Her father dragged John away from her, and Gillian’s clansmen immediately surrounded her, their swords drawn and pointed at John. It was a mistake, a terrible mistake. Gillian tried to shove them aside, but they stood firm, wouldn’t listen. She saw the rage in her father’s eyes, heard the terrible accusation as he looked around the clearing, saw the injured men. She saw her father’s fist fly, and watched John fall next to Davy and lay still.

“No!” she screamed, shoving at her immovable kinsmen. “No, Papa, please—he didn’t do this!”

But Donal glared at her. “He’s the only one standing. He’s covered with blood, and he’s holding your dirk in one hand and you in the other. I warned ye Sassenachs couldn’t be trusted, that they’re treacherous and vicious. They have no honor, not a shred of kindness or decency.”

“It’s not true! Papa, it isn’t true!”

But he wasn’t listening. “The maid told me ye weren’t in your room when she took your breakfast up. I feared ye’d run off with him. I never imagined—” She saw the anger in his eyes, the fear of what might have happened.

“He didn’t do this—” But her father turned away, his expression hard, the Fearsome Laird of Glen Iolair now, not her papa.

“Take her home to Ada at once,” he ordered two of the clansmen. “Tell Ada we’re bringing back three injured men that need tending.”

But there were four. “Papa,” she whispered. “John didn’t—”

He silenced her with a terrifying glare. “You’ve tried my patience long enough, Gillian. Go home and make yourself ready—ye’ll wed Davy MacKenzie this evening.”

The flat pronouncement stunned her, and Gillian stared at her father. “Oh, Papa, no,” she whispered, but he ignored her.

“Tie the Sassenach dog and take him back. Tell the steward to prepare for a hanging.”

Gillian screamed, fought the unyielding yet careful grip of her clansmen as they lifted her up onto a garron, held her there. “Papa, please! Ask Davy, ask Callum—it wasn’t John!” She pointed desperately at Rabbie’s still form, but her guards rode out, oblivious to all but their laird’s commands, and all her struggles were for nothing.

* * *

Donal stared at the fallen Englishman. He was covered with blood, his clothes and his hair soaked in it. Callum’s no doubt, and Davy’s—and Gillian’s—though he could hardly bear to think of that now. Davy MacKenzie was thrashing on the ground, making a terrible grating noise, and Donal knelt beside him.

Davy gazed up at him, his eyes bloodshot, his breathing labored. Raw, red rope marks circled his throat.

“We got him, lad. You’re safe now, and so’s Gillian,” Donal MacLeod said. Davy tried to speak, but only an ugly hiss came from his injured throat. He gripped Donal’s plaid in his shaking fist and pointed at the man sprawled next to him. Donal turned the man over. He’d not seen him before, but perhaps he was one of Davy’s ghillies, here to help the laird carry the game today in the contest.

The contest.

Donal looked around, but there was no evidence of even so much as a snared coney. He frowned. Davy MacKenzie hadn’t had a chance to hunt before the Sassenach caught him. He never should have let the bastard out of the dungeon. Davy shook him again, and Donal unwound himself from the MacKenzie’s grip as gently as he could.

“Aye, Davy, I can see—the English bastard killed your ghillie, did he? Don’t worry, I’ll make him pay—I’m going to hang him.” Davy hissed again, and across the clearing, Callum groaned, tried to rise, and fell back. “See to Callum,” Donal ordered his men.

He tried not to grimace as he looked at the young man’s battered face. It had been a hard beating, brutal. The lad’s jaw was likely broken, and though he was conscious, his agony was evident. His left arm hung at an awkward angle, and he groaned in pain as his fellow clansmen lifted him, carried him as gently as they could. He gripped Donal’s hand as they led him past, leaving gore and mud on his skin. He likely wanted to thank his laird for saving them all from the Sassenach, Donal thought as he clasped Callum’s hand. “I ken what you’re trying to say, lad. We’ll see ye right. Ye did your best to protect Gillian, and I’m proud of ye. Can ye ride?”

Callum pointed to John.

Donal nodded. “Aye, lad. I ken. He’ll pay with his life.” He looked at Callum’s bearers. “Handle him gently.”

Callum tried to shake his head, but the pain was too much, and he passed out. Donal sighed. “Probably best if he’s not awake for the ride back.”

His men helped Davy onto a horse, ignoring his grunting and gurgling and frantic points at the unconscious Sassenach and the sprawled ghillie as they led the Mackenzie’s horse out of the clearing.

Donal glared down at the Englishman that Gillian loved. She’d seen for herself the kind of man he truly was now. Donal added breaking Gillian’s heart to the Sassenach’s tally of crimes. He looked at the rope dangling from the tree. It would be very easy to simply hang him now.

