Highlander The Cursed Lord (Highland Intrigue Trilogy 3)

Rannick had her up on her feet so quickly her head spun. “Are you all right?”

“Aye,” she said with a nod.

He dropped his hand off her arm and went to the dead man and slipped his dagger out of his back. “Get in the cottage and stay there until I return.”

“Rannick,” she said before he could turn away. “They were hired to kill you.”

Fury raged across his fine features and his eyes scanned the area.

Knowing what he thought, since she had thought the same, she said, “They talked of it taking three days before they reached the others.”

“In the cottage and do not dare come out. You’re not going to want to see what I do to him,” he said and disappeared into the woods.

Bliss knew she should wait in the cottage, but she feared being trapped in there if something should happen to Rannick. She remained outside pacing in front of the cottage, her mind churning with thought.

Who would want Rannick dead?

Who wouldn’t?

Her sudden response disturbed her. He was a cursed lord and blamed for the endless suffering of many in the area. The curse had been cast on the fathers, but it was the sons it had taken its toll on and spread to touch anything they touched. Had someone grown tired of the endless madness of the supposedly worst of the cursed clans and decided to end the curse with Rannick? And what would happen when it was discovered that she was his wife? Would her life be doubly in danger from the curse and these madmen?

Bliss jumped when she heard the scream that echoed through the woods and had the birds taking flight.

Rannick had caught him.

Try as she might, she could not bring herself to go inside the cottage. She waited, for what she wasn’t sure, but she waited.

The fellow stumbled out of the woods, his face a bloody mess and clinging tightly to his right arm. He stumbled as Rannick appeared behind him, giving him a hard shove.

Rannick’s eyes caught with Bliss. “IN! NOW!”

She jolted at the fierceness of his command and turned to hurry inside the cottage, though she kept the door ajar just enough for her to hear what was said, if anything.

“You said you would let me go?” the fellow pleaded and fell to his knee.

“Aye, but I didn’t say how far I would let you go,” Rannick said.

The man screamed in pain. “My ear! My ear!”

“You have another one,” Rannick said. “Though I will cut that one off as well if you do not tell me what I want to know.”

“Why should I tell you when you’re going to kill me?” the man argued.

“As I told you before, you can have an easy death or a painful one. It is your choice.”

“I do not want to die,” the fellow pleaded.

“Pity since that is not a choice. You die either way,” Rannick said.

Bliss shivered at the coldness of his voice. He did not care in the least that he was going to take this man’s life, make him suffer. It was nothing more than a task that would be done, and he showed not an ounce of remorse for it.

“Who hired you to kill me?” Rannick demanded.

“I don’t know.” The man let out an agonizing scream. “My finger! My finger!”

“You have another nine more to go. How many are you willing to lose?”

Bliss shut her eyes tight, not that she could see what was happening, but it was easy to imagine and still Rannick remained impassive. How could a man that had tended her with such gentleness now be so cruel? Surely, he could get answers without cutting off the fellow’s ear and fingers?

“I honestly don’t know,” the fellow said. “The leader of the mercenary troop I sometimes go on missions with approached me about the task and offered me a good sum. I didn’t need to know where the coin came from as long as I got it. He gave me half to start, the other half to follow when the task was complete. He was confident I would not fail him, since I have never failed him.”

“It looks like that’s about to change,” Rannick said.

“Please let me go. You will never see me again. I will tell him that I succeeded and killed you. I will take the money and go far away. Please, I beg you.”

“I am to trust your word?” Rannick snarled.

“Never would I dare face you again,” the fellow said.

“Not alone, you wouldn’t,” Rannick said. “I learned well about the burning hate that rots the soul until you would do anything—unimaginable—to stop it. Even beg the devil himself for help. I know the devil well and he will not help you… he would rather have your soul. And I will gladly send it to him.”

“NO! NO!” the fellow screamed.