Chapter 20
If I swallow too hard, I’ll cut me own throat.
The flat of the blade pressed coldly against her skin.
She could feel the edge, razor sharp. Only the smallest of pressures had caused it to dig into her skin, sending a quick, sharp pain through her neck.
Theodore had cut her skin, she knew that much.
A hot wetness ran down her throat, getting lost somewhere beneath the crumpled linen of her collar.
That must be blood. So daenae swallow. Daenae move. Daenae… Daenae…
Her mind went blank. It was her own fault that she was in this situation. If she’d been more alert, if she’d backed away from Theodore…
Too late for that now. Focus on the present, nae the past. The past is what got ye into this situation, but the present is what will get ye a future. Play yer cards right, now, lass. Ye have a great deal at stake in this game.
For some reason, that last thought sounded unmistakably like Aiden’s voice, echoing in her head with that endless amusement.
Almost without having to think twice about it, her eyes opened of their own accord—when had she shut them?—and found his gaze.
Oh, he looked ready to combust. He stood about six feet away, eyes burning a hole in Theodore’s head. His sword lay a few paces away. He could grab it if he tried, but not quickly enough. His hands hung loosely by his sides, as if he’d made an effort not to curl them into fists.
For a split second, his gaze flitted to her face. Their eyes met. Heat surged through her chest, sudden and painfully intense despite the situation.
“Stay calm, lass,” he said, almost in a drawl. Almost casually.
Despite the lightness of his voice, there was nothing but tension in his stance. Every muscle looked strained to breaking point, shoulders squared, arms and chest taut, jaw locked.
“Daenae speak to her,” Theodore snapped. “Ye speak to me.”
Aiden lifted his chin. “All right, then. I’ll speak to ye.
What’s yer plan, then? Because right now, ye are in the middle of MacBain Castle, surrounded by guards, with yer sword held to a lassie’s throat.
And man, if ye kill her…” he trailed off, shaking his head, and took one deliberate step forward.
“If ye kill her, Theodore, ye will beg for death before the end. That I can promise ye. If I see one drop more of her blood, I will shed all of yers.”
Silence fell over the courtyard.
Behind her, Hannah felt Theodore tense.
“I am nae afraid of ye, Laird MacBain,” he responded lightly.
Liar.
She bit her lip to keep from smiling.
Aiden took another step forward, and Theodore tensed again.
“Daenae,” he warned. “Ye might kill me in all the inventive ways ye can think of, but she’ll still be dead.”
Aiden’s face tightened, just for an instant.
Hannah held her breath. She wanted to speak, to tell him that the safety of the clan and safety from a man like Theodore were so much more important than her life. Violet’s face flashed before her, reproaching her. The memory of Aiden’s touch on her skin made her shiver.
It didn’t matter, because she couldn’t speak in any case. The words wouldn’t come out. Her throat refused to move, and her tongue rested heavy in her mouth.
“I tell ye what,” Aiden murmured, after a moment. “I’ll make ye a deal. Ye and I fight now, as we are, to the death. The winner keeps the lairdship. But ye had better release her this moment.”
Theodore shifted, narrowing his eyes. “I cannae beat ye in a swordfight.”
Aiden spread out his arms. “Do ye see a blade on me?”
Hannah couldn’t get a good look at Theodore’s face, only what she could glimpse from her peripheral vision, but it was a fairly good guess that his eyes brightened.
“Deal,” he snarled.
The next thing she knew, she was seized by the shoulder and shoved sideways. She tottered forward, unbalanced, and slammed painfully hard into the wall, grazing her forehead off the stone. The blow made her vision swim temporarily, and she slumped to the ground, dizzy.
Through blurry vision, she saw Theodore leap forward, his sword swinging through the air like a vicious silver fish. A scream clawed its way up her throat but did not quite make it out of her mouth.
Aiden dodged. The blade shot through the air and crashed onto the cobbles, the point raising a flurry of sparks as it wedged itself between two stones.
A tinge of panic crossed Theodore’s face when he realized that his sword was stuck.
Aiden kept moving. He spun, one booted foot crashing down onto the blade.
Crack.
The glossy blade shattered, the tension between Theodore’s straining hands on the hilt and the wedged point proving too much to bear.
Theodore staggered backward, clutching the hilt and a jagged shard of the blade still attached, barely longer than his hand. Aiden seized his wrist and twisted it until Hannah heard a sickening crunch.
With a strangled scream, Theodore dropped the hilt.
