Highland Hunger: The Novel (Highland Wars Book 1) by Knight Eliza

Author:Knight, Eliza [Knight, Eliza]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Knight Media, LLC
Published: 2014-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

“WHERE are you taking the lady?” Macrath asked.

He stood in front of Ceana’s tent, arms crossed over his chest, leg’s braced. His chest was tight, and he was finding it hard to rein in the supreme fury racing through his veins. She was tossed over the game steward’s shoulder, eyes closed, though she didn’t look peaceful. Even in sleep, she was disturbed by what was happening to her. He kept his face void of emotion as he regarded each of the guards who exited her tent. Though it took an enormous amount of willpower to do so. He raked his gaze from their heads to their toes, counting weapons, assessing their skill.

The steward had what looked like vomit down the front of his plaid. Ceana’s?

In the dim light from their lanterns, he could easily see a bruise darkening her cheek that wasn’t there before. He wanted to rip the men to shreds. Why had he agreed to leave? This was his fault. Guilt only fueled his need for vengeance.

“None of your business, Macrath. Stand aside,” the guard who stood adjacent to the steward answered, taking a menacing step forward but moving no further.

“Well, as it happens, I’ve seen you take a lifeless entrant from her tent.” He stared hard at the steward. “Hence, as a witness, I believe ’tis my business.”

“She’s not without life,” the steward said, “quite the opposite.”

That got a rise out of several of the other guards who elbowed each other and laughed. Dammit. He should not have left her alone. Should have protected her. And now she’d had to fend for herself, and gods knew what they had inflicted on her. Oh, games and council be damned, he was going to rip these brutes to shreds.

“I’d put her down if I were you,” Macrath said. He rolled his head to one side and the other, cracking the tension. Clenched his fists.

A couple of women poked their heads out of their tents. One behemoth in particular with what appeared to be a milky-white, blind eye, came out.

“What are you doing with MacRae?” She walked toward the group, shoulders stiff with anger.

“Aye, Steward. Tell us all what you’re doing with her?” Macrath said, raising a brow.

Six women came to surround the larger woman. Appeared he had some backup now.

“I don’t have to answer to the likes of you vagrants,” the steward sputtered.

He shifted Ceana on his shoulder. She groaned painfully but did not waken.

Macrath bared his teeth. “Well, as I see it, you do. You’re not only outnumbered but likely outranked.”

The guards scoffed. “Shut the hell up and move out of the way. You know naught, you lying bastard.”

Macrath shook his head. “You hold over your shoulder a laird, and though a bastard I may be, my father’s an earl.”

“And so is mine,” the larger woman said.

“Best leave MacRae to us,” Macrath said. “We’ll take care of her so you can be on about your duties.”

The steward spit at Macrath’s feet. “You’ll pay for your interference.”

“Not before you do, I’m certain.

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