Chapter 20
Dominic and Lord Ainsley stared at each other, the minutes stretching out.
"Well," the earl said at last. "It seems like I may have underestimated your intelligence. A tiny amount, at least."
Dominic smiled grimly. He didn't dare take his eyes from the other man – he felt that if he did, Lord Ainsley would attack, like a wolf waiting for its moment to pounce – but he could see Paisley out of the corner of his eye.
"Paisley, lass, are ye well?" he asked slowly. "Has he hurt ye?"
"No," she said, although her voice was trembling. "I'm not hurt."
"You have no business being here," Lord Ainsley said, making an effort to get over the surprise of seeing Dominic at the door. "This woman is my betrothed, and I am merely returning her to her friends and family."
"Are ye betrothed to this man, Paisley?"
"No!" came the sharp, angry answer. Dominic didn't need to look at her to know that she was furious, hands clenched at her sides, face livid white with anger.
"There ye have it," Dominic said smoothly. "It sounds to me she doesnae want anything to dae with ye. I think ye had better piss off, daenae ye?"
"Not so fast. Who are the authorities going to believe, do you think?
Me, a titled English gentleman, with a fine reputation and a seat in the House of Commons, or a grubby Scottish commoner like yourself?
You can call yourself laird if you like, but we all know that the English aristocracy doesn't give a damn about that. "
Behind them, a breeze slammed the door shut.
Paisley flinched, and even Lord Ainsley blinked, but Dominic didn't bat an eyelid.
He didn't have to look to know that Thomas and Emma were still out there, standing over the unconscious bodies of the two thugs that Lord Ainsley had hired.
Emma's first reaction was to rush inside the cabin and administer whatever aid Paisley needed, but Thomas had the good sense to hold her back.
Lord Ainsley already had one hostage, and Dominic had no intention of letting him get his hands on another.
I cannae let him leave, Dominic thought grimly. If he gets out into that dark forest, I'll lose him in a moment. And he'll be back, I know that. This is more than just an obsession. This is pride. This is something much more dangerous. He'll never leave us be.
The issue was, of course, that there was no room inside the cabin. Not for a proper fight. With the only window blocked and Dominic standing in front of the only entrance and exit – and the doorframe was low and narrow – there wasn't much room to move around, much less fight.
There was always the worry that Paisley would be struck by a stray blade.
"Then we'd better not leave it up to the English authorities to sort this out," Dominic grated. "After all, this is the Highlands."
Lord Ainsley's weaselly face split into a grin.
"Excellent. We'll settle this as if between men, shall we?"
The man slowly and gleefully drew out a long, thin blade, which glittered like a silver fish in the gloom. The room was lit by the light of a single, flickering candle, and outside was all darkness and a dull, cloudless sky.
Dominic gripped the hilt of his own sword tighter and took stock of his opponent.
Height-wise, they were evenly matched, although Dominic was stockier and stronger-looking than Lord Ainsley.
That wasn't necessarily a good thing. Lord Ainsley looked nimble and quick, and in a small space like this, strength could easily translate to clumsiness, which might swiftly translate to death.
Lord Ainsley's blade was thinner than Dominic's, but it was also shorter – another advantage in their confined space.
"Dominic, please," Paisley gasped. "You can't fight him. He's... he's dueled before. He'll kill you and take pleasure in it."
Lord Ainsley's smile widened. "It's true. I am renowned for my swordsmanship. You may be a fine archer, Laird MacLennan, but I fear there's no room to draw a bow in here."
"Are ye really the sort of man who makes banter while he fights?" Dominic asked, raising his eyebrows. "Or is it just a clumsy attempt at distraction?"
A brief, sour expression crossed Lord Ainsley's face, and Dominic guessed that he was right. There was nothing like a few sharp words to distract a man from the sharp blade behind them, nothing like the groping for a witty retort to make a person falter and make a mistake in their fight.
Dominic didn't much care for chatter during a fight. Sure, some fancy Englishmen might fence and joust as a sport, or whatever it was they did in England, but when Dominic fought, it was to achieve something.
Whether that something was chucking a drunk out of his pub or defending Thomas from a rival pub owner and his hired thugs, Dominic never took his eye off the ball, or let his mind wander.
So, when Lord Ainsley flew across the room in a flash of bared teeth and the lightning-quick swoosh of a blade, Dominic was ready.
He parried, and the blades screeched together, sending up sparks and a nasty sound to set your teeth on edge.
