Eilidh screamed again, clearly frightened out of her wits, but Seton aimed his other pistol at her and told her to shut up. ‘If you don’t, you’ll be next,’ he warned. Poor Eilidh blinked, but closed her mouth, only emitting a series of hiccoughing sobs. Marsaili rounded on Seton. ‘Have you lost your mind? Your only child? How could you?’ She’d admired Iain for standing up to his father, although she guessed he’d never imagined Seton would actually pull the trigger. But then, neither had she. ‘He’s no son of mine, I told you. He has no pride in his clan, no loyalty, no guts. I doubt there’s any Seton blood in him at all. My wife must’ve been unfaithful.’ A low growling noise came from Iain’s direction and Marsaili saw him stagger to his feet, his expression murderous. Seton waved the pistol in his direction. ‘Stay back,’ he warned. Iain hesitated, then sank back down onto a nearby rock. Marsaili shook her head at Seton. He was clearly mad, but also dangerous.
