Page 73 of Taken By the Savage Highlander

She drifted off, unsure of how he managed to pull off the deception. In her hands she held concrete proof that it had taken place, regardless of how he managed to create the paper trail of illusion. When she flipped to the next page, there was even more damning evidence.

All the while remaining aware of her surroundings, Margo read through every single document left for her to find. There were letters, some addressing how her father had executed the sale and how he twisted words and numbers. Packed together were several maps, all of them containing details on the lands and property lines even wider than when Cameron’s father had purchased them.

Her mother had left a bundle of property records that not only proved the lands were not properly represented when they were sold, but also implicated her father in the deceit. She had said that the pendant would protect Margo and Eleanor. Margo wondered if her mother knew her father would do something like this, using his own daughter as a bargaining chip in his sick game, when she locked all of this away.

Anger unlike anything Margo had ever known rushed through her veins. Her father was so conniving that his own wife knew she could not trust him. There was no way of telling when her mother had hidden these away, but the fact that she had the foresight to do so made Margo see red.

“He’s stolen so much!” she whispered, unable to look away from the looping scrawl of her mother’s handwriting. “He’s caused Clan MacLeod so much suffering, starved their people, forced them into living in homes that are beaten down by the elements.”

Her fingers tightened around the edges of the pages. It was not just money that Lord Abbott had stolen from so many people. It was entire futures.

She was not sure how much time had passed, but her fury only festered as she read the pages over and over again. When the door to the study finally rattled, and her father’s form slipped through the opening, she was ready to demand answers, to confront him with the ugly truth of his actions.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

“What are you reading?” Lord Abbott growled, beating Margo to speak.

He seemed to have calmed down since they arrived. There was no longer an air of impatience about him. He looked much more like the man that she had grown up with.

It is despicable how quickly he can become someone completely different.

“Something that Mother left for me,” Margo said, standing up with the pages held tightly in her fist. “It’s quite interesting, really.”

His eyes narrowed, focusing on the stack of pages in her hand. On top was one of her mother’s letters. When he recognized the handwriting, his entire demeanor seemed to change. As his shoulders stiffened, his face turned red with defensive anger.

“Whatever it is you have found cannot be taken as fact,” he said, hints of the charming tone he usually used with his allies dripping through his ire. He was trying to convince Margo, but he knew all too well he had been caught. “Your mother, God bless her soul, was not wise in the ways of business. She left you a letter about what she thought happened. It is not based on truth.”

“It is not just a letter though, Father,” Margo said, pulling out one of the property records. “This document was signed by two witnesses; it is proof that you gave fraudulent information when you sold the lands to the late Laird MacLeod.”

The information visibly landed in Lord Abbott’s mind. She had confirmed that she had him cornered, that she knew the depth of his lies, and could ruin him the second she could speak to someone with any authority. His smirk turned sinister, his sharp canine teeth digging into his bottom lip.

Margo knew he was going to cross the room seconds before he did. She moved quickly, shoving the pages beneath the cushion. When she turned toward him once more, she raised her arms, protecting herself from the slap he delivered. It was hard, stinging her arm, even though the sleeve of her gown.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about!” he cried, following her when she backed away.

He made himself bigger, taller, towering over Margo and glaring down at her with hatred burning in his eyes. The few good moments she had shared with him went up in flames. It did not matter that he had spent time teaching her to read, nor the fact he had been the one to teach her how to dance. This was a villain, one that she had unknowingly lived with for most of her life.

“Do you understand what you’ve done?” Margo asked desperately, her hands scrambling over the bookshelf to find something she could use as a weapon.

Lord Abbott’s fist came at her once again, and Margo yanked a book from its place. Somehow, she managed to block the blow, though it radiated up her arms, all the way to her elbows. He was unrelenting, going for her again. This time, she met his swing with the flat surface of the book.

The novel slipped from her hands, tumbling to the ground between them. Her body nearly froze as she realized just how vulnerable she was. She forced herself to move. Without looking over her shoulder, she darted past him and slipped through the open door.

“You won’t get far!” he yelled, his voice catching up with her when she was halfway down the corridor. “The castle is surrounded by guards!”

That did not matter to Margo. All she could think of was getting away from him. She would deal with a guard if she came across one.

When Lord Abbott’s heavy footfalls came thundering after her, she desperately looked around the hallway. Spotting a weighty-looking candlestick, she took hold of it. The object felt good in her hands, solid. She could protect herself with it if she absolutely had to.

“Do you really think you can get away from me, girl?” Lord Abbott yelled, something crashing to the floor as he apparently threw it in anger. “Every second you run away from me is only going to make your punishment worse.”

“Whatever you throw at me is no worse than what’s awaiting you!” she called back, not knowing where the taunt came from, only knowing that it was true.

Nearly losing her footing, she righted herself just in time to brace herself for the blow he delivered to her shoulder. Margo cried out in pain, reeling around and cocking back the candlestick. Before she could even consider what she was doing, she brought it down upon her father’s forehead.

As blood poured from the wound, he let out a guttural scream. It froze her to her core, and the noise coupled with the sight of all his blood was almost enough to make her quit fighting. But then she remembered the way he roared with rage, the lack of concern he had toward her well-being, toward her personhood.

“I am not fooled by you any longer!” she cried, her chest heaving as she raised the candlestick again. She did not want him dead; she just wanted him incapacitated long enough that she could retrieve the documents and run. “I have seen the truth behind all of your deception, and I will not stop until the entirety of both England and Scotland know of your ways.”