One man broke rank and sped toward the MacGregors and Robert. His sword unsheathed for battle, Callum’s mouth hooked into a snarl as the rest followed immediately behind, emboldened by their comrade’s bravery.
Raising his sword, Callum dug his heels into his mount and charged into the oncoming legion.
For an instant, Robert simply sat atop his steed with a look of disbelief and horror on his face. Indeed, it seemed just an instant had passed while the MacGregor chieftain’s heavy claymore fell upon his enemy’s head, cutting down to between the soldier’s eyes. The bloody blade came up again, and before his first victim’s body fell from its horse, another rider’s head was cut from his shoulders. Blood splashed across the Devil’s face giving credence to his worthy title. A third man only had time to stifle a gasp while looking into the burning vengeance of his executioner’s eyes before he was run through to the hilt.
Angus’s giant sword found its mark, smashing bones like glass under the strength of his arm. And Brodie’s merciless sword left even horses dead.
Fools! That was all the time Robert had to consider his uncle’s men before ten of them were upon him. He barely had time to unsheathe his blade and deflect a blow to his chest before another swipe just missed severing his arm. Hell, he hadn’t trained his whole life to die after just two battles, and certainly not during one that didn’t even need to be fought! Lunging forward, he thrust his sword into the belly of another attacker, yanked it back, and struck at the next man closest to him. His swings were well practiced and almost elegant in their delivery compared to the brutal skill of the MacGregors. But just as efficient. Until one particularly huge soldier brought down his blade hard enough to bend Robert’s suddenly meager weapon.
Seeing his opponent’s disadvantage, the soldier looped his sword, holding the hilt with both hands, and brought it down just above Robert’s skull.
But the fatal blow was blocked in midair. Sparks rained down on Robert as he watched Graham make a quick end of his would-be assassin.
Within minutes, most of the Earl of Argyll’s men were cut down, with the same savage proficiency Robert had witnessed the first time he saw the MacGregors fight at Kildun. The rest took off running. No matter what his uncle had lied about, he had been correct about one thing. The MacGregors were to be feared.
With no one left to bar entrance into Kildun, Robert gathered his courage around his shoulders and brought his mount to stand before Callum’s. “You may go inside with me to find my sister. Many have died today. I would ask that you spare my uncle’s life.” Callum shook his head. “I fully intend,” Robert continued, “to bring charges against him in Edinburgh. He will be hanged for killing the earl. Reconsider, I pray you. There is no honor in revenge.”
When Callum made no move to answer him, Robert started toward the castle. He paused for just a breath when he heard the conversation behind him.
“He’s a braw lad. What think ye?” It was Graham’s voice, answered a moment later by Callum’s.
“I think he is the second Campbell I’ve met that I didna want to kill.”
“Well done, Robert!” Another voice, this one less deadly than the one before, but no less chilling, halted Robert completely. He rounded his mount and reached for his hilt as his uncle stepped out from behind the western wall.
With his sword pointed at her throat, Duncan Campbell held Kate before him like a shield to ward off the enormous MacGregor dismounting a few feet away.
“Nephew, pardon me for not applauding you and your companions’ swift execution of my countrymen, but as you can see, my hands are otherwise occupied.” Duncan adjusted the sharp edge of his blade beneath Kate’s chin. “I want you to know that I blame myself for what you and your sister have become. I should have known Amish and John would teach you your father’s ways, and killed them sooner.”
Hearing this, Kate struggled to be free, but his hold on her was firm.
“Release her, Uncle,” Robert demanded, “and there will be a chance you will not die this day. You need only look around to know it is your only option.”
Callum spotted the flash of panic in Argyll’s eyes as they swept the ground and the dead around him. Men did deadly things when they were afraid. “No one else here will lay a hand on ye.” Callum did not move as he spoke. “Let her go and we will meet as men.”
“Ah, MacGregor.” Duncan glared at him and backed away, dragging Kate with him. “You mean as savages, do you not?”
Callum offered him a lethal smile. “If ye like.” He spared a glance at Kate. She appeared unharmed. “Come,” he spoke softly, calmly. “Ye were braw enough to take a swing at me once, long ago. Ye have no’ turned coward since that day, have ye, Argyll?”
“Coward?” Duncan spat, enraged. “I will mount your head in my solar this very night. And if I don’t, you will be dead by nightfall. You see, I’ve sent word to our Lord Protector, giving him the location of your holding. I also informed him that you kidnapped my niece, killed the men I sent to find you, and were on your way here to kill me next.” Duncan’s grin was a slash of victory. “If I die, he will know it was by your hand. You will bring the law down hard on your people for many more years to come.” He turned his cold gray eyes on Robert. “I am not the man with no options. He is.”
“Nae!” Kate screamed. She tried to claw her uncle’s arm away, but he dug his blade deeper into her skin. She didn’t care. “Callum! Do not kill him!” She caught his gaze and held it. “You are not what he calls you.”
Duncan yanked her back by her hair to quiet her and then turned to Callum. “You will not be pardoned but by my mercy, if I am alive to give it.”
“It is no surprise”—Robert’s voice dripped with revulsion at his uncle—“that your father found you so unworthy. You are worse than a coward.” He squared his shoulders and turned to Callum. “I offer you another option. Whether he dies by your hand or the law’s, I will be the next earl. Leave him to the law and you and your people will have my mercy.”
“This is why we hang sympathizers,” Duncan sneered.
Callum looked at him with the fury that had waited nine years for release blazing in his eyes. “Argyll, ye should have waited fer me to kill yer faither. Ye knew I would come back fer him. Ye took what was mine, just as he did, and inherited his crimes as I did fer my faither.” He held his hilt in both hands and waved the blade at Duncan. “Stop pissin’ in yer hose and come kill me, Campbell.”
“Nae! Callum, please!” Kate screamed and was tossed aside as her uncle readied his sword for battle.
Robert leaped from his saddle and ran to her. They both watched Callum whirl his long blade with a simple twist of his wrist. “Come on.”
Duncan obliged by springing at him and swinging. Callum avoided the blow with ease and returned with a backward strike that left Duncan’s arms trembling. Duncan whirled around and jabbed, barely coming close to his target. Callum brought his arms down for a savage blow that near felled the earl to his knees. Each time Duncan attacked, Callum parried and returned with twice the power. It was clear to all who watched that the mighty laird could kill Duncan Campbell at any time. He chose to humiliate him first.
When Argyll finally did fall to his knees, Callum waited, challenging him to get up. With a final swing, he smacked Duncan’s sword from his hands when the earl held it up and then shattered Duncan’s nose with his fist. Argyll reeled backward, his eyes glazed above a spray of blood.
