Lord Ainsley made a vicious thrust, and Dominic leapt back. He'd run out of space and knocked himself back against the wooden walls with acrashthat seemed to make the whole cabin shake and knocked the breath out of him.
He didn't quite manage to escape the sweep of Lord Ainsley's weapon, and the very tip of the sword sliced across the front of Dominic's ribs, leaving a hairline of red in its wake.
Dominic winced before he could stop himself, and Lord Ainsley grinned wolfishly.
"First blood is mine, I think," he said conversationally, lifting his sword to inspect the pinprick of red on the tip.
"I daenae give a damn who draws first blood," Dominic grated, "I only care about who draws the last."
Lord Ainsley chuckled. "How pragmatic of you."
Attack was the best form of defense, and Dominic threw himself right back into the fight. This time, he had the advantage. Distracted by the triumph of gaining the upper hand, no matter how briefly, Lord Ainsley was a half-beat behind in the rhythm of the fight, and quickly found himself driven back into a corner. Dominic, on the other hand, was buoyed by fury, the sight of his own blood decorating the tip of Lord Ainsley's weapon, and the band of pain around his ribs.
The smile dropped from the other man's face like a stone and sweat began to bead on his forehead. Dominic was distantly aware of Paisley pressing herself into the far corner of the cabin, away from their fight.
Get out,he willed her.Do what ye can to get to that door. Thomas and Emma are out there. They'll keep ye safe.
But she couldn't get to the door, he knew that. The distraction, however brief, allowed Lord Ainsley's to duck under Dominic's guard, and his sword point flashed through the air, only inches from Dominic's throat.
"Dominic!" Paisley screamed.
He dodged, hearing the blade whistle past his exposed skin and catch on the wooden wall with athunk.Dominic never thought twice. Hebrought his own thicker, broader blade down on Lord Ainsley's thin sword, still jammed against the wall.
Crack.
The noise echoed through the small cabin, the ear-splitting screech of iron breaking when it was never meant to do so.
Dominic stopped dead. everything seemed to stop. He was gasping for breath, lungs burning, the cut on his ribs throbbing, and all three of them stared down at Lord Ainsley's broken sword.
He was left with only the hilt and a palm's length of broken blade sticking out. The rest of the blade lay in glittering, broken fragments on the ground.
Dominic levelled his sword at Lord Ainsley's livid, horrified face.
"Well," he said, breathless. "I wonder what happens now."
Lord Ainsley gave a moan, clutching the hilt of his sword and the shard of broken blade to his chest.
"Oh, this isn't fair. You can't possibly kill me like this. I'm an unarmed man! I thought you Scots had a sense of honor."
Dominic bit his lip, letting the point of his sword droop a little. Logic told him at once that he should follow through, get rid of this man from their lives, but in the sense of fairness...
"If I let ye live," he said slowly, "Will ye stay out of our lives forever?"
Lord Ainsley seized his moment. He lunged forward, batting Dominic's slackly held sword aside, and thudded into him with his full weight.
In another circumstance, Dominic could have resisted Lord Ainsley's weight easily, but he was distracted and off-balance, and the sudden impact dragged them both down to the ground.
He lost his grip on the hilt of his sword, the blade rolling away across the floor, just out of arm's reach. Dominic grabbed for it but was knocked back with a vicious punch to the gullet.
He gasped for breath, then there was a knee on his throat, cutting off his air. Lord Ainsley leaned down, eyes glitteringin the gloom. The razor-sharp needlepoint of his broken blade hovered an inch from Dominic's left eye.
"Ye cheated," Dominic ground out. "I'd already won."
"All's fair in love and war, my dear ignorant laird," Lord Ainsley said, eyes glittering.
"Ye bastard."
"To the winner the spoils, you see. Well, it really has been a pleasure, Laird MacLennan," he purred, "but as you can see, I'm not in the habit of losing. Better luck next time. Not, of course, that there will be a next time."
