A Very Highland Holiday - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,144

some instances, it was a nuisance that only compounded an already dangerous situation.

Except…his grandfather had once told him that the flame could be controlled, but he didn’t know how. Tavish wished he knew. He tried to think of something that made sense, but he didn’t have time. Also, his mind was too stressed.

He continued along the building and felt a surge of relief as he reached the wide opening of the building where the man stood. A pitchfork stood against the edge of the entryway.

In one quick move, Tavish grabbed the implement and raced toward the man. He used the pitchfork to knock the musket out of his hand. The weapon flew out, and Tavish dove to catch it, nearly losing his balance. He swept around and used the butt to hit the man in the head. The villain crumpled to the ground.

Tavish searched the man and found a knife at his waist. Removing the weapon, Tavish considered how he could take it with him. He had no pockets or any other way to carry it. He was already burdened with the sword since he didn’t have the scabbard.

He tossed the knife away and dragged the unconscious man just inside the stable.

“Fitz?” a man called from deeper in the stable to Tavish’s right.

Tavish pressed himself against the side of a stall. Dammit. He needed that pitchfork. Or the musket. Or the bloody knife. Having none of them, he waited, his breath coming hard.

The man rounded the corner of the stall. Tavish knew the moment he realized Fitz was no longer at his post. The villain unsheathed his sword and swung around.

There was no help for it. Tavish had to use Lann Dhearg. He hefted the sword, and red-orange flame started at the base, licking its way upward as the other man’s eyes widened. Tavish launched, and their swords clashed.

The other man was a good swordsman. They thrust and parried, circling each other several times before Tavish knocked the other man’s blade away. It would be too easy to finish him, but his body would go up in flames and the stable would catch fire.

Instead, Tavish threw Lann Dhearg aside and dove for the other man’s sword. The villain did the same, and they both got there at the same time, hitting the ground on top of the sword.

They tussled over the weapon, but the villain got his hand around it first. It was too big and bulky to wield as they tangled together, but he brought the pommel down hard against Tavish’s temple. Pain exploded in his head, but he ignored it as he continued to fight for the weapon.

Tavish wrapped his hand around the man’s wrist and squeezed. The villain put his hand on Tavish’s neck, his fingers digging into the flesh and threatening Tavish’s airway. Tavish rolled and pushed the man’s hand away as his opponent tried desperately to use the sword.

The light from the lanterns glinted off something else to Tavish’s left. The knife he’d cast aside.

Tavish released the villain’s wrist and rolled. He reached out, then closed his fingers around the knife and picked it up. The man was already on his knees, his eyes intent, his lip curled. Unsheathing the dagger, Tavish threw it at the man, catching him just below his collarbone. Without hesitation, Tavish grabbed the sword from the man and drove the blade into his gut.

Chest heaving, Tavish wiped at the blood streaming down the side of his face. He got to his feet, sweat trickling down his back despite the frigid air.

He swept up Lann Dhearg and rushed deeper into the stable in search of more of the miscreants and for the grooms. These men had to be from the Order of the Round Table.

Another lantern hung at this end of the building. Its light illuminated the pair of grooms tied together in a heap in an unused stall, both unconscious.

“Damn,” he muttered. He’d been hoping to use their help. After ensuring there were no more villains, Tavish quickly untied their bonds, then raced back to the inn while he madly tried to come up with a plan.

Two villains in the stables. How many inside? One had come into Elspeth’s room, but there had to be more.

Clinging to the shadows along the outside of the inn, Tavish made his way to the first window into the common room. He crouched low and peered in through the corner.

It seemed everyone had been gathered—they sat at tables while six men armed with guns