Page 26 of Highlander’s Vengeful Seduction

By the time that Donal had finished with the buttons and the laces, he felt the urgency to leave the hunting lodge. It was already getting quite late, and everyone in Castle Sween was bound to have noticed his and Vanora’s absence. They would be lucky if they still had a head start on them, and so Donal made sure that they were out of the hunting lodge within the next few minutes, and already on their horses, on their way to his men.

As he and Vanora were riding through the woods, Donal found it difficult to talk to her. He didn’t know whether he was supposed to make small talk or talk about the matters at hand, and he certainly didn’t know whether he should mention what had happened between them the previous night.

Was he supposed to ask her if she liked it? Was he supposed to ask her anything?

It didn’t help that he couldn’t even look at her as he led the way through the trees, and most of his attention was focused on not getting hit by any of the branches that were in their way.

Donal wondered if Vanora was thinking the same thing as he did, and that was why she, too, was being uncharacteristically quiet. They had hardly exchanged any words ever since they had left the hunting lodge. He couldn’t help but be filled with worry, even though said worry was, most likely, completely irrational.

Donal took a deep breath. He worried too much; he always did.

They were so close to the place where he had left his men that Donal could almost hear them, his anticipation making the whistles and hisses of the breeze sound like his men’s boisterous voices in his ears. Donal smiled to himself, and he was eager to see the familiar faces of men who didn’t hate him from their very core.

Before he and Vanora could reach them, though, Donal was drowned in the thundering sounds of horse hooves and metal unsheathing from its scabbard. Men were shouting all around him, and Donal had difficulty making out what they were saying, their voices overlapping in a deafening buzz of noise.

His first thought was Vanora. She was in danger, and Donal couldn’t let anything happen to her. He could never live with that. He looked over his shoulder at her, and he saw her screaming at the men who surrounded them, though he could not tell what she was saying.

In his agitation, it took Donal a while to recognize the faces of those around him. They were men from the MacMillan clan, and with them, there was Angus, standing there right in front of him with his sword held firmly in his hand. A little further behind him, Donal could see the apple of discord herself—Vika, standing there and watching everything that was unfolding with concern in her eyes that was about as real as the fairy tales that Donal listened to as a kid.

The mere sight of her enraged him. Donal felt his anger bubble over, and his lips curled back, baring his teeth as though he were a wild animal. It must have made him look mad, he thought, and it certainly did nothing to help his case, but how could he control his temper when the murderer of his dear brother stood there, ready to take him down, too?

Vika was the source of the Cameron clan’s grief, like the waterfall that feeds a river. Donal could not rest until she was gone, and until she had paid for what she had done to his family.

Angus seemed to have other ideas, naturally.

“Ye thought ye could escape?” Angus yelled. Donal had never seen him like that before, his face beet-red with anger. His eyes narrowed into slits, reminding Donal of a snake. “After what ye did? Ye thought I widnae come after ye? There is no escape, Donal. Surrender while ye can.”

“Why?” Donal jumped off his horse, slowly pulling his own sword out of its sheath. He was not going down without a fight. “So ye and yer lass can kill me when nobody is looking? I dinnae think so, brother.”

Donal spat the word out like it was a curse, knowing well the effect that it would have on Angus, and he wasn’t disappointed. Angus all but snarled at him, ready to attack.

Before Donal could do anything, though, he heard another scream, one that he knew belonged to Vanora. He turned around and saw her thrashing against one of the men who had taken her off her horse and was trying to hold her still.

Donal forgot about Angus immediately. Nothing mattered to him, apart from Vanora’s safety, and he rushed towards her, only to have half a dozen swords stop him, all aiming at his neck.

“Ye’ve hurt Vanora enough.” Angus’ voice came from behind him, and Donal whipped his head around to glare at the man. “Yer safe now, Vanora. Donal canna hurt ye anymore, I promise.”

“I ne’er hurt her!” Donal protested, throwing his arms up in the air in frustration. “I never did anything tae Vanora or tae Vika! Ye must believe me, Angus, Vika has been lying about everything!”

“Silence!” Angus shouted, his heavy boots crunching the leaves that had fallen on the forest floor as he stomped towards Donal. “I willnae have ye speak of my future wife like so!”

Before Donal could say anything else, Angus swung his sword, forcing Donal to parry him. Donal didn’t want to fight, even though Angus was infuriating him to the point where he wanted to smack him over the head. That was as far as he was willing to go, though. Even in his rage, he wouldn’t hurt his friend.

“Angus, stop!” Donal pleaded, even as he met each and every one of Angus’ furious strikes. While Donal didn’t want to hurt him, he didn’t know if he even had a choice if Angus kept acting like a fool.

Donal had already gone to great lengths to keep himself alive, after all. He wasn’t going to die just because Angus had lost his mind, infatuated with a vile, dangerous woman.

“Never!” Angus hissed. “I shall die defending Vika’s honor if I must!”

Donal could hardly believe that Vika had such control over Angus. The man who was once his best friend had turned into someone unrecognizable, someone with whom Donal could not even reason. How was he supposed to talk any sense into the man if he refused to even listen to him?

Donal continued to dodge Angus’ sword, but every time he walked away from him, trying to put some distance between them, one of his men would push him back closer to Angus with the tip of his sword.

It was clear to him that Angus wanted to kill him himself. No one else was allowed to kill him, at least not unless they deemed that Angus was in serious peril, and so Donal knew he had an advantage, at least.

He was strong, and he could keep avoiding Angus until the man tired himself out. That much Donal had learned from every time that they had trained against each other. After all, Angus had never managed to beat him.

Their swords clanged, and the metal rang as the blades hit each other, Angus attacking and Donal defending. There was nothing else that Donal could hear in that little clearing in the woods apart from the sound of their swords, everything else having gone quiet.