Page 179 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Chapter Eight

Talbot could scarce believe Dayton hadn’t fled Scotland. If what the man told Talbot an hour ago was true, he would find his brother at this Stonehaven port tavern. Talbot scanned the crowded room. His gaze snagged on a dark-haired man near the stairs. The man’s back faced Talbot, but he could be Dayton. Talbot still half-believed the messenger was lying in hopes of collecting the ten pieces of silver Talbot had placed on his brother’s capture. Talbot shouldered his way through the crowd. He got five feet when the man turned and looked straight at him.

Dayton.

Angry scratches across his brow bore testament to Lady Rhoslyn’s struggles against the rape. Rage howled through Talbot. He plunged through the men. Dayton whirled toward the stairs. He reached the staircase in three paces and bounded up. Talbot’s foot hit the first stair as Dayton swung around the second floor balustrade.

Talbot reached the hallway to see Dayton disappear into a room at the end of the hallway. A feral growl burst from Talbot. He yanked his sword from the scabbard and ran down the hallway. When Talbot burst into the room, he found it empty and the curtain blowing at the open window.

He raced to the window and swung over the sill. Air born for an instant, he tensed, then landed on soft ground in a crouch. The pounding of footfalls bounced off the buildings in the narrow alley. Talbot shoved upright. Visible in the morning gloom, Dayton raced toward the street. Talbot broke into a run. Dayton stopped at the other end of the alley and looked back at him, then dashed right.

Heart pounding, Talbot pumped his legs faster. Seconds later, he shot out of the alley onto a narrow street, veering right. After several paces, he slowed, drawing in heavy breaths while scanning the nearly deserted street. Two men stood outside a tavern across the street and sounds of male pleasure grunts echoed between buildings as he passed. Talbot sheathed his sword. His brother had to have ducked into one of the taverns or buildings on this street.

A door swung open to his right and bawdy laughter erupted as a man stumbled from the tavern. Talbot sidestepped him, then turned back and entered. Like the other tavern, kilted Highlanders and local Scots dressed in breeches filled the room. He scanned the crowd, but didn’t see Dayton. His gaze caught on a door in the back of the room. Talbot worked his way to the rear where a man behind the counter handed two ales to a barmaid.

“I am looking for someone,” Talbot said.

“Who?” the man asked.

Talbot pulled a silver coin from the pouch strapped to his belt. “My brother.”

“Is he English like you?”

“Aye.”

The man grunted. “I havena’ seen another Englishman tonight.”

Talbot detected no dishonesty and laid the coin on the counter. He made his way back toward the door. A hulking figure stepped in his path. Talbot sidestepped the man, but he followed suit, blocking Talbot’s way.

“Do I know you?” Talbot asked.

“Ye hear that, David?” the man said. “He wants to know if we are friends.”

Another man, almost as large, joined the first man. “Ye think we would be friends with an English dog?”

“I have not caused you any trouble,” Talbot said. “Stand aside and let me pass.”

“Ye cause trouble by coming here and marrying our women...then taking them off,” the large man said.

Talbot tensed. “I do not know you. But it seems you know me.”

“Sir Talbot St. Claire,” David said. “Bastard knight.”

“What do you want?” Talbot demanded.

The big man crossed his arms over his chest. “Leave on a ship tonight and we will not harm ye.”

“Move out of my way and I will not kill you.”

David reached for his sword, but Talbot yanked his sword from its scabbard and dug the point into David’s throat before his blade cleared its sheath. The room went quiet. The big man shifted.

“Move and I kill him,” Talbot snarled. Pent up fury strained against his control. “Remove your hand from your sword.”

The big man didn’t move.

“Do as he says, Morris,” David hissed.

David’s eyes shifted to something behind him. Talbot leapt aside, whirling in time to miss a knife slash through the air. David and Morris drew their swords. Talbot sliced his blade down the front of David’s shirt, drawing blood. He pivoted and blocked a blow from Morris’ sword and threw his weight into throwing the man off balance. Morris stumbled backwards. Talbot drove his sword into Morris’ shoulder. Blood gushed.