Arran knew what he intended to do. He was going to kill her.
His blood turned to ice in his veins, and he saw red. But he knew he could not let his rage overtake him.
“Let her go!” he demanded, his sword raised in the air.
Blackwell only tightened his grip on Skye. “Stay back, or I’ll slit her throat!” he yelled. “Ye think ye can take me to the council? I’d rather die than face that disgrace!”
Skye’s eyes flashed with determination. She locked eyes with Arran and gave him the slightest of nods. Arran’s eyes narrowed at her signal, and he saw her lift her boot and stomp down hard on Blackwell’s foot. The man howled in pain, his grip loosening just enough for her to drive her elbow into his gut.
With a sharp twist of her torso, she broke free from his hold and bolted for Arran.
Arran seized the moment. He gave Skye a gentle push and advanced on Blackwell with his sword raised. And this time, he gave the eneme no chance.
Blackwell lunged at him. Their swords clashed with a deafening clang. Arran parried Blackwell’s wild, desperate strikes and then swung his sword at him mercilessly. Each time their blades met, Arran could tell the man was growing tired.
“Ye’ve lost, Blackwell,” Arran growled between blows, his voice steady. “Give up.”
“Nay!” Blackwell screamed, his attacks growing more desperate but also weaker.
Arran sidestepped a particularly vicious swing, using the opening to deliver a swift kick to Blackwell’s midsection.Blackwell staggered back, gasping for air, but he quickly regained his footing and charged at him again, his sword slicing through the air recklessly. Rage fueled his attacks, but he was careless.
With a powerful upward swing, Arran disarmed Blackwell, and his sword flew through the air. Blackwell fell to his knees in despair, letting out a grunt of dismay and fury.
Arran stood over him, the tip of his sword just piercing the fabric of his tunic above his heart. “It’s over, Blackwell,” he said coldly.
Blackwell looked up at him, his eyes wild and pleading. He had no route of escape left, with all his men defeated, and himself no match for a yethful warrior like Arran. “Mercy,” he begged. “Spare me.”
Arran’s gaze was unwavering. “Ye showed nary a morsel o’ mercy to those ye hurt. Ye will answer for yer crimes before the council.”
Blackwell’s shoulders slumped in defeat. The sound of approaching footsteps drew their attention, and they turned to see Magnus, his expression grim.
Magnus stepped forward, his hand on the pommel of his sword. “I’ll take him from here,” he said, his voice heavy with resolve. “He’ll face justice for what he’s done.”
Arran nodded, lowering his blade.
“An’ so should these fellows,” Douglas called out. He, Lyle and Colin made their way through the crowd pushing five bound men before them.
“Sorry, Arran, we couldnae get them all,” Lyle added. “They set upon Colin, saying he was a turncoat.”
Blackwell started to rise to his feet, and in a flash, he pulled a dirk from his boot.
“Watch out!” Helena yelled from where she sat.
Blackwell swung the blade at Arran’s middle, and Skye screamed.
But Arran saw the attack even before Helena yelled out her warning. He stepped back and deflected the blow with his sword. Before Blackwell could look up, Arran swung his sword up and drove it into Blackwell’s heart. The man crumpled to the ground in a heap.
And this time Helena did faint. Mary knelt beside her, waving a viol of hartshorn beneath her nose. The priest did his best to comfort Lilias who was sobbing with fear and dismay. Her son and daughter hovered near her.
Arran turned to Skye. “Are ye all right?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.
He pulled her into his arms and buried his nose in her hair, breathing in her scent. Then he let her go and ran his hands over her shoulders and arms. Assured that she was not hurt, he pulled her back into his embrace.
Skye was shaking, but she nodded and clung tightly to him. “I am now,” she whispered. “But I should be asking ye that question.”
Her healer instincts forced her to pull away, and she took her turn looking him up and down, searching for any sign of injury.
“I’m fine, Skye. I am unharmed.”
