“What difference does it make?” Donald roared, staggering to his feet again. “The bastard is dead, and that’s all that matters!” He smashed a fist into Tavis Stewart’s midsection, doubling him over.
“Stop it! Stop it this instant!What is going on?”Arabella demanded of the two men. “Lona says that Sir Jasper Keane is dead.”
“Aye,” the earl said, gasping and straightening himself up. “My brother usurped my rights when he killed him, didn’t ye, Donald?” He stepped threateningly toward the other man.
“Donald, I beg you to explain to me,” Arabella said, putting herself between the two men.
“Our mam was afraid that Tavis would get himself killed, and there’s no heir to Dunmor. Only an heiress, and her being raisedEnglish,”Donald began.
Arabella grit her teeth, silently praying she would not lose her temper until this great fool had entirely explained himself.
“I promised Mam that I would see Tavis didna do anything foolish. Sir Jasper Keane is his weak spot, and she feared Tavis’ rashness would make him less than careful. So this morning, just before the dawn, we crept from yer keep, and instead of waiting just over the hills to catch Sir Jasper in a pincers movement, I sent several of the lads to seek our Sir Jasper’s position. Imagine our surprise to find that the bastard and his men were camped two miles from Greyfaire. The devil probably had thoughts of surprising ye at sunrise.
“We fell upon them in the false dawn,” Donald continued with a wolfish grin. “‘Twas a glorious battle, even if it was too short. The lads butchered the English neatly, and quickly. All, but Sir Jasper, for I saved him for myself. I knew ye’d nae want him to hae too quick or easy a death, Tavis. ‘Twas a pleasure to kill him for ye though he was nae much of a swordsman. More bluster than skill,” he said, remembering the scene which still played vividly in his mind.
His men had made a circle about them, clearing the bodies of the slain away that the combatants might not stumble and be at a disadvantage.
“Pick up yer sword, my lord,” Donald Fleming told his antagonist, “and say yer prayers, for ye’ll be dead before the sun rises or I’m a disgrace to my father’s name.”
Jasper Keane could barely get a grasp upon his blade’s hilt, for his hands were wet with fear. His men had been killed before they had even been fully awake. The smell of blood was heavy in the air, and already the carrion birds were circling above them. He was going to die. Instinctively he knew it, and he peed his breeches with his terror.
The Scots encircling him snickered, and his pride pricked, Sir Jasper said, “‘Tis unfair. When I kill you, your men will kill me. I’ll not fight you, you damned Scot! You’ll have to kill me dishonorably.” He smiled smugly at Donald Fleming.
“Ifye can kill me, and I doubt ye can, my lord, then my men will let ye be on yer way,” Donald said.
“How do I know I can trust the word of a Scots bandit?” Sir Jasper replied insultingly.
“Ye can trust my word far more than I would trust yers, SirJasper Keane, murderer, ravisher of helpless women,thief,”Donald said softly. “Are ye a coward as well, man?”
With a howl of outrage Sir Jasper leapt forward, taking Donald Fleming offguard and pricking his shoulder so that it bled slightly.
With a pleased grin Donald recovered and went on the attack. For several minutes the two men battled back and forth, but it was quickly obvious that the Scot was the superior swordsman. Slowly, methodically, he drove his English opponent from side to side of the circle in which they fought, amusing himself as Sir Jasper’s terror grew. And then finally, seeing the horizon beginning to glow red with the impending arrival of a new day, he ceased toying with the man and, thrusting cleanly and swiftly, put an end to their battle.
“I told ye, man, that ye’d nae see the sunrise,” Donald Fleming said matter-of-factly.
“Why?”Sir Jasper Keane managed to gasp.
“Why?” Donald repeated as his opponent began to sink slowly to the ground, his hands clutched at the bloody blade that pierced him.”Why, for my brother’s honor, and, though I should never hae thought I would say such a thing,for Arabella Grey.”
A look of total surprise appeared in Sir Jasper’s eyes even as the life fled from them and he collapsed to the ground. Donald Fleming pulled his sword from the man’s chest, and wiping his blade carefully on the Englishman’s doublet, replaced it in his scabbard. His hand went again to the scabbard as he remembered, and then looking at Arabella, he said dourly, “I’ve brought the body back for ye to see, lady, to ask ye what ye would hae us do wi’ it.”
“Where is it?” Arabella demanded harshly. Like Tavis, she was somewhat angered not to have been in on the kill, and yet she felt relief that Jasper Keane was dead and Tavis Stewart unharmed.
“In the courtyard,” came the brusque reply.
Arabella Grey moved quickly through her hall and out into a surprisingly bright and sunny morning. Above her the sky was a flawless blue and there was not a cloud to be seen, the storm having blown itself away at long last. She descended the steps from the hall but halfway when she saw him. In fact, she almost tripped over him, for Donald had laid Sir Jasper Keane’s body out upon those same stone steps. His sightless brown eyes stared up at her, a look of total surprise and yet terrible fear upon his face.
Arabella stared down on Jasper Keane’s body. What had even made her think that he was handsome, she wondered? Did death always render a body so insignificant, or had Jasper Keane always been insignificant? Her father had looked as noble in death as he had in life. Perhaps even more so.
“What do ye want done wi’ the body, lady?” Donald Fleming asked her.
“Show it through the border, both sides, sir, that all may know this cowardly outlaw and his band are dead,” Arabella said. “They will never again prey upon the helpless.” Turning, she went back into the hall. Just before she reentered the building, however, she swung about and said quite distinctly, “Thank you, Donald Fleming. You have done me a good turn, and I am now in your debt. Should you ever need a favor of me, you have it without question.”
Donald Fleming stared after her open-mouthed as she disappeared from his view. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, and then he grinned broadly.
“Ye surely will be damned for this day’s work, little brother,” the earl said grimly, looking as if he’d like to hit his sibling again.
“Gie over, Tavis. Our mam is right. Ye hae nae the freedom to get yerself killed until ye sire a legitimate male heir on a wife. I’ve done more this day for Dunmor than ye’ve ever done.”
