Chapter 15
Killian cursed himself for leaving the castle armed with nothing but his dagger. He could picture the exact spot where he had left his broadsword leaning against his desk in the study, too far away to be of any use to him.
Still, he could do more with a dagger than many could do with two broadswords in hand.
“I’m goin’ to assume ye didnae realize ye were on the wrong side of the river,” he said, pulling Ailis behind him.
She had turned ghost pale, the violent tremors returning to rack her divine body, that spooked look coming back into her pretty, autumnal eyes. After what she had just told him, he wasn’t at all convinced that Murdock Lyall wasn’t the source of her nightmare in the first place.
Ye just ‘found’ her? Aye, I bet ye did. Tried to drown her and were caught, nay doubt.
Murdock dismounted, sauntering toward Killian as if he were on the Ainsley side of the river. “It was nay mistake,” he said. “I’m here as me faither’s messenger, and for me own purpose.”
“We kill messengers here,” Killian warned, drawing his dagger from his belt.
“And we kill MacNairn lairds, nay matter which side of the river they’re on,” Murdock said, a cutting reminder of Killian’s loss. “But there doesnae need to be bloodshed right this minute. I’ve come to tell ye that we received yer invitation… and we reject it.”
Killian laughed darkly. “It wasnae a request for yer opinions, Murdock. It’s nae somethin’ ye can reject.
” He adjusted his grip on the bone handle of his dagger and took a breath, letting a familiar calm wash over him.
“I’ll send ye news of the happy day afterward, if ye willnae attend. A pity, but I cannae force ye.”
He counted five riders, though his eyes discreetly searched the woodland for more, his ears listening for the slightest sound that shouldn’t be there.
At Murdock’s gesture, the other four riders dismounted and rested their hands on the pommels of their swords.
Killian had faced worse odds, for certain, but he had never had anything so precious to defend before. He didn’t know if trying to keep Ailis safe would hamper his own attack, should it come to it.
“There will be nay weddin’,” Murdock snarled, as if it would make a difference. “I’m here to take me sister back.”
Killian raised an amused eyebrow. “Did ye bring me braither back?”
“Nay,” Murdock replied, his lip curling. “But we might release him if ye hand me sister back right this moment and vow to give us half yer lands.”
Killian burst out laughing, a mirthless, bitter sound that disturbed a flock of rooks from their oak-tree homes. “Then I’m afraid ye’ve wasted a journey.” He paused, realizing that only half of what Murdock had said was up to him. “Ailis?”
He turned to her, his heart sore to see her cowering and pale after the progress and courage she had shown not so long ago. Indeed, he despised Murdock all the more for frightening her. If it were one-on-one, her brother would be on the ground already, with his head caved in.
“Do ye want to return with him, lass?” Killian asked.
He was aware of Murdock’s men creeping closer; their attempt at stealth was almost laughable.
Their boots crunched the fallen autumn leaves, their breathing too loud.
But Killian wouldn’t execute an evasive maneuver while Ailis was still standing there, vulnerable despite the inadequacy of the Ainsley men.
One man lunged too soon, his arm shooting out to try and grab her hand. Instead, his arm stopped a few inches away, Killian’s fingers clamping around his wrist.
Applying enough pressure to let the man know that he was going to break his bones if he moved a muscle, Killian looked intently at Ailis. “Do ye want to go with them?” he repeated.
Conflict contorted her beautiful face. Her brow creased in consternation, her teeth gnawing at her lip, her jaw clenched in fear, her entire body rigid with the strain of answering such a question.
It was obvious enough to Killian that returning to Castle Ainsley was the very last thing she wanted to do, but there was one sticking point: Skye.
She’d sacrifice herself a thousand times for that lass, I ken it.
“Me promise stands,” he said. “Everythin’ I said to ye.”
Two more guards rushed forward, and Killian couldn’t wait any longer. With one firm yank, he snapped the first guard’s wrist like a twig and whirled around to face the other two with nothing but a warrior’s intuition and a dagger.
First, I have to get a sword.
He snatched one from the sheath of the man whose wrist he had broken, while the guard wailed and hissed over his floppy hand. The moment Killian gripped the handle, confidence soared through him, years of training and war sending a current of strange peace through his veins.
