Page 8 of Highland Storm

Hawke wanted to be mentioned in the book, but not this way. He wanted to be known for a heroic deed, not one that involved killing in self-defense. “Nay, ‘twas nothin’,” he said. “Besides, my da has taken down six men by himself in his days.”

“We need to show respect for our enemies,” said Storm. “Did they take their dead with them, Son?”

“I dinna think so,” said Hawke. “There was only one left alive. He was a small man and I let him go.”

“Ye did?” asked Bridget curiously. “Is that a normal course of action with attackers?”

“He wanted the survivor to give the message to the rest of the clan that they canna beat the MacKeefes,” said Caleb, making Hawke want to box his ears.

“Did I teach ye nothin’, Hawke?” asked Storm. “If ye let one go, there’ll be ten more on yer doorstep come mornin’.”

“So, then ye’re sayin’ I should have killed them all?” Hawke waited as his father contradicted himself.

“I’m sayin’ ye shouldna have killed any of them,” Storm answered. “Now, it is up to ye to go back and bury the bodies of the men ye killed.”

“I’ll help,” offered Logan. “I’d like to pick up a new sword.” He ran his hand over the hilt of his sword in thought.

“What about their horses?” asked Ethan eagerly. “I get first pick of those.”

“Listen to ye bluidy warmongers,” snapped Hawke’s grandfather. “Nay, ye two will stay here and I’ll take my grandson and a few men to do the job.”

“I dinna need help,” spat Hawke.

“I am no’ comin’ to help,” answered Ian. “I’m only ridin’ with ye to witness yer every move.”

Chapter 4

As they approached the dead bodies, Phoebe felt an overpowering sadness engulf her. These were men she’d known from her clan. They had families back at Crookston Castle. Why did they have to attack one lone MacKeefe? If their vengeance hadn’t consumed them, they’d still be alive right now.

They must have seen the MacKeefe man as an easy mark, not knowing what price they’d pay by their decisions. Then again, it was her who asked them to venture dangerously into MacKeefe territory because this was one of the only places where mugwort grew. She had wanted so badly to find it, but now it didn’t seem that important anymore.

“Get the bodies buried quickly,” ordered Euan. “And keep yer eyes open. If ye so much as see the plaid of the MacKeefes, attack, and dinna leave a one of them alive.”

“Nay, what are ye sayin’?” asked Phoebe. “Havena enough men already died today?”

She waited as they buried the poor departed souls, all the while feeling a knot in her stomach. There were no MacKeefes here so she shouldn’t feel so apprehensive. She supposed it was only because of what happened here earlier that made her feel uneasy.

The cry of a bird from above their heads had her looking up to the sky. “It’s his hawk. The MacKeefe is comin’,” she exclaimed.

“Guid.” Euan unsheathed his sword. “Just what I’d hoped for.”

“What are ye doin’?” Phoebe watched in horror as the men readied their weapons. “Our dead are buried,” she told them. “Please, let’s leave now and go back to Crookston Castle.”

“No’ before we have a chance to even the score,” said Euan with a chuckle. “Men, hide behind the trees. We’ll take him down before he even sees us comin’.”

* * *

If Hawke hadn’t been so upset that his own grandfather thought he was reckless and possibly lying to him, he would have heard Apollo’s warning from the sky that there was trouble awaiting them.

“The attack happened just up ahead,” explained Hawke, leading his grandfather and four of their clan members to the spot where he’d slain the MacNabs in self-defense.

“Where?” asked one of the men. “I dinna see any dead bodies.”

“They’re right up here,” said Hawke, stopping his horse and looking around, thinking at first he’d made a mistake about the location. “They were here,” he mumbled, his hand going to the hilt of his sword, expecting trouble. Before he could warn the others, they were attacked from the forest. A half-dozen MacNabs rode out with their weapons held high, catching the MacKeefes off guard.

“Get the big one first,” yelled a man who seemed to be their leader.

One of the men threw a dagger. It whizzed past, almost hitting Hawke as he jerked back out of the way. With the one quick yank of the reins, the horse became skittish and reared up. Caught off guard and losing his balance, Hawke tried to steady the horse but was thrown to the ground. His sword fell from his hand. When he reached for it, three men on horseback charged toward him. Hawke sprang to his feet, swiping at his attackers, managing to bring them to the ground. As he fought, three to one, Hawke became distracted by a woman’s voice.