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‘For God’s sake, speak to me, woman. I swear you are as cold as this weather.’

‘I hope you take a chill from it and drop dead,’ she snapped.

‘But then you would mourn me.’

‘Not for long.’

Will’s mouth turned down at the corners, and his eyes feigned sadness and, despite herself, Morna almost smiled at his teasing. Instead, she turned back to the horse, face on fire, taken by the urge to slap the smirk off his face.

‘Do not sulk, Morna, it does not become you and…’

‘Laird,’ came a shout from across the yard. ‘Riders, many of them, heavily armed.’

Will turned from her and raced up the stairway to the top of the gatehouse. He looked out and cursed. ‘Bar the gates and man the walls, and find Waldrick, now,’ he shouted.

He glanced down at Morna with a stormy look on his face and pointed to her. ‘Get that woman inside, now!’

A burly man rushed over and took her by the arm and pulled her inside the keep. The shouting in the yard intensified, with some panic in the voices shouting to gather arms and make haste. Was it the Cranstouns, or some other foe?

‘Come with me,’ growled the man. As if she would. Morna twisted free and fled to the back stairway and upwards, to emerge onto a far part of the battlements. Men pushed past her as they rushed to their posts, the burly man in hot pursuit.

She peered through the driving rain at the high ground. Beyond the narrow strip of land leading to Fitheach, where the ground spread out to a grassy plain, well over two hundred men marched forward and, at their head, on a huge steed, sporting mail and with sword drawn, rode her brother Cormac and beside him, Owen Sutherland.

***

Will pounded through the gates with Waldrick beside him along with a group of his most fierce-looking warriors at his back, as a gusty rain blew in sideways across the hillside. As they drew closer, Cormac Buchanan rode forward. By Christ, the bastard was bigger than Will remembered from four years ago, and the look on his dark face, impassive, unrelenting, made it clear this man was not to be trifled with.

‘He looks to have a fearsome anger on him, Will. Watch yourself,’ said Waldrick.

‘Aye, he does, but Cormac and I have met before, so let me do the talking.’

Wrenching his horse to a standstill opposite Cormac, Will noticed another big man come alongside him, in full battle dress, the kind only afforded by the very rich. This one was not the other brother, Lyall, though he was handsome and had the same air of entitled wealth and privilege, the same arrogance in the way he held himself. The stranger was trying to out-stare him, but Will paid him no heed. There was but one man in charge here, and that was Cormac Buchanan, who was wasting no time in getting to the point.

‘I hear you have my sister. I want her back.’ A growl of a voice, capable of intimidating lesser men.

‘Did you lose her? How careless of you,’ said Will.

‘Don’t bother pretending she isn’t here O’Neill, for I have it on good authority that she is.’

‘How did you come by that information?’

‘Your cousin Drostan paid me a visit at Beharra.’

Will tried to hide his surprise that his sickly cousin could have managed to crawl his way to Beharra unmolested. ‘Does the rat still live?’ he replied.

‘Aye, he bides at my home where he will stay until I return with Morna. The way he tells it, you are holding Morna prisoner, keeping her here against her wishes.’

‘My cousin is prone to exaggeration.’

Cormac Buchanan took a deep breath and leant forward in his saddle, his black, devil eyes narrowing. ‘Well, I am not and, if you don’t bring Morna to me now, I will take this castle apart stone by stone, and after that, I will take you apart, one limb at a time.’

‘Morna is no prisoner. She is under my protection and will remain here, in safety.’

‘You will bring her out here now, you whoreson,’ shouted the blonde man, rising in his saddle.’

‘Who the hell are you?’ said Will, spitting on the ground.

‘My name is Owen Sutherland, and Morna is my …

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