Chapter 19
Darina’s head struck the stone wall of the passage so hard that stars briefly danced at the edges of her vision, and she found herself dazed and dizzy as she got to her feet once more.
She watched the two men duel ferociously.
They were equally matched as swordsmen; anyone could see that easily enough.
Oliver’s advanced age might have robbed him of some of his deftness and reflexes, but his years of experience had clearly given him more techniques and maneuvers to use against his son.
For his part, Fergus’ superior strength and speed might have given him a distinct advantage that could have finished the fight relatively quickly…
except that it seemed at times as though the younger man was holding back somewhat, perhaps without even realizing it.
Darina supposed that should not have surprised her.
To be forced to strike down one’s own father was a formidable challenge indeed and one that most men would not be equal to.
The fact that Oliver had been such a dreadful boogeyman to Fergus his entire life was, no doubt, another factor.
Fergus’s innate fear of the man, his perception of him as someone who would always be larger and meaner and more dangerous was making him flinch and fall back when he did not need to.
But despite his fear and unwillingness to shed his own father’s blood, Fergus was still determined to fight and win, to free himself from Oliver’s iron grasp.
No, not just himself. Darina as well. He was fighting his own father to save her, even though they had only met a handful of days ago.
She found that she adored him utterly.
She had been willing to marry him before: the second time he’d visited her in her chamber of captivity before the guards had come and interrupted them.
She’d been prepared to make that sacrifice in the name of making peace between the clans and supporting him as he fought against the hideous machinations of Laird Oliver.
She’d have done all of that and lived on the faint promise that perhaps they might grow to actually know and care for each other later. It had been, in some ways, a prospect not all that removed from the notion of traveling to London to marry a near-total stranger.
But now, she understood that she had fallen in love with him. She accepted that the bad things he’d done had been at the behest of a monster; the one he was facing now, the one that he had every intention of destroying to undo the evils he had committed.
She loved him. And the thought of him being run through by his miserable swine of a father was more than she could bear.
Darina circled them warily as they clashed, looking for some way to intercede on Fergus’ behalf and assist him by striking a blow against Oliver when the old man expected it the least. To turn the tide of the battle just enough to distract the laird so that Fergus could strike true and end this conflict.
Before she could, though, Fergus cried out: “Leave, Darina, at once, before he takes hold of ye again. I’ll hold him off.”
She snapped out of her momentary daze and fled down the corridor, hearing the sounds of war outside the walls of the keep.
From the sound of it, the Wallaces were fighting fiercely and had just begun to breach the gates.
She ran in the direction of the noise, hoping she would encounter friendly faces in the courtyard.
As she emerged from the keep and into the purple glow of dusk, she saw that the McDougal guardsmen were beginning to yield to the attackers.
James and Alasdair appeared to be ordering them to stand down, informing them that the laird had every intention of abandoning them and assuring them that all would be well if they simply submitted to the Wallaces rather than resisting them.
And among the invaders, she spotted Cameron.
She ran to him, realizing that some part of her had been prepared never to see him again. She’d almost entirely convinced herself that she was doomed to either die or remain a prisoner in perpetuity, unable to see her own family ever again due to the whimsical malice of Laird Oliver.
But here was her brother, and happy tears streamed down her cheeks as she embraced him. He looked startled to see her but threw his arms around her gladly.
“Sister! Ye are unharmed, thank God!”
“I am,” she agreed, “but it is largely thanks tae Fergus.”
Cameron frowned, puzzled. “Oliver’s son? The knave who captured ye tae begin with? Why should he deserve yer gratitude?”
“I shall explain later,” she promised, “but first, I beg of ye: Go tae him now and aid him! He is fightin’ his father tae the death, and it does nae appear as though the odds are in his favor!”
The bewildered expression remained on Cameron’s face, but he trusted her too much to doubt her, particularly when the stakes appeared to be so high.
He hefted his sword and ran into the keep through the passageway she had just emerged from.
