Down from the door came the Countess Peggy into the midst of the men; the brown fur on her bosom was unclasped and showed the tumbled lace of her tie; her red hair had fallen into twists of fine curls onto her shoulders; she was flushed and most beautiful.
“Kill them, Jock,” she said.
She held out her hands, red-marked, round the wrist from Ronald’s grip. “Kill them, Jock,” she said again, and her gaze went straight and defiant to Ronald Macdonald.
Breadalbane did not answer her; he spoke to Makian.
“Your son gave me my life, Macdonald, and you’re three against a hundred. I hav’na’ need to crush ye by these means and I’ll no’ be under a debt to a Macdonald. Take your lives and gang.”
The Countess made a fierce little sound under her breath: “Ah, no, Jock—kill them—while ye have the chance!”
“He saved my life,” the Earl answered briefly, then to the Macdonalds, “leave Kilchurn, and remember I’m no’ under a debt to ye.”
They came slowly forward, showing little of their surprise in their faces; Ronald’s blue eyes were devouringly on the Countess; she drew herself up as he passed and her hand clutched into her furs.
“I wouldna’ have let ye go,” she cried bitterly, but Breadalbane turned on her:
“Woman, will ye no’ remember, I’m master in my ain castle?”