Read Online Once Upon a Plaid by Mia Marlowe - Free Book Online

getting tangled up in his kilt, which was flapping around his armpits.
    He might have been able to free himself, if he hadn’t clung so tenaciously to the scepter. Instead, he swung upside down as the rope recoiled, first dropping him about six feet, then jerking him back up. Since his clothing draped downward, he was bare-assed to the world and from its nest of carrot-red hair, the fool’s sex waggled free. Through it all, Nab could only make incomprehensible bleating sounds of disbelief at his mistreatment.
    “The bastards,” Will growled under his breath. He pushed away from the table and stood. Rage had been simmering in him all the way back to Glengarry Castle. He couldn’t aim it at Katherine, though she was the cause. It had threatened to overflow and surge out in all directions, but now he had a suitable target upon which to unleash it.
    “Weel, would ye look at that? The fool’s been hiding his light under a bushel,” MacNaught said with a barking laugh. “The wee shite is hung like a stallion. Guess he’ll not have trouble finding a Lady of Misrule after this.”
    William plowed toward Ranulf. “And what do ye think your chances of finding a lady will be once ye have no teeth, MacNaught?”
    He delivered a solid clout to Ranulf’s jaw and the man staggered backward. But only a pace or two. Blood trickled from the corner of his lips. MacNaught ran his tongue around his mouth and spat out one of his eyeteeth. Then he wiped away the smear of red from his chin whiskers with the back of his hand.
    “Been wantin’ to have a go at ye, Douglas.” His face split in a bloody smile. “Expect this is going to be fun.”
    MacNaught launched himself at William, fists flying. The brawl boiled up and across the dais in a flurry of jabs and wild swings. The rest of the revelers formed a moving circle around the fighters, the better to see this new entertainment. From the corner of his eye, Will caught one enterprising fellow laying odds and collecting bets on the outcome from atop one of the trestle tables.
    Will landed a blow to MacNaught’s temple that sent him teetering, but then he reared back against one of the tables and kicked William in the center of his chest with both booted feet.
    All the air rushed from Will’s lungs. He sucked wind, trying to fend off the darkness that gathered at the edges of his vision.
    William’s world spiraled down to the next punch, the next blow to his ribs, the next stinging jab to the jaw. He fought doggedly on, not thinking about strategy or form, but only focusing on connecting his fists with MacNaught’s unyielding flesh.
    Then suddenly Ranulf was giving ground, stumbling back toward the foot of the staircase that led to the family portion of the keep. Will followed up his advantage with a hail of punishing strikes.
    Above the din of catcalls and raucous encouragement, Will could hear Nab, still bleating out his distress.
    “For the love of God, somebody cut down the fool,” he grunted as he put the power of his whole body behind his punch to MacNaught’s belly. Ranulf doubled over as most of the onlookers realized there was another spectacle they’d forgotten about and milled back toward the dais, where poor Nab still hung upside down by one foot.
    Ranulf was holding the short straw in the fight, so he took advantage of the crowd’s inattention to call out to his companions, “Get him, lads.”
    Winded and sore, Will suddenly found himself faced with four fresh pairs of fists. And they didn’t seem inclined to take turns. He circled, trying to face his attackers, but he couldn’t prepare for a blow because he never knew which of them would dart within his reach to jab at him. Again and again, MacNaught’s cronies struck him in the back at the base of his ribs. He managed to pop a couple of them in the face a time or two, but the fight had become markedly one-sided.
    Finally, one of MacNaught’s men picked up a chair and brought it crashing down over William’s