MacCallister: The Eagles Legacy Read Online Free PDF Page B

down. “I tell you what—I will walk the path from here to your house. If she is home, I will tell her to stay there. If I see her, I will walk with her back to the pub.”
    “Thank you, lad. ’Tis a good son-in-law you’ll be makin’ for thinkin’ of my worry like that. I must confess it would be a comfort to me to see her come through that door now.”
    “I’ll find her,” Duff promised, and he acknowledged the good-byes of the others as he left the pub.

    It was quite pleasant outside. The night air was soft and warm, but not overly so, and redolent with a faint smell of the sea, as well as the perfume of aromatic flora. From somewhere close Duff could hear an owl, and in the woods, the song of crickets.
    A loud burst of laughter rolled out from the pub he had just left.
    Down the street a baby began to cry.
    A two-wheeled cart, pulled by a single horse, passed by. The horse’s hooves echoed loudly, the wheels whispering softly on the dirt road.
    “No, please, leave me be!”
    It was Skye’s voice, and it came from across the road from beyond the shrubbery.
    “Hold your hand over her mouth,” a man’s voice said. It was low and gruff.
    Duff thought he could hear Skye’s voice again, but this time all she could do was squeak.
    Duff dashed across the road, then through the line of shrubbery. Though it was dark, in the light of the full moon he could see Skye struggling with Donald and Roderick Somerled. The top of Skye’s dress had been pulled down and both her breasts were exposed, the creamy white flesh gleaming in the moonlight. Donald was holding her and Roderick, with a leering grin on his face, was unbuttoning his pants.
    “Let her go!” Duff shouted angrily.
    Startled by Duff’s shout, Donald let Skye go. Then the two men turned toward him. Recognizing him, both smiled, and both pulled daggers from their belts.
    “Well now, if it isn’t Duff MacCallister come like an avenging angel to rescue his woman,” Roderick said.
    “Aye, and himself without a barstool,” Donald added.
    “Or a knife,” Roderick added. “We’ll be settlin’ our scores permanent.”
    “Run to your father, Skye,” Duff said.
    “Duff, they both have knives,” Skye said. She was busy pulling her dress back up to cover her partial nakedness.
    “I’ll deal with them,” Duff said easily. “You get yourself somewhere safe now.”
    “Aye,” Skye said, running quickly through the dark toward the pub.
    Roderick made the first move, coming toward Duff with his hand extended, the knife held low. Duff leaped adroitly to one side. Then, with the side of his fist, he clubbed Roderick on the back of his head as he slipped by him. Roderick went down and Duff reached down to pick up his knife. Now, armed, he turned to face Donald.
    Donald made a swipe at him, jumped back, then made a second swipe. On his second attempt, Duff countered, driving the blade of Roderick’s knife in between Donald’s ribs. Donald let out a whoosh as if he had been hit in the solar plexus, then backed up with the knife still in his side. He reached down and pulled the knife out, then covered the wound with his hand as the blood spilled out between his fingers.
    “You . . . you have killed me,” he said, his words strained.
    “You left me no choice, Donald Somerled.”
    Donald took a few steps toward Duff, then he fell to his knees, where he remained but a moment before falling across the prostate form of his brother.
    Roderick, who was just regaining consciousness, groaned in protest.
    When Duff returned to the White Horse Pub to check on Skye, he met Ian just coming out of the bar, holding a club, his face twisted in anger.
    “Duff, Skye said you were in trouble,” Ian said. “I was coming to lend a hand.”
    “Thank you. How is Skye?”
    “She is inside,” Ian said. “The lass is terrified. She said two of the Somerled brothers attacked you with knives. She’ll be glad to see you are well.” Turning, he went back inside with