Read Online Plight of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation Book 5) by Sky Purington - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sky Purington
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swordfight. What a bunch of barbaric bullshit. No man has a woman like that.” Her eyes narrowed further if possible. “In fact, no man has a woman period if she doesn’t want to be had.”
If it wasn’t for the meager sound of spitting torches the whole of Scotland might have gone silent. But it seemed Leslie wasn’t fazed in the least by such silence when her eyes turned to Iosbail, voice firm. “Declare Colin the victor.”
Iosbail watched her through narrowed eyes. “I dinnae take orders.”
Leslie pressed the blade tighter against her neck. “Now you do.”
Long moments passed.
Nobody said a word as Iosbail stared down Leslie and vice versa.
Torra knew, Leslie knew, all knew, Iosbail could kill her in an instant with magic. But that wasn’t what this was about. And such became blatantly clear when a wide smile soon split Iosbail’s face and she managed a small nod despite the blade still to her neck.
With a voice loud enough for all closest to hear she said, “Torra MacLomain is Colin MacLeods’. He is the victor.”
Leslie eyed Iosbail for another long moment before she nodded and pulled her blade away. But apparently Colin wasn’t about to do the same. He pressed his blade against Valan’s neck so tightly that blood started to trickle. Grant, not helping matters in the least, had sauntered up alongside.
“God, they’re going to kill him aren’t they?” Sheila said.
There could be little doubt that Grant had shared much about Valan with not only Sheila but Leslie and Malcolm as well.
Torra was about to respond when Grant brought a dagger to Valan’s side. Aimed as it was, its thrust would be fatal. Colin clenched his jaw and peered into Valan’s eyes. Meanwhile, Grant pressed his dagger tighter against the Hamilton’s skin, leaned in close and whispered something.
Torra stemmed out her magic and listened.
Few words were said.
“Once more your life is saved. ‘Twill not happen again.”
Valan, emotionless, looked from Grant to Colin and Torra knew. He didn’t necessarily care if they killed him. Her throat tightened as another startling revelation occurred to her. Valan likely allowed her brother to kill him back in that cave.
The Hamilton wanted to die.
Iosbail gave the men their vehemence for several more moments before her voice rose up once more. “Time for others to fight!”
A tentative round of applause ensued. Almost as if the clan wasn’t sure if they should cheer their matriarch’s defeat at the hands of a stranger. But then Iosbail was never really defeated. If Leslie slipped one by her, it had somehow served a purpose.
In a show of unexpected comradery to Leslie, Iosbail grabbed her hand and raised their arms, crying out, “To battles well fought! Now let us have some more fighting or if ye’ve tired of that then off to the bonfire for lusting aye?”
The crowd roared to life.
All cheered. Some drifted off toward the fire, but most stayed to watch more fighting. Grant and Malcolm had started battling with a few Broun warriors.
“They’re gonna totally slaughter those guys,” Leslie remarked.
“No doubt about it,” Sheila agreed.
Colin was heading Torra’s way.
“Something tells me he’s set on the lusting Iosbail promised the victor,” Leslie said, a little smirk on her face when she glanced at Torra.
Sheila removed her arm from around her shoulders moments before Colin scooped Torra up into his arms and started toward the drawbridge. Her eyes widened as she wrapped one arm around his neck while keeping a precarious hold on her mug. “This isnae necessary.”
“Aye, but ‘tis.” His eyes were merrier than she’d seen them in a very long time. “After all, I lay claim to my prize.”
The pipes had already fired up and the crowd was rowdy. Still without a tunic, Torra was overly aware of his hot, slick skin against her body. How incredibly small she felt in his arms. There was something about Colin MacLeod that made her feel so thoroughly
If it wasn’t for the meager sound of spitting torches the whole of Scotland might have gone silent. But it seemed Leslie wasn’t fazed in the least by such silence when her eyes turned to Iosbail, voice firm. “Declare Colin the victor.”
Iosbail watched her through narrowed eyes. “I dinnae take orders.”
Leslie pressed the blade tighter against her neck. “Now you do.”
Long moments passed.
Nobody said a word as Iosbail stared down Leslie and vice versa.
Torra knew, Leslie knew, all knew, Iosbail could kill her in an instant with magic. But that wasn’t what this was about. And such became blatantly clear when a wide smile soon split Iosbail’s face and she managed a small nod despite the blade still to her neck.
With a voice loud enough for all closest to hear she said, “Torra MacLomain is Colin MacLeods’. He is the victor.”
Leslie eyed Iosbail for another long moment before she nodded and pulled her blade away. But apparently Colin wasn’t about to do the same. He pressed his blade against Valan’s neck so tightly that blood started to trickle. Grant, not helping matters in the least, had sauntered up alongside.
“God, they’re going to kill him aren’t they?” Sheila said.
There could be little doubt that Grant had shared much about Valan with not only Sheila but Leslie and Malcolm as well.
Torra was about to respond when Grant brought a dagger to Valan’s side. Aimed as it was, its thrust would be fatal. Colin clenched his jaw and peered into Valan’s eyes. Meanwhile, Grant pressed his dagger tighter against the Hamilton’s skin, leaned in close and whispered something.
Torra stemmed out her magic and listened.
Few words were said.
“Once more your life is saved. ‘Twill not happen again.”
Valan, emotionless, looked from Grant to Colin and Torra knew. He didn’t necessarily care if they killed him. Her throat tightened as another startling revelation occurred to her. Valan likely allowed her brother to kill him back in that cave.
The Hamilton wanted to die.
Iosbail gave the men their vehemence for several more moments before her voice rose up once more. “Time for others to fight!”
A tentative round of applause ensued. Almost as if the clan wasn’t sure if they should cheer their matriarch’s defeat at the hands of a stranger. But then Iosbail was never really defeated. If Leslie slipped one by her, it had somehow served a purpose.
In a show of unexpected comradery to Leslie, Iosbail grabbed her hand and raised their arms, crying out, “To battles well fought! Now let us have some more fighting or if ye’ve tired of that then off to the bonfire for lusting aye?”
The crowd roared to life.
All cheered. Some drifted off toward the fire, but most stayed to watch more fighting. Grant and Malcolm had started battling with a few Broun warriors.
“They’re gonna totally slaughter those guys,” Leslie remarked.
“No doubt about it,” Sheila agreed.
Colin was heading Torra’s way.
“Something tells me he’s set on the lusting Iosbail promised the victor,” Leslie said, a little smirk on her face when she glanced at Torra.
Sheila removed her arm from around her shoulders moments before Colin scooped Torra up into his arms and started toward the drawbridge. Her eyes widened as she wrapped one arm around his neck while keeping a precarious hold on her mug. “This isnae necessary.”
“Aye, but ‘tis.” His eyes were merrier than she’d seen them in a very long time. “After all, I lay claim to my prize.”
The pipes had already fired up and the crowd was rowdy. Still without a tunic, Torra was overly aware of his hot, slick skin against her body. How incredibly small she felt in his arms. There was something about Colin MacLeod that made her feel so thoroughly
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