CHAPTER 2 #2
Alex swiftly withdrew his sword from the belly of a MacSween, then spun around to deflect the blow of another.
His attacker’s blade forced him to leap back.
The weapon’s point sliced into his shirt, and he was vaguely aware of a stinging sensation in his chest. He raised his sword and buried it deep into his opponent’s gut.
“Damn you, MacDunn,” cursed the warrior, sinking to his knees, “you’ve got the devil on your side.” He grunted, then fell onto his face.
Warm blood was seeping into Alex’s shirt, but he ignored the pain. The ringing and scraping of steel told him Cameron and Brodick were well occupied. He cautiously moved forward, searching the veil of trees for more MacSweens.
Suddenly a huge brute of a man leaped out from behind a tree, his ax poised to split Alex’s skull open.
Before the weapon began its descent, the warrior gasped, took a faltering step, then collapsed.
An arrow protruded from his back. Alex looked up to find Ned’s small form perched on a branch, another arrow already taut against the string of his bow.
Alex followed his aim and saw Robert moving toward him through the darkness, unaware that he was about to die.
Alex raised his hand, signaling for Ned to hold.
“Good evening, Robert,” he called pleasantly. “I must confess, I wasn’t expecting you quite so soon.”
“I’m sure you weren’t,” Robert sneered. “I prefer to surprise my enemies.”
“Enemies?” repeated Alex, sounding surprised.
“But what a sad turn of events this is, when just hours ago you so graciously invited me to attend your marvelous witch burning. You know,” he continued conversationally, planting the tip of his sword in the ground and leaning against it, “I was really looking forward to that feast.”
“You should have kept out of it, MacDunn,” Robert advised, moving closer. “You were a fool to think I wouldn’t come after you.”
“Oh, but I knew you were coming,” Alex assured him. “Gwendolyn told me you would. Her powers of perception are quite extraordinary.”
Concern flashed across Robert’s face, but he was quick to master it. “What else did she tell you?” he demanded, closing the distance between them.
“Everything,” Alex promptly lied. “In fact, we had quite a long talk.” He idly adjusted the folds of his plaid. “She really is an intriguing creature, isn’t she? I can understand why you want her back.”
“I want her back so justice can be carried out,” Robert replied shortly. “She is a witch and a murderess.”
“Ah, yes, that nasty business about her father. Fortuitous that you were there to witness it, wasn’t it, Robert?”
“Where is she?” demanded Robert, taking another step forward.
“Actually, I’m not sure,” Alex replied, shrugging. “She is hiding somewhere out there,” he added, gesturing vaguely with his hand. “I honestly don’t believe she is anxious to see you.”
“Bring her to me,” commanded Robert, raising his sword, “or I will carve you into a dozen bloody pieces, MacDunn.”
“You know, Robert, I do find it a bit puzzling that you have not yet inquired about your dear niece’s welfare. A charming girl, that Isabella, despite her penchant for rather disagreeable threats. No doubt she gets that from you?” he suggested brightly, making it seem a compliment.
“Bring Gwendolyn to me, you mad fool!” snapped Robert. “Or I’ll splay you wide like a fish and pull out your—”
“There, now,” interrupted Alex, “you see what I mean?”
“By God, MacDunn, you’ve had your chance,” snarled Robert, drawing back his sword.
“Now, that would not be prudent,” observed Alex, his own weapon still comfortably acting as a crutch. “Would it, Ned?”
“No,” agreed Ned, from his perch in the tree above him.
Startled, Robert looked up.
“You know, I really don’t think you would enjoy having an arrow in your chest,” Alex remarked.
“Or a sword in your belly,” said Cameron, appearing through the trees.
“Or a dirk in your eye,” added Brodick, standing beside him.
Robert hesitated. Realizing he had no choice, he threw his blade onto the ground.
“I believe I’d like your dirk also,” said Alex. “I seem to have misplaced mine in the back of one of your warriors.”
Robert scowled, then withdrew his dirk from his belt and tossed it beside his sword.
“Excellent. Now, as you have no weapons, and as we were forced to kill the warriors you brought with you—”
“You couldn’t have killed them all,” objected Robert.
“Well, I distinctly remember killing at least two,” Alex said. “What about you, Brodick?”
“I killed two as well,” Brodick replied.
“And I finished off three,” added Cameron, moving behind Robert. “How many did you kill, Ned?”
“Three.”
Alex counted on his fingers. “I believe that makes ten. How many warriors did you bring, Robert?” he asked curiously.
Robert’s face was nearly crimson with rage. “Damn you, MacDunn! This means war!”
