A Soldier's Salvation (Highland Heartbeats Book 7)(52)

Rodric roared, unable to hold himself back any longer.

Caitlin tried to pull him back but it was no use; she couldn’t have controlled him when he wasn’t in a rage, much less when one had overtaken him. He rushed at Connor, causing the older, slower man to stumble backward until the thick, unmoving trunk of a gnarled birch stopped him.

“Don’t, Rodric!” she pleaded, standing at his side.

He was dangerous, just at the edge of giving in to his rage. His arms shook, his breathing reminded her of a bull on the rampage. The sword trembled ever so slightly but never moved much from its mark: the center of Connor’s throat, just beneath his chin.

“What did you do to him?” he whispered, his teeth tightly clenched beneath lips curled in a snarl. “Tell me!”

“It was his own fault!” Connor spat. “He was the one who began things! He was the one always ready for a fight! He challenged me, called me a thief for not standing up to my part of our agreement, demanded repayment, and finally threatened me. One of his men began a scuffle with one of mine, and your fool brother jumped into the fight!”

“What did you do?” Rodric roared.

“Stabbed him.” Connor smiled. “I ran him through with my dirk, again and again, left him lying in a pool of his own blood before we set out for Fiona’s. We must have just beaten you to it; a shame, since I wouldn’t have minded hearing your screams of terror as you burned to death in that house.”

He looked at Caitlin, their eyes locking for a single, chilling moment. “Both of you.”

Rodric drew his arm back as though preparing to strike a blow and Caitlin gasped, ready to scream.

“Wait!” Another voice called out over everything else, even over the rain which seemed to be slowing down but still filled the air. Her head snapped around in time to see a tall, dark-haired stranger on horseback riding toward them, with several men behind him.

Among them were Brice, Fergus, and Quinn.

“We took care of the rest of them,” Brice muttered, and she noticed a bleeding gash which ran the length of his arm.

“Rodric. Don’t do this,” the man warned, dismounting and standing on Rodric’s opposite side. “He isn’t worth it, and it’s more than likely what he wants you to do now.”

“Why would I want this?” Connor spat, glaring at the stranger.

“Because you have nowhere to go now, Connor McAllister. No one will shelter you. You’ve no clan, no power, nothing.”

“Why? Because Phillip Duncan declares it so?”

Oh! So this was Phillip Duncan! Quinn had reached the Duncans after all. She would have kissed him if things weren’t still so dire.

“Aye, because I declare it so and because I know it to be true. You’ve slain innocent people and only just confessed to murdering Alan Anderson, leader of clan Anderson. You have nothing now, and we both know it.”

Connor trembled slightly, his chin quivering, but his eyes were still hard as flint. “What do you plan to do with me, then?”

“My men will take you to neutral territory, where you will be set free to wander the rest of your days. I have little concern over what happens to you past that point.”

Caitlin watched in awe as two men twice as big as Connor took him by the arms and hauled him to his feet, leading him to a horse. They ordered him to mount, one of them riding behind him.

Phillip turned to Rodric, who still held the sword, and removed it from his hand. “I see we arrived just in time,” he murmured.

“Would that you hadn’t,” Rodric snarled.

“As I said, you would have been granting him the death he most likely wished for,” Phillip reminded him. His eyes fell on Caitlin. “I suppose you’re Caitlin, then?”

“I am.”

“I’m Phillip Duncan. It’s pleased I am to meet ye.” He looked over his shoulder to where Brice and Fergus were both being treated by a woman. “It seems those two were ambushed while searching for shelter.”

“Oh, no,” she whispered, her heart sinking.

“Fear not, lass,” Brice called out with a hearty laugh. “They weren’t long for this world once they decided to tangle with the McDougal brothers.” It seemed as though he was genuinely enjoying himself.

Rodric looked down at her, and in his eyes was a mixture of relief and confusion and still-blazing rage. It was a frightful combination, but she stood straight and tall before it. She would not back down, not when the man she loved needed her.

“Thank you for saving me,” she whispered, placing tentative hands on his chest. He’d killed a man on her behalf, to protect her. It was almost too much to take in all at once.

He touched her cheek, sighing softly as he did, and he seemed to come back to himself—only to jerk away with a grunt. “Alan.”

She knew exactly what he meant. “We can go.”

“We have to go.” He looked at Phillip. “I must go to my brother.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “Take two of our horses. They’re fresher than yours.”

“I’m going as well.” The healer who’d cleaned and bandaged Brice’s wound stood, tossing a long, thick braid over her shoulder as she did.

Phillip all but sputtered in obvious surprise. “You will do no such thing!”