Chapter 19
The mob leader stared at his bloody arm in almost comical horror. His severed hand lay on the cobbles, half-submerged in a puddle.
Aiden heard blood drip from the tip of his sword, landing somewhere beside his feet. His hand tightened on the hilt, knuckles whitening. His own words echoed in his head.
“I told ye nae to touch her.”
Rage still bubbled inside him, the scene seared in his mind. Those men crowding Hannah, pushing and pulling her. Tearing her dress, pulling her hair, laughing at her cries of pain. Oh, he was going to gut every last one of them if they laid another hand on her.
He shot her a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. She’d had the sense to retreat, putting her back against the wall once more.
Sensible lass. Daenae make a run for it just yet.
The mob leader opened his mouth and gave a long, bloodcurdling scream. Then his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he crumbled like wet paper onto the cobblestones.
“Pathetic,” Aiden muttered, turning away.
He faced down the mob once more, this time at eye level with them. A man with a long, weaselly face seemed to be trying to catch his eye. Was that the second-in-command? Maybe.
Aiden met his eyes anyway, lifting his eyebrows. “Now, ye lot, listen up. He might survive if ye stop the bleeding and get him to a healer promptly. Here is yer chance to walk away. Take yer friend. Leave this behind. Never look or speak to Hannah Leon again, and I’ll let ye live.”
Silence greeted his pronouncement.
He swung his sword thoughtfully. The point came to within half an inch of the cobbles beneath his feet.
“I suppose the long and short of it is,” he continued, “what do ye value most? The life of yer friend and yer own lives, or revenge?”
More silence.
He glanced from face to face, and could almost hear the cogs ticking and whirring in their heads. Last of all, he met the eyes of the weaselly fellow, who was currently watching the mob leader slowly bleed out on the ground.
The weaselly fellow tensed, teeth clacking together. With a snick, he drew a chipped, rusty old short sword and lunged at Aiden with a thin roar.
“Probably should have seen that coming,” Aiden muttered tiredly, and swung his sword forward.
The weaselly man probably never realized that his head had been struck off his shoulders. He collapsed, his body thudding onto the cobbles.
As if something had been unleashed, the other men rushed forward, waving axes, clubs, blacksmithing tools—anything, really—trying and failing to hit Aiden. He dodged and weaved, ducking under blades and neatly sidestepping blows from heavier weapons.
The guards moved forward as one, using pikes and shields to force the men back toward the gates.
It was never a fight they could win.
About a dozen bodies lay on the ground by the time the men began to back away, eyeing Aiden with horror. One fellow lifted his hands warily.
“Ye had enough?” Aiden snarled, turning his head to spit out a mouthful of blood. A lucky fist had caught him across the mouth, splitting his lip. Aside from that, he was unscathed.
Cannae say the same about the others.
The fellow nodded mutely.
Aiden pursed his lips, ignoring the stinging pain. “Then get out of me castle, and daenae raise arms against me again. I am yer Laird, and I’d thank ye to remember it.”
Somebody cleared their throat behind him, a pointed and distinctive sound.
Aiden sighed. “Got something to say, Theodore?”
Footsteps pattered down the steps, and he glanced briefly over his shoulder to see the man in question standing in the courtyard, eyeing the crowd warily. Hannah stood beside him, pale and shivering. Her torn sleeve flopped miserably, and her hair had come loose from its braid.
His heart ached.
Just a wee bit longer, lass. Then ye can have all the hot baths and good meals ye want.
“Aye, I do,” Theodore sniffed. “Ye cannae simply let them walk away. They are traitors, and they all need to be executed for treason.”
The men shifted, whispering frantically to each other.
The fellow who’d surrendered swallowed thickly. “Please, me Laird, I have a wife and three daughters. I support me sister, and—”
“Oh, is that so?” Aiden snapped. “And did ye think of yer family when ye watched those men attack that innocent lass there, eh?”
The fellow said nothing, hanging his head.
Aiden breathed in, fighting down the rising tide of fury. He wanted to lift his sword, race forward, and slice off every treacherous hand that had laid upon Hannah. He wanted to make them suffer, to feel the fear she had felt in that instant.
Then he heard her let out a slow, shaky breath.
Glancing over his shoulder again, their eyes met. To his amazement, there was a clear plea in her eyes.
Daenae.
He gave her the tiniest of nods and turned to Theodore. “These men here willnae lift a hand against me again,” he said crisply.
“Nay, me Laird, we willnae,” the fellow spoke up eagerly, eyes wide and hopeful. “We willnae make this mistake again.”
