A Soldier's Salvation (Highland Heartbeats Book 7)(51)

To find the blade of a sword very near her face.

“So, Caitlin. I’ve found you at last.” She knew that voice, coming from over her left shoulder.

That sneering, nasty voice. It didn’t belong to her husband.

“So you have, Connor McAllister,” she spat, staying perfectly still for fear of the man holding the weapon. One of Connor’s men. She cut her eyes to the side in hopes of meeting his gaze, but he was just out of her line of vision.

“And who should I happen to find you with?” Connor chuckled. “Your old friend. I should’ve known you’d find your way to each other.”

“I didn’t know you’d taken up the slave trade while I was away, McAllister,” Rodric muttered. “Had I known, I would have returned sooner to ensure you couldn’t sell your stepdaughter into marriage.”

“Sell,” Connor snickered. “I sold no one, lad. I merely drew up a contractual obligation with your brother in order to seal the peace between the clans. And what does this arrogant little lass do?”

“Watch your tongue when you speak of her,” Rodric warned in a low voice, “or you just might find yourself without it.”

“Big talk,” Connor replied with a chuckle. “We’ll see how big a man you are when your brother finds out you’ve been traveling with his wife. I wouldn’t wish to be in your shoes when he gets word, lad.”

“I wouldn’t wish to be in your shoes at any time,” Rodric growled.

Against her, his heart raced faster than ever. He was holding himself back by the thinnest thread, she knew, and with her in the way, he couldn’t strike out at the man holding the sword.

It was very nearly dark there, under cover of the trees, which made it difficult for anyone to see her hand slide beneath his tunic to grasp the dirk she knew he’d hidden there. She’d seen it several times, most recently when he’d dipped his head into the stream—the motion had caused the tunic to ride up over his abdomen, and a flash of metal had caught her eye.

Along with other things.

Slowly, carefully, she slid the dirk from the sheath. He tensed, knowing what she was doing but unable to stop her without giving them both away. Inch by inch she lifted the dirk and then, just as slowly, she lowered her hand until it was free and passed it between their bodies.

He slid his hand between them, too, meeting hers and taking the dirk’s handle from her fingers. It was with a sense of relief that she gave it over—she’d never held such a weapon before and had no desire to use it on another person, even if they threatened her life.

“Duck,” he breathed, just by her ear and just loud enough for her to hear. She did so, her legs bending until she was nearly crouched on the ground. A sharp cry, followed by a groan of pain, and the man who’d been standing behind her fell to the ground in a heap.

Rodric pulled her to her feet, nearly slamming her against the tree he’d been resting on and shielding her with his body. It all happened so quickly.

“My, your training has served ye well, lad,” Connor observed, but with an edge of fear in his voice. How many men had he with him? Surely more than one. One of them had been left to watch Fiona’s house, she recalled. What of the others?

He let out a low whistle, surely to signal those very men.

No one came.

“What seems to be the trouble, McAllister?” Rodric bent quickly, snapping back up with the sword in his hand. He leveled it at Connor, whose hand immediately flew to his side in order to grasp the hilt of his own sword.

Rodric flicked at it, slicing the skin covering Connor’s knuckles, making him hiss in pain and draw his hand back as though his sword burned to the touch. “Keep your hands where I can see them,” Rodric warned.

The rain began pooling at her feet, soaking through her leather shoes and running down the trunk against which her back was pressed. She shivered, colder than ever, but unable to care very much in light of what was taking place in front of her. A thrill ran through her body at the sight of her stepfather’s apparent confusion and growing fear.

“You had to kill them, didn’t you?” Rodric asked. “Kent. Fiona. Why couldn’t you leave them be? They harmed no one.”

“They sheltered her!” Connor roared, pointing at Caitlin who cowered behind Rodric’s shoulder. “They knew what they were doing! She ran from her lawful husband and refused to abide by the marriage contract. They aided her in her refusal. They paid the price!”

“You’re pitiful and weak,” Rodric sneered, the sword dangerously close to Connor’s throat. “Killing innocent people, destroying the farm and the livestock, those working for them. It makes me ill to look upon ye.”

Even in the darkness, Connor’s eyes seemed to glow with fanatical fire. “It makes you ill, eh? You’ve no idea what took place just before we set out for Fiona’s, I’d wager.”

It sounded as though he was taunting Rodric, which made Caitlin’s blood run cold. He’d done something terrible.

“What took place?” Rodric asked, the sword never wavering. It would take more than an idle suggestion to break his concentration.

“Why don’t you ask your older brother? If he’s still alive to tell you.”

She gasped, her fingers digging into Rodric’s shoulders.

Connor’s eyes met hers. “Oh, yes, my dearie. Your loving husband is more than likely dead by now.”