The two approaching guards backed off, eyeing the sword warily.
In that brief window, Killian looked back once more. “That doesnae look like an ‘aye’ to me.” He paused. “Close yer eyes and daenae open them until I say so.”
Hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, Ailis did as he asked. She squeezed her eyes shut, confirming without words that she did not want to return with her brother and his idiot vanguard.
To make an example and to buy himself more time, Killian ran his blade straight through the middle of the man with the broken wrist. Blood bubbled up, spilling out of the corner of his mouth, as his legs gave way and he hit the ground with a dull thud.
His groans filled the air—not dead yet, but he soon would be.
“That’s for tryin’ to touch me bride,” Killian snarled at the others, who at least had the decency to look a little unnerved.
“What are ye waitin’ for?” Murdock bellowed.
At that, the same two guards who had backed off began to move forward again. Swords drawn, it was clear that they often fought together, walking as one, their postures identical. Even their scowls were the same.
Ye’ll die as one, too.
Killian waited for the double strike, the first guard swinging his sword down from the left, while his comrade’s blade swept in from the right.
Given his size, they likely hadn’t expected him to be agile.
He ducked under the predictable swing and darted between the two men, whirling around at speed and bringing his sword with him. The blade bit deep into the backs of the two men, so slow to notice what had happened that they hadn’t even turned to face him.
Grunts of pain accompanied the fading groans of the man already on the ground, but a slash to the back wasn’t enough to kill the duo. They swung around clumsily, agony etched across their sweaty faces, but Killian was more than ready for them.
He parried a heavy swing from the first and kicked the second in the stomach before he could even lift his sword again. Then, with all of the power of his sword arm, he pierced the first man’s chest, while the second hunched over, winded by the kick.
It took nothing at all for Killian to use the second man’s position to his advantage, and he was grateful that Ailis kept her eyes closed as he brought his blade down on the back of the man’s neck.
One left, then Murdock.
The last guard had the decency—or foolishness—to charge at that moment, saving Killian the effort of them circling each other for an eternity before someone made the first move. Their blades clashed with a clang that shivered in Killian’s ears, the screech of steel and strength.
But Killian had the brute power that his opponent lacked.
Each swing of his sword knocked the soldier back, each returned strike a little weaker than the last, the man flagging as sweat glistened on his brow.
Just his grunts of effort alone were enough to let Killian know that this fight would be short.
At last, the soldier made a mistake. His sword arm dropped as he tried to bear the brunt of another hit from Killian’s blade, and as it did, Killian quickly delivered a fatal jab.
Murdock’s last man dropped to his knees and toppled forward onto the grass. He didn’t rise again, nor were there any sounds of life.
“Ye should have come alone,” Killian said, turning to face Murdock.
If looks could have killed, Murdock would have just delivered a fatal blow.
“And ye should learn to do as ye’re told, or else ye’ll end up like yer faither.” He drew his sword. “This can end. As I said, all ye have to do is give me sister back and half yer lands.”
“Ye ask too steep a price,” Killian shot back.
Murdock shrugged. “Then ye can pay with yer life.”
He ran forward, leaner and quicker than Killian.
Killian had never fought Murdock in battle before, but he had seen him fight; the man was good. As evenly matched a warrior as Killian had ever faced. He likely had to be, when raised by a devil like Shawn Lyall.
Murdock’s blade arced across Killian’s chest, the steel singing in the otherwise silent forest. Not close enough to make contact, but close enough to make Killian step back.
In a tactic that Killian had just used on one of the guards, Murdock swiftly jabbed his sword forward, but Killian saw it coming at the last second and jumped out of the way.
“Ye should stay still and make it easier for yerself,” Murdock taunted.
Killian smirked. “Aye, just as ye should have stayed on yer side of the river. Yer faither will raise hell when his only son and heir doesnae make it back.”
He waited for Murdock to strike again, feeling out the advantages and disadvantages between them. As the blade came at him, Killian swung his sword up, putting all of his strength behind it.
The move worked, the sheer force sending Murdock staggering backward.
But Killian didn’t relent. He used the momentum and the opportunity, striking again and again, slamming his blade into Murdock’s with everything he had.
And when the man faltered, losing his footing on the slippery forest floor, Killian delivered a rib-cracking kick to his chest.
