Chapter 27 #2
As the man fell, Dominik tracked where Oskar pointed, following the gesture to a window at the side of the building.
Through the small slit, Dominik could see a smaller squadron of men rushing toward the rear of the castle.
They couldn’t be left there unchallenged.
They would set fire to the doors there, pressing inside the keep with little to stop them.
“Three to me!” Dominik commanded, and Oskar, as well as Angus and Malcom, hurried to his side. He led the men down the long corridor that would take them to the kitchens.
Something stood out in his mind’s eye as well, the particular look of a reedy blonde man heading to the rear of the keep. Lord Egerton was with these men, and he would face the weasel head-on—no more slinking about like a rat. The man would learn the feel of Dominik’s sword.
As they all arrived at the kitchen, Dominik could hear shouting outside the door. He rushed for it, his men following instinctively, and before the bastard could set flame to the wood, the Laird smashed into him bodily, knocking him to the earth.
“There ye are ye coward. If ye would seek to harm me, I’d have ye do it to me face. Nay slither about, spreading rumors.”
Lord Egerton looked up from the ground, his group of shoddily trained soldiers skirmishing with Dominik’s expert swordsmen.
“Foul Scottish savage!” the Viscount screamed, his expression mad and furious. “I will have what’s mine, what is due to me! You and your heathens will not keep me from the dowry I was promised!”
Dominik glared daggers, on guard as Egerton rose from the ground, his fine clothes smeared with dirt.
“Yer dowry, eh? I daenae believe that ye have any claim to one, I’m afraid. What ye stole from Rose cannae be reclaimed, and ye willnae have the land, however ye came to learn of it.”
“You think I will just stand by and let you ruin what I had sought to accomplish! Never!”
Lord Egerton leaped forward, slashing his sword with surprising precision. The men he brought with him might not have been expertly trained, but the same could not be said for the villain himself. Dominik lunged to the side, dodging the attack by the skin of his teeth.
“No! Leave him be!”
Fear shot through Dominik’s spine, and he frantically looked over his shoulder at the sound of the familiar voice. Rose ran from within the kitchen toward them, her eyes wide with terror and her clothes stained with blood.
“Oh, and there’s our little minx.” Lord Egerton sneered, pulling Dominik’s attention back to him just in time to sidestep another jab. “I will end your bloody Scottish oath right before your eyes!”
Steel clashed loudly as the two of them fought, rolling and tumbling about in the night air, wet seeping into Dominik’s clothes from the earth.
He needed to end this, but Lord Egerton had practiced with a blade, and for every lunge to stab the man Dominik made, he was blocked, forced to dodge slash after slash.
Exhaustion pulled at the edges of his consciousness; his breathing labored.
Thankfully, Egerton tired as well, and they had changed positions now enough to let Dominik see Rose out of the corner of his eye. She stood off to the side, watching the horror unfold, and even from his distance, Dominik could tell that she was fighting the urge to rush forward.
“Stay back, lass! I will deal with the Viscount.”
Glaring across at him, Lord Egerton narrowed his eyes, studying for a long moment. Dominik held a firm stance, awaiting the man’s grand attack in hopes of seizing the moment to strike back.
But at the last moment, the Viscount changed his focus, rushing toward the side where Rose stood.
No.
Dominik sprinted between them, a move that was apparently precisely what the horrid man was waiting for. He suddenly angled with a jerk, the point of his blade spearing into Dominik’s side. He hissed, collapsing to the ground on one knee.
“Dominik!” Rose’s terrified scream rang out into the chaotic battlefield, a sight that should have never been true on the ground of Clan MacKay, and Lord Egerton chuckled darkly all the while, circling him like a vulture.
Gritting his teeth, Dominik fought the desire to spring into action and tackle Egerton. He needed to bide his time, to wait for just the right moment to get the final blow on the crazed bastard.
“You think yourself some type of valiant warrior, don’t you? Bah! You are nothing but a wretched Scotsman with delusions of his importance. I will take what’s rightfully mine and secure the wealth and glory that I have been denied for years! No one will look down on Viscount Egerton ever again!”
Stopping at Dominik’s back, because Egerton lacked all sense of dignity and honor, the man raised his sword high over his head, the Laird just able to see him as he craned back to look. Dominik didn’t move; he leaned into his injured side, groaning low.
Then, just as his attack drove his blade downward, Dominik rolled to the side, kicking out Egerton’s arms as he crashed into the ground, the tip of his sword penetrating the earth.
The man fell into the mud face-first, and the moment he flipped over, still holding his blade, Dominik used his own to disarm him.
“Ye have one chance, Egerton. Call yer men off, be gone from this place, and I will let ye live.”
The Viscount spat at him, glaring. “I hope everything you love burns to the ground.”
A dagger appeared in the Viscount’s hand, pulled from the folds of his jacket, and he leveled it not at Dominik but Rose. Before the knife could leave Egerton’s grip, Dominik stabbed downward, a fatal blow right through the heart.
It was done.
“Yer leader is dead. Get the bloody hell off me land before ye all join him!”
Dominik surveyed the ragged band of men, and in moments they dispersed. Rose ran up to him then, catching him by the side just as Dominik began to sink to the ground. Warmth trickled down his side. The injury was clearly more than a passing blow.
“I believe ye should fetch the healer, lass.”
“Dominik! Oh God. Someone help him!”
He gazed into Rose’s eyes as the world went hazy around the edges. Then he was left in darkness, falling unconscious.