Page 89 of Won By The Highlander

‘Something that has been a long time coming. I am here to seek recompense for his tarnishing your reputation and ruining Elva’s.’

‘What on earth do you mean? I am not moving from this spot until you tell me, Wolfric.’

‘Very well. Stay. But I warn you, this will not be pretty, and you are about to find out just what kind of man Captain Nash is.’

‘No, stop,’ said Orla, dragging on his arm, but Wolfric shook her off.

‘Nash!’ he shouted, and Giles Nash turned, a scowl darkening his face. He did not acknowledge them. Instead, he sped towards the gangway leading up to the ship. But Wolfric was too quick for him and blocked his path.

‘So, not only are you a foul seducer, you are a coward too,’ said Wolfric.

‘What do you want, Munro? I am in rather a hurry to catch the tide, and this ship is about to sail.’

‘If you want to take ship to England, leaving your mess behind, you will have to get through me first,’ said Wolfric.

‘Enough. Get out of my way,’ snarled Nash.

‘I want justice for the lass you got with child, you cur. I want coin to pay for its upkeep, and I want to wipe that superior look from your face.’

‘I do not know what you are talking about.’

‘My servant, Elva. Remember her? You must, for she is hard to forget - blue eyes, bonnie face.’

Nash smirked nastily, eyes flicking to Orla. ‘Careful, Munro, you will make your wife jealous. And I know of no girl by that name, servant or otherwise. Stand aside.’

‘You gave her a fat lip when she confronted you about being with child on your account.’

‘Perhaps as you find her so unforgettable, it is your child, not mine,’ said Nash with a sneer.

‘She had a boy,’ said Wolfric.

‘A boy? A son?’ Nash’s eyes widened in momentary delight, leaving no doubt in Orla’s mind that the bairn was the Captain’s.

‘Coin, or do I have to beat it out of you,’ snarled Wolfric.

‘I have no wish to brawl in the muck with the likes of you, and especially not over some whore.’

‘She is no whore. You took advantage of Elva,’ shouted Wolfric.

‘I do not prey on women, Munro. They come to me willingly, and as to whore, perhaps I was not referring to this lass, Elva, but someone else.’

Nash smirked in Orla’s direction, and Wolfric exploded in rage. He grabbed Nash by the lapels of his bright red coat and flung him against a pile of casks on the wharf. Nash landed with a thud but sprung to his feet, fists up, and launched himself at Wolfric.

The two men exchanged brutal punches as folk gathered to watch the spectacle, eager to see an Englishman humbled. Nash landed some crushing blows to Wolfric’s face, and when blood spurted from his mouth, the crowd groaned as one. It might have continued, but for one thing. Nash had been taught to fight like a gentleman, and Wolfric had not. The next time they got close, Wolfric grabbed hold of Nash and wrestled him to the ground.

They rolled around, grappling, biting, and punching in the muck and snow. Nash began to tire, his blows losing their edge, but suddenly he produced a knife, as if from nowhere. It swept upwards to Wolfric’s neck, but he managed to grab Nash’s wrist and turn it. Slowly, the knife edged downwards towards Nash’s throat. Their hands shook with the effort, and a vein stood out on Wolfric’s temple as he squeezed his fingers tightly around Nash’s wrist.

The knife slipped from Nash’s grasp and clattered to the ground, and Orla rushed in to pick it up. She could not intervene, for this was her husband’s fight, but it would be a fair one, if she had anything to do with it.

Wolfric pulled back his arm and unleashed a mighty blow at the Captain’s face. All the fight went out of the man, and he fell back, limp on the ground. Wolfric got to his feet, stood over Nash and shouted down at him. ‘You seduced Elva, and when she asked you to provide for the bairn you put in her belly, you beat her. Is her’s the only bastard you leave behind, or are the Highlands littered with them, you cur?’

Nash sat up, blood oozing down his jacket, matching its scarlet. ‘How should I know?’ he slurred, spitting blood. ‘Scots girls are whores for the taking, so there might be many unwanted brats coming this winter, but they could be anyone’s.’

He glowered at Orla, so she picked up a rotten cabbage from the ground and flung it at his face, hitting him in his fine, square jaw. ‘I thank God I was more discerning than Elva and the others, Nash, you foul creature,’ she shouted.

‘Oh no, you weren’t.’

Wolfric aimed a vicious kick at his ribs. ‘My wife never lay with you, Nash. She was true.’

---