Free Dark Knight of the Skye by Robin Renee Ray Page B

her out of the dark, death-filled room. The next time she opened her eyes, she was looking up at the face of a man who was carrying her up a flight of stairs. The torches they passed showed him to have hair that lay in waves well past his shoulders, deep red in color, and only then did she realize it had not been a woman at the door the first time it opened, but rather this man who came to save her.
    He stopped at a landing, taking the door to the left as opposed to continuing up to the next level. It was a large room right out of the medieval times. The fireplace was big enough to walk in and the two high back chairs that sat in front of it looked like something one would see in an old King Arthur movie. On the far side of the room, opposite from the fireplace, was a fantastically elaborate bed made of dark oak wood, detailed with intricate hand carvings of cherub angels and winged dragons.
    “Think you’re up to sittin’ by the fire?” he asked looking down at her.
    She didn’t say anything, just nodded once and realized she wasn’t being saved the way she had hoped for, but was completely grateful to still have her head. He slowly lowered her into to one of the chairs and kneeled beside her. He took her hands into his, and turned her hands palm up.
    “Seem ma boys treated you wrong.”
    “Who are you?” she timidly asked.
    “Alasdair MacFarlane.”
    “You’re Scottish?” she asked, surprise evident in her voice. “What does all this have to do with me?”
    “I am, and you’ll find out soon enough.” He stood and walked over to the side of the fireplace and pulled down on a rope that was hanging from the ceiling. “I have children to scold.”
    He walked out of her line of sight, and she was glad. She brought her knees up to her chest and became as small as she possibly could. He came back over a few minutes later and sat down in the chair next to her, putting his elbow on the arm of the chair and his finger on his temple with his eyes closed. She glanced over, waiting for him to move or say something but he was a still as a marble statue, and very much resembled one. A small tap sounded at the door.
    “Enter,” Alasdair called out.
    The door opened and in walked the two that she saw come through the back door, only this time they had a slender woman with long stringy brown hair between them. She was dressed in old tattered bits of cloth, bare foot and dirty. They all walked in front of Alasdair but only the two males dropped to their knees and bowed their heads. “Where is Laurence?” Alasdair asked in a stern tone.
    “She took his life my Lord,” one of the men answered.
    Alasdair looked at D`nae.
    “That’s a damn lie. I have never killed anyone or anything in my life.”
    “She threw blessed water in his face, Master… he did not survive,” the same man said in anger.
    “Poetic justice, is it not, Ramous? Did he not first try to kill her that night many years ago, when you all failed me so miserably?” he proclaimed, standing and walking around the chair.
    “Yes, Master.”
    “I come in to find her badly injured and chained like you would have this dog at your back. I have not been gone for more than a year and you four have caused me nothing but grief. Tomas has paid for my rage this night with his life. Now tell me, why have you been making yourselves known while I have been away?”
    “I do not understand, Master,” the man replied. Alasdair became so enraged that he instantly appeared in front of the kneeling man, not even giving D`nae time to blink, yet there he stood as if by magic. Before D`nae could draw a breath at the shock of his speed, he had the man by the throat, dangling two feet off the ground.
    “Are you telling me that you have not gone with your brothers and made unnecessary kills that brought attention to our stay here?”
    The man tried to speak but couldn’t make any sound because of the pressure that Alasdair had on his throat, so he began blinking his eyes over