onto his back. Iain placed his boot on the man’s
heaving chest and his sword at the knight’s throat.

“I’ve a good mind to kill ye,” Iain
said.

Suddenly, a very soft, warm body
pressed against his back. “You mustn’t kill unless your life is at stake,”
Marion scolded. “He’s no threat presently.”

Marion’s warm breath tickled the
back of his neck and made him shudder. No woman other than his late wife had
ever made him react so. He frowned, as much at his response to her as to the
fact that she was right about sparing Froste. He could ensure the knight did
not follow them, if Froste was intent upon doing so, without killing him.

“Put him to sleep,” Iain told Rory
Mac, who grinned in answer.

Froste jerked, as if to stop
whatever was coming, but Iain simply reminded him of his deadly situation by
pressing his sword against the man’s windpipe. Froste stilled, glaring at Iain,
but when Rory Mac hit him on the side of the head with the hilt of his sword
and Froste’s head lolled sideways, the glare vanished, much to Iain’s
satisfaction. Iain removed his foot from Froste’s chest and looked around him.
Rory Mac had felled two of the man’s knights, and Iain had dispatched the
other.

Behind Marion, the Scot on the
ground still lay motionless. “Who is that?” Iain demanded, pointing at the man.

Marion narrowed her eyes, which
were as green as the lush rolling hills of the Highlands in the summer. “Who
are you to make demands of me?”

“I already told ye, I’m to wed ye
by orders of yer king.”

“You did not tell
me
,” she
bit out. “You bellowed it at Froste. And forgive me if I don’t readily believe
you. I need proof.”

Iain produced the decree stamped by
King Edward’s ring and signature. Her eyes widened considerably as she read it.
“But why? Does this have to do with the negotiations you mentioned?” She
sounded angry. He supposed he couldn’t blame her, being traded from one man to
another as she had been.

“Because,” he said gently,
considering how much he should tell her and deciding to be as truthful as he
could. He would tell her the remainder when he knew he could trust her. At the
moment, he didn’t even know how she had arrived here. Had she feigned her
drowning? It seemed likely. “King Edward wants to seal a bargain between
himself, David, and me.”

Her brows dipped together. “What
sort of bargain involves me?” she asked obstinately.

He sighed. “I’ll tell ye all when
we are safely on the way to Scotland.”

“I’m not moving until you tell me,”
she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Iain shared a look with Rory Mac,
who gave a nod of understanding. With one swift motion, Iain picked Marion up,
snatched her bloody dagger out of her hands, and slung her over his shoulder.
His future wife bellowed as she beat her fists against his back. Iain took a
long approving look at her perfectly formed bottom. He may not want a wife with
his head or heart, but his body certainly responded to Marion’s. He ground his
teeth and caught Rory Mac studying him. Iain glared at his friend while handing
the dagger to him. “Keep this until the Sassenach does nae want to use it on
me.”

Rory Mac grunted. “I may have it
forever, then,” the Scot teased as he strode toward the man who’d been lying on
the ground, his face in the dirt, but was now struggling to sit up.

“Put me down,” Marion shouted.

Iain ignored her for a minute as he
stared at the man who was now standing with Rory Mac’s help. The man wobbled,
but Rory Mac steadied him, and then the man looked at Iain. For the second time
since coming to Newcastle, Iain stared in shock at Neil MacLeod. He strode,
with Marion still cursing and hitting him, toward his clansmen.

“Neil,” he growled, then quickly
softened his tone when he realized Neil had blood on the left side of his face.

Neil moved his hand toward his ear
and winced. “Froste, the clot-heid, took my other ear and my sword.” He groaned
and swayed again.

“Put me down!” Marion demanded
again. “I can help him.”

Iain set her on her feet. “Be quick
about it,” he ordered, wanting to be gone from this place.

Marion pulled up her skirt,
displaying her slender ankles, which Iain found himself staring at until he
felt her stare on him. He pulled his gaze to her face. “How can I help?”

She held the edge of her skirt out
to him. “Tear this. I need to dress his ear.”

Iain complied, then handed the
strip of material to her.

She took it from him with wary
eyes. “Do you have any spirits?”

“Aye. For cleansing the wound?” he
asked.

“Yes.”

Iain took Neil’s arm and nodded to
Rory Mac. “Fetch it.”

Rory Mac tipped his head and rushed
off. Iain turned to Neil. “What are ye doing here? Ye did nae mention a word of
coming. How do ye ken Lady Marion?” As he waited for Neil to answer, Marion
rushed over to the knight Iain had felled. Beside the man was Neil’s sword. As
she struggled to lift it, Neil spoke.

“I dunnae, nae truly,” he said,
giving Marion a disgruntled look. “My cousin Angus has been her father’s stable
master for years, and he recently sent word to me asking me to bring her back
to Scotland to the MacDonald clan. It was nae till I got here that he told me
the whole of it, that she was to marry Froste against her wishes. He begged me
to take her to safety, and I could nae refuse.”

“I’m so sorry,” Marion cried to
Neil, dragging the sword behind her as she moved toward them.

Iain turned to help her, but the
murderous look she gave him told him she wished to get the sword to Neil on her
own. And she did. Her fortitude impressed Iain as she heaved and huffed and
finally lifted the sword toward Neil. “I’m sorry you lost your other ear
because of me.”

Neil tried to take the sword, but
he faltered, and Iain quickly snatched it from Marion. Neil frowned but nodded.
“It was nae your fault,” the Scot said to Marion. “It is Froste’s fault. He’s
wicked.” They all glanced at Froste, who still lay in a swoon. Neil’s gaze
locked on Iain. “May I borrow your dagger?”

Iain knew the man wanted
retribution, and rightly so. He handed his dagger to the Scot, and then helped
him hobble over to Froste, releasing Neil when he seemed steady. Marion made
haste behind them.

“What are you going to do?” she
whispered, her voice filled with fear. Did she think Neil would kill a man who
could not defend himself?

Neil paused and glanced back at
her. “I’m going to take out his tongue so the man can spew no more evil
orders.”

When Marion swayed, Iain reached
out with his free hand and seized her arm to keep her upright.

“Ye should look away so ye dunnae
faint,” Neil commented.