A Hellion for the Highlander

“I daenae want tae kill ye in yer bed,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “But I will if I ‘ave tae.”

The Viscount slipped out of bed and while Alec kept his sword on him, Albus moved quickly to tie the man’s hands securely behind his back. With their prisoner bound, they marched him downstairs and into the kitchens where the rest of his staff, who still huddled together in a far corner of the room. Alec pushed the Viscount up against a wall with the tip of his sword pressed the hollow of the man’s throat.

“B’hold, Viscount Hector Blandford, be

ater of women, starver of children,” Alec leaned closer so his face was mere inches from the English lord’s. “Murderer and coward.”

“I am well within my rights as a noble and member of the King’s Court to punish ne’er-do-wells as I see fit,” Blandford huffed.

“Ye are, are ye?”

“Quite right. Furthermore, you and your men have forfeited your lives by your actions this night.”

“Is that so?”

Alec looked around the room and chuckled. His men glared hard at the Viscount, all of them making a display of brandishing their blades. Lord Blandford trembled and seemed to visibly shrink as Alec turned his eyes back to the man. But the Viscount sniffed loudly and lifted his chin defiantly, doing his best to put on a brave face.

“However, were you to free me and my household staff–unharmed, of course–and leave my manor, I would be willing to grant you and your men leniency,” Lord Blandford said, his voice quavering.

Alec and his men laughed. Blandford’s household staff had stopped crying and looked on in fascination, some of them with hope in their eyes that he actually would run Blandford through. It told Alec all he needed to know about the man.

“‘Tis a mighty gen’rous offer, Me Lord,” Alec spat, putting a sarcastic edge to the honorific. “But I could just kill ye and be done with it.”

“And what do you imagine will happen when my soldiers outside–”

His words were cut off by the sound of the front door to the manor, crashing inward. Heavy bootsteps sounded on the hard wooden floor and Alec grinned at Rory, who entered with the rest of his men. He noticed a couple of red stains on Rory’s tunic.

“Ye all right, lad?” Alec asked.

Rory nodded. “Aye. He ‘ad some stubborn mules for soldiers but they been dealt with,” he replied.

Alec turned his eyes back to the Viscount. “Ye were sayin’ what ‘bout yer soldiers?”

Lord Blandford swallowed hard and licked his lips nervously but said nothing. Alec cast a grin at him.

“This ‘im then?” Rory asked.

Alec nodded. “Aye. This is thae bleedin’ piece of filth we came ‘ere for.”

“Gonna cut ‘is throat?”

“I daenae,” Alec replied. “I ken maybe dippin’ ‘im in boilin’ oil might be more fittin’.”

“How ‘bout ye tie ‘im to a post outside’n set ‘im on fire?”

“Oh, nou, there’s a fine idea. I hadnae ken that b’fore.”

“Well, I am thae one who comes up with all thae ideas.”

“Aye. That’s true.”

As they bantered with each other, Alec’s crew chuckled while the Viscount paled visibly. His eyes widened and though he did his best to contain it, Lord Blandford could not stop the expression of fear that stretched across his face.

“I ken, though, we should just be quick ‘bout it and be done with it,” Alec said.

“Not as fun,” Rory chimed in. “But aye, we are pressed for time.”

Alec flashed him a malevolent grin as he drew his sword arm back and the Viscount’s eyes grew impossibly wide.