Highland Savage Read Free Page B

that she would put an end to Ranald’s brutality.
    Even more important, she had yet to prove who gave the man his orders. Katerina was certain it was her half-sister Agnes, but she needed indisputable proof of the woman’s crimes and that was proving very hard to come by. She never would have thought her half-sister was so clever, so cunning. Katerina’s only moments of satisfaction, fleeting and shallow though they were, came when she thought of how Agnes had to be feeling as trapped, as cornered and frustrated, as she was. Agnes had not yet found her rogue of a husband, the man their father had so disliked. Until the man was found and Agnes was made a widow, she could not lay claim to Dunlochan either. They were both locked into this battle, which was draining all the joy and prosperity from Dunlochan.
    The conditions set by her father’s last wishes had been demeaning. The results had thus far been disastrous. Katerina loathed the thought that five old men chosen by her father had the final say on whether any man she chose to wed was suitable or not. That sorely stung her pride. The fact that she and any who supported her were marked for death before her father was even cold in the ground made her wonder just what her father had been thinking of. Either he had been utterly blind to Agnes’s true nature and thus saw no danger, or his general scorn for women had made it impossible to even consider the possibility that there would be a battle over the lands and money he had left behind. Her father may not have been an affectionate man, but she had always considered him a good laird and a clever man. His instructions concerning the settlement of Dunlochan after he died made her wonder if his illness had badly disordered his wits.
    The sound of sword hitting sword abruptly pulled her from her thoughts and she signaled her men to slow their pace. Even in the gray light of day’s end she could see the men in front of the inn—one man encircled by seven. Ranald never did like to fight fairly, she mused as, using hand signals, she silently instructed her men on how they should proceed. Their biggest advantage in the coming confrontation would be their horses. Few men could stand fast before a charging horse. Satisfied that her men understood what she planned, Katerina fixed her gaze upon the man in the middle of the circle and struggled to ignore how much his long black hair reminded her of Lucas’s as she kicked her horse into a gallop.
     
    Lucas cursed as one of the men behind him managed to get close enough to score his lower back with his sword. He saved himself from a more dangerous wound, but only barely. There was some comfort to be found in the fact that he had bloodied his foes, but Lucas could not ignore the fact that he, too, was bloodied. That he was still alive proved how much of his old skill he had recovered, but it was not enough.
    Even as he knocked the sword from the man’s hand Lucas suddenly realized that the pounding he had heard was not in his heart or his head. The man he had just disarmed had halted abruptly in rushing to retrieve his weapon, his eyes widening as he stared at something behind Lucas and his face turning parchment white. The men flanking him looked the same. Even as Lucas strove to keep a close watch on the men surroundinghim, he looked in the direction they all did and gaped.
    Seven horsemen were galloping straight toward them, their horses large and holding steady. One male rode slightly in the lead, the others in a neat line right behind him. Lucas watched that straight line slowly curve around and realized they moved to encircle his attackers and cut off their escape. The only hesitation in that awe-inspiring maneuver was when one of the horsemen smoothly leaned down and caught up the pack Lucas had dropped. The leader never wavered, but continued on in a straight line, one that led straight for him.
    For a moment it was as if time itself had slowed to a crawl. Lucas saw his