Page 68 of Highland Fire

“Moira cannae be used as ransom any longer, Robertson,” Tavig said. “She is my wife.”

“Your wife?” Bearnard stared at Tavig in stunned disbelief for a moment before looking at Mungan. “Ye didnae let this murderer wed her, did ye? Ye wanted her, wanted her so badly ye tried to kidnap her.”

“True enough,” agreed Mungan. “I wanted that cursed tower house out of your hands. But after some thought I decided ’tis just as safe in Tavig’s hands as it is in mine. Besides, I cannae have two wives and I decided to marry Una. She suited me better and all that.”

“Ye married Una?” Bearnard was breathing so heavily, his fury so strong, that his voice became an unsteady squawk.

Moira stumbled a little when Bearnard glared at her and Una, causing Una to take a hasty step backward. That distraction caused her to miss the start of Bearnard’s attack. She caught a brief glimpse of his fist just before it hit her. Pain engulfed her head as she was catapulted backward from the force of the blow, taking Una with her.

Dazed, she could not move even though she felt Una squirm beneath her. Una sat up, holding her. Moira saw a slender, familiar figure hurl itself at Bearnard and knew Tavig would not be stopped this time. Although still groggy, she did manage to stop Mungan from grabbing Nicol as both men reached her side at the same time.

“Nicol willnae hurt us,” she said, the pain still ripping through her head making her voice hoarse. She eyed the piece of skirt Crooked Annie was using to dab at her bloodied lip. “Ye couldnae find a clean piece?” She was not surprised when Annie ignored her.

“Shouldnae ye help Tavig?” Una asked Mungan.

“He would turn on me if I interrupted.” Mungan crossed his arms over his broad chest and watched Tavig throw off Bearnard then leap on the man, fists flailing. “I think the lad will have the bastard subdued soon.” He warily glanced at Una. “Sorry, lass. I forgot he is your father.”

“No need to apologize, husband. Just dinnae let Tavig kill him.”

“Oh, I will step in ere that happens. After all, we have only been wed a day, loving.” He winked at Una. “Far too soon for me to be killing your kinsmen.” He grinned when Una, Nicol, and Moira were startled into laughing briefly.

Bearnard hit Tavig so hard the smaller man hit the floor, sliding toward them. Moira reached out toward Tavig only to be firmly held in place by Una and Crooked Annie. She did not struggle for she was still light-headed from Sir Bearnard’s punch, and Tavig was already back on his feet. Shaking off Crooked Annie’s grasp, she turned enough to look at Nicol, a little surprised to see him just sitting there next to his sister and watching his father being pummeled by Tavig.

“Ye have no wish to aid your father?” she asked her cousin Nicol, keeping an eye on Tavig at the same time to be sure he continued to hold the upper hand with Sir Bearnard.

Nicol shook his head. “Why should I halt his being beaten senseless? ’Tis the only time he gets his due.”

Although she had always suspected it, Moira was a little shocked to see that Sir Bearnard had succeeded in beating the love right out of his children. Una was saddened by that, but neither she nor Nicol showed the slightest concern about their father being soundly beaten by Tavig. Even though it was now clear that Tavig was going to win, they sat unmoved by Sir Bearnard’s plight.

Moira turned her full attention back to the swiftly waning battle. She had watched just enough to make sure Tavig was not losing, but the sight of him being injured, even in a battle he was winning, was more than she could bear. When Bearnard went down and stayed down, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief, smiling at a slightly battered Tavig as he moved toward her.

Her smile froze as she caught the shadow of a movement from Sir Bearnard. Fear for Tavig tightening her throat, she was only able to croak out a warning as Sir Bearnard pulled a dagger from inside his boot, staggered to his feet, and lunged toward Tavig’s unprotected back with a speed that astonished her. Tavig turned, but Mungan was faster. He caught Bearnard by the wrist, halting the man’s treacherous attack. Mungan wrenched Bearnard’s wrist to disarm him. Moira heard the crack of bone, and Bearnard’s scream of pain drowned out the sound of his dagger clattering to the floor. With one sound blow to the jaw, Mungan silenced Sir Bearnard’s wails, tossing the unconscious man aside when Bearnard went limp in his hold.

“Sorry, Una,” Mungan said as he moved to his wife’s side and patted her on the head. “I fear I broke his wrist. ’Tis not a break that heals weel. He could lose all strength in his sword hand.”

And his punching hand, Moira thought. Glancing at her cousins, she saw them eyeing a blandly smiling Mungan with the same suspicious consideration she felt. Mungan could easily have disarmed Bearnard without breaking any bones. He had purposely maimed the man. She turned to face Tavig and caught the glance he sent his cousin, a glance that revealed Tavig shared her opinion.

Tavig touched her throbbing cheek, and she managed a smile. “Ye are far more battered than I,” she said.

“It looks far worse than it is,” he murmured.

“Both of ye need tending,” Crooked Annie said as she stood up, grabbed Tavig by the arm, and tugged him toward the head table.

“What about Sir Bearnard?” Moira asked as she followed them, the others quickly falling into step behind her. “He is beginning to stir.”

“I must not have hit him as hard as I thought I did,” Mungan said, scowling toward Bearnard as he sat down in his huge chair, Una taking her place at his side. “Angus,” he called to one of his men. “I think Robertson needs some time in a secure place.”

“I need my wounds seen to,” Bearnard cried, his voice slurred with pain. “Nicol, why do ye stand with our enemy?”

Nicol shrugged and sat next to Una. “He is my kinsmon now, not my enemy.”

“Traitor!” Bearnard screamed as two of Mungan’s men started to drag him out of the hall. “Ye are all traitors! I will make ye all pay for this. Curse ye, Nicol, I am your father!”

Bearnard’s voice grew stronger as he screamed threats at all of them, struggling enough to impede the men trying to get him out of the great hall. Nicol, Tavig, and Mungan all looked angry, and Moira feared the confrontation would be renewed. She prayed that Crooked Annie’s avid attentions to Tavig’s wounds would keep him in his seat. Bearnard might be impaired by a broken wrist, but he had already shown that he was not above acts of dishonor.

Just as she began to fear Tavig intended to lunge for the man again, Mungan rose, ambled over to Bearnard, and started speaking to the man in a low, even voice. Bearnard turned the color of cold ashes, all the fight leaving his body until he nearly sagged in the grip of his two widely grinning guards. Not another word escaped Bearnard as he was taken away, his frightened stare never wandering from Mungan until the doors of the great hall shut after him. Whistling softly, Mungan strode back to the table, kissed the top of Una’s head, and sat down.

“What did ye say to him?” Tavig asked, half smiling at his cousin as he nudged Annie away and waved her to a seat. “Enough, woman,” he told her. “I am fine. Mungan, ye said something to that bastard that sucked all the strength from him. I am curious as to what it was.”