The few McDougal guardsmen who were in his way quickly withdrew from his path as though sensing that his fury was like unto that of a hurricane and it would be best for them to avoid it at all costs.
Meanwhile, within the passageway, Fergus’ sword continued to clash against Oliver’s. Both had sustained minor wounds—Fergus on his upper arm, Oliver on his left thigh—but neither was willing to back down.
“Ye are a mewling disgrace!” Oliver howled furiously. “A wretch and an embarrassment tae my name. I curse the day ye were born, lad.”
“As have I, many times!” Fergus retorted, parrying a thrust from his father and feeling his shoulder slam against the stone wall painfully. The older man was trying to back him into a corner, and alas, he seemed to be succeeding, at least for the moment.
“Ye are nay longer a McDougal, Fergus, do ye hear?” Oliver swung the sword at Fergus’ head, and the younger man narrowly dodged it in time. Even so, a lock of his hair was neatly sliced away. “Ye are nothin’ but a traitor!”
“And ye are a diseased monster!” Fergus countered, lunging with the tip of his blade pointed at Oliver’s heart.
Oliver’s sword batted it aside but not far enough. The blade sank deep into his shoulder, causing him to cry out and drop his own weapon. It clattered to the floor, and Oliver staggered back against the wall, sinking to his knees.
The laird reached for the handle of the sword only to have Fergus kick it away from him decisively, raising his own above his head.
“So this is it, then?” Oliver said in a quavering voice. “Am I tae be dispatched by my own son? Very well, then. Go on and do it. Show me in my final moments, at least, that the man I raised has courage enough tae do what must be done.”
But Fergus found he was unable to bring the blade down. His hands were trembling, and tears stung his eyes.
Because damn it, the man was still his father.
Oliver snickered. “Ye will nae even give me that satisfaction, eh? You would sooner see me live with the knowledge that my son is a coward and betrayer than put me out of my misery. I should nae have expected anythin’ else from ye.”
Fergus heard footsteps approaching, and when he glanced in that direction, he saw Cameron drawing nearer.
The man’s sword was drawn, and his armor was spattered with blood that had surely belonged to the McDougal guardsmen.
Fergus fully expected that Cameron would attack him for his part in Darina’s kidnap, and at that point, Fergus supposed he could scarcely blame him for doing so.
Indeed, perhaps some part of him even wished for such an end as fair payment for the terrible acts he’d committed on behalf of a father he now could not bring himself to kill.
But Cameron kept his sword lowered, and the expression on his face was strangely sympathetic. “It’s all right, Fergus,” he intoned. “There will be nay need for ye tae strike a final blow. We have him now, and we shall make sure he never harms anyone ever again.”
“Cameron,” Fergus said gratefully, lowering his weapon, “I ken that I have nay right tae expect forgiveness from ye, but for what it is worth, I am so heartily sorry for havin’ deceived ye and for bringin’ this tragedy upon yer clan.”
“It is my understandin’,” Cameron replied, “that the true tragedy might have transpired if ye had nae acted on my sister’s behalf. With that in mind, I would call us even.”
Darina appeared from behind Cameron and, seeing that Oliver had been defeated, threw herself into Fergus’ arms.
“I could nae do it,” Fergus whispered to her, ashamed. “I could nae kill him.”
She looked into his face, her eyes shining with tears. “Ye prevailed against him, Fergus. Ye showed him the very mercy he would never have shown ye. That is far more worthy than endin’ his life. As Cameron said, we shall take him into our custody and decide his fate accordingly.”
“Surely ye will nae see me delivered into the hands of my enemies, my son?” Oliver whined pitiably. “Surely ye will spare me that final humiliation, at least?”
“Ye deserve every humiliation ye have comin’ tae ye,” Cameron informed him, “and a thousand more.”
“And what of us?” Darina asked Fergus, smiling at him. “What do we deserve, do ye think?”
“A bright future,” he replied, grinning in return. “And I have a good idea of how it should be ushered in.”