Page 105 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
But Ava didn’t care. Not anymore. “Ye set fire to me father’s home and sent a broken man to slaughter innocents at a wedding. Since that isnae enough for ye, ye have dragged me here because ye cannae bear that life kept moving after hers ended.”
His face darkened. “I willnae settle, nae until me daughter is avenged.”
Ava felt the full weight of the danger settle into her bones. He had not taken her only because she was Ciaran’s wife. He had taken her because she was what came next. A future. A womb. A continuation of the family he hated. He meant to wound Ciaran through her body, through the children she might bear, through the life she had barely begun building.
The thought turned her fear into full-blown panic.
“This willnae bring Isla back,” she tried. “Ye will only leave more bodies behind ye.”
His hand released her dress, before he gave a small signal.
The man behind her shoved her forward again.
Ava caught herself with a gasp, feeling the edge too near. The wind rushed up cold and hard from below, and her heart kicked so violently against her ribs she thought she might pass out. She forced herself to stay upright anyway. If she went down now, they would drag her the rest of the way like meat.
Nay.
She had already given up hope. She wasn’t escaping this. Not after what she’s said to him. However, a part of her couldn’t help but wonder if she could go back in time and have another conversation with Ciaran.
If only she could do it all over again.
“Wait.” Laird O’Malley’s voice sounded like thunder. “I would rather throw her myself. T’is the least ye deserve, lassie.”
Ava swallowed as the old man stepped closer and grabbed her dress.
However, at that moment, something else moved in the dark. It was so faint at first that she almost didn’t hear it.Then it grew clearer. A scrape of boots on stone, then another. Then a quiet hiss.
Laird O’Malley heard it too, and his head turned.
The men at her back tightened their hold.
Her breath caught in her throat as the dark above the path shifted and figures emerged from it. More than two.
More thanthree.
One of the men behind her swore under his breath. Another drew his blade with a hard scrape that seemed to crack the daybreak wide open.
Ava did not move. She could not. She listened with every part of her being as Laird O’Malley went very still and the men around him widened their stances.
Then she heardhisvoice.
It was low and cold. It was also close enough that it went through her like the first breath after drowning.
“Let her go,” Ciaran gritted out, “and I might just make yer death quick.”
CHAPTER 30
Ciaran sawthree things the instant he crested the rise: Ava, the cliff, and Laird O’Malley’s hand twisted in the front of her dress with enough force to keep her off balance and close to the edge.
He stopped at once.
The ground between them was open and narrow, and loose stone lay everywhere. One wrong move would send the old bastard into motion before any man could reach him.
Ava’s wrists were bound, and her hair was loose and blown hard across her face. Ciaran saw her trying to keep her footing on the uneven ground and knew with one cold sweep of certainty that there would be no clean strike here. There was no opportunity for a heroic lunge or fast rescue. Only seconds to speak and one chance to choose the right words.
Men spread behind him in a rough line, their blades ready, their feet planted. Hector stood to his left. No one moved farther.
Ciaran kept his voice low. “Hold.”
