Cathy Maxwell - [Chattan Curse 03] Read Online Free Page A

can’t take a drink, Macnachtan,” Augie complained. “That’s the third pint I’ve brought for you. You should be more careful. Nate,” he said to the Goldeneye’s owner, “pour us another.”
    Augie was a bully. He was twice the size of Rowlly and carried three times the weight. His eyes were red-rimmed. Apparently he was not having a good week, either, and had decided to take it out on Heath’s cousin. A good number of Campbells stood around the pub grinning like fools, obviously enjoying Rowlly being ridiculed.
    Rowlly held his dripping tankard away from him, his every muscle was tense, but he had a good head on his shoulders. If he chose to battle, it would not be a fair fight. Augie would roll him up like a ball and toss him in the air.
    Heath had no such disadvantage. He could look Augie in the eye, and he might not be as brawny as the Campbell but he was smarter and quicker.
    Before anyone registered his presence, Heath crossed the taproom in two steps, grabbed Augie by the back of his thick neck, and brought his head down on the hard wood surface of the bar with a resounding, and satisfactory, thwack .
    For a second, there was stunned silence.
    Augie moved first.
    He placed one heavy hand on the bar and then another. He pushed himself up. He faced Heath, his expression one of comic surprise. He started to growl, but then his eyes crossed and he fell to the floor with a thud.
    “Good to see you, Laird,” Rowlly said with generous understatement. “Stopped by for a pint on your way back from Glasgow?”
    “I am thirsty,” Heath said, matching Rowlly’s dry tone.
    “I don’t believe you will be having a drink now,” Rowlly answered, and he was right.
    Augie was not well liked by his clansmen, but he was one of them. Campbell pride was now on the line.
    “I’ll take a pint, Nate,” Heath said to the landlord, even as he felt the Campbells surge forward. He then turned and buried his fist in the abundant gut of the first man coming at him—and it felt good. He’d needed a fight and a fight he was receiving.
    Rowlly took the fresh pint Nate had poured and threw it in the face of his nearest attacker. In spite of his size, he was a good fighter when the stakes were even. He now proved his mettle.
    Nate turned to pour fresh pints. “You will be paying for damages, Laird?” He filled another tankard.
    Heath avoided a response by picking up Jamie Hightower, the blacksmith’s son and one of Augie’s mates, and throwing him over the bar. Jamie fell upon the keg that Nate had tapped. The barrel broke under his weight and ale went spilling everywhere.
    A roar of outrage came from the pub patrons who had not entered the fray but who now had just cause.
    It was a good time to leave.
    Heath grabbed both the freshly poured tankard the dumbfounded Nate still held and Rowlly’s collar. Two more of Augie’s clansmen had entered from other rooms, ready to join the brawl. Augie himself was starting to rouse, no doubt brought to his senses by the fresh ale on the floor.
    Gulping down his pint, Heath shoved Rowlly out into the hall and then threw the empty tankard at the Campbells following him. It hit one over the eye. He hollered. The others shoved past him.
    Rowlly and Heath charged out the front door, running for Admiral, Heath’s horse tied at a post. “Hurry,” Rowlly shouted, but he needn’t have bothered. Heath was right on his heels. It had been a long time since Heath had moved so fast.
    The cousins mounted Admiral just as the Campbells came pouring out of the pub. Heath put heels to horse and they were off and safe. There was no one who could outrace Admiral; the long-legged draft horse had the spirit of a Thoroughbred when given his lead.
    They dashed toward the open road. The wind against Heath’s sweaty face felt good. His hands stung and he’d have a bruise beneath one eye, but in this moment he was alive .
    Months of struggles and sadness fell away. He’d find them again; they were not lost