“Throw him over a horse and take him back,” he said.

* * *

Gillian fought the clansman who held her in the saddle before him. “Please—John Erly saved us! My father’s wrong!”

Cam MacLeod looked pained, his face red with the effort of keeping his laird’s daughter under control without hurting her any worse than she already was.

“Sorry, Gillian. We have our orders. Ye saw your da—I’m not going to disobey him when he’s already angry.” He looked at Hew, the man who rode beside him, his sword in his hand, ready for trouble.

“The Fearsome MacLeod is never wrong,” Hew said.

She blinked back tears. “Will you let him kill an innocent man?”

“He must have done something worth hanging for—he’s a Sassenach,” Cam said.

Hew grunted agreement. “We’ll be lucky if the MacKenzies don’t kill him first. They won’t take kindly to him hanging their laird.”

“They’ll be pleased when Gillian marries their laird,” Cam said.

“I won’t—” Gillian began, but the two warriors stiffened at the sound of hoofbeats on the track ahead. Cam tightened one arm around Gillian’s waist and drew his sword. “Don’t worry, you’re safe with us,” he murmured.

“I was safe with John,” she snapped.

Her sisters rode through the trees, Meggie and Aileen first, and Isobel and Aoife following. Cam and Hew lowered their swords.

“There you are,” Meggie said to Gillian. “We thought you’d eloped. Och, you look terrible, Gilly!”

“Does your da know you’re here?” Cam asked, striving for a stern tone.

Meggie batted her eyelashes at him, and Cam blushed. “Of course not. We found a garron on the track. There’s a dead boar on his back. We tied him up.”

Isobel looked at Gillian. “Gilly—you’re all bloody. Did you kill that huge boar? I wouldn’t have believed it a month ago, but—”

Cam and Hew gaped at her.

Gillian ignored them and gave her sisters a radiant smile. “John must have killed it. He killed it for me. For me—oh, Papa—” She twisted in Cam’s grip. “Take me back, I have to tell my father.”

“The Sassenach killed a boar? When did he time for that—before or after he hanged the MacKenzie?” Hew asked.

“Hanged the MacKenzie!” Aileen exclaimed.

Gillian rolled her eyes. “John didn’t hurt anyone—”

“Except the boar,” Aoife said.

“Anyone could have caught it. It was probably a MacLeod,” Cam said.

“Callum told John where to look for it,” Gillian said, glaring at her clansmen. “And while he was killing the boar, Rabbie Bain was trying to hang Davy MacKenzie, and murder Callum and me. John arrived just in time. If it hadn’t been for that Sassenach, we’d all be dead. D’you still think he should hang?”

Hew looked sheepish.

“Aye, you should look ashamed, Hew MacLeod! John Erly has saved me twice!” Gillian yelled. “I’ll not let anyone hang the man I love, not even my father.” She wriggled out of Cam’s grip and slid off the garron. “Help me, or get out of my way.”

“She’s as fierce as her da,” Hew said. “I’ve never heard her yell before, or even speak above a whisper.”

“English John is Alasdair Og Sinclair’s captain,” Meggie said, climbing off her own garron and going to Gillian’s side. “He bested Padraig Grant and Davy MacKenzie with his sword, and it appears he hunted down a boar that probably outweighs the two of you together.”

“And he did it alone,” Aoife said, joining her sisters.

Isobel held up her hands two feet apart. “That boar has tusks this long.”

Cam frowned.

“Hew, take the garron with the boar home. Cam, you’ll escort us back to where you left Papa. We need to speak with him before it’s too late,” Aileen commanded, since she was the eldest.

Hew shook his head. “I’d rather hang than disobey my laird.”

Meggie tilted her head. “Papa might hang you. But I can do worse than that, Hew MacLeod. One word to Katie, and—”

He blanched. “Ye wouldn’t, Meggie.”

“I would. Or I can tell her how brave you are, how you helped save an innocent man.”

“But if what ye say about the Sassenach is true, why didn’t Callum tell the laird?” Hew tried.

“Or Davy MacKenzie might have spoken up,” Cam added.

Everyone looked at Gillian. “Callum is in no condition to talk, and the rope damaged Davy’s voice.” She looked at her sisters. “Papa is insisting I wed Davy tonight.”

Her sisters frowned and glared at their clansmen. “Aoife and Isobel will show you where the boar is, Hew,” Aileen said. “Go. Cam, you’ll come with Gillian, Meggie and me to find Papa and save John.”

The clansmen realized they were outnumbered and out of arguments.

There was nothing left but to do exactly as the fearsome lasses wished.