“Nay, ye willnae. Leave here and spread the word that this Laird MacBain is here to stay. I’ll make yer lives better, if ye will let me. I’ll help ye, if ye will accept it. But turn against me, and I will be forced to take action.”
He nodded fervently.
Other men in the crowd, bloodied and beaten, nodded too, backing away.
Aiden stood where he was, watching them scurry through the gates like rats. The other men who’d waited outside were long gone.
At long last, he let himself relax. He exhaled slowly, shoulders dropping, and closed his eyes briefly.
The silence was broken by a thin gurgle. Opening his eyes, he glanced over at the wall.
The mob leader lay there, blood still pouring from his stump but more sluggishly this time.
His skin was gray. Maybe there’d never been a real chance for him to live, but he was certainly going to die now.
He had minutes, perhaps less. He didn’t seem to be in pain, but his eyes kept opening and closing, jaw flexing as though he were trying to speak.
“Somebody should put him out of his misery,” Hannah murmured, ducking her head.
“That’s magnanimous of ye,” Aiden noted, arching his eyebrows. “He wanted to tear ye apart. Ye should want him to suffer. He wanted ye to suffer.”
“Aye, but I am nae like him,” she responded, meeting his eyes squarely.
“I’ll put him out of his misery,” Theodore offered briskly, stepping forward and drawing his sword.
Aiden frowned. “Is this the first time ye have drawn yer sword during the fight, Theo?”
Theodore paused. “Nay.”
“Aye, it is. Look, nae a speck of blood on that blade.”
Theodore cleared his throat. “Well, ye were doing well enough. Ye didnae need me help. Anyway, let me take care of this for ye, at least.”
The mob leader—Aiden dredged up his name from the dregs of his memory. Angus, a man who’d worked in the distillery—gurgled more urgently, his good hand flapping.
Aiden held out his hand, stopping Theodore in his tracks. “Wait a moment. He’s trying to speak.”
Theodore laughed uneasily. “Do we really want to hear what he says?”
Aiden ignored him. He took a few careful steps toward Angus, eyes peeled for hidden daggers or last-ditch bursts of strength, and dropped into a crouch. “Now, why are ye here today, I wonder?” he murmured. “Ye said there was a man ya had in mind.”
Angus nodded weakly.
“I bet he promised ye a fat reward. Riches, maybe, or a fine position if ye could stoke the discontent in the village into something more tangible. Have I got that right?”
Another weak nod.
“But ye didnae imagine that ye would die like this,” Aiden mused. “Bleeding out, yer hand gone. Nay glory, nay reward, just death. Well, I’m sorry that it ended this way. I bet that ye are, too.”
After a moment, Angus nodded once more, jaw tightening. His tongue came out to lick dry, cracked lips, and his gaze slipped past Aiden’s shoulder.
“Who was it?” Aiden whispered, tilting his head to meet Angus’s eyes more squarely. “Who wanted to be Laird in place of me? Who sent ye here?”
Words appeared to be beyond Angus now. He licked his lips once more, blinking hazily. Slowly, very slowly, he lifted his good arm, fist loosely clenched, forefinger poking out, and pointed to—
Suddenly, Theodore’s blade drove into his chest, the point hitting the stone wall behind him.
Angus jerked once, then the light died in his eyes. He flopped forward, trapping the blade against his chest. The hilt quivered, and Theodore released it, stepping back. He was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling, eyes blazing.
Aiden stayed where he was for a moment, staring wide-eyed at Angus’s rapidly cooling corpse. He could hear whispers of shock rippling through the onlookers.
Slowly, he rose to his feet. First, he glanced over at Hannah, who was staring at Theodore with shock and revulsion.
Theodore did not meet his eyes. Instead, he kept his gaze on Angus’s body. “Traitorous fool,” he hissed. “We daenae want to hear what he has to say.”
Aiden cleared his throat. “A traitor to ye, or a traitor to me?”
Theodore clenched his jaw. “What?”
“He was going to point at ye,” Hannah whispered, loud enough for her voice to carry.
Theodore gave no sign that he had heard her. His eyes swiveled to Aiden, burning right into him. “He’s a lying fool,” he said clearly. “He was going to accuse me out of spite.”
Aiden gave a sharp laugh, raking a hand through his hair. He noticed, dispassionately, that his hands were shaking.
“It’s ye, Theodore. It’s always been ye. How could I… How could I have been such a fool? What have ye done?”
For a moment, he was sure that Theodore was going to deny it again. That he would look him right in the eye and lie squarely and evenly. Instead, he gave a long, slow smile.
