Chapter 25
Ryder tightened his grip on his sword hilt. He’d chosen a short sword, whereas Logan’s was clearly a long sword. Logan’s sword had more power and greater reach, but it would also be more challenging to maneuver in the narrow corridor.
The blade was wickedly sharp, however. He dragged his gaze down to Megan, who had scrambled out of Logan’s reach. A thin red line scored across the front of her throat. If there had been any pressure behind that blade, she would have been dead by now.
Fury bubbled up inside him, tightening his chest and clawing up his throat like bile.
How dare he? How dare he? Ryder forced himself to swallow thickly. Now was not the time for letting emotions cloud his vision. Ewan would be here soon, with his sixth sense for danger, but for now, it was only Ryder and Logan. The hallway was too narrow for more than two men to fight.
Really, it was too narrow even for that.
Never turning away or even blinking, Logan rose smoothly to his feet, eyes fixed on Ryder.
“Have a care, son,” Logan murmured. “Ye might nae have heard what ye thought ye have heard.”
“I’m nae in the habit of mistrustin’ me senses,” he shot back, glancing at Megan out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t dare take his eyes off Logan, even for a minute. “Are ye hurt, love?”
She sat crumpled on the floor, leaning back against the wall. It was clear that her breath had been knocked out of her.
“Nay, I’m well,” she gasped thickly, her voice hoarse. “Daenae worry about me. Worry about dealing with him once and for all. He’ll nae rest until he has both of the lassies and sees ye dead.”
Logan chuckled. “Vile lies.”
“I daenae ken.”
“How about a bargain, eh? I’d be a fool to bring me little clan up against yers, Ryder. But I do need to make a good marriage to strengthen meself. Once me clan is stronger, I’ll have nay need to bring war to yer doorstep, will I?”
“Convincin’,” Ryder responded flatly. “And are ye makin’ this marriage yerself?”
Logan sniffed. “Nay, I need one of the lassies. They’re me nieces, Ryder. Let me take one, and ye can keep the other. I daenae mind which. I’ll see that she has a fine marriage. To a laird, no doubt.”
Ryder breathed out slowly and evenly. He could hear voices approaching in the distance, shouts of worry and stamping feet. Reinforcements were coming, but he could not risk turning his back on Logan. Not once.
Logan lifted his sword, pointing the blade toward Ryder.
“Ye have gotten in me way for the last time, boy.”
“Let’s hope so,” he shot back. “It’s funny, but if ye had only plotted to take me sisters, I would have been content to throw ye in the dungeon and forget about ye.”
“But?” Logan enquired, seeming almost amused.
Ryder jerked his head toward Megan. “But ye hurt her. And now I’m goin’ to have to kill ye.”
Logan gave a sharp, bitter laugh. “I’d like to see ye try.”
He didn’t wait for Ryder to counter with a witty comment. The older man lunged toward him, covering the space between them in an instant, sword flashing out like a deadly silver fish.
Ryder’s blade shot up to meet his, and they clashed together with an echoing sound.
The battle, then, had begun.
Ryder brought up his sword again and again, meeting his uncle’s blade in blow after blow. The world around him vanished.
Losing track of your surroundings in battle was generally a mistake. After all, there were no strict rules in warfare. A soldier might be fighting his opponent diligently, only to have the opponent’s friend sneak up and stab him in the back.
This was not a battle. It was a duel, and the rules for that were entirely different. Logan bent his whole concentration toward the fight, and so did Ryder. The first one to make a mistake would pay for it with his life.
Logan feinted, deftly maneuvering his long blade and slashing it forward. If Ryder hadn’t jumped back, the point would have carved across his belly. It was a dangerously slashing stroke, the sort of blow that would open up a man’s stomach.
When he dodged this lethal stroke, Logan struck again. It was a less powerful jab, but it did slash up the outside of Ryder’s forearm. Again, it was a blow that could have taken off his hand at the wrist.
Ryder leaped back, baring his teeth. Pain flared up in his arm, but he pushed it aside, ignoring the tickling sensation of hot, sticky blood oozing across his skin.
Logan chuckled. “Nae as fierce a warrior as ye thought ye were, eh?”
Footsteps shuffled in the passage behind them. Ryder watched Logan’s eyes shift, just momentarily. A hardness came into them.
He kens he’s outnumbered, Ryder thought. Perhaps this can end.
“I’ll make ye a deal,” Ryder said at last. “Lay down yer sword. Confess yer crimes and step aside from yer role as laird. I’ll choose a new Laird MacAdair, and ye will leave Scotland forever, promisin’ never to return or to communicate with the lassies and me ever again.
Agree to these terms, and there’s nay need for anyone to die. ”
Logan’s gaze landed on him again, hardening.
“Oh, nay?” he hissed. “I think that there’s a need for someone to die, daenae ye? One more death, and I’ll be a happy man.”
Without warning, he lunged forward again.
