Bound to the Highlander(93)

“I’ll find him and make you safe again,” Fergus said.

Aileana couldn’t thank him. She was torn between putting everyone else in danger for her own safety and knowing Gawain’s blood could not be on James’s hands.

Fergus nodded to her. He gave explicit instructions as to where they should search. Only MacDougal remained without a task.

“You know this town better than any of us,” Fergus said. “Speak with the Campbell couple. Find out what they know about the man Aileana saw speaking with Gawain. If you identify him, find some men here in town and secure him. I’ll want to speak with him myself when I return.”

Fergus offered Aileana one last look of assurance and left the tavern.





Chapter Twenty-Three




Fergus divided the men into two parties. They headed southwest then spread out to cover about a mile and a half of terrain. He had assigned Neil Stephenson as leader of the other group, trusting in his ability for stealth better than anyone else.

Aileana’s description of the path leading toward the cottage was fairly accurate. Fergus found it with little difficulty and by midday saw the cottage in the distance. Fergus drew his broadsword and crept toward it.

He listened.

Trees rustled, a brook babbled and somewhere close a raven cawed. More than a day had passed since Aileana had escaped and Gawain must have fled by now. No smoke wafted from the chimney and the door was closed.

From what Fergus remembered, this man slithered in and out of places undetected unless you looked hard. He would find him, though. That rodent would get what he deserved.

The debt he owed MacIntosh was great indeed. Were it not for the man’s involvement, he’d have spent more than a fortnight in the king’s dungeon. Perhaps he’d never see Nessia again. A troubling thought. He’d see her again soon enough and when he did, she’d know she could rely on him to secure a good future. He would do right by her for his brother’s sake—even if it meant marrying her to another. His feelings for her would not serve her best interests. He glanced sideways at her brother, Colin. The man had proven his worth. She’d be proud of him.

Fergus’s men surrounded the dwelling. He approached the door and lifted the wooden latch, careful not to make a sound. At first the door proved to be more stubborn and creaked with every inch Fergus demanded of it. Halfway open, it stopped resisting and noiselessly swung open the rest of the way. He peered inside. The place appeared empty.

His shoulders relaxed just as a soft creaking sounded behind him. Fergus turned to see Gawain flying through the air toward him with his blade aimed at Fergus’s heart. He had only a split second to react and managed to divert the deadly attack just enough, but still received a deep gash on his left shoulder.

Son of a whore!

Gawain’s body struck Fergus and the impact unsettled both for but a second. Gawain steadied himself and lunged at him again with his blade this time aiming at Fergus’s throat. Fergus was faster this time and swung his sword down, knocking Gawain’s hand away before he could make contact.

The man didn’t appear to recognize the immense difference in their size. Gawain swung forward a third time, this time slicing Fergus’s right arm, but still could not dislodge his sword. Warm liquid spread down Fergus’s arms. When was the last time he’d been cut?

He’d had enough playing around. Fergus’s left fist crashed into Gawain’s face sending him sailing through the air and landing the smaller man on the ground just outside the cottage.

“Stay down, lad, or you will die!”

Gawain’s eyes were wild and he appeared beyond reasonable thought. The daft man didn’t take Fergus’s advice and leapt forward one more time with his blade again aimed at Fergus’s heart. The distance between them allowed Fergus time to counter the attack and his sword came down with a fierce blow on Gawain’s right wrist. The loud crack was followed by his blade clattering to the ground.

Gawain let out a tortured howl, fell to his knees cradling his wounded limb.

“Stay down or you will die!”

Gawain’s face twisted as he pulled another blade from a strap on his leg and plunged it toward Fergus who stepped out of the way this time.

Fergus had lost all interest in any further fight. The pathetic sight of the man was sickening. He didn’t deserve death, after all the grief he had caused, he deserved to live with it.

“Bind him. Tight!”

Fergus stepped back from the scene for a moment. He looked down to see blood dripping from both sides of him and was rattled by the damage this man had caused him. He leaned against the cottage as his head spun, his body sliding until he sat with his back against the wall and closed his eyes. He’d been in battle many times before and had received never more than a scratch or two. How was it possible this whelp turned out to be so lethal?