“Now, don’t blame yourself,” soothed Alex. “After all, there were eleven of you, and eleven against four does seem like good odds. Listen, you’ve had a difficult day, and it doesn’t seem to be getting any better. Have a good night’s rest, and things will seem far better in the morning.”
“I’ve no intention of resting, you dull-witted clod!” Robert raved. “I may be your prisoner, but I intend to—”
Cameron slammed the hilt of his sword on Robert’s head. Robert sighed and sank to the ground.
“He’ll sleep like a babe,” Cameron assured Alex.
“Good. Tie him to a tree, just in case he wakens early,” instructed Alex, moving back toward the camp. “Maybe now we can finally get some sleep.”
Gwendolyn searched the darkness, debating whether she should take her chances and try to escape with Isabella.
The fighting seemed to have come to an end, but she wasn’t sure who had emerged the victor.
A tall figure appeared through the trees.
Moonlight washed over him as he stepped into the clearing, leaving no doubt that it was MacDunn’s enormous frame she beheld.
His shirt was soaked in blood.
“You’re hurt,” she gasped, emerging from her hiding place with Isabella in tow.
“I told you my father’s men would carve you open,” Isabella said with dark satisfaction. “I told you they would shred your flesh—”
“Brodick, cut Isabella loose and bring her here,” ordered Alex brusquely.
“Why?” Isabella demanded, suddenly nervous.
“You are going to repair the damage your father’s men have done to us,” Alex informed her.
“I won’t!” she protested as Brodick cut the ropes binding her to Gwendolyn.
“Forgive me, sweet Bella, but you would be wise to do as MacDunn says,” Brodick advised, pulling Isabella across the clearing. “And after you’ve finished, I’ve a scratch to my arm that needs tending as well.”
“And I’ve a split in my scalp,” added Cameron.
“I won’t help you!” she raged. “I hope each of you bleeds to death from your injuries, you vile, thieving, murdering scum!”
Alex stripped off his shirt, revealing a pulsing slash across his upper chest. “You will fix this,” he commanded. “Now.”
Isabella took one look at the blood dripping down his torso and promptly fainted.
Cameron roared with laughter. “It seems the lass’s tongue is stronger than her stomach!”
“She is tired,” protested Brodick, gently gathering Isabella’s crumpled form in his arms. “She has had an exhausting day.” He carried her across the clearing and lowered her onto a bed of moss.
Alex shook his head in disgust. “Very well, then, witch,” he said, eyeing Gwendolyn. “Now is your chance to demonstrate your special healing powers.”
Gwendolyn stepped forward, her mind racing.
Where had MacDunn gotten the idea that she had healing powers?
While her mother had been a skilled healer, Gwendolyn’s father had forbidden Gwendolyn to practice the art, for fear it would draw attention to her, and give someone reason to accuse her of possessing unnatural abilities.
Although she had understood her father’s concern, Gwendolyn had secretly spent many hours studying her mother’s carefully scribed notes.
While she had found these studies fascinating, she had never actually practiced her mother’s techniques on anyone.
How on earth was she supposed to tend to a battle wound?
“If you walk any slower, I’ll be dead before you get to me,” MacDunn complained dryly, as he lowered himself to the ground.
“Forgive me,” Gwendolyn said, hastening her step.
She knelt down beside him and bit her lip. A gash as long as the span of her hand sliced across the hard muscle of his upper chest. Blood was leaking profusely from the cut and seeping down his front, making it look as if he had been hacked wide open.
“I think it looks worse than it is,” she murmured, more to reassure herself than him. She gingerly touched the raw edges of the wound, trying to establish its depth. Blood spurted from the opening. She jerked back her hand.
“It needs to be stitched,” MacDunn told her.
She nodded.
He regarded her expectantly. “Go ahead.”
Gwendolyn frantically tried to recall her mother’s instructions on closing wounds. She herself had never stitched anything beyond garments, but surely the principle was the same. Except this, of course, would be messier.
“I will need more light,” she decided, tentatively daubing the wound with MacDunn’s discarded shirt. “Do you think it is safe to build a fire?”
“The warriors Robert brought with him are dead,” MacDunn replied. “A fire will not matter now.” He signaled to Ned, who promptly began to toss sticks into a pile.
“Is Robert also dead?”
Her voice was flat, but Alex could sense a flicker of desperation behind her inquiry. “No,” he admitted, feeling oddly as if he had failed her. “He is not. But he cannot hurt you,” he added, wanting to reassure her. “You belong to me now. I protect what is mine.”