Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(11)

“I told ye…” The leader spoke again. “I’m going to hang him and let the bloody MacPherson see what happens to those who steal Gordon cattle.”

“I’m too small to steal a cow by myself.” It was a risk to keep talking, but one of the men was already pulling a rope from where it had been draped on his hip and fashioning a noose. “And this is MacPherson land.”

“Well, now, it won’t take much to drag ye onto Gordon land,” the leader commented. “Yer bloody Tanis Bhaic MacPherson killed me laird’s son.”

“Lye Rob took Bhaic’s wife.”

The man who seemed to be leading them moved closer. Katherine tightened her grip on the hilt of the dagger. He didn’t miss the way her body tensed.

“Thinking to try me, lad?” he asked from just far enough away to make a lunge at him ill advised. “I am Tyree Gordon. Ye should know the name of the man who is going to hang ye.”

“Maybe I’ll kill ye, and yer men will think better of feuding and earning the wrath of the Earl of Morton.”

Tyree threw his head back and laughed. He was close enough that she could smell how rotten his teeth were.

“I hope to Christ Morton is pissed!” Tyree declared, to the delight of his men. “That bastard is no’ fit to call himself a Scot! He wants us all to bathe in perfume like the French and bugger boys!”

There was a rumble of discontentment as many of the Gordons spat on the ground.

“Make yer peace with God, because I’m going to choke the life out of ye for cutting me.”

He came for her, and Katherine moved in the way Marcus had taught her. She was smaller, so she’d learned to use her speed and agility against larger boys. Tyree was a powerfully built man, and he misjudged how light she was on her feet, stumbling past her on his first charge. Horror made her want to retch, but it was kill or die.

Tyree let out a curse as she drew blood. He whipped around, but not before she felt the warm slide of his blood across her hand. He roared at her before charging at her again.

“What the fuck are ye doing, Tyree?”

He froze, and it looked as though the man who had spoken had reached out and grabbed him by the nape. She could see his expression, distorted by rage, but he held himself away from her as a new group of men came closer. One of them struck a flint and a torch caught, washing the scene in yellow light.

“He fucking cut me!” Tyree snarled.

“If ye’d told me ye were going to hang me,” the newcomer said softly, “I’d have done the same. Ye are on MacPherson land.”

Tyree spat at the feet of the newcomer. “Barely. Did ye expect me to wait for the bloody bastards who are thieving from us?”

“I expected ye to follow me orders, and there was no mention of hanging.”

The men around her took a step back. The man facing her was a good ten years older than Tyree. He held himself still as he contemplated her. “I am Diocail Gordon.”

He reminded her of Marcus, with his silent stance.

“Ye sent me out here to deal with the thieving,” Tyree insisted. “Let me get on with cutting this whelp’s balls off.”

Diocail’s lips twitched a tiny bit before he chuckled softly. “Ye’d be a fool if ye did. Colum makes the decisions on Gordon land when it comes to who gets strung up.”

Katherine gasped as one of the men caught her from behind. She’d made the fatal mistake of being focused on the deliverance Diocail seemed to offer and had failed to keep her mouth shut.

“Hold,” Diocail said as her captor aimed a fist at the side of her head.

“Ye’re young,” he said as he came closer. “But that sounded a wee bit more than just young.”

He wasn’t the only man who thought so. Taken by surprise, she’d failed to make her voice gruff, and the horrible truth that had destroyed her life on MacPherson land was being heard.

She was a woman.

And now she was faced with men who had their passion up. Katherine raised her chin. She’d face her fate.

Whatever it was.

Courage was what she’d learned from Marcus, and she would not shame him.





Two


Colum Gordon was old.

One of his retainers kicked Katherine in the back of the knee when she didn’t offer the laird deference by lowering herself. She stumbled and ended up on her knees, to the delight of the Gordons.

Colum only regarded her from his throne-like chair set on a raised platform. It was covered in a bearskin, and he wore a necklace of the creature’s claws. He snorted when he noticed where her attention was.

“Gordons…” he began in a crusty voice, “prove their worth.”

Katherine climbed to her feet. It gained her a grumble from the men behind her and a grunt from the laird of the Gordons. The old man pointed at the man behind her. “Tyree there wants to hang ye.”

“He doesn’t take being bested well,” Katherine replied. For certain, many would have advised her to grovel, but she’d chosen her path when she left MacPherson Castle in a kilt.

“Ye did nae best me…” Tyree sent her sprawling onto the floor again. This time, she went with the motion, rolling and coming up on her feet. The rope was looped around her chest several times, keeping her arms bound tight to her body.