“A man can always have another son,” Erik said. “A castle is considerably harder to come by.”
* * *
At last, Duncan saw the opening in the trees that led to the cove where he had left Moira and Ragnall. He pulled his claymore from the scabbard on his back.
He burst out of the trees at a full run—then came to a dead halt at the sight that met him on the beach. The two warriors he had left behind lay sprawled on the ground in the awkward positions of the dead. Moira and Ragnall stood alone on the shore with the man who had killed the two guards.
Duncan had found Erik MacLeod.
Moira and Ragnall were backed up against the side of one of the galleys and facing Erik, who stood a few short feet away from them with his back to Duncan. Since Erik had not killed them yet, Duncan assumed Erik meant to take them hostage. Duncan was too far away—he had to be cautious. If Erik saw him, he might well decide to kill them to make a quick escape before Duncan could reach them.
Ducking low, Duncan worked his way through the shrubs and tall grass that grew above the rocky shore until he was as close to the three on the beach as he could get without being seen.
Moira was speaking to Erik. Hopefully, she was trying to keep him calm. Duncan inched forward on his elbows through the tall grass. He wanted to hear what they were saying to better judge when to make his move.
“You disgust me!” Moira said. “You’re every bit as worthless as those pirates.”
Duncan could not risk waiting. Damn, Erik was too close to Moira and Ragnall. He would have to move very fast, or Erik could grab one of them to use as a shield.
“Duncan will send you straight to hell where you belong!” Moira shouted.
The instant Erik started forward, cocking his arm to strike her, Duncan sprang to his feet. He heard Moira shriek and Ragnall shout as he hurtled through the air. He and Erik crashed to the ground. Before Erik had time to stick his dirk in Duncan’s side, he rolled off Erik and onto his feet.
“Get up!” Duncan roared as he stood over his enemy. “We’re going to finish this now.”
Erik got to his feet slowly and, keeping his eyes fixed on Duncan, picked up his claymore.
“Moira told me you’re the son of that troublesome lass I took from the beach that day,” Erik said as they began circling each other. “She was a pretty thing, fair and slight as a faery child.”
Duncan swung so hard that when their swords met, the force of it vibrated up his arms.
“I enjoyed bedding her for a time,” Erik said. “But she grew tiresome.”
“My mother was a good woman.” Duncan swung his claymore, but Erik met his blade again. “You will pay with your life for the shame and misery ye brought her.”
Duncan was constrained by how close they were to Moira and Ragnall. As he and Erik clanked swords, he tried to ease Erik farther and farther away from them so that he could fight without caution.
“Ye knew she was with child when ye sent her to the MacCrimmons, didn’t ye?” Duncan said.
“It could have been anyone’s,” Erik said.
Duncan knew Erik was trying to goad him into making a mistake. But Duncan’s anger was like his sword—cold and hard and deadly.
“Your mother was weak,” Erik said. “I didn’t expect her to give me a son worth claiming.”
“The only good deed you ever did was not claiming me.”
Duncan knew that now. Having no father had given him a kind of freedom. As a lad, he had looked around him, at the good men and the bad among his clansmen, and made a choice about the kind of man he wanted to be.
“If I’d known ye would take after me, I would have claimed you,” Erik said.
“I don’t take after you in any way that matters.”
Duncan struck again and again, keeping one eye on Moira and Ragnall, who were caught between their swinging swords and the side of the galley.
“You’re the warrior ye are because ye have my blood,” Erik said, and then grunted with the effort of swinging his sword toward Duncan’s thigh.
Duncan blocked the swing and forced Erik back another step. Finally Duncan had enough distance from Moira and Ragnall to fight without worrying about them being harmed in the fray. He whirled and dodged, striking again and again in an uncontained fury.
