She bent over immediately, her last meal threatening to expel itself from her body, as her vision blackened with the pain lancing through her skull from the impact against the wall.
“Vivien,” Kieran called out, his tone worried and furious at the same time.
“I am fine.” She tried to sit up properly, waving her hand weakly in his direction.
“It is just you and me now, MacBride,” Reginald said, drawing his sword from the scabbard he had hidden under his coat, “She is at my mercy – you will have to go through me to get to her.”
“Aye, then I will dae exactly that,” Kieran said through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched so tightly that Vivien was surprised he could even get the words out.
“Come and get her,” Reginald goaded Kieran, a smile spreading across his face, the malice and hatred clear in his eyes.
Vivien closed her eyes, throwing a prayer up to the sky in the hopes that it would be answered.
Let Kieran win, she begged.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kieran’s heart was thumping in his chest, the sound of it rushing through his ears. He could barely hear the storm that was building above the sound of his own heartbeat.
Thunder clapped across the sky as lightning struck the trees in the forest surrounding the castle.
They were in the eye of the storm, and Stone did not seem to notice or care.
Kieran’s deep-seated fear of anything happening to Vivien was almost overwhelming; it was an all-encompassing fear.
And he was watching it come true.
There was almost nothing he could have done while she was being used as a shield against his own blade.
Now that she was stuck behind Stone, there was only one way to get to her – and that was to go through Lord Stone.
Kieran was tired of the bloodshed; the last thing he wanted to do was to have more blood on his hands.
But he had no choice.
The vile man would not hesitate to hurt or even kill Vivien; there was no reason that Kieran should show him any compassion. He was a cold, cruel man with no joy or compassion in his heart. The man had probably never smiled and meant it.
Kieran squared his shoulders, his blade gripped firmly in his right hand; he needed to maintain a strong grip on it as the rain began to fall harder with each passing minute. The battlements were more dangerous than Reginald’s sword, he wagered.
The man was no warrior by any stretch of the imagination. He was barely qualified to lead an army, never mind fight as a soldier.
But a man enraged and petrified of his own impending doom was a dangerous man.
One of the most dangerous of men that you could find.
The fight would not be easy, but Reginald was leaving Kieran with no other choice but to face him, man to man, sword to sword.
Kieran had to force himself to drag his eyes away from Vivien, cowering against the wall, her face bleached of all color, trembling from the cold and fear. He could not focus on what he needed to do if he was watching her. All he could do was focus on dispatching Reginald so that he could get Vivien back to safety.
“This isnae necessary, Stone,” he said, hoping the man could hear him above the wailing of the wind.
Clearly, he had, when he bared his teeth and snarled back at Kieran, “It was not necessary to sleep with my wife, but you did that, did you not?”
Kieran shook his head – the man was barely lucid through his anger, yet all he wanted to do was hurt the two of them as much as he possibly could.
Could Reginald’s cruelty and malice run that deeply through him that he would risk his own life to bring retribution to those he believed had wronged him?
Kieran’s line of thought was interrupted as Reginald stepped forward lightly, lunging forwards with his sword, aiming it directly at Kieran’s heart. He parried the blow quickly and easily enough, swinging his own sword backward and around over his head, meeting Stone’s sword on the edge as the man was about to bring his own sword back up to try to stab Kieran again.
