At The Laird's Command (Sword and Thistle 3)

Before I could speak, Ian put the blade to the man’s throat. “Better you starve than all the law abiding folks inside these walls do. You made your choice to behave like ruffians, now this is the price. You can leave by the door or we can push you from the top of the walls—your choice.”

“Ian!” I cried, the jar in my hand forgotten. I knew what the Donalds did to our people in the countryside. They’d held my own family hostage, kidnapped my sister and quite nearly raped her besides. “You can’t send them out there.”

My laird’s warrior whipped his head around to glare at me, as if he couldn’t decide if I was merely a half-wit or a complete madwoman to interfere with him. “This is none of your affair, woman.”

It wasn’t my place; of course it wasn’t. But my heart had started to pound in fear for the two villagers. “The laird has offered the clan his protection.”

“Under his rules,” Ian barked. “These two can’t seem to abide by them. They’ll have to take their chances.”

“You’re not the laird, Ian Macrae,” one of the villagers cried. “You can’t eject us. We want to talk to the Macrae!”

Ian punched that one in the mouth, then put the blade to the throat of the other. “Well, you’re not going to. Out, you bastards, or I’ll run you through myself.”

“Ian!” I cried again. And this earned me a look so ferocious that I retreated a step. Then I vowed, “I’m going to find the laird myself to put a stop to this.”

I turned, hurrying as fast as I could back inside, searching for the man who ruled this castle and everyone in it, my fury rising more and more as I ran. Ian caught me in the hall, just before I started up the stairs to the tower.

Ian’s big hand closed over my forearm and yanked me so hard that I spun against the stone wall. “What the devil do you think you were doing out there, you daft woman?”

Spitting mad, I accused, “You cast them out! Those poor villagers? You did it, didn’t you?”

“Oh, aye, I did. And I’d do it again.”

“Do you think the laird will thank you for it?”

Ian gave me a shake that rattled my teeth. “If John Macrae was the sort to thank a man for doing his duty, he would, since I did it on his orders.”

The shock of his words made me unsteady on my feet and I had to lean back against the frigid wall. But since I couldn’t fathom how the man I loved could order such a thing, I said, “…if that’s true, then why didn’t you say as much to the villagers when they called for their laird?”

“Because it’s better they hate me. If they should survive out there, the enemy will try to use them against the laird; no need to give them extra motivation.”

Ian was taking the blame for it. That’s what he was saying. He made it sound as if it wasn’t the first time either. I found myself shaking my head. “You’re a bitter, resentful, man, Ian Macrae. And you’ve spoken ill of the laird before. So I don’t believe you. Do you hear me? I don’t believe you.”

He might have slapped me for the insolence. Instead, he gave me a tug up the stairs. “Let’s ask him then, shall we?”

We burst in together, and the laird, who had been staring out over the loch watching for enemy ships, couldn’t hide his shock at seeing us together in such a state of fury. “What the devil—”

“Your woman thinks I’m an evil brute who sends helpless villagers out to their deaths,” Ian announced. “While I don’t see why I should care a whit what she thinks, you ought to have a word with her, because the miscreants looked to her for help before I tossed them out.”

The laird squinted, his eyes shifting between Ian and me as if trying to make sense of it. “What can you mean, Ian?”

“The villagers we sent out tried to appeal through her to you,” Ian explained. “I’m sure it won’t be the last time. So I think she might as well know how it is. She doesn’t believe that I did it on your orders.”

My laird squeezed his eyes shut, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s true, lass. I ordered them out.”

I swallowed, my heart sinking. “But why?”

“Because an example had to be made,” the laird explained. “As a siege goes on, people become more unruly. More disobedient. I’ve taken in more

villagers than I should have, in mercy. There isn’t any spare room for those who endanger others.”

An icy spike of anger drove into my heart with the memory that he’d also made an example of me. I served as an example of what happened to the daughters of men who held back rents from their laird. He liked making examples. “They weren’t endangering others—they were just having an argument that got out of hand. Surely they don’t deserve—”

“They broke open a cask of wine!” Ian roared. “If you think that won’t cost a life should our water be compromised—”

The laird cut him off with a raised hand. “She doesn’t know, Ian. Heather’s a good and gentle lass who ought never know such things as the ugliness of war. I wish she would never have to know the hard choices to be made.”

“But here we are anyway, aren’t we?” Ian said.