Murdock went flying, landing with a grunt amidst the mulch of fallen leaves and moss.
Killian was on him in an instant, his foot on Murdock’s sword arm while his sharp eyes watched in case the idiot started reaching for his dagger. As Murdock’s arm slackened, Killian snatched his sword and stood over him, a broadsword in each hand.
“I hope yer clan is more courteous to messengers when they receive what I mean to send,” he said, crossing the two blades at Murdock’s throat.
Murdock stared up at him, but where Killian had expected pure venom, he saw a flicker of fear in the man’s dark brown eyes.
“Stop it!” Ailis’s voice rang out, her swift footsteps rushing toward him.
She promptly shoved him in the arm, which perhaps wasn’t a good idea, considering where the blades were crossed. Even Murdock let out a nervous gasp, a thin trickle of blood appearing on his neck where the sharp edges had just kissed his skin.
“What do ye think ye’re doin’?” Ailis hissed, her hands on her hips. “I already told ye that he has a daughter. Do ye want to leave her without a ma or pa?”
Killian frowned. Wasn’t she the one who had recently informed him that Murdock barely paid attention to his daughter?
And if his theory about what had happened to Ailis was correct, then this man was the last person who ought to be around that little girl.
Who was to say he wouldn’t try to drown his daughter, too?
But Ailis had already moved to her brother, standing over him, finger wagging.
“And what about ye? Is there ever a moment where ye consider somethin’ our faither has ordered ye to do and ye just think…
the man’s mad? Do ye ever think about anyone other than yerself, or are ye really just like him?
Ye could’ve died! Skye would be left with nay one, and…
it’s about time ye bloody care about that lassie! ”
As Killian drew back the swords, Murdock slowly sat up. He touched the wound on his neck and looked at his hand, frowning as if he wasn’t used to seeing his own blood.
“Honestly, ye’re all like wee ladies runnin’ wild, except the games ye play are far more dangerous,” Ailis muttered.
She shot both men a dark glare and turned to walk off, grumbling under her breath.
Once she was a safe distance away, Killian fixed Murdock with a deadly look. “There will be a weddin’,” he growled. “And I daenae want to see ye on me lands again unless it’s to congratulate us. The invitation stands.”
“I’d rather gouge me eyes out than see ye wed me sister,” Murdock spat.
Calmer now, Killian took a deep breath. “This could mean peace, Murdock. Just give it some thought.” He paused. “Yer faither willnae live forever, and take it from me, the last thing any heir wants to inherit is an endless war.”
He dropped Murdock’s blade onto the man’s outstretched legs, hoping it wouldn’t end up buried in his back, and took off after his bride.
“Leave me alone!” Ailis snapped as he fell into step with her a few moments later.
“Do ye ken where ye’re goin’?” he asked.
She came to an abrupt halt, her eyes flashing with fury as she turned to him. “I daenae care if I get lost for a while; I daenae want ye near me.” She jabbed a finger toward the spot where he had left Murdock, now hidden by the crowded trees. “Ye would have killed him if I hadnae stopped ye!”
“A wee scratch or two, maybe,” Killian replied with a sigh. “I couldnae let him take ye, lass. He might’ve killed ye. Ye said it yerself that ye were worried he might—that they might—if ye returned.”
She balled her hands into angry fists. “Maybe I did, but I realized somethin’ today.” Splotches of red colored her plump cheeks. “I cannae leave one bloodthirsty family just to join another.”
“Did ye want me to just stand there and let them run me through so they could take ye away?” he protested, his tone bitter. “Did ye want me to stand aside? I asked if ye wanted to go back, and ye didnae say aye.”
As if there was a wasp close by, she shook her head in little jolts and jerks.
“I’m… confused. I’m so confused by all of this that me head is about to explode.
” She drew in a shaky breath. “Nay, I didnae want to return, and I didnae want ye to get hurt, but I didnae want anyone to die either. And I’ll still marry ye if I must, because I want peace and I want Fraser to live, and so help me, ye’ve made me think it’s possible… but ye willnae touch me again. Ever.”
With one last pained look, she turned and tramped off through the forest. Mostly heading in the right direction, though Killian couldn’t help but feel as if they had just taken a wrong turn somewhere, no longer walking the same path together.