Unwilling (Highland Historical #2)

log.” 
    Angus’s head snapped up.  “Mouthy
bitch!”  He back-handed her with such force she lost her balance and fell to
the ground. 
    Connor’s ferocious roar caused his
own ears to ring. 
    Lindsay looked up at him, a
triumphant glimmer shining in her eyes.  Her lip had cracked beneath the blow.
    The tiny drop of blood was all
Connor would need.

Chapter
Sixteen
     
    The berserker emerged.  His
demon-black eyes swept the room as muscles rippled beneath muscles, pushing the
veins pulsing with blood and power to the surface of his skin. 
    Mouth open in a terrifying roar,
the sharpened teeth gleamed in the torchlight, causing some of the women to cry
out in horror.  His answering cry silenced them all as he stepped forward and
pulled on his bonds.  The woadish tattoos on his chest furrowed and the cords
of his shoulders and arms strained against the beams.  A reference to Sampson
came to mind as Lindsay watched the entire structure of the stable shift. 
    The wood gave a sharp crack as a
warning before the entire loft collapsed, burying at least three of Angus’s men
beneath the wood, heavy oak casks, and bales of straw that weighed as much as a
man. 
    Unleashed, Connor wasted no time
further terrorizing his prey.  He had blood yet to spill. Hurling the chain
that hung limply from his shackle at one soldier, it hit the man with the speed
of a whip and crushed his face.  He circled the warrior on the adjacent side in
a blur of movement and stilled just enough for them to see the heavy chain
wrapped about the man’s throat.  The berserker decapitated him with a mighty
tug.  
    His eyes fixed on the soldier who
held the little girl between him, Angus, and where she’d fallen.  Lindsay
realized she had to do something or the sweet child would die. 
    Leaping from her spot on the floor,
Lindsay snatched the little girl from the slack-limbed man the instant before
Connor ran his own knife through his voice box.  The girl wrapped her tiny,
trembling body around Lindsay’s and burrowed her face into her neck.  To spare
the child from having to witness any more of the absolute destruction, Lindsay
turned to face the carnage and walked backwards toward the large stable doors. 
The panicking MacKays pressed as close to the walls as possible, but Lindsay
knew that once Connor had finished his slaughter of the soldiers, he’d turn his
voracious blood lust on the women and children. 
    The door she’d entered was now
blocked by debris, leaving the wide livestock entrance the only means of
escape. 
    “Run,” she commanded over her
shoulder.  “Open those doors and flee.”
    “Aye, my lady!”  A chubby older
woman, and what appeared to be her stout daughter, ran to the crossbeam of the
stable door and struggled to lift it from the hitch.  It took several of them a
desperate try before they hefted it free.  The sound of their struggles were
drowned out by the death moans of massacred men. 
    Lindsay kept her eyes on what
Connor was doing, watching her tender lover of the previous night exact
punishments so violent she could barely reconcile it.
    It seemed as though he was saving
Angus for last.
    The door only opened a crack before
heaving a loud protest and catching on the stone.  The collapse of the loft had
compromised the entire structure, which had been of simple craftsmanship to
begin with.  The adults began to thrust the children through the man-sized
opening one at a time.  The older woman attempted to pull the child from
Lindsay’s grip, but the girl wouldn’t let go. 
    “I know her people, lady, I’ll see
her home.”  The apple-cheeked woman put a gentle hand on her arm, though her
eyes tracked the progress of the berserker, but her movements remained brusque
and efficient.  One didn’t get to be her age in the highlands without seeing a
life’s share of bloodshed.
    Unlatching the child’s arms from
her neck, Lindsay kissed her.  “Run, little one,” she urged, as the other woman
shoved her through the door into the waiting arms of her daughter. 
    The cacophony of bloodletting began
to wane until one terrified masculine plea remained.   Lindsay turned to see
Connor slowly advancing on a retreating Angus.  He’d picked up a heavy, broken
beam from the floor, implausibly holding it with one hand.  He crushed the
tyrant’s legs first with a one-handed blow, ripping a high-pitched scream from
the villain’s throat. 
    Lindsay had to admit that her own
heart