“Ye have always been a fool, Aiden. Always unable to see what is before ye very nose. I should have been Laird. Me. Ye left me in charge often enough, didnae ye? Did ye never think that I’d get used to having that power?
Oh, I ken I could manage things. I could make the right choices, be the laird ye could never be.
And then, when I’d get used to it, ye would sweep me aside and expect me to roll over like an obedient pup. ”
“That’s nae true, Theodore. That’s nae how it was!”
“Nae to ye!” Theodore’s voice pitched high, almost shrill. “Ye never were a proper laird. Nae like yer braither.”
Aiden flinched. “Daenae speak of him. He killed our faither to become Laird. What kind of man is that?”
Theodore growled, taking a step forward and stabbing a finger in Aiden’s direction. “That’s what a true laird is. A man nae afraid to take what he wants. A man who’ll do anything for it. Oh, aye, that was a fine man, indeed. And ye? Ye arenae a patch on him.”
Aiden tightened his grip on his sword. It was longer than Theodore’s, a greatsword against a short sword. That could be a disadvantage. A greatsword was less nimble than a shorter blade, and certainly less useful in close combat.
“I would consider it an insult if ye did say that I was like me braither,” he responded curtly.
“Theodore, ye are banished from these lands and from the Highlands. Ye have served this clan well before, and for that reason, I willnae kill ye for betraying me. But ye must walk out of those gates right now, without anything beyond the clothes on yer back and the things in yer pocket, and ye must never, ever return. The day ye return is the day I’ll hang ye from these walls. ”
Theodore barked a mirthless laugh. “Oh, look at ye now, being the big Laird! Power like this cannae be laid down and picked up like a toy. This is what happens, Aiden, when ye arenae fit to be Laird. Men plot against ye. Ye think I’ll be the last?”
“Ye are certainly the last I’ll be ill prepared for.”
He chuckled again, tossing back his long red hair. In the stark sunset light, his hair looked like it was on fire, floating around his head like a glowing halo.
“Ye arenae prepared for anything, Aiden. I should kill ye now, to prove to the clan that we willnae tolerate inaction. Maybe they willnae choose to make me Laird after all, but I willnae care about that, so long as ye arenae Laird. Ye werenae fit to lick yer braither’s boots.”
“Ye are treading on thin ice, man. I gave ye an out. Take it.”
Theodore didn’t seem to have even heard. He shook his head airily, and a hard look came into his eyes. “I’ll kill ye and yer wench both. Gut ye and leave ye for the birds. That’ll send a message, daenae ye think?”
Aiden lowered his chin. “Ye just watched me kill a handful of men over an insult to that wench, Theodore. These arenae wise words.”
Did Theodore even hear him? Perhaps not. The man had a glazed, mad look on his face.
He hadnae intended to be discovered just yet. When the mob’s plan failed, he clearly wanted to shrink back and switch tactics. Maybe drive a dagger in me back when I was fighting and end it there.
“Aye,” Theodore murmured thoughtfully, almost to himself. “Inaction means death. Now those are wise words.”
Quick as a whip, he whirled around, seizing Hannah. The lass had let him get too close to her with his pacing and shifting, and now he was within arm’s length.
Aiden gave a wordless cry and sprang forward, sword raised. He stopped dead in his tracks when Theodore dragged Hannah against his chest. One arm pinned hers to her side, and the other hand held his blade against the bare, exposed skin of her throat.
Her eyes were wide with fear, head tilted back to avoid the undoubtedly sharp edge of the blade.
One move, and he’ll cut her throat. A mere inch, a wee bit of pressure, and her lifeblood spills out over the cobbles. This is nay severed hand. Nay healer can fix this.
Aiden’s arm dropped like a stone to his side.
Theodore grinned. “Smart man. Drop yer sword and kick it aside.”
Wordlessly, Aiden obeyed. The sword clattered to the ground.
The courtyard was deathly silent. Nobody even seemed to be breathing. So, when the creak of a bowstring came, it sounded shockingly loud.
Theodore smiled sweetly. “Tell them to stand down. The first arrow that hits me will kill her too, I promise ye that.”
Aiden lifted his eyes to the archer, poised in an upper window. He had his bow drawn and an arrow pointed straight at Theodore. Aiden caught his eye and shook his head, and the man reluctantly lowered his bow.
“Sensible,” Theodore said briskly, shifting.
The movement must have put a tiny amount of pressure on the blade, because Hannah winced, and an instant later, a red droplet of blood trickled down her fair skin.
Aiden ground his teeth.
“Now, let’s talk like men, eh?” Theodore drawled, offering a bright smile.