Dominic smiled grimly. He didn't dare take his eyes from the other man – he felt that if he did, Lord Ainsley would attack, like a wolf waiting for its moment to pounce – but he could see Paisley out of the corner of his eye.
"Paisley, lass, are ye well?" he asked slowly. "Has he hurt ye?"
"No," she said, although her voice was trembling. "I'm not hurt."
"You have no business being here," Lord Ainsley said, making an effort to get over the surprise of seeing Dominic at the door."This woman ismybetrothed, and I am merely returning her to her friends and family."
"Are ye betrothed to this man, Paisley?"
"No!" came the sharp, angry answer. Dominic didn't need to look at her to know that she was furious, hands clenched at her sides, face livid white with anger.
"There ye have it," Dominic said smoothly. "It sounds to me she doesnae want anything to dae with ye. I think ye had better piss off, daenae ye?"
"Not so fast. Who are the authorities going to believe, do you think? Me, a titled English gentleman, with a fine reputation and a seat in the House of Commons, or a grubby Scottish commoner like yourself? You can call yourselflairdif you like, but we all know that the English aristocracy doesn't give a damn about that."
Behind them, a breeze slammed the door shut. Paisley flinched, and even Lord Ainsley blinked, but Dominic didn't bat an eyelid. He didn't have to look to know that Thomas and Emma were still out there, standing over the unconscious bodies of the two thugs that Lord Ainsley had hired. Emma's first reaction was to rush inside the cabin and administer whatever aid Paisley needed, but Thomas had the good sense to hold her back.
Lord Ainsley already had one hostage, and Dominic had no intention of letting him get his hands on another.
I cannae let him leave,Dominic thought grimly.If he gets out into that dark forest, I'll lose him in a moment. And he'll be back, I know that. This is more than just an obsession. This is pride. This is something much more dangerous. He'll never leave us be.
The issue was, of course, that there was no room inside the cabin. Not for a proper fight. With the only window blocked and Dominic standing in front of the only entrance and exit – and the doorframe was low and narrow – there wasn't much room to move around, much less fight.
There was always the worry that Paisley would be struck by a stray blade.
"Then we'd better not leave it up to the English authorities to sort this out," Dominic grated. "After all, this is the Highlands."
Lord Ainsley's weaselly face split into a grin.
"Excellent. We'll settle this as if between men, shall we?"
The man slowly and gleefully drew out a long, thin blade, which glittered like a silver fish in the gloom. The room was lit by the light of a single, flickering candle, and outside was all darkness and a dull, cloudless sky.
Dominic gripped the hilt of his own sword tighter and took stock of his opponent.
Height-wise, they were evenly matched, although Dominic was stockier and stronger-looking than Lord Ainsley. That wasn't necessarily a good thing. Lord Ainsley looked nimble and quick, and in a small space like this, strength could easily translate to clumsiness, which might swiftly translate to death. Lord Ainsley's blade was thinner than Dominic's, but it was also shorter – another advantage in their confined space.
"Dominic, please," Paisley gasped. "You can't fight him. He's... he's dueled before. He'll kill you and take pleasure in it."
Lord Ainsley's smile widened. "It's true. I am renowned for my swordsmanship. You may be a fine archer,Laird MacLennan, but I fear there's no room to draw a bow in here."
"Are ye really the sort of man who makes banter while he fights?" Dominic asked, raising his eyebrows. "Or is it just a clumsy attempt at distraction?"
A brief, sour expression crossed Lord Ainsley's face, and Dominic guessed that he was right. There was nothing like a few sharp words to distract a man from the sharp blade behind them, nothing like the groping for a witty retort to make a person falter and make a mistake in their fight.
Dominic didn't much care for chatter during a fight. Sure, some fancy Englishmen might fence and joust as a sport, or whatever it was they did in England, but when Dominic fought, it was to achieve something.
Whether that something was chucking a drunk out of his pub or defending Thomas from a rival pub owner and his hired thugs, Dominic never took his eye off the ball, or let his mind wander.
So, when Lord Ainsley flew across the room in a flash of bared teeth and the lightning-quickswooshof a blade, Dominic was ready.
He parried, and the blades screeched together, sending up sparks and a nasty sound to set your teeth on edge.
"Dominic!" Paisley cried, pressing her hands to her mouth.
Stay back,Dominic thought, suppressing a flash of panic.Stay back, please. I can't bear it if ye get hurt.
Their blades met again, and Lord Ainsley attacked with a snake-like speed, stronger than Dominic might have expected. Their swords were poorly matched, too. His blade might break Lord Ainsley's, if he could get the angle right, but the thinner blade was whip-fast and flexible, nearly sneaking under Dominic's guard more than once.
