Highlander Medieval 06 - Her Highland Hero Read Online Free

the sizeable keep, the four stone towers stretching into the diffused light of gloaming, sconces holding torches, the golden flames wavering in the breeze. He wished with all his heart that he could take Isobel away, hating that he could not. He turned on his heel and entered the stable where a lad was quickly saddling his horse.
    Once Marcus had mounted his horse, he steered him through the inner bailey and beyond the gates to the road in the direction of the village across the border where his cousins waited for him at The Wildeswin. His cousins would never expect him to arrive this early, and he hoped he wouldn’t upset their plans overmuch. He couldn’t quit thinking about the way Isobel had kissed him back, the way she’d wanted him to marry her, the way she’d promised to change her da’s mind about them. He knew the earl would not.
    Marcus didn’t believe threatening her da with the truth would sway him to give her up either, though he had considered it. He was thinking of other options he might try, even sending a missive to the English king, to let him know the true story. Would the king take his word over a Norman earl’s? Would he even care to learn the truth and would it matter one whit? As many illegitimate children as King Henry had, most likely not.
    Marcus hadn’t traveled more than a half a mile beyond Lord Pembroke’s castle before three men on horseback came out of the woods, all with swords drawn. They were dressed in tunics of fine wool cloth and trewes, not like the average ruffians looking to steal from a person traveling alone.
    “Kill the savage who believes he is good enough to be one of us,” a brown-bearded man said, his long hair in tangles, his brown eyes narrowed.
    Marcus knew then that this was not a random encounter. He didn’t recognize any of the men. He was certain whoever had sent them had done so because of Isobel, probably a lord interested in her hand in marriage who was still at the party either dancing with her or watching her dance.
    Marcus unsheathed his sword with a whoosh and looked from one to another, measuring them for the task.
    The boldest of the men charged him. Blood hot with fury, Marcus swung his broadsword at the bearded man, cutting him down from his horse in a mighty blow. Mayhap the savage was better trained to deal with whoever these men were than they thought. Or mayhap that was why three of them were tasked to murder him.
    The man lay still on the ground, blood spilling from his chest. The two men who were left hesitated, and then a younger man with his hair cut close gave a war cry and kneed his horse to take Marcus on next. Swords clashed, clanging in the cool night air, the sound ringing through the woods.
    The angry clashing of swords, metal striking metal, the horses’ heavy footfalls as they pranced while the two men fought, the horses’ snorts, and the men’s grunts filled the air.
    Marcus struck a decisive blow, ripping the sword from the man’s grasp. The man quickly went for a dagger, and Marcus shoved his sword into the man’s belly. He yanked his blade free.
    Before the man even fell from his horse, Marcus felt a sword slicing across his back. He cursed revenge and turned his horse so quickly, he unsettled his attacker’s mount. The horse reared upward, unseating the brigand. He fell to the rocky earth, landing hard on his back with an “oof,” and didn’t move.
    Marcus waited for him to clamber to his feet and renew the attack, but the man’s gray eyes grew shadowed, then stared up at him lifelessly. Blood spread over the ground from the back of the man’s head.
    Warily, Marcus dismounted, his own back burning with pain. The whoreson couldn’t even fight him in an honest battle man to man. Though what had Marcus expected when three of them had been set upon him?
    He kicked the man aside, saw the rock he’d struck his head on, and shook his head. “Next time, you will have to send a bigger force to deter me, whosoever you are