"Dominic!" Paisley cried, pressing her hands to her mouth.
Stay back, Dominic thought, suppressing a flash of panic. Stay back, please. I can't bear it if ye get hurt.
Their blades met again, and Lord Ainsley attacked with a snake-like speed, stronger than Dominic might have expected.
Their swords were poorly matched, too. His blade might break Lord Ainsley's, if he could get the angle right, but the thinner blade was whip-fast and flexible, nearly sneaking under Dominic's guard more than once.
Lord Ainsley made a vicious thrust, and Dominic leapt back. He'd run out of space and knocked himself back against the wooden walls with a crash that seemed to make the whole cabin shake and knocked the breath out of him.
He didn't quite manage to escape the sweep of Lord Ainsley's weapon, and the very tip of the sword sliced across the front of Dominic's ribs, leaving a hairline of red in its wake.
Dominic winced before he could stop himself, and Lord Ainsley grinned wolfishly.
"First blood is mine, I think," he said conversationally, lifting his sword to inspect the pinprick of red on the tip.
"I daenae give a damn who draws first blood," Dominic grated, "I only care about who draws the last."
Lord Ainsley chuckled. "How pragmatic of you."
Attack was the best form of defense, and Dominic threw himself right back into the fight.
This time, he had the advantage. Distracted by the triumph of gaining the upper hand, no matter how briefly, Lord Ainsley was a half-beat behind in the rhythm of the fight, and quickly found himself driven back into a corner.
Dominic, on the other hand, was buoyed by fury, the sight of his own blood decorating the tip of Lord Ainsley's weapon, and the band of pain around his ribs.
The smile dropped from the other man's face like a stone and sweat began to bead on his forehead. Dominic was distantly aware of Paisley pressing herself into the far corner of the cabin, away from their fight.
Get out, he willed her. Do what ye can to get to that door. Thomas and Emma are out there. They'll keep ye safe.
But she couldn't get to the door, he knew that. The distraction, however brief, allowed Lord Ainsley's to duck under Dominic's guard, and his sword point flashed through the air, only inches from Dominic's throat.
"Dominic!" Paisley screamed.
He dodged, hearing the blade whistle past his exposed skin and catch on the wooden wall with a thunk. Dominic never thought twice. He brought his own thicker, broader blade down on Lord Ainsley's thin sword, still jammed against the wall.
Crack.
The noise echoed through the small cabin, the ear-splitting screech of iron breaking when it was never meant to do so.
Dominic stopped dead. everything seemed to stop. He was gasping for breath, lungs burning, the cut on his ribs throbbing, and all three of them stared down at Lord Ainsley's broken sword.
He was left with only the hilt and a palm's length of broken blade sticking out. The rest of the blade lay in glittering, broken fragments on the ground.
Dominic levelled his sword at Lord Ainsley's livid, horrified face.
"Well," he said, breathless. "I wonder what happens now."
Lord Ainsley gave a moan, clutching the hilt of his sword and the shard of broken blade to his chest.
"Oh, this isn't fair. You can't possibly kill me like this. I'm an unarmed man! I thought you Scots had a sense of honor."
Dominic bit his lip, letting the point of his sword droop a little. Logic told him at once that he should follow through, get rid of this man from their lives, but in the sense of fairness...
"If I let ye live," he said slowly, "Will ye stay out of our lives forever?"
Lord Ainsley seized his moment. He lunged forward, batting Dominic's slackly held sword aside, and thudded into him with his full weight.
In another circumstance, Dominic could have resisted Lord Ainsley's weight easily, but he was distracted and off-balance, and the sudden impact dragged them both down to the ground.
He lost his grip on the hilt of his sword, the blade rolling away across the floor, just out of arm's reach. Dominic grabbed for it but was knocked back with a vicious punch to the gullet.
He gasped for breath, then there was a knee on his throat, cutting off his air. Lord Ainsley leaned down, eyes glittering in the gloom. The razor-sharp needlepoint of his broken blade hovered an inch from Dominic's left eye.
"Ye cheated," Dominic ground out. "I'd already won."
"All's fair in love and war, my dear ignorant laird," Lord Ainsley said, eyes glittering.
"Ye bastard."
"To the winner the spoils, you see. Well, it really has been a pleasure, Laird MacLennan," he purred, "but as you can see, I'm not in the habit of losing. Better luck next time. Not, of course, that there will be a next time."
Then Lord Ainsley gave a strangled scream, and the broken sword fell from his nerveless hand. Dominic threw his head to one side, avoiding being skewered only by a hairs' breadth.
