Reid grabbed his sword from the ground and held it in a two-handed grip. He swung it at Cinead, slicing through the bonds that bound his brother’s wrists. He’d waited a long time for revenge against this man and he wasn’t about to take it whilst he was trussed like a pig at market.
“Fight me!” he growled. “Fight me, damn ye!”
“Gladly,” Cinead hissed back. The guards had taken his weapons but Laird Campbell, seeing a chance for sport, tossed him a sword.
Cinead caught it. “Just the two of us, eh, brother?”
Cinead lunged at Reid, blade swinging at his face. He was a big man, as big as Reid, and wider across the shoulders. If the blow had landed, it would have taken Reid’s head. But Reid was faster. He dodged the blow and kicked Cinead in the back of the leg. Cinead spun with a grunt and smashed his elbow into Reid’s nose. He backed away, wiping away the blood. The two began circling. Reid forgot about Campbell, the tent, the battle outside, he forgot about everything but the hot, burning need for vengeance. His hatred became as sharp as a dagger point.
“Ye always looked down on me, even when we were children,” he said. “When my mother married yer father, I was six years old and ye were my hero. But ye treated me with utter contempt and refused to have anything to do with me.”
“I did naught of the sort,” Cinead replied. “Yer mother treated ye like a prince whilst she treated me worse than one of the dogs! It was she who wouldnae let me have anything to do with ye. Didnae want her precious son being sullied by the likes of me! Ye could have had everything, Reid, but ye threw it away out of jealousy and spite.”
“Jealousy? Is that what ye call it? I call it vengeance—and I will have my vengeance for what ye did to me!”
“Just as I will have mine for all yer betrayals!”
Reid’s vision went red and fury pumped through him. He threw himself at Cinead, swinging his sword. The two weapons met with a clang and they moved back and forth across the tent, neither holding back, each trying to find an opening in the other’s defense.
Reid was soon sweating, his lungs burning in his chest but he didn’t slow. In his mind’s eye he again saw the faces of his men as the Muir raiders bore down on them. Young faces which were so full of eagerness, turning to fear and horror in an instant. He saw again those faces lying in the mud, eyes staring, blood pooling around them. Cinead calledhima traitor? How dare he?
Although he was dimly aware of Laird Campbell watching from a distance and the sounds of battle outside, his focus shrank to a pinprick. There was only his brother and the desperate need for vengeance that coursed through his blood. This was what he’d been working towards for so long.
But Cinead was his match with the sword and was every bit as furious as Reid. His lips were pulled back from his teeth, his eyes flashing with hatred as he parried every blow of Reid’s sword and then attacked with his own, forcing Reid to roll from under a blow, come to his feet and stab at Cinead’s unprotected calf, only to have it blocked and be forced to retreat.
In the distance he heard the thunder of hoofbeats. Horns rang and there was a frantic bellowing outside. Reid ignored it all.
“Why did ye do it?” he panted at Cinead. “I was no threat to ye. All I wanted was to be left alone, to build a new life. Why did ye do it?”
“I did nothing,” Cinead replied, parrying Reid’s sword and then aiming a savage kick at his stomach, forcing Reid back a step. “I was happy to let ye go but ye couldnae leave it at that, could ye?”
“Did nothing?” Reid hissed, bringing his sword around in a two-handed swing that would have taken off Cinead’s head if he hadn’t blocked it. The hilts of the two swords caught, bringing Reid and Cinead’s faces close together. “Tell that to the mothers who willnae see their sons again. Tell that to the lasses who had to bury their sweethearts. They were little more than children, Cinead! And ye murdered them all!”
Rage exploded through him, white-hot like molten metal. He bellowed incoherently and used all his strength to tear the sword from Cinead’s grip. It went sailing across the tent and landed with a thud in the dirt. Before Cinead could react, Reid pressed the tip of his sword against his brother’s throat.
His chest was heaving, his hair sticking to his face with sweat. More shouting came from outside and the stamp of running feet.
“I swore vengeance against ye that day, brother. Vowed it to those boys ye killed. And I keep my vows.”
He pulled back his sword and tightened his grip.
“Reid, stop!”
The voice was like a dash of cold water in his face. He spun and saw a woman standing in the tent flap, her face pale.
“Abigail?”
The distraction was all Cinead needed. He grabbed his sword, knocked Reid’s weapon from his hand, and pointed his blade at Reid’s chest.
“Vengeance is it?” he said, his voice low and deadly. “That’s a long list, brother. It starts with what ye did to my garrison at Spiny Head. But it ends right here, right now.”
Another woman flashed between Reid and Cinead—holding her hands out to keep them apart.
“Stop this madness, both of you!”
Reid recognized Layla, Cinead’s wife.
“Have ye lost yer minds?” Cinead thundered. “What are ye doing here? Get out of the way, woman!”
