“You shall die, Gunter,” Liam stated simply. “Do you wish for me to put you out of your misery like a sickly beast? Or do you wish to finish fighting like the man you claim to be?”
“Fu—” Gunter stumbled as he struggled to lift his sword, blood pouring from his wound. With a deep inhale, tapping into a strength no one believed he possessed, Gunter raised his sword. Liam observed Gunter’s bleary eyes watching him. It wouldn’t be long before the Norseman bled to death. He could wait out Gunter’s attempt at a defense or he could end things quickly. While he didn’t feel particularly merciful, a sudden, all-consuming need to find Elene and be assured of her safety took hold.
“Bratach Bhan Chlann Aoidh!” With the Mackay’s battle cry of “The White Banner of Mackay” on his lips, Liam surged forward. He brought his claymore high over his right shoulder and head, gripped in both hands, and swung it downward. His blade cut through bone and sinew, cleaving Gunter’s head and right shoulder from his body. The two pieces of Gunter crumpled to the ground, a river of blood surging toward Liam. He stepped away as it stained the dirt and grass. Gunter was hardly the first man Liam killed in battle, but never had he done so much damage in one strike.
“It’s done,” Tristan declared.
The bells tolled once more, this time in victorious jubilation. Liam wiped blood and sweat from his face. It stunned him to watch the Norse giant merely turn around and walk away from his leader, willingly leaving the dead man’s body behind. He watched the man pass beneath the portcullis, signaling to his comrades to retreat to their boats. None argued. None demanded Gunter’s body. None looked in the slain man’s direction. It was clear this had been Gunter’s personal vendetta, one that no one else shared. The Norse warriors went where they were ordered, but none supported Gunter. It seemed like a just ending to the tyrant’s life.
“I need to find Elene,” Liam stated as he turned toward the keep.
“Nay. Find a bar of soap and a fresh leine. Ye will terrify the lass if she sees ye like that. She’ll think ye’re more dead than alive from the looks of ye.” Tristan nodded toward the barracks.
“Da—”
“Two more minutes willna kill ye, but it will ease yer wife’s fears. Listen to a mon who’s been married longer than ye’ve been alive.” Tristan grinned and pointed his sword toward the barracks. Dismissing Liam, the laird turned to his other two sons. “Get a grave dug and dump him. Father Daniel can care for his soul. I want the bastard out of our sight.”
Liam saw no point in arguing with his father, and he realized the more experienced warrior and husband was likely right. He sprinted to the barracks, yanking his leine over his head as he went. One man met him with a fresh shirt and plaid. Using the trough outside the building, placed conveniently for the men to use after training, Liam hurried to scrub as much blood and grime from himself as he could. Once he had donned the borrowed leine, he swapped the filthy plaid for the clean one. With his sword sheathed on his back, he sprinted back across the bailey and took the keep’s steps three at a time.
“Mama, I’m fine,” Liam called once he raced toward the stairs, taking those two and three at a time until he reached the landing. With only his door in sight, Liam charged forward, pounding on the portal when he arrived. “Elene! It’s me!”
CHAPTER18
Elene paced the width of her chamber as she waited for someone to tell her Liam was dead. She desperately wanted to believe that he would live, that the Mackays would be victorious, that she would make a long and happy life with her husband. But far too much disappointment in her life told her that fate would likely be cruel once more.
She’d peered through the window embrasure several times, hoping she might spy activity below and gain a sense of what transpired. But it was far too dark to see much beyond the flickering glow of the torches. She could make out no details. She heard voices from time to time, but the words were too hard to decipher, even though she was certain it was Norn.
Elene found Johan and Katryne searching for her when she finally heeded Mairghread’s directions. They’d slipped away from the group of children with whom they were supposed to hide. They needed their sister. She’d gathered them close to her as they ran up the stairs and along the passageway to Elene and Liam’s chamber. Once inside, Elene bolted and barred the door, and they all stacked chests before it. She had one chest that unfortunately held little, but Liam had three chests, one of which she discovered had weapons and light armor.
Elene withdrew several dirks from that chest and two cotuns. They were far too large for Johan and Katryne, but she insisted they don them anyway. She used girdles Mairghread gave her before they left Dunbeath to cinch the garments around the children’s narrow waists. With the chest tower in place, she’d sent her siblings to hide beneath the bed. She thought about joining them, but she was too anxious to remain still. She feared she would cry or scream, and she wouldn’t be able to stop in either case. So she paced instead.
It felt like hours, if not days, passed as the Isbisters waited. Elene nearly jumped out of her skin when the bells tolled again. She leaned through the window embrasure, attempting to see what caused the second set of bells to ring. She heard Norse voices calling out orders in the distance, but she didn’t understand them. She made out shapes moving throughout the bailey, but she couldn’t identify anyone.
More minutes ticked by as she expected either Liam to arrive and prove he was safe or someone to announce that he was dead. The longer she waited, the more she panicked Liam didn’t survive. Her heart raced until nausea overpowered her. She retched over and over into the chamber pot. The sound was so loud she nearly missed the knocking at the door.
Then she heard it, the most glorious sound she’d ever heard. Liam called to her.
Wiping her mouth with her sleeve, she snagged a twig of mint as she passed the ewer and basin where they conducted their morning ablutions. She glanced at the bed as Johan and Katryne scrambled to climb out from beneath it. The three siblings hurried to unstack the chests.
“Liam?” Elene called as they moved the last container out of the way, but before she unlocked the door.
“It’s me. It’s over,mo ghaol.” My love. He’d called her that many times over the months they’d been married. He’d named her his darling, his heart, his treasure. But never had the endearment moved her more than to hear him call her that as he arrived safe from battle.
Elene lifted the bar and turned the key in the lock. The moment Liam heard the latch release, he pushed open the door. Elene yanked it open; the force of their movements made them collide. The couple clung to one another for a long moment before each one’s mouth sought its mate. The kiss was desperation and relief. It was love and hope. It was perfect and what each craved. When they could no longer go without air, they pressed their foreheads together, embracing.
“Liam!” Johan yelled as he and Katryne wrapped their arms around the couple. Elene and Liam clasped the children against their sides as they continued to gaze at one another.
“I’m hale,” Liam assured them.
“It’s really over?” Katryne wondered.
“He’s gone. He can never threaten or harm any of you ever again.”
“It didn’t sound like a battle,” Johan asserted, as though he were an expert.
Liam glanced down at his siblings-by-marriage. “It was a battle of single combat. Just Gunter and me. They lost a longboat and several warriors before he and I fought. But we resolved the matter by the two of us fighting.”
“You killed him?” Johan marveled, excited by the prospect of Liam’s manly dominance.
