Page 32 of Scot of Deception
To her right, a shadow passed with dizzying speed and Kathleen’s head whipped to the side to catch a glimpse of another soldier making a move for her. Adrenaline kicked in and her body moved on its own accord, her hand reaching for the small knife she carried on her as she tried to scrabble away from the man at the same time. Before she could get far enough, though, Blaine was there once again, a shield between her and the threat, putting himself in harm’s way without any hesitation.
Their swords clashed with a deafening clang, the sound echoing all around them. Kathleen had never seen anyonemove the way Blaine did—so efficiently, so mercilessly. She had seen him fight before, but it was nothing like then. He was not merely trying to get away from the men with her. He was aiming to kill, and he did so with such practiced ease that there was only one thought in Kathleen’s mind as she watched him.
He’s done this afore, many times.
There was no other explanation. Blaine was a warrior—someone who knew precisely where to strike, someone who never once hesitated before taking a life.
Someone who seemed to have no remorse.
It took him only moments to corner the man and deliver the killing blow, slicing through his stomach. Kathleen averted her gaze as quickly as she could, but she still caught a glimpse of the carnage that followed. Bile rose to the back of her throat, burning and worsening her nausea, but she had no time to consider the dead, not when another soldier was about to attack Blaine.
He hadn’t seen him. The man approached him from behind, sneaking in just as Blaine took a moment to catch his breath. Kathleen had no time to think; all her instincts were working on overdrive, and her body moved automatically with only one goal in mind.
She had to save Blaine’s life.
She reached for a branch that had fallen near the road, gripping it tightly with both hands as she pushed to her feet. The bark was rough under her fingers, the wood heavy in her hands as she took one step, then another, stomping up to Blaine’s attacker. Somewhere within her, she summoned the strength to swing the branch with force, and it whizzed through the air and connected with the back of the man’s head, sending him stumbling forward, disoriented.
Blaine whirled around and upon seeing the man, he immediately struck him down. His blade plunged into the soldier’s gut and Blaine twisted the handle, drawing a pained gasp out of him. When he wrenched the blade free once more, the man’s hands uselessly tried to plug the wound. He fell to his knees before Blaine, taking one last look at his torso as though he couldn’t believe he had been injured, and then finally collapsed onto the ground.
Kathleen stood there, heaving, looking at the log in her hands as they began to tremble. The man was facing her, but his eyes were glassy, devoid of any signs of life.
The log was covered in blood. She didn’t know if she had been the one to kill the man or if it was Blaine’s attack that had ended his life, but either way, she was at least partially responsible for it. Whatever relief washed over her at the knowledge that the man couldn’t hurt her was quicklyovershadowed by that and the sense of regret and shame that followed.
With three men down, the rest of the Campbell soldiers were unwilling to take Blaine on. Within moments, they had fled, rushing back into the woods from where they had come. Kathleen saw them from her peripheral vision, but she didn’t have the presence of mind to understand it was all over—nor did she have the capacity to worry that they could come back with reinforcements.
There was blood everywhere. It pooled under the three bodies and the scent of it, metallic and sickening, hung heavy in the air.
Never before had Kathleen seen a single dead body, let alone such carnage. The sight of it brought upon wave after wave of nausea and her stomach threatened to empty itself right then and there. The log fell off her hands, hitting the ground with a dull thud, and she pressed one of them against her mouth, trying to keep herself from vomiting. Cold sweat dripped from her back, her chest. Her entire body trembled uncontrollably and she heaved again and again, desperately trying to look anywhere but at the three bodies.
She drew her gaze to Blaine, who stood above his last victim, panting as he tried to catch his breath. He was covered in blood, drops of it dripping from his hands and his blade. But he was looking straight at her, his expression unreadable.
What was he thinking in that moment? What could a killer like him be thinking after taking three lives?
A logical part of Kathleen’s mind insisted that she should be afraid of him. This was a man who could take a life without even flinching. This was a man with a violent side, someone who was used to this kind of brutality.
And yet she wasn’t afraid of him. If anything, the display of violence had left Kathleen feeling even safer with him. He had proven once and for all that he would never let anyone harm her and wouldn’t hesitate to strike down anyone who dared to try.
And she needed him. As much as she had thought herself capable before leaving Moy Hall, she now had to face the bitter truth; she was not ready for the world that lurked outside the castle walls. She knew nothing of this danger, this violence. She knew nothing about protecting herself from harm and she had been foolish to think none would come to her when she decided to travel all alone.
Kathleen’s ears rang with the rush of blood to her head. Her body, too exhausted and too unstable, finally gave in and her knees buckled under her weight. She never hit the ground, though. Before she could collapse entirely, Blaine was right there, holding her up.
The sob that wrenched itself from Kathleen’s chest surprised even her. It was so sudden, so raw, and only the start of what was to follow. Tears streamed ceaselessly down her cheeks, staining Blaine’s shirt where she laid her head on his shoulder, but he only held her tightly in his arms, refusing to let go even as she tried to pull free, confused by the release of her emotions.
“I dinnae ken why I’m cryin’,” she admitted through heaving sobs. “Why? Why cannae I stop?”
“Ye’re in shock,” Blaine said, softly yet firmly. “It’s alright. Ye’re alright, it’s better tae cry than keep it all inside ye.”
Kathleen could hear Blaine’s voice. She could even understand what he was telling her, but the moment he had stopped talking, she forgot all about it and the confusion returned.
The only thing that kept her sane was the steady pressure of his arms, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Kathleen tried to mimic it at first, but soon found her body refused to cooperate.
“Dinnae fash,” Blaine told her. “I’m here. I’ve got ye.”
And even if only for an instant, Kathleen believed him.
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My dear reader,
