Page 54 of Bound to a Highland Beast
Tiernan couldn’t claim to like Constantine—quite the opposite, in fact. But Beag seemed to have gotten it in his head that he and Constantine were colluding against him, making it impossible for Tiernan to convince him otherwise.
It didn’t matter either way. In the end, either Constantine or Beag would have killed him. The result would have been the same. It was only now that he truly had a chance, with Constantine and his men still fighting off Beag’s forces.
A small chance… fer if Constantine decides I’m better off dead, then I willnae survive this.
Tiernan took a few slow steps forward, his gaze fixed on Beag. Beag did the same, the two men approaching each other, circling each other like two beasts. Tiernan’s strength had long since left him and the only thing that kept him going was the thought that if he died, there would be no one left to protect Isabeau.
Through ragged, pained breaths, Tiernan raised his blade one more time, clashing with Beag. The collision drew a grunt out of him, but he swiftly attacked again, wasting no time between the blows he tried to deliver. Even in his exhaustion, even with all the injuries he had sustained, his desire to protect Isabeau was enough to make him a formidable opponent for Beag, pushing him past his limits.
And Beag could tell—he could tell he was at a disadvantage. That even drawing out this fight was not enough to give him a clean and absolute win. And so just as Tiernan rushed to attack again, he screamed over his shoulder to his men.
“Kill the lass!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Isabeau’s blood ran cold, chilling her to the bone. The moment Beag uttered the order, the men were quick to move, one of them grabbing both of her arms and holding them behind her back as the other pulled back and drew a small dagger from its sheath around his calf.
She saw the glint of the blade under the light of the torches, flashing in her eyes. She saw the man approach with a glint in his pale blue eyes. The man behind her was a solid wall of muscle, his vice grip bruising her forearms, his fingers digging deep into her flesh. She felt his hot breath on the back of her neck, heard his ragged laughter right by her ear. When she glanced at Tiernan, she found him heaving, Beag still blocking his way to her, and she knew her only hope was to save herself.
But could she? Was there anything she could do to stop those two men from taking her life so casually, so callously?
Her screams piercing the dark forest, Isabeau kicked out her legs with all her might, keeping the other man away from heras much as she could. Behind her, the man holding her cursed loudly, his grip tightening even more around her arms and for a terrible moment, she thought he would snap them right in two. But her body was resilient and in the face of danger, it didn’t let her down. If she was going to die, she was certainly not going to do so without putting up a fight.
The tighter grasp gave her the leverage she needed to kick even higher, her legs flying out wildly in front of her. The man holding the knife tried his best to approach her, but between her kicks and the other man struggling to hold her, it was impossible for him to come close enough to deliver the final blow. Distantly, she could hear Tiernan’s roars as he fought Beag, desperately trying to get to her. She could buy him some time, she thought. Even if she couldn’t fight those men herself, she could at least give him as good of a chance as she could to save her.
Finally, one of her legs connected with the man’s stomach, sending him stumbling backwards and curling into himself, one hand coming up to clutch at the spot she had kicked. When he looked up at her, though, his eyes barely visible from under his brows, the look he gave her was a murderous one and, in that moment, Isabeau knew she had only made things worse for herself.
“Ye wee harlot!” the man exclaimed, his fingers twitching around the handle of his blade. “I’ll slit yer damned throat.”
Isabeau froze in fear under that cruel stare, her heart threatening to leap out of her chest as she watched him approach once more. Her limbs felt like lead, heavy and unmovable,as though an invisible force was weighing them down. Time seemed to stretch and slow, everything around her coming into sharp focus—the man’s footsteps, the sharp pain of her captor’s nails in her skin, the clang of steel against steel as the battle raged around her.
She thought about her brothers. She thought about all the people she was leaving behind, all the people who loved her and who may never even find her body. No one there but Tiernan knew who she was—no one would be left to take her back to her family.
And then, just as Isabeau closed her eyes, finally accepting her fate, she felt the warm wash of blood over her—but it didn’t come with the pain she had expected.
Kill the lass!
Those words rang in Tiernan’s ears, bile rising to the back of his throat. It was Beag’s last, desperate attempt to distract him from the fight, to give him something else to occupy his mind and his efforts. He knew that he would do anything to save Isabeau, and he was right.
Fighting him wasn’t getting him anywhere. Hearing Isabeau’s screams, knowing that she was doing her best to keep that man’s knife away from her, seeing the fear in her eyes—it was all too much. His heart ached with the knowledge that had it not been for him, she would be back home now, safe and sound instead of facing the tip of a knife.
“Stop!” Tiernan said, letting his sword fall by his side. Every fiber of his being protested the surrender. His body wanted to fight, to cut Beag down and everyone else who got between him and Isabeau, but in his mind, he knew this was the only solution. His life for hers. It seemed more than fair, after everything he had put her through. “It’s me ye want, so kill me. Kill me, but spare her.”
Beag barked out a surprised laugh. “How noble o’ ye! Ye love the lass so much ye’d give yer life fer hers?”
“I’m givin’ it,” Tiernan said through gritted teeth. “It’s yers. Take it.”
Beag took a step forward, then another, but he didn’t give the order for his men to stop. Tiernan watched him carefully, his fingers twitching around his sword. Would he not stop them? Would he risk everything to try and kill them both?
Before Tiernan could ask him to stop his men again, before Beag could even reach him, Tiernan saw a fast movement from the corner of his eye. Isabeau’s scream echoed in the clearing around them over the noise of the battle and the sound of a body hitting the ground caught Beag’s attention, forcing him to turn around.
His man lay dead on the ground and soon, the other followed as Constantine struck him down. Tiernan almost called out to him to beg him to hold back, to wait as the man was still holding onto Isabeau, but the words died in his throat before he could get them out, too exhausted, too shocked by the turn of eventsto even speak. Still, Constantine’s movements were so precise that even as he pierced the man through the back, Isabeau was entirely unharmed, stumbling away from him the moment she had the chance. The only sign she had ever been in a struggle was the blood that covered her from head to toe, clinging to her face, her hair, her hands.
Next to her, Constantine stood guard, eyes looking for any sign of more danger, for any of Beag’s men who may decide to step forward.
Slowly, Beag turned back to look at Tiernan, his features contorted into a mask of rage. Under the light of the flames, he hardly looked human—Tiernan thought this was what demons must have looked like if they ever roamed the earth.
Wasting no time, Tiernan picked up his sword and threw himself at Beag for one last time. Beag’s howl pierced through the clearing and Tiernan could almost feel it in his bones when they collided, furiously fighting each other. This time, Beag gave it his all, swinging his sword wildly at him in a desperate, raging attempt to kill him. Tiernan blocked blow after blow, using the last of his strength to keep him back as he looked for an opening.