Not even that, in fact. He felt a hot line of pain lance itself down his left cheekbone, and the broken sword clattered down beside his face.
Then the pressure on his throat and the weight on his chest was gone, and Lord Ainsley was staggering across the floor in a half-crouch.
Instinct took over, and Dominic found himself on his feet before he'd even managed to fill his lungs with air.
He saw the hat pin at once, protruding from Lord Ainsley's back. It had been driven right into the center point between his shoulder blades and must have gone in by several inches.
Paisley was standing there, her face bone-white, her hands clenched.
"I said I wouldn't let you hurt him," she hissed, teeth clenched.
Lord Ainsley was not listening. He was howling, making jerky, spasmodic efforts to reach the hat pin in his back.
Dominic picked up his sword, the blade scraping across the wooden floorboards. Lord Ainsley heard the noise and spun around to face him. He only made it halfway before the blade swept through the air, neatly severing his head from his body, and then it was over.
Over.
There was a moment or two of silence in the cabin, both of them staring down at Lord Ainsley's motionless body.
"Paisley?" Dominic broke the silence first, his voice sounding hoarse and exhausted. "Are ye hurt?"
She shook her head, not able to tear her eyes away from the body. A pool of blood was growing about it, slickly black in the dark.
"Daenae look at him," Dominic sat at once, moving between her and the corpse. He reached out, arm suddenly shaky with exhaustion, and pulled her close to him.
Paisley seemed to sag against him, her face pressing into his shoulder, her arms sliding around his waist. Dominic let the sword fall to the floor once again, and put his arms around her, squeezing her tight.
"It's over," he said, voice muffled in her hair. "It's over, lassie. Ye are safe. He can never hurt ye again."
"I... I'm free," Paisley said, sounding almost comically surprised. "I can't believe it. I... I can go home, if I want. I can see my family. If they want to see me, that is."
Dominic bit his lip. His mouth tasted of copper, and he was fairly sure that he'd bitten his tongue or perhaps the inside of his cheek at least once during the fight.
"And... and is that what ye want?" he asked hesitantly. "To go home?"
Paisley pulled back, and he was surprised to see that her face was blotchy and tearstained.
"Do you want me to go home?"
He smiled wryly. "Daenae answer a question with a question, lass. Besides, if ye daenae know I'm in love with ye now, I daenae know what to say."
Paisley sucked in a breath. "You... you're in love with me."
"Aye, lass. Have been for longer than I care to say."
"Well, you aren't quite as obvious as you think you are."
He chuckled, brushing back a strand of hair from her hair.
"And ye, on the other hand, are an open book. So, what say ye, Paisley? Would ye fancy being me real betrothed? Would ye fancy being me wife?"
She pursed her lips, pretending to consider. "Hm. I could certainly see myself in that fancy Keep of yours. Although, in truth, I think I prefer The Sinner. I never thought I'd be so happy in a pub of all places."
He grinned. "So, is that a yes?"
By way of answer, Paisley stood up on her tiptoes, pressing a quick, hard kiss to his lips.
"It's a yes," she said softly. "Now, could we possibly get out of this awful cabin?"
"What? Oh, aye, of course. Come on, Thomas and Emma are waitin' outside."
They stumbled out, the cool night air coming as a great relief to Dominic's bruised lungs and heated skin.
Thomas was standing right outside, his sword gripped tightly, and relief flashed over his face when he saw Dominic.
"Oh, ye are all right, both of ye. Thank goodness."
Emma appeared at his side, sharp healer's eyes raking over them both.
"Do either of ye need medical care?"
"Nay, we're well enough," Dominic said tiredly.
Emma's gaze dropped pointedly to the line of bloodstained linen at Dominic's ribs.
"Except for that, of course," he added.
She rolled her eyes. "And what about him, in there?"
Paisley and Dominic turned to peer back into the cabin through the open door.
Lord Ainsley's headless corpse could just be seen in the shadows.
"I... I think he's rather beyond medical assistance now," Paisley said tactfully, and for some reason this seemed very amusing to Dominic.
He grinned, chuckling, and shook his head. "She's a funny lass, eh?"
"She must be," Thomas said incredulously. "I cannae remember the last time I saw ye smile."
"I'm a betrothed man, I've a right to be happy," Dominic said primly, pressing a kiss to the top of Paisley's head. "Now, are we goin' back, or are we goin' to stay out here all night? It'll be dawn in a few hours."