Page 109 of The Highlander's Auctioned Virgin
CHAPTER 29
“This ishow it has to end, is it nae?” Logan asked.
Ciaran shrugged. “‘Tis the only way I’ll ever be free of ye.”
Logan moved first. The sword came free of his belt in one smooth pull, the blade catching the gray morning light.
Ciaran did not step back. He waited until the last second before turning ever so slightly, feeling the rush of air as the blade whizzed close enough to graze his sleeve.
“I made ye what ye are.” Logan exhaled. “And I intend to show that to ye today.” He swung his sword hard.
Ciaran raised his sword to block the second strike. Metal clashed against metal, and the jolt traveled up his arm to his chest.
Logan’s face contorted behind his blade as he pushed hard against Ciaran. “Ye say I had to manipulate Jamie and some of me other men into going after ye. The truth is, I barely had to do anything. I didnae even ask them.”
Ciaran pushed back harder, and their swords began to slide off each other.
“They volunteered,” Logan continued, digging his boots into the soil. “Because they hated traitors as much as I did. They didnae appreciate disloyalty.”
He did not flinch. He shoved forward, throwing all his weight behind his blade, forcing Ciaran to give ground.
The edge of the flat rock caught the back of Ciaran’s heel. He braced himself against it, his breath coming in sharp bursts. Logan’s eyes never left his face. He stepped forward again, swinging his sword in the air.
“If ye were as loyal and honest as ye claim, I’d still be yer second-in-command. Frankly, ye have never disgusted me as much as ye do at this moment.”
Logan’s eyes darkened further, the smile on his face turning into a snarl. “I should have killed ye when I had the chance. I willnae waste it again.”
He lunged again, his sword raised. His blade hit Ciaran’s with a clang that seemed to reverberate through the desolate forest.
“Ye’re nae a laird. Ye’re nae fit to rule the people ye took with ye,” he said, his voice steady despite the strain of their locked blades. “Ye will only ever be one thing. And that is what I made ye—the Hound.”
Ciaran felt his ears burn. He shifted his grip, broke the bind, and stepped closer. He drove his elbow into Logan’s jaw, sending him reeling back a pace. He did not give his brother a break. He stepped forward again and struck. His sword bit into Logan’s shoulder. Blood immediately seeped into his grey shirt.
“I am nae what ye made me,” he whispered to himself.
Logan bared his teeth, evidently trying to suppress the sharp pain in his shoulder. “Ye think she makes ye clean? Ye think ye’ll nae put her in danger everywhere ye go?”
He lunged again, this time a bit faster. Ciaran blocked the first blow and the second. The third one caught him high in the ribs. Heat flared under his shirt. He felt the pain spread underneath, but refused to acknowledge it. Not now.
He circled Logan, who did the same, his breath rasping through clenched teeth. His sword shot out in another quick strike. Ciaran dodged a moment too late. The blade bit into his thigh, shallow but leaving a sharp pain. He staggered backward, feeling his grip on his sword falter.
“After I kill ye, who kens? I might just attend yer wedding. ‘Tis today, is it nae?”
Ciaran did not respond. The pain in his thigh grew.
“I might just marry her. I mean, it would be tragic to become a widow on yer wedding day, would it nae? Plus, Joanna left after I got bored with her, so it will all work out.”
Ciaran dropped to one knee, feeling the soft, cold soil against his skin. “Ye got bored with Joanna? Ye kenned ye were going to get bored with her after ye made me kill her husband?”
Logan moved forward. “Aye. She grew frustrated, poor thing. Couldnae deal with me because all I had on me mind was me poor–”H e brought up his knee and slammed it into Ciaran’s jaw, sending hot pain through his skull. “–dear–”K e kicked him again. “–braither.”
Ciaran toppled to the ground, and Logan stood over him, panting. He lowered the tip of his blade to Ciaran’s throat.
“She’ll never be safe with ye. I’ll marry her, and all of this will belong to me.” He gestured around the forest, his voice calm. “I’ll take her when ye’re gone. Put an heir in her belly. She’ll ken what it feels like to lie with arealman.”
A tense, suffocating silence ensued. Then, Ciaran’s hand shot up. He caught Logan’s wrist and wrenched it sideways. His bones cracked, and he let out a sharp, shocked cry.
Ciaran rose, the pain in his thigh a distant thing. He curled his fingers around his sword, feeling its heft.
