He smiled back at them, but turned a nasty grimace on Lachlann. “And I dinna think I like yer insult.”
Brian’s men shifted as well, but Lachlann signaled them to stop. Aidan’s arm across Ethne’s delicate neck didn’t warrant any sudden moves on anyone’s part.
“Release her.” Lachlann frantically thought through any scenario that would end well for her. He could only think of one. “I will fight ye. Just ye and I.”
Aidan scoffed and his hand slid tighter around Ethne’s waist. “Why would I do that? I have the upper hand. A hostage.”
Lachlann took a deep breath, struggling to keep his inner turmoil in check. “Because if ye win, we’ll back away. We’ll allow ye to leave, even return to yer homes.”
“Now see her—” Lachlann jerked out his hand to halt Brian’s objection.
“Ye’ll be allowed time to pack up and leave on yer own.” Lachlann nodded slightly, willing Aidan to agree to the damn terms.
Aidan glanced between Lachlann and Brian then tipped his head before narrowing his eyes. “And ifyewin?”
“Ye’ll do as Brian orders, but leave Ethne with me.”
With a slow nod, Aidan signaled his consent. “Then let us see this done.” He shoved Ethne toward Thomas, who didn’t lose a moment securing her tight against him with a blade at her side.
When Aidan puffed out his chest, the sight of the medallion hanging from around his neck as if it belonged there infuriated Lachlann.
It did not.
Colbán had been a good friend to his father and given Lachlann this important link to his past. He would fight Aidan or die trying, but one way or another, he would take back his birthright.Son of Branan.
Aidan beamed and took a deep, satisfied breath. He hunched over and yanked at the shoulders of his tunic to pull it over his head. When he straightened once again, Lachlann’s jaw dropped. The marks on Aidan’s body were a mirror image of those on his own body. He doffed his tunic as well so that the twin designs were seen by all.
Loud gasps issued from those circled around them, followed by questioning murmurs.
“Quiet!” Aidan roared and accepted the sword offered him. “Will ye fight menow? Old or not…courage is measured by action not age.”
Lachlann’s body stiffened, his brain racing to make sense of this. Realization hit hard and his knees buckled before he could catch himself.
“Ah! Do ye recognize me now?” Aidan spoke as if talking to a child.
Lachlann locked his knees tight. His breath catching in his throat made it hard to breathe and harder to speak. “But how—”
Aidan mocked him with a shaking head and a look of disgust.
None of this made any sense. “Yeare Branan?”
Aidan spit on the ground. “Wrong twin! I am called Barra.”
A flood of memories held Lachlann in their grip. The fire still stung his eyes. Niall’s grandfather taking him in, treating him like a favored son. Colbán’s voice assuring him his father was Branan, not Barra.
“What did ye do to my father?” Lachlann’s voice was tight with an emotion he couldn’t name.
Aidan shrugged, his expression relaxed now. “So long ago. Who can remember?”
“Ye lie!” Lachlann said, with as much malice as was in him. “Ye murdered him.”
“Life is not always fair.” Aidan spouted the platitude as if it explained everything.
“Nay.” Lachlann’s festering rage bloomed in his chest, but rather than dragging him down, it gave him renewed energy. He’d been a child. But no longer. Revenge for the murder of his father he could see to. His mind cleared. “So be it!”
He lunged ahead with his sword at the ready, but Aidan easily deflected such a blatant assault. He backed away laughing. “Now, now, son, I expect better than that.”
“I am not yer son.” Anger flooded his mind, and his next thrust was again thwarted.
