They tossed Rebbie on the bed.

Another man with short gray hair and a matching beard entered the room. They were all Murray’s men, one of them his personal bodyguard. They turned their attention to Keegan, smirking at his nakedness. He’d had to grab his sword instead of his plaid. He didn’t care. He could fight naked just as well as clothed.

All three drew their dirks, long lethal daggers. “Put your clothes on, you whoreson,” the black-haired one closest to him demanded.

Keegan slashed his sword at the knave, but he dodged back. Keegan kicked him backward into his friends. Within seconds, they righted themselves and were ready to charge him again.

“You’re outnumbered, MacKay,” the stout man with a gray beard said. “We have three more men downstairs. Don’t force us to kill you. The chief said he’d spare your life if you flee now and don’t look back.”

“Never.” Keegan knew a sword wasn’t the best weapon for this small space, but his dirk was in its scabbard on the floor by the bed.

He sent a quick glance at Rebbie, seeing blood glistening on his head. “Is he alive?”

“Of course. Are you thinking we’re daft enough to kill an earl? Nay, he’s to be Chief Murray’s son-in-law.” The man gave him a nasty grin. “Nay matter how well-hung you might be, MacKay, you’ll never marry that lady. We’re dragging you out of here, dead or alive. Your choice.”

Three more men stuck their heads in the door, leering and snickering. Bastards! Keegan wanted to slay them all, but he doubted he could before they killed him or injured him severely. He’d never gone up against six before.

Think, Keegan, think, he commanded himself. Damn! He felt like he had wads of wool in his head.

“Very well. Allow me to dress.” ’Haps he could buy himself some time if naught else.

“Dress, then. We’re waiting.”

“Wait outside the door.”

“Ha. Do you take us for fools?”

“Back away.” Keegan waved his sword before the man’s face. “How do I ken you won’t kill me when I lower my sword?”

“You don’t.” Graybeard smirked.

A flick of Keegan’s wrist sliced the man’s arm and he dropped his dirk. Cursing and scuffling ensued. The three men who had been in the doorway invaded the room. One of them tossed a doublet over Keegan’s sword blade and grabbed it, while three others tackled Keegan to the floor. He had a quick glimpse of Seona, wearing only a smock, bashing one on the head with the wash basin, a sgian dubh in her other hand.

“Release him, you blackguards!” she yelled.

Damn! He was so proud of her.

One of the other men, brown-haired and sporting a goatee, pulled her back, disarmed and restrained her.

“Don’t hurt her, you whoreson!” Keegan yelled, intending to kill him if he left one bruise.

“You’d best be worrying about whether we’re going to hurt you,” Graybeard said as he bound Keegan’s hands behind his back. When they dragged him to his feet and out the door, he glanced back to see if Seona was hurt. She was crying but appeared unharmed.

The man pushed her onto the bed, followed the other men out, and closed the door. At the bottom of the stairs, the two men dragging Keegan shoved him to the floor. Pain shot through his limbs as his knee and left shoulder struck the slate stone floor.

“Bastards!” he snarled.

When he glanced up, a pistol was directed between his eyes and three swords were pointed at him.

“Put these on, you heathen.” Graybeard threw his clothes at him.

“Untie my hands and I will.”

One of the men cut the rope loose.

After rising to his feet, Keegan slipped the shirt over his head, then eyed them while he belted the plaid about his waist. All six of the men stood around him. Good, they’d left Seona alone in the room with Rebbie. If he awoke, he’d protect her and hopefully get her out of there. The bastards had confiscated all his weapons, and he knew not where his sporran and boots were.

“Outside, MacKay!” The man waved the pistol toward the exit.

One of the men behind him pushed him toward the door. He stumbled outside into the dim gray light. A hint of dawn glowed at the horizon. How the hell was he going to get back in there to rescue Seona? If her father found her and Rebbie in the same room, he’d force them to wed. Even if she already was.

***

When the chamber door slammed, leaving Seona alone with Rebbie, knocked out, bleeding, and half-clothed on the bed, she finished dressing. Blast! Her hands shook so badly she could hardly belt her arisaid.

“Please don’t let them harm Keegan,” she prayed, pulling on her slippers and the black cloak. She had to help him escape her father’s barbaric minions.

“Laird Rebbinglen?” She shook his muscular shoulder, but he didn’t make a sound. “Saints,” she hissed. Was he alive? Placing her finger beneath his nose, she felt his breath. Thanks be to God. How could she wake him?

She found the pitcher half-full of cold water on a nearby table and poured it over his head, drenching his black hair and the pillow. Stirring a bit, he moaned and grimaced. He could have a bad head injury. If this was her father’s idea of trying to get Rebbie to marry her, ’twas indeed a flawed plan. She had to escape the room before they were discovered together, then find Keegan. Rebbie was a strong, tough warrior, and she had no doubt he would survive.

She grabbed Keegan’s dirk, sporran and boots from the floor. Opening one of the window shutters, she looked down in the early dawn light. ’Twas too far for her to jump. She ran to the door, opened it a crack and peered out. The narrow corridor and stairs were empty. Taking Keegan’s belongings, she raced down the stairs into the empty tavern then peered out the front door. Several men lingered in front of the building. She went in search of a back door. Once she’d unbarred it, she crept out and headed toward the corner.

A narrow close ran between the tavern and the neighboring building. She slipped down it and hunched to peep out. Men yelled encouragements and two blades clashed and clanged. When a man moved aside, she saw that one of the warriors involved in the sword dual was Keegan. Thank the saints he had a weapon.

She held her breath and watched for several moments. Keegan held his own and appeared the more skilled swordsman, driving the other man back across the grassy field. But then her father, practically running toward the tavern with four more men, caught her eye. What on earth? They glanced at the men fighting in the nearby field, then disappeared from sight, headed toward the entry door. He probably hoped to find her and Rebbie alone in the chamber. She smiled, glad he’d be disappointed.

But how could she get to Keegan and help him? He was barefoot and needed his boots. He might also need his dirk. But if she ran out there, she’d distract him, and her father’s men would seize her. She had to slip further away and somehow draw Keegan’s attention when he wasn’t engaged in a sword fight. She raced along the alley again, then behind the buildings. Dawn was growing lighter.

She sensed someone behind her a second before they grabbed her around the waist. Terror clawed through her. She screamed, but a big, rough hand clamped over her mouth, muffling the sound.

Who the devil was it? One of Keegan’s men or her father’s? She couldn’t turn her head enough to see him but one thing was certain… he had stinking breath, like rotten cabbage. She kicked, driving her heels against his shins. Keegan’s dirk came to mind. Nay! She had dropped it. But she still had her own knife strapped to her forearm. What if he was one of the MacKay or MacKenzie guards? She didn’t want to stab one of them.

The man carried her, running toward a row of bushes at the edge of the village. From the corner of her eye, she saw the man had long gray hair.

McMurdo? Her blood froze within her veins. I have to stab him!