Henry struggled to his feet. “She wasn’t worth wasting more time than it took to spill.”
“Then why come after her? Why try to get her to leave here?”
“Because my useless cu—wife,” Henry caught himself, sensing more vulgarity would cut his life short with no more chance to fight. “Is barren. The bitch has never bled. That bairn is mine. If it’s a son, he’s my heir. I will have what is mine.”
Dominic was in no mood to banter now that he knew why Henry pursued Emelie. While Henry’s wounds weren’t fatal, they left him unable to further defend himself. Dominic thrust his sword toward Henry’s throat, stopping just as the tip pricked Henry’s skin. “Ye erred coming after ma wife. Ye wanted naught to do with her until ye feared she would tell yer secret, until ye neededmachild. Ye should have remained in the Lowlands with yer wife, and we could have all lived happily, none the wiser of one another. But ye couldnae do that. Ye couldnae leave well enough alone and found some other woman to carry yer bastard heir. This may be the best gift I ever give ma wife.” Dominic thrust his sword into Henry’s throat until it poked through.
“No!” Harrold Pringle bellowed. Brodie had kept the two brothers at bay, but the third brother raced toward Dominic. While all the Pringle brothers were experienced men, used to fighting along the Scottish-English border, they were unprepared for the size and agility of a Highlander. Harrold’s fury overcame him, making him careless and impulsive. He lunged toward Dominic as the tánaiste withdrew his sword. Brodie bumped Dominic aside, only for Dominic to step behind and around Brodie, effectively switching positions. Brodie cleaved Harrold’s head from his neck, his enormous claymore more powerful than the thinner sword the Lowlander carried. Simon panicked from witnessing both of his brothers die. He searched for a way to escape, but there was none. Dominic prowled toward him until Simon’s back banged into a wall.
“Mayhap I should leave ye and the other one alive so ye can run home to yer da and tell how yer brothers led ye into a battle ye could never win. But I dinna trust either of ye to tell the truth. And since I dinna need ye telling tales that’ll bring more enemies to ma door, I think I shall silence ye.” Dominic rained down one blow after another as Simon struggled to defend himself. The man put up the most skilled fight of the four, but it wasn’t enough to overcome Dominic’s determination. Despite his anger and his desire to rush back to Emelie, he moved methodically as he wore his opponent down.
“Dom!” Brodie yelled, and Dominic knew his brother wanted him to cease toying with the man. Brodie had just slain Oliver, leaving Simon the only son left from Laird Pringle’s brood.
“Vera well.” With a final thrust, Dominic skewered Simon through the heart. The man looked down in shock as the blade vibrated in his chest. His eyes grew dim, and his body sagged. Dominic withdrew his blade, allowing the body to crumple to the ground.
“Yer faithless leaders are dead,” Brodie announced, his voice ringing against the walls and over the ongoing battle. “Lay down yer swords, and yer fate is ma dungeon. Continue to fight, and ye will die.” Neither Brodie nor Dominic expected many to accept a life sentence in a dungeon, but a handful dropped their weapons. Surprise distracted the other Pringles, allowing the Campbells to end the battle in victory.
“Do ye still wish for the dungeon, or would ye now prefer death?” Dominic called out. There would be no honor in begging for death rather than languishing in a dungeon cell, but it offered a merciful reprieve from starving to death or dying of disease in a dungeon. The Campbells watched as each man who’d laid down his weapons made their necks and throats clear targets. Brodie nodded to his men, and they dispatched the last of the Pringles. None resisted. The battle had been vicious but brief, and there were few Campbell casualties. It surprised and relieved Dominic that none of the dead were Campbells.
“Nay one entered the keep, Laird,” Alec said as he jogged toward Brodie and Dominic. “We can manage here, and Nora will be along soon. See to Lady Laurel and Lady Emelie.” Dominic and Brodie appreciated the offer, but they remained until Nora had a triage in place, and Aggie and Berta were ordering maids to bring boiling water and linens to the Great Hall. The men staggered or helped move the wounded to tables where Nora could work with light and less dirt.
“I’m ready to kiss ma wife and hold ma son,” Brodie said after Nora tended to a short but deep gash on Brodie’s sword arm. Dominic hadn’t felt Henry catch his ribs with a glancing blow, but the wound required stitching and bandaging, just like Brodie’s. The men climbed the stairs and nodded to the guards posted outside Dominic’s door. He rapped on the wood.
