Needed By The Highlander - Rebecca Preston Page 0,69
quick lessons on how to fight with a knife when she heard raised voices. A frown crossed her face — it sounded like they were coming from the foyer of the castle. Men — angry men. What could be happening down there? The atmosphere at breakfast hadn’t been exactly positive, but she hadn’t expected to hear shouting… she hurried down the spiral staircase, interested despite herself to find out what was going on.
The source of the sound was easily to discover. There, in the center of the castle’s entrance hall, stood Niall, deep in furious conversation with a man she recognized, with a dull sinking dread, as Perry. Well, she thought drily, at least he hadn’t been kidnapped by a Kelpie overnight… but Niall didn’t seem particularly thrilled about that himself.
“Don’t be absurd, Perry,” Niall was saying through gritted teeth. “You know we grew up together, you know I still consider you a friend despite your ridiculous conduct yesterday, but —”
“Both my brothers are dead, Niall! Both of them! Do you have any idea what that feels like? They’re dead, and it’s your precious Monster that’s to blame! Their blood on your hands!”
“It’s not the Monster, Perry, for the hundredth time!” Niall exploded, his jaw tight and his eyes blazing with fury. “It’s Fae creatures from the Burgh, I’ve explained that —”
“A likely story,” Perry scoffed. “Magical horses with dripping wet tails? There’s no way my brothers were killed by a horse — they’ve been riding since before they could walk. And it seems mighty convenient that this story about sharp-toothed horses comes up the minute we take matters into our own hands. Why are you protecting that monstrous beast?”
“Because she protects us, you damn fool!”
Perry recoiled, his eyes glimmering with hatred. “Is that the way it’s going to be? You’ll curse at one of your oldest friends in his time of loss, his time of grief—”
“Don’t be daft. I loved both of your brothers — I ache at their loss the same way you do —”
“Then you owe me revenge!” Perry snarled, and Helen recoiled at the look of absolute madness on his face. “You owe me that much, Niall Grant! I want that monster dead, and I want its head on a pike in the village so we can all grieve and then get on with our lives knowing justice has been done. And if you’re not willing to give me that —”
“Enough.”
A voice boomed out across the hall — and Helen’s eyes widened as she saw Donal, resplendent in full armor, striding across the hall to where Niall and Perry were arguing. The Laird had his hand on the pommel of his blade and his eyes were cold as he looked at Perry.
“What’s the meaning of all this?”
“Laird Donal,” Niall said quickly, bowing his head. “This man isn’t in his right mind—”
“I can speak for myself, you cowardly traitor,” Perry snarled, turning to Donal. “I came to demand the death of the Monster that you pack of dogs keep like a pet in the Loch. I want its head on a stick for what it’s done to my brothers and the fisherman of this village.”
“The monster is not responsible for their deaths,” Donal said in a low voice — but Perry was clearly beyond listening.
“I want it dead! Dead, you hear me? It’s an abomination! And if you won’t do the right thing — if you won’t give me justice —”
Helen saw Perry reach for his blade at the same time Niall and Donal did. In one motion, both men tackled him, knocking him to the ground with an almost comical look of surprise on his face. In a flurry of movement, guards had moved to assist from the corners of the room — guards who’d been watching the altercation closely. In minutes, Perry’s hands were bound behind him and he was being forcibly restrained by a placid guard as he tried to lunge at Donal, screaming blue murder all the while.
“I don’t tolerate threats to my men on castle grounds,” Donal said in a low, flat voice. “Now, I understand that you’re grieving, and that that is addling your mind a little, so I’ll be generous. You’re not a prisoner, but you will be kept in the dungeons here for a little while until you’ve regained your right mind. If I hear another word about wanting us to execute an innocent animal to assuage your guilt-driven paranoia, your status as a guest and not a prisoner