“You two planned this between you,” he finally said, trying to keep his balance because his legs were trembling so. “Why in the hell did Robin push a betrothal with the House of de Lohr if you had already made the offer between Diara and your son? I do not understand any of this.”
Riggs shrugged. “When your son died, his procession passed through my lands,” he said. “That is how I knew Lady Diara’s betrothal was no more. When I went to Robin, my good friend, to convey my condolences, he was regretting the betrothal between you and his daughter. He agreed that it was a mistake. I offered to help him fix that mistake… for a price.”
“Your son’s marriage to Diara.”
“Exactly.”
Roi shook his head in disgust, but it threw him off balance and he pitched down to one knee. His breathing was growing worse because he was having a difficult time keeping the hole in his chest covered up. It wasn’t a horrible sucking wound, because he’d seen those, but it was bad enough. Just enough to cause him problems.
And he had problems aplenty.
“If you were a man of honor, you would give me a sword and at least give me a fighting chance,” he said, wondering how long he could draw this out before they killed him outright. “You used a coward’s tactics by ambushing me from the trees. A worthy man would have challenged me with a sword, but I can see that was too much for you. I wonder if your son is as cowardly as his father is.”
Infuriated, Riggs marched up on him and kicked him in the other knee, causing him to fall heavily on his buttocks. He came in again for another kick, but Roi grabbed his foot and twisted, throwing him to the ground. Wounded and all, Roi pounced on Riggs and gave him a good beating with three or four strikes to the face before Riggs’ men pulled him off their lord. One man grabbed Roi by the bolt that was sticking out of his back, yanking on it with the intention of pulling him away, but he ended up pulling out the bolt completely. In agony, Roi was thrown onto his side while Riggs’ men kicked him and stomped on him, but Riggs call them off.
“Enough!” he bellowed. “Get away from him. I’ll slice that bastard to pieces!”
With that, he withdrew his broadsword. Roi knew that because he could hear it sing as it was unsheathed. He was without a sword, but he did have daggers on his body. The problem was that between his back wound and the chest wound,he was beginning to see stars. His eyesight was starting to dim, and he knew that he wasn’t going to stay conscious much longer.
Still, he had to fight.
He had a perfect life now, and he wasn’t about to give it up.
With the greatest struggle, he pushed himself onto his back in time to see Riggs bearing down on him. Immediately, he unsheathed a dagger he knew was at his waist, but when he’d fallen, he must have damaged the sheath because he couldn’t get it out. That meant his boot came up, and he kicked Riggs in the groin area, causing the man to cry out in pain as he stumbled back.
But it was only momentary.
Fury had Riggs regrouping. He lifted his broadsword over his head and moved in to make the kill. Roi could see it coming and thought quickly—he could try to roll away and get to his feet, or he could fall forward into the man’s legs and hopefully send him off balance. All he needed was the opportunity to get the broadsword away from him. He knew that if he did, by sheer willpower alone, he’d have a fighting chance. All he could see or think or feel was Diara, a vision before him that was keeping him alive. She was feeding his fighting spirit. He simply couldn’t leave her.
But then something strange happened.
Suddenly, men were charging through the brush, in his direction, and an arrow sailed right into Riggs’ midsection. He opened his mouth to scream, but another bolt went into his mouth, through his head, and emerged on the other side.
He was dead before he hit the ground.
The men with him scattered. Battered, wounded, and close to passing out, Roi tried to get up, to face whoever was attacking them through the bramble, but he couldn’t seem to make it. He grabbed at the daggers on his thigh, managing to unsheathe one of them, holding it up and preparing to slash anyone who camenear him. He was going to fight to the death, damn it, and to hell with anyone who would try to take him down. They would leave their share of blood on the ground.
“Roi!” Someone was beside him, grasping him, holding his wrist so he didn’t slash at him. “Let the dagger go, Roi. It’s me. It’s Peter. Let it go, man. You’re safe. I will not let anyone harm you, I swear it.”
Roi was quivering violently. The dagger fell to the ground, and he looked up at his eldest brother, so shocked that he could hardly believe what he was seeing.
“Peter?” he gasped. “My God… is it really you?”
Peter smiled at him, but the concern on his face was obvious. “It is really me,” he said. “But there’s no time for talk. We need to get you out of here, old man.”
Roi was trying to get on his feet but he couldn’t seem to manage it. “What are you doing here?” he demanded weakly. “How did you find me?”
More men were swarming around him, and Roi could feel arms around him, lifting him up, moving him away from the carnage. They began running with him, through the brush and bramble.
“Everything will be fine, Roi,” Peter said steadily, slashing bushes out of the way as they moved. “We need to tend your wounds. You’re safe now.”
Roi could see his nephew, Andrew, helping to carry him. There were other de Lohr men, probably more than a dozen, all of them carrying him away from the blood and chaos. In truth, Roi could hardly believe it. He was still back there on his knees, preparing to fight for his life.
But he wasn’t.
Peter had saved him.
“It was an ambush,” Roi said breathlessly. “Cirencester wanted to kill me. He wants Diara. He wants my wife.”
