A Hellion for the Highlander

As his men moved out, he grabbed Colin by the arm. The younger man looked at him with wide, eager eyes and a rueful grin touched Alec’s lips. Colin was barely past his fifteenth summer but already had a sentence of death hanging over his head, courtesy of the English Crown. He’d been an orphaned boy, hungry and desperate, and had been beset upon by an English lord who beat him within an inch of the boy’s life.

Something inside Colin had snapped and he defended himself. He ended up accidentally killing the lord and, thus, forfeiting his own life. He’d been twelve. When Alec had heard the boy’s story in a tavern one night, he’d set a plan to rescue him. Alec did not think it was right or just that a boy who had simply been defending himself from a beating should be put to death for it because the other man had been a noble.

Alec and his men had staged a raid, freed the boy, and had taken him under their protective wing. They were his family now and Colin held a special place in Alec’s heart. But he was still just a boy and not ready for the dangers his men faced.

“Nay lad,” Alec said gently. “Nae yet.”

Alec saw the flash of disappointment in the boy’s eyes as he looked down at the dagger in his hand. It glittered coldly in the dim ambient light. Alec cupped the back of the boy’s neck and made him look up at him, his expression sober and intense.

“There’ll come a day when ye’re leadin’ thae charge,” he said softly. “But ‘til then, it’s me duty tae keep ye safe. Tae keep ye out of ‘arms way.”

“But I can fight,” he argued. “I wantae fight.”

“I ken ye can. And I ken ye dae,” he replied. “But not yet, lad. Ye still got much tae learn and I’ll nae ‘ave ye get yer guts split open b’cause ye werenae ready.”

Colin sighed and sheathed his dagger with frustration painted upon his face. Alec laughed softly. He admired the spirit of the boy. But he was still unwilling to put him in any unnecessary danger.

“Nou go’n get thae gates open and give Rory thae signal,” Alec said. “We daenae wantae be caught with our breeches down ‘ere.”

Colin nodded and Alec tousled his hair, giving the boy a fond smile before ushering him out the back door to complete his task. Elsewhere in the house, chaos erupted as the servants, pulled from sleep by large, hard men with blades, were being herded into the kitchen. In all, fifty servants in their nightclothes stood huddled together, trembling, pale, their faces etched with fear.

Alec heard the ring of steel on steel and knew the fight was engaged and that time was short.

“Is this all of them?” Alec asked.

A tall dark-haired man named Lamond nodded. “Aye Cap’n,” he said.

“Good,” he replied. “Let’s get ‘em secured, lads.”

Alec nodded and looked at the group as his men started to tie them up. That gave rise to fearful murmurs and the sound of the women sobbing with fright.

“Let’s nae ‘ave any undue fussin’,” Alec intoned. “We’re nae ‘ere tae ‘urt any of ye. And we’re nae ‘ere for anythin’ of yers, so settle yerselves down nou.”

The room fell silent, and the women wiped away their tears, quietly sniffing, but Alec saw that none of them looked reassured. But nothing could be done for that. He nodded to the men holding the ropes that bound the servants and called for one of his most trusted swordsmen, Albus, to join him.

Together, they ascended the stairs, encountering no resistance. He had expected to encounter more than a dozen house guards. But his men had dispatched them quickly and there did not appear to be more inside the manor. Which told Alec the main body of the Viscount’s force was either up on the walls or in the dormitory.

‘Tis a bit of good news and somethin’ goin’ right for us for a change.

He and Albus made it to the third-floor landing and stopped just outside the door to the Viscount’s apartment. Alec reached out and tried the latch, but when he tried to push the door inward, it did not move–bolted from the inside. As they stood there, a noise drew Alec’s attention and he exchanged an expression of disbelief with Albus.

“The bleedin’ arse slept through thae whole thang,” he laughed softly.

“Good news for us,” Albus shrugged.

“Aye,” Alec grinned, enjoying their sudden reversal of fortunes.

Albus moved to the side as Alec positioned himself before the door. He raised his foot and mustering all of the strength in his body, drove it forward. The door crashed inward with a mighty roar, coming loose at one of its hinges, making it hang awkwardly. Wood splintered and cracked, exploding into the room as if a barrel of black powder had been ignited.

Alec rushed forward, his sword bare, and Albus right behind him. He may not have heard the commotion downstairs, but the Viscount heard his door blowing inward, sat bolt upright, face blanching, and a look of absolute terror etched upon his features. He looked at them, his eyes wide, lips quivering. But he sat up straighter as he tried to muster some sense of dignity and control.

“What is this about?” he demanded. “Who are you and what are you doing in my home?”

“Time tae pay thae piper, Viscount Blandford,” Alec growled.

“Get out thae bed,” Albus added.

The Viscount hesitated, so Alec raised his sword, pointing the tip at the English lord’s throat.