“Indeed. The tomb in the church will be yours.” Haldane still didn’t understand why McMurdo was so obsessed with being buried in Balnakeil Church. Sane or not, the man was a devious assassin. His long gray hair and pock-marked, wrinkled skin said nothing about his lethal cunning. The man was like a well-used, ancient sword—scarred and worn but he could still easily get the job done. At least, Haldane hoped he could. McMurdo had not yet succeeded at killing Dirk, despite a couple of attempts. The first time, everyone had thought Dirk was dead, but then he’d surfaced twelve years later. Haldane didn’t want that happening again.

“I want to see his dead body.”

McMurdo grunted. “How about his head on a platter?”

“Even better.” So long as Dirk was well and truly dead, Haldane didn’t care.

Nolan MacLeod slipped up and knelt beside him. “What’s the plan?”

“I’ll take two men with me and head toward the tent where Lady Seona is sleeping,” Haldane said. “You go with McMurdo and kill the guard nearest Dirk’s tent so McMurdo can kill the bastard inside.”

“What about Lady Isobel?” Nolan asked.

“What about her? I don’t care.” Haldane knew Nolan had a bad itch for Isobel. The word was he’d almost raped her, but the lady had bashed him on the head and knocked him out. Haldane could understand his need for revenge, but he didn’t want Nolan botching the whole attack because he wanted retribution. Nolan certainly had no feelings for Isobel, not like Haldane had for Seona.

“What if she is carrying your brother’s heir?” Nolan asked.

Hell, he hadn’t considered that. If she was carrying a male bairn, that child would inherit the baron title and become chief when he grew to manhood. “She’ll have to die, too, then.”

“Nay. I want her,” Nolan said, his eyes gleaming like those of a madman. That didn’t faze Haldane. Several of his men verged on madness.

“Have her then, but make sure you kill her when you’re done with her. I don’t want any of Dirk’s spawn running around.”

Nolan grinned.

“But you’ll have to help McMurdo kill Dirk first. Isobel is in the same tent.”

“My pleasure.”

“I don’t need his help,” McMurdo grumbled, glaring at Nolan. “I can kill that whoreson with my bare hands.”

“I know you can,” Haldane said. “But use your dirk. I always thought it would be fitting that Dirk be killed with the weapon he’s named after.” Haldane snickered.

A half hour later, Haldane, Finlay and Gil slipped closer to the camp. Gil was the best archer he’d ever seen.

“Take out that guard, the one closest to us,” Haldane whispered to him.

Gil hesitated. “I cannot do that. He’s my cousin.”

“Do you think I give a damn? Dirk is my brother and I’d kill him if I had half a chance.” Haldane narrowed his eyes, observing the tent Lady Seona, her aunt, and their maids had disappeared into earlier. Keegan stood in front of it, then paced back and forth. “Looks like I’m going to have to kill my cousin, as well.”

“But you hate Keegan. I’ve never had a quarrel with my cousin. We got on good last time I saw him.”

“If you can’t do the job I’m paying you for, I’m kicking you out.”

Gil had been Haldane’s friend for years, but he was an annoying whiner at times. He needed a fierce kick in the arse.

“You’ve never paid me,” Gil said.

“I didn’t let you starve this winter, did I?” Haldane demanded in a harsh whisper.

Gil shook his head.

“Besides, I will pay you and everyone who’s helped me when I’m chief and wealthy. I’ll make you my sword-bearer. You’ll have a generous income.”

Gil’s eyes widened. Even in the near darkness Haldane could tell he was mulling that over. “Come. Let’s move closer. Once you kill one of the guards, the others may be alerted. I want to be able to make it to Seona’s tent.”

Haldane hunched low and crept through the bushes, Gil and Finlay behind him. McMurdo, Nolan and another man were stealing into the camp from the other side. The rest were entering from the east.

Haldane crouched again and peered from behind the bush. “There now, the guard closest to us is Balfour. No kin of yours, is he?”

“Nay.”

“When I give the signal, you shoot him.”

“Aye.” Gil knelt, nocked the arrow and drew back his bow string.

“After you kill him, shoot Keegan next.”

Chapter Five

Seona awoke to men yelling, a shock of alarm ringing through her. At first, she didn’t know where she was, then she remembered being inside a tent. She sat up, listening to the running footsteps, curses and swords clanging outside. Cold fear slid through her. What on earth? Had Haldane attacked? She fingered the knife hidden on her forearm, wondering if she should pull it out.

Beside her, Aunt Patience bolted upright. “What’s happening?”

“I know not. I think ’tis an attack.” Seona crawled forward to peer through the tent flap.

Two blades clashed nearby, sparks popping off them in the near darkness. She could only see the outline of two shadowy figures.

“Haldane!” It was Keegan’s voice. “I’ll kill you. Have no doubt of it.”

God protect us, Seona prayed silently.

More men joined them in battle.

Seona drew back. “Everyone, wake up,” she whispered loudly, grabbing her arisaid to wrap about her. “We may have to flee.”

“Lord, help us. Is it a battle?” one of their maids asked. Someone was sobbing and another of them was praying aloud.

“Aye. Haldane and his band of outlaws have attacked. We must dress and ready ourselves to run,” Seona whispered.

A knife blade sliced through their tent’s fabric over the maids’ heads. Her aunt and the maids screamed as they scrambled toward the opposite side, a couple of them crawling over Seona.

“Remain calm,” she said, pulling her legs free of them.

She couldn’t draw her knife now or she might inadvertently cut one of the other women in such close quarters. They sat frozen in fear as they listened to the sounds outside—men’s angry yells, footsteps thumping, blades clashing.

Someone burst into the dark tent. Seona’s heart felt as if it rammed up into her throat.

The maids shrieked and scrambled backward.

“’Tis me, Keegan. Come, all of you.”

A couple of the maids were crying in earnest now, one of them frantic.

“Calm yourselves!” Keegan commanded. “Lady Seona, where are you?”

“Here,” she said, regaining her breath.

He took her hand and dragged her from the tent. She saw MacMillan and a couple more guards standing outside, holding horses.

“Wait!” Seona said. “I have not—”

“There is no time.” Keegan lifted her onto the bareback horse as if she weighed no more than a child, then, grabbing the reins, he leapt on behind her. He wrapped a strong arm around her and kicked the horse into a gallop.

“What about Aunt Patience?” she asked, turning and attempting to look back, but she couldn’t see beyond his shoulder.

“The guards will see to her and the maids’ safety. Dirk told me to slip you away from the battle and hide you.”

Why? Seona wanted to ask, but found it almost impossible to hold a conversation with the horse galloping at such great speed, and her frantic heartbeat keeping the same rhythm. They flew along a trail, opposite the way they’d come earlier that day. Keegan’s arm around her near squeezed the breath from her. But she felt safe.

Moonlight reflected off a wide, sparkling burn that flowed alongside the trail. After a few minutes, Keegan slowed the horse to a trot but kept going. Unexpectedly, he guided the horse into a copse of trees. The fresh scent of pine was strong. The horse walked deeper, his breath wooshing in and out.

After a few hundred yards, Keegan stopped the horse and turned it about. They listened to the silence. No hoof beats approached.