That comment sunk in, so he tried a move he’d only done a few times. He brought his sword across without completing his swing, faking his opponent into blocking his blow. At the last moment, he changed the path of his weapon and brought it down on de La Porte’s arm as hard as he could.
He connected with flesh, rendering the man’s sword arm useless. Simon de La Porte stared at him in shock as blood poured out of his body.
“How are my skills now?” Finlay drawled.
Simon hadn’t moved so Finlay brought his sword down again, severing the fiend’s arm from his body. His blood shot out in a pulsating fountain, his other arm reaching for a way to stanch the bleeding. Moments later, he collapsed to the ground.
Shouts of support came from the archers above, but he couldn’t take time to appreciate them. He wiped his sword across the now lifeless body of de La Porte and rushed back to the keep, hoping the others had taken care of Glenn of Buchan.
When he stepped into the great hall, he saw about a dozen of the enemy fighting five Grants. Jamie, Connor, Loki, Cailean, and Alex Grant stood near the back with Glenn of Buchan huddling in the opposite corner. There was no sign of Davina.
Connor, Jamie, Loki, and Cailean fought like beasts, downing every man who dared to swing a sword their way, but Alex was losing strength. He fought hard, taking a couple out, but he didn’t have the power of the other three.
Then the worst thing possible happened. Glenn of Buchan came running from the opposite side of the hall, his sword arm raised and heading directly toward Alex Grant’s back.
Chapter Twenty
Alex Grant, the might warrior and swordsman, is back!
“My laird, your back!” Finlay bellowed. He buried a sword in the back of the man Alex had been parrying with in front of him, freeing the Grant to face his foe.
Alex Grant spun around, and in a beautifully choreographed move, knocked the sword out of Buchan’s hands and plunged hissword into the swine’s heart. Buchan fell to the floor, cursing the Grants and the Ramsays as he clutched his chest.
Connor and Jamie finished the last two and they all paused, staring around at the carnage, gasping for breath. “Anyone injured?” Jamie asked. “Papa?”
“I’m fine.” He glanced at Finlay. “Good timing, lad. I never saw him coming.”
“My laird, you finished him. ‘Tis what counts and what all the Scots need to know,” Finlay said as he cleaned his sword and sheathed it.
“De La Porte?” Jamie asked.
Logan came in through the back, chuckling. “MacNicol made sure he’ll never be taking a sword to anyone again.” Then he frowned for a moment. “And damn if somebody isn’t deadly with a dagger. I still don’t know who threw the one that hit that bastard between the eyes before Molly could send off another arrow.”
Finlay had a vague recollection of that happening out in back. At the time, his mind had been fixed on de La Porte.
Connor took his sire by the elbow and led him to one of the few upright chairs. “Papa, sit. You did what you set out to do—you ended this man’s tyranny. But your color isn’t good. Mama will have my hide if I don’t watch over you.”
Alex sat, heaving to catch his breath. “Jamie, Finlay,” he gasped. “Check the progress outside.” Connor hurried off to find him something to drink.
Finlay peered over Jamie’s shoulder as he opened the door, but they both broke into huge smiles when they saw nothing but red plaids and blue plaids filling the courtyard, either standing or on horseback.
“‘Tis done, brother?” Jake yelled out. “Father is hale?”
Jamie nodded. “Aye, ‘tis done. Alex Grant took Glenn of Buchan out, and Finlay MacNicol finished Simon de La Porte.”
Jamie and Jake nodded to each other. Then they lifted their swords in celebration as they led a chant of Grant and Ramsay war whoops that spread like fire down the valley and across the surrounding moors.
A few moments later, Alex came out the front door, Loki directly behind him, and raised his sword to cheers from his comrades, but his arm fell to his side quickly. His color had improved, but his face was drawn. He’d apparently seen enough battle. Finlay caught the looks exchanged between the acting lairds and knew they’d be taking the former laird home soon.
Torrian raced across the courtyard and up the steps.
“What is it?” Jamie asked.
“I need to see for myself.”
The fierce expression on the Ramsay laird’s face left Finlay with no doubt that the Grants would let him in.
Everyone in the Highlands had heard the story of the beginning of the Buchan’s tyranny. Glenn had tried to force Torrian Ramsay to marry Davina. Together with Ranulf MacNiven, he had conspired to use trickery to convince their king that Torrian had taken the lass’s maidenhead. The Ramsays had been able to prove the truth with the assistance of Torrian’s wee sister, Jennet. But the Buchan’s plan had almost worked. Moreover, the Buchan’s sons had tormented both Torrian’s wife and his sister.
