The Highland Laird (Lords of the Highlands #8) - Amy Jarecki Page 0,74
mounted, and signaled for his men to follow.
Leading them across the shallows of the River Coe, Ciar beckoned his lieutenant to ride beside him. “What the blazes were you thinking?”
Livingstone’s eyes widened beneath his feathered bonnet. “Berate me if ye like, but you were in no shape to ride yesterday. And I’d wager today is questionable as well.”
Ciar ground his molars, making the ache in his head throb. Pain didn’t matter. He’d spent far too much time abed. “We ride.”
“Agreed.” Livingstone wrapped the lead rope around his hand, pulling along the horse carrying Riley bound and gagged. “Besides, I’ve arranged for Kelly to meet us at the abandoned barn on the outskirts of town.”
A bit of tension released at the back of Ciar’s neck. “You did?”
“He was waiting for us in Inverlochy north of Fort William. You didn’t plan to ride right past the fort undetected, did ye? Mark me, every red-coated bastard this side of the great divide has a musket ball with your initial carved in it.”
Ciar cued his horse for a trot while his ire fizzed all the more. Of course he hadn’t thought of all the details. He’d been unconscious. “Kelly has Manfred and Brown, you say?”
“MacIntyre is with him as well.”
Damnation. Ciar wouldn’t have done any better himself. “Very well, let us skirt around Loch Leven and approach from the foothills of Ben Nevis.”
Livingstone’s grin stretched his whiskers. “Now I ken you’re on the mend.”
Ciar clenched his fists around the reins and settled his seat in the saddle. He’d be a great deal happier once his name was cleared and he’d rescued Emma from Wilcox’s clutches. The route he’d just planned would take them a good three hours longer—three hours more Emma would be forced to suffer. But, damn it all, if anything went awry, her suffering might endure for sennights.
Of course, it was on the cards that they’d be pelted with rain throughout the journey. By the time they arrived at the old barn, Ciar’s clothes were soaked clean through. He clenched his teeth against the chattering, dismounted, and led the way inside.
Hell, the rain dripped through the rotting roof, making the moss-encrusted ground slosh. At one side the ceiling had completely caved in, leaving a pile of jagged planks with mangled nails sticking out like elongated briar thorns.
“I thought you might have been a bloody myth,” said Kelly, stepping forward with an extended hand. “One more night in this shitehole, and I would have chartered a boat back to Ireland.”
Ciar gave a firm handshake, grinning without unclenching his teeth. “Thank you for bearing with me. It seems the red-coated blighters nearly did me in.”
“Not to worry. I’m certain your generosity will make it worth my while.”
“Indeed it will, Mr. Kelly.”
“Agreed,” said MacIntyre, also shaking Ciar’s hand. “My father’s spirit will not be at peace until these murderers receive their due.”
“Then let us not delay.”
Ciar studied the two dragoons, their uniforms filthy and moth-eaten. He recognized Manfred, but one glance at Brown and he wanted to kick in the cur’s teeth in. He was a beefy, thick-featured ox, as if the mason who chiseled his face hadn’t finished the job. He had a puckered scar extending from his eye to his chin, and his nose looked as if it had been broken more often than Ciar’s.
He sauntered toward the man. “On your feet, soldier.”
Brown’s eyes shifted as he stood, his hands bound in front of him, his feet tied with a length of rope. “I should ’ave bashed your ’ead clear in.”
Ciar fingered the hilt of the dirk in his belt. Never in his life had he wanted to thrash a man as much as he did now. “Hindsight is a great teacher, is she not?”
He would not allow Brown to bait him further. Turning, he started for his horse when the maggot barreled into him from behind. Hit in the middle of his spine, Ciar flung out his hands as he crashed into the pile of rotting roof planks. A sharp pain shot through his cheek. As he threw an elbow at Brown’s temple, the nail that had ripped through his flesh flashed in the corner of his eye.
Brown’s head snapped sideways as he reeled from the strike. Rolling to his feet, Ciar gripped the board and swung it back to deliver a killing strike. Terror flashed through the dragoon’s eyes as he raised his bound wrists to protect his head.
Ciar bared his teeth, bellowing like a madman. The board smashed through Brown’s