Page 7 of Bride of Fire
“Don’t ye ever say that. Don’t ye believe it. That is an innocent bairn. He’s flesh o’ your flesh and blood o’ your blood, heir to all this.” He waved his arm at the great hall. “’Tis sorrowful enough the poor lad will ne’er know his ma. But for his own da to blame him for her death…”
Morgan knew Colban was right. But the spark in his heart had grown into a burning coal. And anger felt so much better than melancholy.
“Stay out o’ my affairs!” he barked. “What would ye know about fatherhood anyway?” He regretted his next words even before they spilled off his bitter tongue. “Ye don’t even know who your dais.”
Colban growled and gave him a hard shove.
Morgan shoved him back.
What followed was a brawl more befitting beardless lads than grown men.
Colban gave him a well-deserved punch in the jaw, hard enough to rock back his head.
Morgan cursed and clamped an arm around Colban’s neck, pulling him off-balance.
Colban gained release by pummeling Morgan in the gut, bending him in half. While he clutched his bruised stomach, Colban tackled him to the ground.
They scrambled across the polished planks, kicking and clouting, wrenching at each other’s garments, grimacing and cursing, scratching and spitting like wildcats.
As foolish as the grappling was, the rage was cathartic. For the first time since Alicia’s death, Morgan felt…capable. What he was capableof,of course, was senseless violence. But the fury flowing through him melted the ice in his veins.
He might not be able to defeat death. But he could damn well leave Colban begging for mercy.
If only he could catch hold of the slippery bastard.
Colban escaped him and headed up the stairs.
“Coward!” Morgan yelled, thinking he was fleeing.
But when he charged forward in pursuit, Colban turned suddenly, using the advantage of height to leap down upon Morgan.
Morgan collapsed under the attack, twisting his ankle and striking his brow on the stone wall as he went down. Stars floated before his eyes. His fingers found blood dripping from his forehead.
Colban didn’t escape unscathed by the fall either. He rolled away, groaning and clutching at his knee.
Morgan gave his head a hard shake to dispel the dizziness and struggled to his feet.
Colban regained his footing as well, though he favored his injured leg. He limped before Morgan, taunting him with a smoldering glare.
Morgan outweighed Colban by a wee bit in muscle and might. Unfortunately, Colban was the faster man.
His quick punch caught Morgan’s left eye, blurring his vision.
Morgan barreled blindly forward. Catching Colban about the waist, he slammed him into the stone wall.
Colban grunted.
Morgan reared back and drove his fist toward Colban’s fair face. But Colban dropped down in that instant, and Morgan’s knuckles crunched against the hard sandstone.
Grimacing and cradling his injured hand, Morgan staggered back a step.
Colban seized the advantage, lunging toward Morgan’s shins and knocking him backward.
The great hall careened upside down at lightning speed. Then the planks of the floor collided with the back of Morgan’s head.
The last thing he heard was his old maidservant Bethac asking what in the hell the two of them were doing.
The last thing he saw was a black fog rushing in to eclipse his vision and render him senseless.
