Highland Barbarian
Page 29
The thought of Katerina resting in the cold ground was more than Lucas could bear and he hastily pushed it aside. He also ignored the questions swirling in his mind, ones that demanded answers. He could not believe Katerina would kill herself either, but this was not the time to solve that puzzle. As he sought his revenge on the men who had beaten him he could ask a few questions, but that revenge had to be the first thing on his mind for now. When that was done he would discover the truth about Katerina’s death. No matter what she had done to him, he knew he would never be able to rest easy with the thought of her lovely body rotting in unconsecrated soil.
“Do ye think ye could pray for her, sir? Would that be a sin?”
Lucas had no idea and fumbled for an answer. “’Tis my duty to pray for lost souls, child.”
“I could take ye to where she is buried,” Annie began and then scowled when Ranald and two of his companions came up to the table. “If ye want more ale, ye just needed to ask.”
“I came to see why ye are sitting and talking so cozily with this monk,” said Ranald.
“What business is it of yours, eh?”
“Ye waste your time wooing a monk, lass. If ye are hungry for a mon, I am more than willing to see to your needs.” He grinned when his companions laughed.
“I but wished to talk to someone who has traveled beyond the boundaries of Haldane land,” she snapped. “Someone who doesnae smell or curse or try to lift my skirts.” Annie suddenly blushed and looked at Lucas. “Pardon me for speaking so, sir.”
“’Tis nay ye who must beg pardon, child, but the men who compel ye to speak so,” Lucas said, watching Ranald closely.
“Here now, I but woo the lass,” said Ranald, glaring at Lucas.
“Is that what ye call it?”
“What would ye ken about it, eh? Ye have given it all up for God, aye? Or have ye? Are ye one of those who says vows to God out of one side of his mouth whilst wooing the lasses out the other?”
“Ye insult my honor,” Lucas said coldly, wishing the man would leave for the urge to make him pay now, and pay dearly, for every twinge of pain Lucas had suffered over the last year was growing too strong to ignore. “I but question your skill at wooing.”
“Do ye now. And just what are ye doing in Dunlochan? There is no monastery near here.”
“He is on a pilgrimage ere he takes his vows,” said Annie. “Leave him be and go back to your friends and your ale.”
“Ye defend him most prettily, lass. I have to wonder why.” Ranald scowled at Lucas. “What is he hiding under those robes?”
Even as Lucas became aware of the sudden danger he was in, Ranald yanked back his cowl and exposed the hair Lucas had been too vain to cut. For a brief moment, everyone just stared at Lucas, their eyes wide and their mouths gaping. Lucas actually considered attacking the man Ranald immediately but good sense intervened. The man’s friends were already rising from their seats and inching closer.
Taking advantage of everyone’s shock at seeing what they thought was a ghost, Lucas leapt to his feet, grabbed his saddlepacks, and bolted for the door. He gained the outside and turned toward the stable only to stumble to a halt as someone grabbed his robe from behind. Cursing, he turned and kicked the man in the face. Knowing he would not make it to his horse in time, Lucas tossed aside his saddle packs and yanked off his robes. By the time Ranald and his friends had finished stumbling out of the inn, Lucas was facing them with a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other.
“So, it is ye,” said Ranald as he drew his sword and he and his companions moved to stand facing Lucas. “Ye are supposed to be dead. We threw ye off the cliff and saw ye just lying there.”
“And ye ne’er went back to see if I stayed there, did ye,” Lucas said, his scorn clear to hear in his voice.
“Why trouble ourselves? We had beaten ye soundly, ye were bleeding from several wounds and we threw ye off a cliff.”
Lucas shrugged. “I got up and went home,” he said, knowing his family would groan to hear him describe the many travails he had gone through to return to Donncoill in such simple terms.
“Weel, ye willnae be crawling home this time, laddie.”
“Nay, I intend to ride home in triumph, leaving your bodies behind me to rot in the dirt.”
“I dinnae think so.” Ranald sneered as he glanced at Lucas’s left leg. “I watched ye run out of the inn and ye limp and stumble like an old mon. We left ye a cripple, didnae we.”
Lucas fought down the rage that threatened to consume him. He had to exact his revenge coldly, had to fight with a clear head and think out every move he made. It was this man’s fault that Lucas could no longer move with the speed and grace he had before, and it was hard not to just lunge at the man and cut him down. Before the beating he would have not been all that concerned about the other men, knowing he could turn on them with an equal speed and have a good chance of defeating them all. Now, because of these men, he had to weigh his every move carefully if he had any hope of coming out of this alive.
“E’en that wee wound willnae stop me from killing ye,” Lucas said, his voice almost cheerful even as he noted with a twinge of dismay how the men began to slowly encircle him.
“Still arrogant,” said Ranald, grinning as he shook his head. “Weel, soon ye will be joining your wee whore in the cold clay.”
“So, Annie spoke true when she said Lady Katerina was dead.”
“Aye, she joined ye or so we thought. Tossed her right o’er the cliff and into the water with ye.”
That made no sense to Lucas, but he pushed his sudden confusion and all the questions it raised aside. How and why Katerina had died was of no importance at the moment. Staying alive had to be his only priority. A quick glance toward the inn revealed a white-faced Annie and several other Haldanes watching and listening. Lucas had to hope that, if he failed to win this fight, they would find out what happened to Katerina, although why he should care about that was just another puzzle he had no time to solve.
“I dinnae suppose ye have the courage to face me mon to mon, without all your men to protect your worthless hide,” Lucas said as he braced himself for the battle to come.
“Are ye calling me a coward?” Ranald snarled.
“Ye needed near a dozen men to capture me, beat me nigh unto death and toss me off a cliff, and then ye murdered a wee unarmed lass. Aye, I believe I am calling ye a coward and weel do ye deserve the name.”
“’Twill be a joy to kill ye, fool.”
Glancing around at the men encircling him, Lucas had the sinking feeling that it would also be a quick killing, but then he stiffened his backbone. He had been in such tight spots before and come out nearly unscathed. All he needed to do was regain that arrogance Ranald found so irritating. Lucas was a little concerned that he would fail at that. It seemed his heart was beating so hard and fast that he could actually hear it. Telling himself he was imagining things, he readied himself to win and, failing that, to take as many of these men with him as he could. This time, killing him was going to cost them dearly.
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2006 by Hannah Howell
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ISBN: 978-1-420-12912-0
About the Author
Hannah Howell is an award-winning author who lives with her family in Massachusetts. She is the author of twenty-three Zebra historical romances and is currently working on a new Highland historical romance, HIGHLAND SAVAGE, coming in May 2007! Hannah loves hearing from readers and you may visit her website: www.hannahhowell.com.
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