Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

Grateful to hear Brianna’s footsteps retreat, Aidan shifted his focus to the man in front of him, Gil Fitzgerald, grunting as his sword met metal on its downward strike. Each moment they kept these men engaged was another for Brianna to reach safety. By now, Aidan believed he had accounted for all of their assailants, each one familiar to him—both Fitzgerald brothers and their attending men, who were always looming with covetous eyes during his visits with the Fitzgeralds. It was a pattern that had worn his patience, managing the brothers and their ill-timed summons after Robert’s death.

Grunting as he staved off an impressive blow from Gil, Aidan pushed him back with a swift kick, noting with surprise that he’d underestimated Gil’s proficiency. His foe was surprisingly agile and quick on his feet. Pivoting quickly, Aidan spotted Alan, Richard, and Henry thick in the fray, all handling themselves extremely well. He noted that at least one of the Fitzgeralds’ men seemed to have been felled.

“Took you long enough,” Gil sneered, pulling Aidan’s attention back to him. “We’d thought that after you survived the fire, you’d have made your way with more haste.”

Aidan bristled at Gil’s tone but kept his composure. It seemed the Fitzgeralds were more than just a pair of irritating bullies, but men who were capable of much more brutal acts. So, not only had the brothers been responsible for the fire, but they’d presumed, correctly, that he’d travel straight to Seagrave. Aidan was surprised they’d had the patience to wait and wondered just how long they’d been following him and his company. Mayhap he’d underestimated them in this too. He allowed himself a moment’s self-doubt. Had he taken no measures? Been oblivious? He knew this was untrue, that he and his men had been as careful as they could have been, and the degree of danger they now found themselves in was grave only for Brianna being left on her own. He could handle the Fitzgeralds, this he knew. He would, in truth, relish the opportunity.

“Imagine our surprise to see you in Ayr— and to see what’s kept you lingering so long. A woman like that… ’tis understandable,” Gil added, leering perversely at Brianna’s retreating back. It was all Aidan could do to hold his ground and not foolishly attack him right then and there. “Fear not, Sinclair, we’ll find another for our sister, and as for your woman ,” he said, obviously unable to see what Brianna was to him. “We’ll see to her too.”

If Aidan could kill him twice for the suggestion, he would, but his fate was already sealed. Terminally so. The brief rise of the brothers Fitzgerald would end today, at the hand of the House of Pembrooke, beginning with Gil.

Gil smirked then, and Aidan found his timeliness almost amusing, until he spoke.

“Nigel should have her by now,” Gil said, eyes glinting. “The girl, that is. I can only imagine his delight at being alone with her.”

Aidan didn’t waste time turning to confirm Nigel’s absence, he just held Gil’s stare, and ground out, “Right.” Then, he tossed his sword in the air, and as Gil’s eyes followed the sword’s arcing path, Aidan reached for his dagger. When Gil looked back at him, Aidan sneered and lunged forward. “The hell he is," he said, sticking the blade right into Gil’s throat.

As Gil sank to the earth, Aidan wrenched his blade free, feeling no remorse. Turning, he looked quickly for Nigel among the felled bodies and those still fighting but didn’t see him. Heart pounding, he grabbed the collar of one of the two men who’d surrendered and demanded to know Nigel’s whereabouts, trying not to picture his hands on Brianna. He learned that Nigel had never been there at all, but had been lying in wait with at least one other of the Fitzgeralds’ party back at their camp. Aidan’s pulse quickened even further. Nay. He’d sent Brianna, straight into the hands of the enemy. He stumbled as he reached for his sword, which was still lying on the ground beside Gil, then ran. He didn’t have to imagine the fires of hell at his back, for they were there, spurring him along.

He followed the path she’d taken through the brush, spotting the places she’d stumbled and fallen. He noted blood marring the edge of a jagged rock and knew that it was hers. When he stood next to the site of their bed, he saw her shallow boot prints in the soft earth. By the looks of it, she’d spun around, then set herself straight and in the direction he’d bade her go. But…Aidan followed the tracks and saw that she’d backtracked a pace after turning, her direction now due south. In this direction, her prints were deeply set—in a shooting stance. Turning to follow her sights, he ran to inspect the area and came upon a man, struck dead in a small clearing. She’d taken him down, and with a single shot, from the looks of it. Well done, lass. But this meant that Nigel was still out there—and so was Breea.

Aidan quickly picked up her trail as she left their camp, heading due north just as he’d told her, thinking only of getting to her in time.

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