Page 85 of How to Be a Scottish Mistress

Oh, no.Heart pounding, Fiona watched the two men run forward, charging Gilroy at the same time. Holding his great sword in both hands, Gilroy braced his feet apart and swung the heavy sword high over his head, slashing first to his left and then the right.

Blood spurted instantly from Gilroy’s opponents. They fell to the ground, one clutching his stomach, the other his neck and shoulder. Writhing in pain, the mortally wounded men were pulled from the circle by a few of the others, a trail of bright red blood marking their exit route.

Fiona’s stomach roiled. So much blood! But even more concerning was the hard, bellowing breaths Gilroy emitted. He was tiring. Which was precisely what that worm Magnus had counted upon. Fiona now realized that allowing the other two men to fight first had been a calculated risk, for it was presumed the one who killed the leader was the next to take the position.

But Magnus was also aware of Gilroy’s skill, which was clearly superior, even fighting against two. What better way to increase his odds than to face a tired and breathless Gilroy?

Yet before he stepped forward to challenge Gilroy, Magnus’s eyes narrowed on her and Aileen. Fiona felt her throat tighten. Bitter tears filled her eyes and guilt gnawed at her heart.

It was her fault they had been captured and were now in mortal danger. ’Twas true she could not have known that Aileen would follow her, but she still shouldered the blame. Fiona’s sins were hers to endure, but Aileen was innocent and did not deserve such a gruesome fate.

And Fiona had no doubt it would be gruesome. She had seen enough soldiers in her time to recognize the signs of desperation in Magnus’s eyes, the barely suppressed rage that once unleashed would be uncontrollable.

And directed at her and Aileen. If Gilroy lost this battle, they were doomed.

Glaring venomously, Magnus slashed his sword at Gilroy’s head, but Gilroy moved to his left at the last second and the steel whizzed through the air. Magnus snarled at the near miss and charged hastily. Gilroy struck at his kneecap and Magnus went down hard, cursing as he fell.

Gilroy spun around, moving in for the kill, but Magnus rolled to his right and avoided the blow. He came up fighting mad. He attacked with meticulous force, advancing ruthlessly, the harsh grate of metal striking metal rattling Fiona’s teeth. Valiantly, Gilroy fended off the blows, but he was clearly on the defensive.

What Magnus lacked in grace and finesse he made up for in brute strength and determination. His arm never seemed to tire as he wielded his heavy sword again and again.

Magnus jabbed at Gilroy’s chest. The thrust found its mark and pierced his leather leine croich. Gilroy leapt away. Fiona winced at the certain pain and saw a spurt of blood erupt from Gilroy’s shoulder. Thankfully, it soon slowed to a trickle, but the sight spurred Magnus’s attack.

He pressed harder, the blows ringing loudly in the clearing. Then Magnus brought his sword up from underneath, striking hard at Gilroy’s blade. The hilt of the mighty weapon jolted out of Gilroy’s hand and went flying through the air. With a sinister shout of triumph, Magnus pointed the tip of his sword in Gilroy’s face.

The other men quieted. Fiona moaned in fear; Aileen covered her eyes with both hands.

Magnus thrust his sword forward, his eyes glazed with excitement. But Gilroy ducked out of harm’s way before the blade could find its mark, pulling his dirk out of its sheath as he moved. An off-balance Magnus stumbled forward. Gilroy quickly seized the advantage and ruthlessly struck at the vulnerable hollow of Magnus’s throat, burying the blade to the hilt.

Magnus’s sightless eyes remained open in shock as he fell to the ground. Fiona stood transfixed, unable to look away from the body.

There was a long drawn-out silence before Alec leaned over Magnus, then looked up at the rest of them and proclaimed, “He’s dead.”

Still clutching his dirk, Gilroy’s shoulders sagged in exhaustion. But he rallied quickly, pointing his blade forcefully in a slow circle toward the rest of his men. His voice was strong and commanding when he questioned, “Is there anyone else in the mood to challenge me on this fine afternoon?”

The fight was over, yet the excitement had just begun. The sound of a barking dog echoed through the glen and then, with no further warning, a contingent of men on horseback rushed into the clearing, Gavin in the lead. He vaulted off his horse and lunged at Gilroy, easily getting past the other men, who were too shocked and surprised to draw their weapons.

“As the Lord is my witness, I shall have yer fool head set on a pike fer this outrage,” Gavin shouted, his voice rising to an almost ear-shattering pitch.

Gilroy whirled to face the earl, who agilely ducked beneath the wide swing of Gilroy’s dirk. Coming up directly in front of his bastard brother, Gavin grasped a fistful of Gilroy’s hair, yanking his head back. He placed the edge of his sword at Gilroy’s throat, pressing forward until a trickle of blood ran down the man’s neck.

The look in Gavin’s eye was easily understood—he meant to slay the bastard without a second thought. But for all his mischief, Fiona did not believe Gilroy deserved such an untimely demise. And she also believed that one day Gavin would come to regret this brutal act.

“No!” Without realizing how it came to happen, Fiona found herself at Gavin’s side, clutching the arm that held the sword. “Please, Gavin, don’t. Spare him.”

“After all that he’s done?” Gavin questioned in disbelief.

“Aileen and I are unharmed.”

“Aye,” Aileen added. “Frightened and a bit bruised, but unhurt.”

“Have ye both gone mad? Gilroy kidnapped ye!” Gavin seethed in disgust.

“Not precisely,” Fiona countered. “He did not breach the walls and invade the castle to take us. He saw us in the woods and seized the opportunity.”

Gavin’s stormy blue eyes shifted from Fiona to Aileen and then back to Fiona. He held her gaze for the longest moment, then shook his head. “I fail to see the difference.”

In a way, so did Fiona. But she pressed on, knowing she needed to prevent this from happening. “He just killed three of his own men to protect us. I know that does not excuse any of his other crimes, but I beg you to seek justice, not vengeance.”

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