It never hit the ground. Aiden snatched it up, and in one smooth, merciless motion, he rammed the blade-shard straight through Theodore’s throat.
Silence.
Theodore stood still for a moment, eyes wide, hands twitching as if he wanted to lift them to the broken sword embedded in his neck. Blood gushed down his chest. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he dropped limply to the ground, his legs simply giving out.
More silence stretched out across the courtyard, only to be broken by Aiden’s ragged breathing.
He stared down at Theodore’s body for a long moment, then dragged the back of his hand over his perspiring forehead.
The movement left a streak of blood there.
Slowly, he lifted his eyes to where Theodore’s cousin stood, white-faced amongst the other councilmen.
“Yer cousin was guilty of treason,” he stated thinly.
The man nodded frantically. “I kent nothing of this, me Laird. I… I…”
“Enough.” Aiden waved a tired hand and turned away. “The duel has been fought and won. I am Laird MacBain, and in me lifetime, there’ll be nay other.”
That was met with applause, some men inching forward with their hands outstretched as if to clap him on the back or shake his hand. Aiden turned back from them all and moved over to where Hannah still sat crumpled on the ground.
“Lass?” he murmured, leaning down to look into her face. “Are ye hurt?”
“Me head aches,” she mumbled. Tugging her sleeve over her hand, she reached up to wipe away the blood smear on his forehead.
His eyebrows twitched. “I could have rinsed me face. Now ye will have a bloodstain on yer gown.”
She rolled her eyes. “This dress is already past its best. Besides, I’m a woman. I ken how to get bloodstains out of clothes.”
He chuckled. “Come here. I’ll take ye inside.”
“Me Laird,” one of the councilmen bleated, hurrying forward. “We must discuss—”
“Nay,” Aiden interrupted smoothly. “We mustnae discuss anything. Nae now, at least.”
Reaching down, he gathered Hannah into his arms, rolling her easily against his chest. She clutched his shoulders out of instinct rather than anything else.
Then, as easily as if he hadn’t just fought a battle and a duel in short order, he rose to his feet with her in his arms. Like a man carrying his bride over the threshold, he strode across the courtyard, climbing the stone steps with ease.
Over his shoulder, Hannah could see the assembled servants, guards, and councilmen staring after them, jaws hanging slack.
She pressed her mouth against his shoulder and hid a smile.
The shadows of the keep passed over them. It was cooler inside. Curled up in his arms, Hannah finally allowed herself to close her eyes and relax, her limbs growing heavy.
“They willnae be happy that ye walked away from them like that,” she remarked.
He gave a low growl, a noise that resonated deeply in his chest. “They’d better keep it to themselves. I’m nae in the mood for complaints, I can tell ye that.”
Hannah bit back a smile. “When are ye ever in the mood for complaints?”
He chuckled faintly—at least, she thought it was a chuckle—and continued walking.
A few servants stepped out into the hallway, staring at them with wide eyes, but none were foolish enough to ask questions or get in their way.
At last, Aiden reached the door to his bedroom. Shifting her weight onto just one arm, he unlocked the door smoothly and pushed it open. Stepping inside, he just as easily kicked the door shut behind him with his heel.
For a moment, they stood together, tangled up. The room smelled of woodsmoke and lavender, probably from sprigs of dried herbs that had been left hanging here and there, emanating a rich, savory-sweet scent. A fire had been lit at some point, the air deliciously warm.
Aiden’s arms tightened around her as if he did not wish to let her go.
I daenae want to let him go either, she thought with a slow shiver.
Then, with a ragged sigh as if he were waking from a long reverie, Aiden crossed the room to where the bed waited, piled high with blankets and furs. He gently lowered her onto it and took a step back.
For a moment, they eyed each other.
Is he as breathless as I am? Is his heart hammering in his chest in the same way mine is?
Abruptly, he turned away, his face giving away nothing.
“I’ll get ye some wine,” he said gruffly.
She cleared her throat. “I’d rather have whiskey.”
He gave a short chuckle, shaking his head. “Of course ye would. And we must stop doing this, by the way.”
“Stop doing what? It isnae deliberate, ye ken,” she countered. “I am nae trying to get killed.”
“Are ye sure? One might think ye did, the way ye showed up at me castle when ye kent there would be trouble. Because that’s why ye are here, isnae it? Ye kent they were coming.”
She reddened, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. “Well, aye, but—”
“But nothing,” he cut her off.
Back turned, he poured two large glasses of whiskey. Taking a long sip of one, he handed her the other. She took a sip herself, rolling the liquid over her tongue thoughtfully.