A Very Highland Holiday - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,145

and swords encircled them. Tavish noted Balthazar’s knitted cap atop his bald head as well as the fiery curls of his daughter. Then his breath caught as he saw Elspeth, also seated at their table along with her aunt.

Tavish no longer felt the cold on his feet, but his blood turned to ice as a tall blond man started toward her. She got up and avoided him, going to the fireplace, where she stood beside another man. His close-cropped beard was familiar…Tavish recognized him from earlier in the day when he’d gone to visit Kerr. He’d passed the man on his way.

That made nine—the two in the stable and seven in the common room. But were there more anywhere else?

How he wished he could hear what they were saying. Then the man hit Elspeth across the mouth. Tavish leapt up, Lann Dhearg tight in his grip, as fury tore through him.

Reason won out. If he charged inside now, he would lose. He counted seven men, most with pistols. He needed to split them up somehow so he could even the numbers.

He watched as the man who’d hit Elspeth—and would surely pay for it before the night was finished—and two others took her and Carrie toward the back of the inn. Toward Carrie’s chamber.

That left four men. Forming a plan, he ran around to the back of the inn to the kitchen door, which was, as expected, locked. “Had to try,” he muttered.

Using Lann Dhearg’s pommel, he broke through the window and quickly scrambled inside, cutting his arm on a shard of glass. The door from the common room swung open and in ran one of the men—directly toward Tavish. He moved quickly, slicing his feet on the glass scattered about the floor. He’d hoped to draw two of the men, not one.

He’d take what he could get. When he lifted Lann Dhearg, the sword flamed. Once again, he had to consider how his actions might set the whole bloody place on fire. The sword was becoming a liability. Still, he couldn’t put it down.

The other man yelled as soon as the flames took over the blade and lifted his pistol. Glancing about, Tavish saw a knife on a table used for preparing food. As he’d done in the stable, he threw the weapon. This man, however, provided a much better target. The knife landed in the hollow of his neck, silencing him as he crumpled to the floor.

“Go and shoot him!”

The directive came from the common room. Scarcely a second later, the muzzle of a musket peeked around the door. Tavish threw himself toward the back door and pushed the bolt aside. The musket fired, and wood splintered over his head. He considered facing the man, but others had guns. He’d taken one of them, anyway.

Tavish opened the door and ran into the cold night, his mind already churning with another plan.

Grover held Elspeth’s arm as Carrie, held by Kent, led them toward the back corner of the inn. A third man named Thane came with them. He appeared to be the youngest of the brigands and wore spectacles.

Once Carrie had told them to follow her, Elspeth had relaxed. Carrie couldn’t lead them to Tavish or the sword.

Carrie took them to her room, where they all crammed inside. Dougal Kerr was still on the bed asleep. However, there were bindings keeping him there, just as Carrie had said.

“What the bloody hell is this?” Grover growled. He let go of Elspeth and stepped toward Carrie.

“The sword is there.” She pointed at the door to her Chamber of Sorrow.

Grover nodded toward Kent, who directed his pistol at Carrie. “Open it.”

Carrie sent a glance toward Elspeth before going to push open the door. She went inside, and Grover followed.

“Go,” Kent said, pushing at Elspeth. She joined them in the small chamber, as did Kent. The room was quite cramped with all of them inside.

“What the devil is all this?” Grover asked.

Carrie shrugged. “I collect things. The sword is there.” She pointed to a sword hanging on the wall.

Elspeth’s breath caught. It was a risk… Hopefully none of them would know it wasn’t truly Lann Dhearg. Did they know it had runes on the hilt or a herringbone pattern on the blade? Did they know it wouldn’t flame for them? Were they expecting it to be too heavy to carry? The sword on the wall possessed none of those traits.

She looked toward Carrie, who gave her an almost imperceptible nod as her eyes shot