Time seemed to slow, as it often did in warfare. Ryder was aware of a sharp, panicked intake of breath from behind him. That was Megan, although he couldn’t have said exactly how he knew. He heard Ewan shout.
He heard Logan’s boots scraping against the stone floor and watched the glint of candlelight ripple along the blade.
Ryder dodged, the blade causing a breeze that ruffled his hair as it shot by, vaguely, as if from far away. He heard the tooth-grating scrape of the sword’s point scratching at the stone.
Ryder’s limbs seemed to have a will of their own. Just as Logan was lifting his sword again, this time preparing to swing the blade down in a powerful arc that was clearly designed to take off Ryder’s head, he brought his own, shorter blade forward.
Snick.
The sword thrust point-first through Logan’s chest and went through.
Logan froze, his sword falling limply from newly numb fingers. His eyes widened, almost comically so, and his gaze fell to the weapon jutting out of his chest. He let out a slow, ragged gasp, hands lifting to the blade.
Ryder staggered backward, releasing the blade. His hands shook, and he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t a particularly aggressive or lengthy battle.
Nay, it was, in a way, he thought. It was the worst battle I’ve ever fought.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ewan, ashen-faced, standing in front of a handful of MacCulloch warriors. Megan still crouched on the ground, the front of her throat still slick with blood. It was shocking how much a simple cut had bled.
Logan let out a long, rattling groan, then collapsed to his knees.
His eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped forward onto the ground.
At least he tried to slump forward, but the sword got in the way, still protruding from his chest. He ended up landing on his side in a still, lifeless heap. Blood pooled around him.
“Dear God,” Ewan whispered.
Ryder stared down at his uncle. No, not his uncle. Logan had never considered Ryder as his nephew, or even as kin at all.
To him, I was nothin’. Only an obstacle.
There was no time for this now. Ryder could take these thoughts out and brood over them later. For now, action was required.
Breathing in deeply, he turned to the others.
“Laird MacAdair was behind the scheme to kidnap Alaina,” he announced firmly.
“He planned to marry her off to strengthen his own alliance, ultimately gainin’ an army large enough to threaten Clan MacCulloch.
There’ll be evidence of this, and I suspect that Laird Campbell and his son will back up what we’ve been told. ”
“What a vile plot,” Ewan murmured.
“Aye. He intended to take Alaina today and was willin’ to kill Lady Megan to do it. Find Alaina and Hamish, Ewan. Let them know that all is well. We’ll need to address the clan about this, and speak with the MacAdair councilors.”
“I have an inklin’ that they’ll be happy enough to replace their laird,” Ewan remarked, shaking his head. “Laird MacAdair has been a disaster.”
Ryder nodded, only half listening. His gaze fell on Megan, still leaning against the wall, staring at the body. He crouched before her until she looked him in the eye.
“Ye all right, lass?” he whispered.
She swallowed, nodding. “Aye, I will be. Nay harm done, except for this.” She tapped the cut on her throat. “I doubt that it’ll even scar.”
He reached up to touch the sensitive skin of her throat. “Well, if it does, ye will have a fine mark there, aye? Very brave.”
She reluctantly smiled, shaking her head. “If ye say so. Now, I had better help find Alaina. She’ll want to speak to me.”
Megan tried to stand up, but her knees shook, and she slapped a hand against the wall, trying to steady herself.
Ryder moved before he knew what he was doing. He dived forward, sweeping Megan off her feet and into his arms, bridal-style. She gave a squeak of surprise, her arms going around his neck reflexively.
“Ye have been through plenty,” Ryder murmured, his face inches from hers. He could count the colors in her eyes. Maybe he would.
“I… I’m fine,” she stammered. “Get me to a healer, and I will be just fine.”
“Ye are with a healer,” he responded with a wry smile. “Ye cannae imagine that I’ve fought this many battles without picking up a thing or two. I’ll take care of ye. Ewan, make me excuses to the party, and get rid of the body. Treat him well.”
Ewan paused, frowning. “Treat him well?”
Ryder nodded. “Aye. He’s dead now. He was still the lassies’ uncle, and a man I once admired very much indeed. We’ll treat him with respect, and he’ll have a good burial. He’s paid for his sins now.”
Ewan inclined his head. “Aye, me Laird. I’ll see it done.”
Ryder nodded and set off at a brisk pace, clutching Megan in his arms.
“I… I could walk,” she offered tentatively.
“I’m sure ye could. But I can also carry you, and we’ll get there faster that way.”
She shifted, tightening her grip. He kept his eyes on the path ahead—it would be too embarrassing if he tripped at this point—but he could feel her eyes on him, lingering on his face.
“Thank ye,” she said at last, all in a rush. “For savin’ me.”
“Ye saved yerself, lass.”
She snorted. “That I did. Wait, where are we goin’? This isnae the way to the healer’s chambers.”
They reached the bottom of the stairs that led up to the East Tower. Ryder grinned down at her.
“We are nae goin’ to the healer’s chambers, lass. We are goin’ to mine.”