“Or it becomestacit agreement to the new boundary,” Hector finished, the muscle in his jaw working.
He glanced at Gabriella,clearly torn between his duty to his clan and his promise to protect her.
“Please, Laird McCulloch,”the man pleaded, wringing his cap in his hands. “I’ve spoken to him twice.”
Hector kepta protective arm around Gabriella’s waist as he listened. “And what does he say, Callum?”
“He threatensto take it to the magistrate—says I’m lyin’ about the boundaries.” The farmer’s voice cracked with frustration. “Me family’s worked that plot for three generations, Me Laird. I cannae afford to lose me land.”
As Hector’sattention fully focused on resolving the dispute, his protective hold on Gabriella naturally loosened. She remained close beside him, but when a colorful silk scarf at a nearby merchant’s stall caught her eye, she stepped just a few feet away to examine it.
That’swhen she saw him—or thought she did. A familiar figure near the forge, partially obscured by the crowd.
Her heart lurched.Was that…? She couldn’t be certain from this distance.
Without thinking,she moved closer, squinting through the press of people to get a better look. And then their eyes met.
Panic shot through her.Without Hector beside her, she was vulnerable. Acting on instinct, Gabriella ducked behind a cloth merchant’s stall, using the hanging fabrics as cover.
“What are ye doin’back here, lass?” the merchant demanded, startled by her sudden appearance.
“Please,”Gabriella began, but then fell silent as a shadow fell across the stall’s entrance.
“Excuse me,”came Angus’s oily voice. “I’m lookin’ for a lass in a blue dress. My master’s daughter. Ran off, she did.”
The merchant looked uncertainlybetween them. Gabriella shook her head frantically in a silent plea.
“Havenae seen anyone like that,”the merchant replied, but her uncertain tone betrayed her.
Angus pushed aside a hangingbolt of fabric, his yellowed teeth bared in a triumphant grin as he spotted Gabriella. “There ye are, ye little?—”
He lunged forward,his hand outstretched to grab her.
Without thinking,Gabriella snatched a heavy pottery jug from a nearby stand and swung it with all her strength. It connected with Angus’s temple with a sickening crack, shattering on impact.
He staggered backward,his eyes unfocused, but didn’t fall. Before he could recover, Gabriella darted past him, knocking over a stack of woven baskets to block his path.
“Hector!”she screamed, dropping all pretense of calm.
She didn’t needto call twice. Hector was already moving toward her, shoving people aside, his face a mask of fury.
Behind Angus,another man materialized. She didn’t recognize him, but he bore the same hardened look as Lewis’s other men, his meaty hands reaching for her.
But Hector reached her first.With one powerful movement, he pulled her behind him, simultaneously driving his fist into the unknown man’s face. The brute went down hard, blood spurting from his nose.
Angus,still dazed from the blow to his head, turned to flee, but Hector caught him by the collar, slamming him against a wooden post.
“One moveand I snap yer neck,” he growled, pressing his forearm against the man’s throat.
The market had gone silent,a circle forming around the confrontation. Gabriella stood trembling but straight-backed, the broken handle of the pottery jug still clutched in her hand.
“Lewis must have recruited new men,”she said, her voice steadier than she felt,
Village guards pushedthrough the crowd, drawn by the commotion. The two men—Angus and his unknown companion—were hauled to their feet, blood trickling from their wounds.
“Laird McCulloch, are these men troublin’ye?” asked the lead guard, a burly man with a graying beard.
“These men attacked me guest,”Hector stated, his voice carrying authority that brooked no argument. “They’re to be held for questionin’.”