“Em, Laurel. Brodie and I are here. Ye can let us in.” The men heard shuffling within the chamber before the door swung open, and Laurel launched herself into Brodie’s arms. Dominic squeezed past, his eyes on Emelie as she reclined in bed, propped up by several pillows. With an absentminded wave and nod to Davey, Garrett, and Tim, Dominic sank onto the bed beside Emelie and pulled her into his arms.
“It’s over, sparrow,” Dominic whispered. “He canna threaten us anymore.”
“You’re safe,” Emelie said, not caring at that moment what happened to Henry or the outcome of the battle. She clung to Dominic as tears she didn’t feel careened down her cheeks. She heard Laurel and Brodie moving around the chamber, but she didn’t even notice Brodie picking Rick up from the bed, where he lay cooing beside her. All she wanted was to get closer to Dominic. She wanted nothing between them, nothing to keep them apart. She and Dominic looked at the door as it closed behind their relatives. Alone at last, their kiss burned hotter than the sun. Relief burst into a conflagration of need. Need to hold, to touch, to hear.
“I’m here, Em,” Dominic reassured her as she ran her hands over him. He pressed her against him, grateful that no one breached the keep and that Emelie’s condition hadn’t worsened from the agitation he was sure she experienced. He didn’t know enough about pregnant women to know if being upset could bring the babe too soon. All he wanted was to wrap Emelie in a cocoon that would protect her from any risk or harm.
“I will say prayers of thanksgiving all day, every day, for at least a fortnight,” Emelie babbled, but she leaned back as a more pressing thought permeated her relief. “Did he say why?”
Dominic hesitated before he nodded. “He wanted our bairn, or at least he wanted a son. Alice is barren. Since they havenae been married that long, I’d say it was a secret she withheld. He needed an heir, so he was prepared to take the child from ye.”
Emelie’s visage mottled with rage. She clenched her jaw as she forced herself to breathe. “His soul—whatever’s left of it—will rot in hell. I hope it was sheer agony as he died. The hell he would have taken our child from us.”
“I never would have let him, Em,” Dominic whispered as he stroked her back and felt her shuddering sigh. It took several minutes, but Emelie finally relaxed. The haze of rage fading, leaving just a burning anger. She soothed herself by running her hands over Dominic. When she caught the bandage against the side of her hand, and Dominic winced, she demanded he take his leine off. Her eyes widened with horror as she noticed the blood spotting the bandage. She turned an accusatory look to Dominic.
“I didna set out to get injured,” Dominic said, a boyish lopsided grin tugging at his mouth.
“I didn’t think you had. You could have told me to be careful. I didn’t mean to press against it,” Emelie responded.
“And miss out on ye touching me? Nae bluidy likely. I took ma leine off. Now ye can touch me even more,” Dominic purred, his wolfish grin making Emelie’s belly flutter. She was certain it wasn’t the babe.
“Take a bath first, then we shall see what I can do.” Emelie cocked an eyebrow as she raised her hands, staggered with palms facing one another. She twisted her wrists and waggled her eyebrow. Dominic pounced, but he remained ever careful not to press Emelie too hard. But she had none of the same reservations. She pulled Dominic down with her. She pushed hair away from his ear and whispered. “I’m going to watch you bathe, enjoying every single moment, so don’t rush. Then I’m going to touch all your favorite places before my mouth winds up inmyfavorite place.”
Without a word, Dominic pushed of the bed and crossed the chamber, flinging open the door. “Bring a tub and water up here as soon as someone can!”
“I can survive waiting, Dom,” Emelie teased. “The women have other things to do before they get to your bath water.”
“But I canna,” Dominic huffed playfully as he came back to the edge of the bed. He looked down at himself, and his lip curled in disgust. “I’m filthy, and good God do I reek.”
“But you’re here, and that’s all that matters to me. Though I won’t turn away the bath when it arrives.”
“Now that ye can get yer back wet, I would suggest sharing a bath. But I dinna think ye want anywhere near the sludge I shall turn the water into.”
“And I couldn’t watch you if I’m sitting in front of you.” Emelie shot him a lascivious grin before she drew her teeth over her bottom lip. Dominic growled as he launched himself at her again, but he eased her down on the bed. He kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, her lips, her neck, and her jaw.
