“Don’t worry about that wee nyaff,” she replied viciously. “Follow me, an’ I will help ye.” She took the reins of his horse and walked very slowly over to Ally, who was standing patiently waiting for them. Greta looked critically at Finn. It was going to be a long, slow ride, and she could only hope that they reached their destination unscathed.
14
Liam had not just had a satisfying day but a triumphant one. He had always loved besting Finn at anything, and today he had succeeded beyond his wildest expectations. He knew he had gone too far, inflicting far more violence than he had to on innocent people, but Finn would have condemned him, and that was a good enough reason to go ahead with it. Nevertheless, it did not stop him and the rest of the men from wreaking the same kind of havoc in Carronish as they had done in Shieldaig.
Sadly, their quest to find the holy relic had been in vain. The old priest, who had been trying to protect it and the tabernacle that contained the sacrament, refused to tell them its whereabouts. At first, they had asked him politely, but he resolutely refused to tell them where it was. Then they had used more painful methods until the old man’s heart gave out.
Liam would never forget his final words.
“I forgive ye,” he whispered, then breathed his last. They had sent shivers down his spine, and he was relieved to be jerked out of his reverie.
“Liam, look what I found!” Jimmy, one of the older members of the gang, brought out a flask of whisky from his pouch and handed it to the man he now thought of as their leader.
“Well done, Jimmy!” Liam said happily as he smiled and patted Jimmy on the back. “I will save it for later, an’ we can a’ have a wee dram tae celebrate a good haul. Now, gather the lads. We have an appointment wi’ Laird Mackay.”
Jimmy nodded and wandered off, leaving Liam to think again. Before he went back to Donaldson, he had to confront the other laird. For once, he wished that Finn was with him. His manner of speech was so much smoother than his own, and he often wished that he could be so persuasive, but it could not be helped. Terror worked just as well.
* * *
Laird Gregor Mackay had been expecting a visit from Finn Crawford, whom he knew to be a bandit chief, but at least a man he could deal with because he sensed that there was some kind of goodness in him somewhere. However, Liam Crawford was a different kettle of fish entirely. When he and his brother were together, Finn usually did most of the talking while Liam added an occasional word here and there. Now Gregor Mackay was faced with Liam alone, and he did not like what he saw. The man made his flesh creep.
Liam’s tunic and kilt were liberally splattered with gore, as were his face and hands, and in the firelight, the laird fancied that even the reddish color of his hair resembled blood. As well as that, the expression in his dark, blue-gray eyes was threatening, and his whole manner was aggressive and arrogant.
Liam had been shown, not into his study, where the laird usually did business, but into his family’s private parlor. He walked toward Gregor Mackay smiling, with a young man of sixteen walking in front of him, looking terrified. Douglas Mackay was the image of his father, but now there was a gleaming dagger pressed to his back, and the man holding it was wearing a sick, triumphant grin.
The laird had been sitting enjoying a glass of wine with his wife and watching his two young sons playing on the carpet. They usually spent this time just after dinner and before the boys’ bedtime together as a family, catching up with the news of the day and generally enjoying each others’ company. However, tonight it was terrifyingly different.
Gregor jumped to his feet at once. “Dougie, has he hurt you?” the laird asked, trying to keep the fear from his voice. In any other circumstances, he could have stood up against this contemptible man, but his family was both his greatest joy and his greatest weakness. His son was especially precious to him, but he could not let harm come to any of them, and Liam Crawford knew it.
“I am fine, Father,” the young man said defiantly, although he did not look that way as he tried to stop himself from shaking with fear.
“I found yer son just outside bringin’ home some rabbits for the pot, M’Laird,” Liam said respectfully. “I thought it best tae bring him home since there are so many bandits out there. Here he is, safe and sound.” He smiled smugly, then pushed Douglas forward into his father’s embrace. Father and son stood hugging each other for a long moment. Liam could see the laird whispering to Dougie, who nodded as if reassuring his father. The bond of love between them was quite clear, and a burst of jealousy bloomed inside him.
Presently, Douglas went to sit with his mother, and the two adversaries stared at each other for a moment or two before Liam saw the laird visibly weaken. He had moved to stand in front of his young wife and children as if by doing so, he could protect them. Liam was a man who had already subdued all the laird’s guards by the lowest, most despicable means possible, and he was proud of it. The triumphant look on his face was revolting.
“I will give ye anything ye want,” Laird Mackay said fearfully, “but please do not harm my family.” He could hear himself begging, but it could not be helped. What value was his pride against the lives of his family?
“Anything?” Liam asked. “Well, M’Laird, thank ye very much. I am sure a man like ye has plenty tae give.” He looked at the other man with narrowed eyes and saw that he was visibly trembling. He despised men who put their families before themselves. They were always in a position of weakness.
To rub salt in the wound, Liam walked around the laird and bent down to talk to the smaller boys. They were twins, only five years of age, and they were staring at him fearfully.
“Don’t be afraid,” Liam said gently. “I am Liam. What are yer names?”
They hesitated, looking up at their father, who nodded.
“I am Fergus,” one of them answered in a trembling voice. “And this is Callum.” He indicated his brother. They both moved around their father again, and each of them gripped one of his legs. The laird put his hands on their heads to comfort them.
Meanwhile, Lady Mackay had been sitting on a couch next to the fire, ready to spring to the defense of her family if it were necessary. She was a tall, handsome woman who would no doubt fight like a tigress, but she was no match for a well-armed man. Liam moved around the laird and the children to stand in front of her, then bowed graciously. “Finn Crawford, milady,” he said warmly, kissing her hand.
“Lady Anna Mackay,” she replied politely. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” In fact, the banal words were the furthest thing from the truth. Anna had heard of Liam Crawford already since his reputation as a brutal thug had gone before him. She hated the malevolent glint in his eyes and felt as if she wanted to wash her hands after he had kissed them, but instead she pinned a tiny, swift smile on her face and looked away.
Liam surveyed the room, looking at the delicate crystal chandelier above him, the copper and brass flower bowls, and the intricately carved marble fireplace. Underneath his feet was a jewel-colored silk rug, and the silver and gold candle sconces scattered around the room almost made his mouth water as he imagined the coin he would receive when he presented them to Laird Donaldson. And this was just one room! He could only imagine what the rest of the castle would yield.
Then again, why should he give any of it to Donaldson? With the amount of treasure in the castle, he could buy more men and extend his territory even further. He could build an army! Liam was just pondering the answer to this question when one of his men, Ranald Wilson, rushed in.
“Liam!” he said urgently. “We have sent messengers out tae a’ the lads around here sayin’ that they will have a’ the coin they want after we have finished wi’ this place. We cannae carry it a’!”
Liam bristled. “An’ who gave ye leave tae do this?”